Gospel Story Finder

Elder de la Cruz retired from his job early in order to serve. He and his wife had attended a meeting in Mexico City and heard Elder Lino Álvarez of the Seventy encourage couples to serve full-time missions. Facing the loss of some retirement benefits by retiring early, Elder and Sister de la Cruz nevertheless felt the Spirit telling them that now was the right time for them. “We did lose some benefits,” he says, “but our Heavenly Father has given us so much more. We decided to share with our brothers and sisters what we feel for Him.”
“For me it has been a great happiness and joy to come to know and teach these brothers and sisters in Palenque—and to even bring more members to the Church,” says Sister de la Cruz. “I feel greatly strengthened by being with them.”

Illustration by Allen Garns
On a Saturday afternoon, I was getting ready to go to the beach with my family. They had traveled from Amazonas to La Guaira to spend a few days with me. The sun was bright, the ocean breezes were perfect, and I was happy to see my sisters’ excitement.
Once we were on the road, I remembered that I was in charge of cleaning the church building that day. I now had a choice to make: Should I fulfill my responsibility or continue to the beach with my family? I decided to talk to my mom and sisters about it. They had never been inside an LDS church and enthusiastically offered to help me clean, as long as we headed right to the beach when we finished.
When we entered the church, I explained what needed to be done and how to do it. What we thought would be a quick cleaning job ended up taking four hours because they were so interested! I showed my family each room, the paintings, and the baptismal font. An immense joy filled my heart. I couldn’t believe my family was helping me with something that meant so much to me. While we were there, my teenage sisters, Thalia and Gineska, learned some hymns and asked me questions about the Church.
On Sunday my family attended church for the first time. They were well received in the ward. The young women quickly welcomed my sisters. The sister missionaries met them and set an appointment to meet with them the next day. We held family home evening, and I taught them how to pray. We prayed together often. We also listened to hymns and watched Church videos.
Before my family returned home, I took my sisters to Caracas to see the temple and its grounds. I bore my testimony of temple blessings and encouraged them to find the Church when they returned to Amazonas.
When they left for home, I contacted the missionaries in their area. The missionaries and members of the ward council visited my family and helped them on their way to conversion. My sisters prayed often for our father to give them permission to be baptized.
With great gratitude and joy, I traveled to Amazonas to baptize Thalia and Gineska. The glow in their eyes reflected their hope and their gratitude to Heavenly Father for leading them to the gospel. Through fulfilling an assignment to clean the church, my family came closer together and was strengthened. I will never forget this experience and I know my sisters will not either.

