Gospel Story Finder

Elder Ronald A. Rasband visited Oklahoma just after a huge tornado struck the area. He was especially touched by a fifth grader he met there named Tori. She had huddled in the restroom with her friends as the tornado roared through her school. Tori said a prayer that Heavenly Father would protect them. Suddenly the roof tore away! Tori kept praying. “All of a sudden it got quiet,” she said. “When I opened my eyes, I saw a stop sign right in front of my eyes!” Later Elder Rasband gave Tori a blessing. He told her that angels had protected her in the storm. (See “The Joyful Burden of Discipleship” from the Saturday morning session.)

Early one summer morning in 1839, an eleven-year-old boy tiptoed quietly out of his house. The grass was still wet with dew as he hurried across the town square. He headed for the harbor, where he asked a man with a boat to row him out to the three-masted ship anchored nearby. The ship, the Coralie, was sailing that morning for the Indies, and young Jules Verne was running away to sea.
But Jules didn’t get very far. Before it reached the Atlantic Ocean, the Coralie put into the port of Piamboeuf, where Jules’s father caught up with the ship. In angry silence Pierre Verne took Jules home. At home the silence ended. While Jules’s mother cried, his father scolded. Jules was spanked, given bread and water for supper, and sent to bed.
The next morning Jules promised his family that in the future he would travel only in his imagination. It was a promise that would take him far. For in his imagination, Jules Verne traveled not only around the world, but to the center of the earth, to the bottom of the sea, to the moon, and far into the future. And through the many books he wrote, he shared his journeys with the rest of us. We, too, can go with Professor Aronnox and Captain Nemo aboard the submarine Nautilus in Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, with Axel in his Journey to the Center of the Earth, and with Phileas Fogg in his hectic trip Around the World in Eighty Days.

Illustration by Joel Castillo
I was introduced to the Church by my aunt and uncle, who live near my home. I was only seven years old at the time, and I loved going to church to be with the other children. My parents were not members, but they did not mind that I went to church every Sunday with my aunt and uncle. My parents said that it was much better for me to be involved with a church that taught of Jesus Christ than to be out in the streets getting into trouble.
The missionaries came often to our home to teach us. My parents loved the discussions, but they did not want to embrace the gospel. They said that they were not ready because entering the waters of baptism is a serious commitment. The missionaries continued to come to our home, but they always left disappointed with the answers my parents gave. I knew, however, that one day they would be baptized.
When I turned eight, I was ready to make the baptismal covenant. My mom asked me if that was what I really wanted. She told me that once I was baptized, I could not change my mind and that baptism would change my entire life. I said that being baptized was something I had dreamed about since I first started going to Primary.
After I was baptized and confirmed, I continued to go to church, but my parents rarely came to our Primary activities. It was painful for me to see all the other children with their parents. But I hoped that one day they would be baptized and we would be sealed in the temple, and my greatest dream would become a reality.
When I was a teenager, the missionaries continued to teach my parents, but they still did not want to be baptized. However, they would occasionally come to church, which gave me a little hope. I still dreamed that my parents would join the Church, but I began to think that it would never come to pass in this life.
Then one beautiful Sunday morning when I was 17, my mother again went to church with me. On our way home she told me something that I can still hear in my thoughts and in my heart. She said that she had decided to be baptized. I was shocked! After waiting for so long, I wondered if this was real. In May 2010, my mother entered the waters of baptism. It was such a happy day.
After the baptism I looked at my father and said, “You’re the only one left now.” He responded that it would not be soon because he didn’t feel the desire to be baptized. I was again sad—part of my dream had come true, but the rest seemed far away. Although it was hard, I was certain that things would change. To my great happiness, my prayers were again answered two months later when my father entered the waters of baptism. It was the greatest joy of my life. I felt as though the heavens were singing.
After my parents joined the Church, I realized that another part of my dream had come true but that we needed to be sealed for eternity in the house of the Lord. My parents told me they didn’t feel ready, that they didn’t have enough money for the long trip to the Recife Brazil Temple, and that they didn’t have anyone to watch our home while we were gone. I was sad, but I kept praying for that blessing, knowing that the Lord would answer my prayers.
In time my mother began to feel a strong desire to go to the temple, even though my father continued to put it off. After many conversations with the bishop, they both decided to go. I felt so much joy I could barely contain it!
In September 2011, my mother, my father, and I went to the temple for the first time in our lives. I was sealed to my parents the next day, and I can truly say that, after 11 years of waiting, it was the best day of my life.
I am very grateful to Heavenly Father for everything He has given to me, especially for answering my prayers and fulfilling my greatest dream: the dream of seeing my whole family in the house of the Lord.