I want to share with you one precious experience that has touched my life and opened the eyes of my understanding. As a businessman I was responsible for the sales of a group of clients, and I was constantly challenged to maintain a good relationship for selling in spite of not participating in popular habits like drinking alcohol, smoking, or telling light-hearted jokes, things which the Spirit did not allow me to do. One day while I was working in my office in Dortmund, Germany, I received a telephone call from one of my clients. He was calling me from Paris, France. His company had an exhibition there, and he invited me to come and pay him a visit and talk about more business. I was immediately warned and alarmed by the Spirit that his real reason for inviting me to Paris, besides talking about business, was to find someone who would pay his pleasure bills in that expensive city. I was honored by the opportunity for more business, but scared by the expectation of the uneasy decisions that lay ahead of me. I knew that I had to go because this was my obligation as a salesman. I took the night train to Paris, traveling with a serious, constant prayer in my heart, a prayer that I would have the power to be successful without compromising my standards.
My friend picked me up in the early afternoon at the train station in Paris. I immediately discovered that he was not in the mood to talk about business, but that he wanted to show the city and its amusements to me, a total stranger unable to speak French. I intensified my prayer to my Father in Heaven, and he gave me a spirit of comfort, and even happiness and joy. I told my friend how happy I was to see him, and that I had to take the early night train back in order to meet some important responsibilities at home. He looked at me, smiling, and said, “No, no, you will stay with me until tomorrow. We have many important matters to discuss, and I will show you the city in privacy. No one will see you, and I will not tell anybody. Today we will enjoy life.”
I knew that his understanding of the enjoyment of life was totally different from mine, yet I also knew that his company’s business was vital for the survival of our company. So I prayed harder, pleading for help. Finally he invited me to a nice little restaurant, wanting to show me the places that only the knowing know. The Spirit said that there was nothing wrong with having dinner with him, so I agreed, and we started one of those long-lasting, expensive French meals. He ordered for both of us because he spoke fluent French, and he ordered two bottles of wine in spite of my strong protest that he not order wine for me.
The conversation was good; his bottle was emptied; mine remained untouched. Finally he became aware of this, took the bottle and filled my glass and his glass. He took his glass in his right hand, looked into my eyes, and Said, “My dear friend, you know how much I enjoy your company and the standards you keep, but now you will drink this one glass to my health. If you don’t, you will not receive one more piece of business from me.”
I felt my blood freeze inside of me. It came to my mind, “Brother Busche, now you have to make a decision!” All kinds of rationalizations came creeping into my heart. But before I could say anything, I was overtaken by a power that filled me with great joy and light. To my surprise, I found myself putting my right arm around him. The Spirit made me say something that I would never have been able to think of myself, something that changed the situation totally. I heard myself say, “Mr. So-and-so, you know that I know you better than that. I know that you would never make a logical business decision and have it based on such illogical conditions.” I gave him a big hug, and smiled in his eyes with a deep feeling of love and friendship. This shook him for a moment, and he was unable to speak. Then his eyes began to fill with tears. He hugged me back, and began to speak. They were words of apology. He wept and said, “I want you to forgive me. If you had drunk this glass of wine, I would have made a fool out of you tonight. I wanted to destroy you, but now you will be my friend forever. Don’t worry anymore. Right after this meal I will take you personally to the station so that you can get your train on time. You will also receive all the business from me that you want and are capable of handling.”
And so it went. When I was in the little sleeping compartment on the night train back home, I cried for joy and happiness and praised the Lord for his help at the right time and in the right way.

To introduce my topic I'd like to share a personal experience. I grew up in Bountiful, Utah. One day as a little boy, maybe five, and before I was accountable, I sat in church beside my father. I must have been young because I remember having to lean my big head way back to speak to my dad. My mom dressed in a wool sweater. I hated those sweaters. I said to my dad, "Dad, is church your favortist?" He seeing a great teaching moment replied as any good father would, "Son, church is my favortist." I replied back with the wisdom of a bright five year old, "Well, it's my dumbest!" Since then, Dad, I've tried to submit to the Lord and church is my favortist.

I would like to tell you about a little bird that was lying on the parking lot pavement. During the night it had been blown from its nest by the high winds in the storm. Apparently hatched just a few days earlier, it had few feathers, but enough to identify it as just a common sparrow.
As it lay there awaiting whatever fate would come, a young woman walking to her car in the parking lot saw the little sparrow and picked it up. Feeling sympathy for the helpless little bird she took it home to care for it. She prepared a nest in a basket with soft tissues, which were changed often to keep a clean and comfortable bed for the little bird.
She fed it often each day, watching it gain strength, and within a few days it opened its eyes and could see for the first time. It saw the girl who fed it and the family who lived in the home. It heard and became accustomed to the sounds around it, and it was not afraid.
As the days passed, it was able to hop about, and it was taken from the basket and put into a clean birdcage.
It trusted the girl and the family, and when it wanted food, it would chirp and flutter its growing wings rapidly, and when the cage door was opened it would hop out onto the girl’s hand and sit there patiently while she fed it.
It would sit on her hand as she walked through the house and even when she went outside. To help it become accustomed to the outside world where it soon would have to live, she would take it out on the lawn where she and her sister would sit under the tree and visit while the bird would look and observe all around it.
It came time for the girl and her sister to go to girls’ camp, so the bird went with them and spent the week on Cedar Mountain with the girls. It was there that it tried to fly for the first time, flying from the girl’s hand to the low branches in a nearby tree.
It was glad to come back to the familiar hand and security of the girl’s love, and although it was learning to fly it did not leave. When the girls’ camp was over the bird came home with the girls and continued its flying lessons.
The girl, realizing the bird must soon join its own kind, took it out on the front lawn and encouraged it to fly away. It flew across the lawn to a small pine tree, where it perched and looked around. The girl left it there, assuming it would now join the other birds, and she returned into the home.
It wasn’t long before a chirping could be heard outside in front of the home, and when the girl went out to see what the bird was chirping about, it flew out of the tree and landed back on her hand, and she fed it.
For the first few nights the bird would come back to the house and want to come in with the family for the night. Soon, however, it began to stay out with newly found friends living in the trees close by the home. When the girl would go outside and whistle, it would respond and return and land on her hand, and my daughter, Trinilee, would feed it.
That little bird and my daughter taught me a great lesson in faith and trust. Although it was just a fraction of the size of its human friend and could be in great danger for its life amongst humans, it trusted her and had faith it would not be harmed and would be fed by her—and it responded to her beckoning call.

You know, talking about roommates and things like that, we so often pass through life without having the least inkling of how our actions may be negatively affecting others. Sometimes we need to think about how something will make people feel before we act. This reminds me of an event that happened in my life years ago. In my ward, back when I was a teenager and a relatively new convert, they had what was called a missionary board. This missionary board had a map of the world in the middle and photos of the missionaries from the ward on the sides. There were strings of yarn going from the photos of the missionaries to the places where they were serving. At the very bottom of the missionary board there was a space entitled Future Missionaries. My picture was there along with all the other members of the Priests Quorum. There was one problem however. The girls in the ward used to steal the Priests' pictures. Well, let me clarify that; almost all the Priests' pictures. I and this other guy, we never got our pictures stolen. Every Sunday, the first thing I and my friend did was go immediately to the missionary board, hoping and praying our pictures would be no longer there, but alas, everyday, our smiling faces were still there, smiling back at us under the title of Future Missionaries.

What were those girls thinking? What were they thinking? The least they could have done is stolen my picture too. I don't care what they would have done with it after they stole it. They could have drawn a big moustache on me and given me long sideburns, they could have thrown darts at it, I really don't care, but they should have at least stolen my picture. You know, this makes me think about life. Life affords us many opportunities to symbolically steal people's pictures. Most go unused. There are many of your brothers and sisters out there awaiting your attention.

Those who have been bullied throughout their lives, by loving and respecting them, you can steal their picture. Those who may be unintentionally irritating, by being patient with them, you can steal their picture. Those who have never been popular and have no confidence in themselves, by just saying hi to them, and including them in your conversations with others, you can steal their picture.

About a year ago, some friends of our family were hospitalized in very serious condition. Rosana and Angel Blanco Rodriguez and two of their children were in their kitchen when they smelled gas. Brother Rodriguez went to investigate. When he touched a gas hose, a small leak exploded, igniting a fire. Seeing his two small children in danger, Brother Rodriguez used his own body to extinguish the flames. He was the most critically injured of the four.
When Mama told our family about the accident, she told us of the love she and Papa felt for their dear friends. She explained that because we live far away, we could not help Brother and Sister Rodriguez by taking care of their other children, their house, or their business matters. But there was a special way we could help them, she said. We could have a family fast and pray that the Lord would bless the Rodriguez family. All of us, even the younger ones, could participate. Our parents had always fasted on the first Sunday of the month and on other occasions, but we had never fasted as a family before. We decided to try it.
We began Saturday at lunchtime. We all fasted—Papa and Mama; Douglas, age 13; Francini, age 11; Debora, age 7; and me, age 9. We said a prayer and asked the Lord to bless our friends. Mama put a reminder—“Our First Family Fast”—on the refrigerator, the water faucet, the microwave, and the kitchen wall, so we would remember not to eat or drink anything.
I did not feel thirsty during those hours, even with the intense heat here in Amazonas, Brazil. I didn’t feel hungry, either. I was able to understand a little how Jesus might have felt when He fasted for 40 days. I felt how good it is to do something to help others.
On Sunday Papa gave each of us an envelope for our fast offerings and helped us fill out the form. At church that day, we gave the money to our branch president. We concluded our fast at lunchtime.
The Rodriguez family eventually returned home with some injuries. As we and many other friends continued to fast and pray for their recovery, the Lord continued to bless them. After several months of care, they were completely cured and were left almost without scars.
Each month since our first family fast, we have fasted and prayed for a united purpose.
I am grateful to be a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and to learn about Jesus Christ and how much He did for me. I want to follow His example always.