It was impossible to cheer up Aunt Mabel. I’d been with her all day, and she hadn’t even come close to smiling. I handed the mail to her and said, “A magazine and a letter from Cousin Ellen.”
“But no surprise package from anyone,” Aunt Mabel said. “What a bad day.” She set the mail on the table in the dark hall and turned to me. “Shall we go for a little walk, Judy?” she asked.
“Sure,” I said, happy to get out of her gloomy house. When we stepped outside, I smiled up at the blue sky. “What a bright, sunny day,” I said.
Aunt Mabel glared at the sky. “It’s too bright. It makes me squint. Now I’ll get more wrinkles. What a bad day.”
I looked down and saw something shiny on the sidewalk. “Look! A penny,” I said, stooping to pick it up.
“Too bad it’s not a dime or a quarter,” Aunt Mabel said.
We walked to the park and Aunt Mabel sat on a bench under a big, leafy tree. “Isn’t it nice here in the shade?” I asked.
Aunt Mabel shook her head, gazing uneasily at the branches.
“Those leaves are probably full of caterpillars, and one might fall on me. What a bad day.”
I sighed and sat next to Aunt Mabel, but no caterpillars fell from the tree. After a few minutes, Aunt Mabel stood up. “Let’s be on our way,” she said.
We walked beside a garden that was filled with big yellow and orange flowers. “Mmmm,” I said. “Don’t those flowers smell sweet!”
Aunt Mabel rubbed her nose. “Makes my nose twitch,” she said, hurrying past the garden. “What a bad day.”
I slowed down and breathed in the sweet fragrance. My nose wasn’t twitching. I watched Aunt Mabel walk along the path and wondered how I could cheer her up. Skipping along, I caught up with her. “At least the sun’s not in our eyes, now,” I said, watching our shadows stretch before us.
Aunt Mabel buttoned her sweater. “Now the sun is hot on my back, but I’m cold in front. What a bad day.”
“We’re almost home,” I said as we turned the corner and Aunt Mabel’s house came into view. “You have a pretty house.”
Aunt Mabel looked up at her house. “It’s old,” she said. “The floor boards creak and groan.”
We climbed the steps and sat on the porch swing. “Shall I get us some lemonade?” I asked. Aunt Mabel nodded.
I carried two glasses of lemonade out to the porch. I knew what Aunt Mabel would say, and sure enough, after one sip she said it: “This lemonade is too sour. What a bad day.”
I was thirsty and drank mine right down. I thought it tasted pretty good. At last Mom’s car pulled up in front of the house, and I jumped up to leave.
“Did you have a nice visit?” she asked. I just shrugged. I didn’t want to lie and say I’d had a great time.
Aunt Mabel stood up and kissed Mom on the cheek. Then she gave me a hug. I hugged her, too, and she said, “Ouch! Watch out for these old bones!” I backed away.
“Did you have a good day visiting with your niece?” Mom asked her.
I waited for Aunt Mabel to tell Mom what a bad day she’d had.
“I had a very good day,” Aunt Mabel said. “It was nice to have someone to tell my troubles to.”
Mom and I got in the car, and before we drove away, I waved to Aunt Mabel. She waved back, and I was sure she actually smiled at me.
“You certainly cheered Aunt Mabel up,” Mom said.
“Yes,” I said. “What a bad-good day we had.”