LISA: When I walked in the door it was quite a different party than I had expected. They were drinking and smoking marijuana. Everybody in the whole place was using drugs. The right thing would have been to turn around and leave. That’s really a hard thing to do, but if I had, I probably would have avoided all the trouble that came later. I didn’t want to use any drugs. I didn’t even want to go to that party. But instead of turning around and going home, I went in. After being there 20 minutes I felt so awkward that I grabbed a beer and pretended to drink it.

As soon as I started pretending to use I was accepted by everybody and was asked out by several guys. I loved that. I wasn’t interested in the drugs and alcohol. It was the crowd, the acceptance.

LISA: I started smoking pot, and I tried LSD. A lot of the pot I smoked was laced with even worse things. I have no idea what I smoked.

Through my use, my family life completely deteriorated. I tried to avoid my family as much as possible. I wasn’t going to school. I’d make maybe two classes a day if I was lucky.

LISA: When drugs let me feel anything, I felt really guilty about what I had done. I felt worthless. I didn’t understand justice and mercy and repentance. I thought that I was bad forever. I didn’t know how to be forgiven. I just felt that I was lost.

I had heard the lessons about forgiveness, but I didn’t think it could apply to me. I thought, That’s okay for little Mary Jo over there who swore yesterday, but for me who’s been doing this and this it doesn’t work. I felt there was a certain amount of time I had to spend repenting, a certain amount of suffering I had to do, and I knew that my life wouldn’t be long enough to do it all. So why try?

On the other hand, when I got into a rehabilitation program and was taught what the Atonement means and what repentance is all about, my Father in Heaven became my greatest strength. He helped me make the painful changes that had to be made. I know that I have been forgiven, and I’ve learned how to forgive myself. Now when I look back it’s like watching a movie of someone else. The weight has been lifted, and I am a different person.

LISA: When I was using drugs I couldn’t pray. I felt that I was such an awful person that I would just be wasting my time. So I tried to push God out of my mind. I tried to tell myself that he didn’t exist. I tried to forget him because I didn’t want to feel the guilt.

I look back on what has kept me straight and why I’m sober today, and it’s because I learned how to talk to God. I didn’t know how to before. I was used to saying a kind of set prayer—“Bless us to get home in safety …” The same old stuff.

So I had to establish a relationship. Now I can come home and tell him, “Look what I did today. I was so rude.” I’m talking to him as I would talk to a friend. I really feel that he is my friend. I can just sit and talk about something that concerns me today. I sit in my bedroom with my eyes open and just talk to him. That really helped turn me around.

If I had had that relationship when I first started using, I might have gotten out in time.

LISA: Stay close to your family and maintain high self-esteem. Low self-esteem makes a person more vulnerable. In the ninth grade I had a 3.5 GPA. I modeled professionally. I was in ballet, but my self-esteem was low. I felt that whatever I did wasn’t good enough. I felt that a 3.5 GPA should be a 4.0, that I wasn’t skinny enough, that I wasn’t pretty enough. I never had the exact right clothes. I never did things exactly right. I guess I was quite self-critical.

Elizabeth Fetzer Bates, a piano teacher and the mother of six children, become totally blind in 1951. She accepted her blindness as a challenge and decided that she would learn to do everything that she could. She said, “I wrote ‘Pioneer Children’ because we are all pioneers—we’ve never been in today before.”
In 1969, she wrote “Book of Mormon Stories” because she loves the Book of Mormon and is grateful for America. She thinks that children like this song because it is simple and true.
Sister Bates still teaches piano lessons, and she believes that everyone should write a song. “Heavenly Father has created so many lovely things that we should sing as we walk along! We can always be happy if we remember to be grateful.”

I can remember an experience in my life that illustrates this idea. I was at Harvard Business School. I was stretched to my capacity. In a student’s first year at that institution, the teachers take away every bit of self-confidence you have, no matter what your background is before you get there, so that you learn what it’s like to have to achieve more than you’ve ever done in your life before.
At an important point in my schooling, a mission president asked me to be an elders quorum president. It is the only time in my life that I ever questioned an assignment. For every one of you the question will come in life, “When is the time to serve?” The only answer I can give you is, “When you are asked.”
So I went home and said to my wife, “There is a chance of failing in my schooling if I become an elders quorum president.” She said to me the words which have helped for many years: “Bob, I would rather have an active priesthood holder than a man who holds a master’s degree from Harvard.” But as she put her arms around me, she said, “We’ll do them both.” That is eternal partnership.

In my preparation for marriage classes at BYU, we have one unit on commitment. We note the observation by Dr. James C. Dobson that marriage is a marathon and not a sprint (see Love for a Lifetime: Building a Marriage That Will Go the Distance [Portland, Oregon: Multnomah Press, 1987], 120). We talk about what we commit to or what covenants we make at the time of marriage, often across sacred and holy altars.
During winter semester 1999 I asked my students at BYU to participate in a class project. I invited them to bring to class pictures of “older couples” who had been married a long time. They wanted to know “how old,” and I just said “old.” For the baby boomers who are listening, you may be interested in knowing that one young coed brought in a picture of Al and Tipper Gore. I looked at the picture and told my student that the vice president and wife were only in their early fifties. “Well,” she responded, “you said you wanted pictures of old people!”
After we had collected a wide variety of pictures, one of my students, Melissa McKnight (now Melissa Wood), teamed up with Tamilisa Wood (not related), a media arts major. Under the guidance and direction of Glenn Anderson of the Instructional Technology Center, they matched the pictures up to another song composed by Lionel Richie in the early 1980s. It was later made popular by Kenny Rogers through his musical releases. The song was “Through the Years.” It answers, in part, the question posed about the same time by Rafe Van Hoy: “Doesn’t anybody ever stay together any more?”
We will now see our class project: Through the Years. It portrays what I believe is missing in contemporary marriage education in America today. This is but one example of what undergraduate students are capable of doing at Brigham Young University.

When I was still pretty new to being a missionary, my mission president asked me to be a trainer.
I felt so unqualified. How was I supposed to teach a new sister how to be an amazing missionary when I wasn’t sure I had it all figured out myself?
To be honest, I did make a lot of mistakes as a trainer, and I felt really bad about them for a while. But as I began to examine my weaknesses and shortcomings and tried to be better, I gained a testimony that the Lord gives us “weakness that [we] may be humble” because He can make “weak things become strong” (Ether 12:27). I began to learn a lot about repentance, which isn’t just for when we mess up—it’s for any time we want to become more like Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.

You have to understand. Chris and Jason are the kind of guys who, if you ask about diving and you’re close to the community pool, will show you the dives they do. Never mind that they didn’t bring their suits. They’ve been lifeguards here, and the caretaker, who knows them well, gives permission. They look at each other, accept the challenge, and even though they’re in jeans, jump on the board and plunge in the pool. You get the feeling that’s the same way they’ll plunge into missionary work—follow the rules, be dependable, work hard. But get with it—no wimpy excuses.

Roger Bannister was a medical student in England who had an ambitious hope. He desired to be the first man to run a mile (1.6 km) under four minutes. For much of the first half of the 20th century, field and track enthusiasts had anxiously awaited the day the four-minute-mile barrier would be broken. Over the years many outstanding runners had come close, but still the four-minute barrier stood. Bannister dedicated himself to an ambitious training schedule with the hope of realizing his goal of setting a new world record. Some in the sporting community had begun to doubt whether the four-minute mile could be broken. Supposed experts had even hypothesized the human body was physiologically unable to run at such speeds over such a long distance. On a cloudy day on May 6, 1954, Roger Bannister’s great hope was realized! He crossed the finish line in 3:59.4, setting a new world record. His hope to break the four-minute-mile barrier became a dream which was accomplished through training, hard work, and dedication.

At the same time, I have had several students from other countries express to me how difficult it is for them to believe that obeying the law will have any effect, especially considering how corrupt their political leaders are. This can make life challenging, and Yeah Samake, a political leader from Mali, West Africa, faced this very issue almost a decade ago. He came to campus last May to present to the University Forum and related his very inspiring story of how he decided to run for mayor of his village with an emphasis on leading with integrity, which is being honest in your public and private life. After he won, he persuaded his people that great things could happen if they lived with integrity by following the laws in the form of paying their taxes, as less than 10% paid taxes. This was a huge leap of faith for these people, and it was followed by remarkable results. By the end of Yeah Samake’s term, 100% paid their taxes, and their village went from being ranked in the bottom 5 cities to the top 7 out of the 704 cities in Mali. Yeah Samake credits this unbelievable progress to the idea that “consistent small actions focused on others bring about extraordinary results.”

Chauncey was a demon for self-improvement. To make time for study, he rigged up an electric alarm system that aroused him in the morning around 5:00 or 5:30. Then he would usually work out for about 15 minutes swinging Indian clubs. He was especially motivated to go through these exercises in the cold winter months: getting the circulation stimulated helped to compensate for the two hours he was studying without heat. On January 10 the following scene occurred:
“This morning at 6:30 I was awakened very suddenly by my electric clock and bells. I made one jump and landed out of bed on the floor. Then my understanding was clear and I, knowing that if I did not in a minute shut my electric bells off from the strong current that the batteries would be run down and the neighbors would turn out thinking there was a fire, I jumped spryly in the direction of my electric clock, but I had barely got started toward it in the blind darkness than I ran against some living thing and turned a somersault the air and fell all in a heap, and the noise of the gong sounded louder and louder. After I got my understanding, I made another attempt, shutting off the electric current and lighting the lamp looking for the person that I had fallen over. It was a chair.”

I mentioned that we are the Grandparents of seven wonderful grandchildren. When our oldest grandson, Gabe was but four years of age, we knelt with him one night for prayer. As Gabe began his prayer he said and I quote “bless me heavenly father to NEVER tell the truth, cause it’s not good.” Gabe had learned through some experience that telling the truth resulted in some unpleasant consequence. Telling the truth and living the truth can in fact at times create uncomfortable experiences. That being said, the sweet joy that comes from a clear conscience and an honest countenance, far outweighs any discomfort that comes from being honest.

Several years ago, a big storm blew over our home during the night. After just a couple of minutes and several flashes of lightning, our little Manon climbed into bed with us. My wife Véronique, wanting to reassure our daughter, carried her over to the window and said: “Don’t be afraid. Look how beautiful the lights in the sky are”. But at that very moment, a bolt of lightning ripped through the sky with a frightening crack. Véronique stepped back in fear, and Manon was even more terrified!
As I watched the power of the elements that night, I could not help but think of our Savior Jesus Christ, the Creator of all things. I also thought of our Heavenly Father who gave His Only Son to save us. They accomplished the most significant act in the universe: clearing the way for us to attain eternal life.
I then thought of Moses, who was overcome with fear when the Savior asked him to deliver Israel. The Lord said to him:
“Who hath made man’s mouth? or who maketh the dumb, or deaf, or the seeing, or the blind? have not I the Lord? Now therefore go, and I will be with thy mouth, and teach thee what thou shalt say. ”
The Lord’s voice must have sounded like thunder throughout Moses’ body! Like Moses, we have a responsibility to gather Israel into a land of peace, into the stakes of Zion. Whatever our ability to express ourselves, we must move forward in faith. Do we feel capable of doing what the Lord wants us to do? Can we feel our responsibility in the gathering of Israel? Of course, it starts with ourselves, our spouse and our own children.
While my wife and daughter were very frightened by the storm, I thought to myself: “I hope it rains now, because it’s been so hot!” Different perspectives lead to different actions. Where do we stand when life does not lead us down the easiest path, or the path we wanted to take? As the storm grew increasingly fierce, I thought as well of Joseph Smith, who was often overwhelmed by all the responsibilities he had been given at such a young age. He frequently fell to his knees to plead with our Heavenly Father. Perhaps one of the most moving of these moments took place in Liberty Jail, when he felt abandoned by the Lord. The Lord said to him:
"And if thou shouldst be cast into the pit, or into the hands of murderers, and the sentence of death passed upon thee; if thou be cast into the deep; if the billowing surge conspire against thee; if fierce winds become thine enemy; if the heavens gather blackness, and all the elements combine to hedge up the way; and above all, if the very jaws of hell shall gape open the mouth wide after thee, know thou, my son, that all these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good. The Son of Man hath descended below them all. Art thou greater than he? …therefore, fear not what man can do, for God shall be with you forever and ever. "
These words must have felt like a clap of thunder throughout his sick and weary body. But because they came from our Savior, they gave him the strength and hope he needed to move forward, despite his hardships. Do we fall to our knees enough to receive His strength and hope?
The Lord often uses the gentle, calm voice of the Holy Spirit to speak to us, to comfort us, to warn us, to guide us, and to soothe us. He does so in moments of doubt, but also in times of turmoil, despair or distress. To ensure that we always hear this little voice, we must get used to hearing it, or rather feeling it, in quiet moments. Then, however gentle it may be, it will penetrate our hearts and minds like a bolt of lightning.
I so testify in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Insights for others. While responding to the challenge, I read Mosiah 18 and couldn’t get it out of my mind. About two days later I sat down with a new member (I served as branch president). This brother wanted to know again why he needed to be baptized into the Church when he had previously been baptized in another church. Without hesitation, I opened to Mosiah and asked him to read in chapter 18. When he finished we were both silent for a while. Then the brother told me that he had felt prompted to counsel with me. I silently bowed my head and thanked Heavenly Father for the gift of a prophet and his challenge to reread the Book of Mormon. Akingbade A. Ojo, Ijebu-Ode, Nigeria

I lay there, feeling disgusted with my family’s lack of consideration for my feelings. I had told them that I didn’t want those young men coming into our home and talking about God. I was bitter about religion and had pushed God out of my life. I blamed him for striking me with multiple sclerosis at age thirty-three and then taking my father a few years later, when I needed him most.
When two young men offered to talk to my family about their religion, I wanted nothing to do with them. But I was unable to walk out of the room, so I pretended to be asleep as they taught my family about Christ and a book called the Book of Mormon. When they finished, one young man said a prayer, and then my mother gave them permission to return in a few days. As soon as they left, I told her that I wanted no part of religion, and if my family wanted to hear such nonsense, then I wanted to remain in my bedroom while the young men were there.
The missionaries returned three days later. Despite my request, my family left me propped up in a chair in the living room. Once again I closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep. The young men came in, asked if they could begin with a word of prayer, then started to teach. Although I tried, it was very hard to shut their words out of my bitter world. They talked about where we came from, why we are on earth, what happens when we die, and where we will go after this life. They also mentioned three kingdoms—not the heaven and hell I’d heard about all my life.
The entire discussion fascinated me. And at the same time, it made sense—I knew it was true. Even in my bitter and unforgiving state, I could tell right from wrong, truth from fiction.
I opened my eyes and began to ask questions. Each time the missionaries answered, their faces seemed to glow as they taught me what they knew concerning life and death. I began asking them every question I ever had about religion.
Before they left, they placed a Book of Mormon on my lap. I wanted so much to read it, but because the multiple sclerosis had stolen most of my vision, I had to wait impatiently for my niece to find time to read it to me.
When the missionaries returned a few days later, I was excited about what I had read, but I had a very important question. The missionaries were Caucasian. I wondered if all members of the Church were white and how they felt about black people joining. The missionaries explained that it was Christ’s church and all were welcome. When they said that three black families were active in the ward, I couldn’t wait to be baptized.
A year after my baptism, after much prayer and a lot of effort on the part of faithful ward members, I was able to go to the Atlanta Temple to receive my endowment. Doctors advised me not to make the five-hour trip, but I knew I had to try.
Eleven years ago, when the doctors diagnosed me with multiple sclerosis, they gave me two years to live. Today, I am still alive, although I am totally paralyzed from the neck down. But now that I have the gospel, I am no longer bitter about my illness or my father’s death. I look forward to God’s promise of eternal life if I faithfully endure to the end.