When I was 15 years old, I spotted two missionaries in front of a supermarket. One of them invited me to come to church. I wasn’t very interested, so I told them, “Maybe someday,” and walked away.
The next day, my aunt called and asked my mother to come to her house to hear a special message. My mother and I ran over and saw the same missionaries I had seen the day before sitting in my aunt’s house! My mother was interested by their message, and I started listening as well. However, when the missionaries asked me if I believed in a living prophet, I responded with a resolute no. One of the elders held up a picture of Thomas S. Monson and testified that President Monson was a prophet. They invited me to come to general conference the next day to decide for myself. Curious, I agreed to come.
The next day, we reached the chapel just as the opening prayer was finishing. As I walked into the room, I saw President Monson come onto the screen. He smiled and said, “My dear brothers and sisters, I greet you …”
As soon as President Monson opened his mouth, a strong feeling swept over me, confirming that he was a prophet of God. At the end of conference, I told the missionaries, “I want to be baptized.” I have since served a mission myself and have taught many others the wonderful truths of the restored gospel.
I know that God has blessed us by calling prophets again. God loves us and speaks to us through modern-day prophets.
Maicon B., São Paulo, Brazil

Material blessings are a part of the gospel if they are achieved in the proper way and for the right purpose. I am reminded of an experience of President Hugh B. Brown. As a young soldier in World War I, he was visiting an elderly friend in the hospital. This friend was a millionaire several times over who, at the age of eighty, was lying at death’s door. Neither his divorced wife nor any of his five children cared enough to come to the hospital to see him. As President Brown thought of the things his friend had lost, which money could not buy, and noted his tragic situation and the depth of his misery, he asked his friend how he would change the course of his life if he had it to live over again.

The old gentleman, who died a few days later, said: “As I think back over my life, the most important and valuable asset which I might have had, but which I lost in the process of accumulating my millions, was the simple faith my mother had in God and in the immortality of the soul. You ask me what is the most valuable thing in life. I cannot answer you in better words than those used by a poet.”

That was the dying testimony of a man who was born in the Church but had drifted far from it. That was the broken-hearted cry of a lonely man who could have anything money could buy, but who had lost the most important things in life in order to accumulate this world’s goods.

After our mom passed away unexpectedly, my brother and I weren’t just grieving—we were also left facing a financial crisis.
Our father had died years before, and while our mom raised us, she had often lent others money during their times of need. Unfortunately, her generosity resulted in her not having enough money to pay her own debt, leaving my brother and me responsible for paying off her loans.
Both of us were still finishing our studies and hadn’t started working, so we were anxious about paying off the debt while also covering our monthly expenses.
We didn’t know what to do, so we turned to Heavenly Father for help.
After many prayers, my brother and I felt inspired to ask for financial advice from friends who were good with budgeting. We had been considering selling our house because we didn’t have enough money to pay for it and our loans each month. But with their help, we decided to sell valuables in our home to make payments until I graduated and found a job.
Somehow, we always had enough money to make our loan payments.
Despite this miracle, sometimes I still got discouraged. I was working a lot and wanted to move on with my own life. I had my own dreams, including serving a mission, which seemed impossible even if we managed to pay off this debt.
I prayed to Heavenly Father and told Him my desire to go. I promised Him I would do whatever I could from my end to make it happen, and I asked Him to show me the way so I could go and serve.
I had a testimony of self-reliance and tithing, but it was really tempting to not pay a full tithe until we’d resolved our debt. But I tried to remember the promised blessings of putting the Lord first, and we paid the full amount (see Malachi 3:10–11). I also found hope in these words from the Lord: “It is my purpose to provide for my saints, for all things are mine” (Doctrine and Covenants 104:15).
Ultimately, I kept trusting Heavenly Father’s timing, practicing patience, and believing that He cared about my life.
Eventually my brother also got a job after graduating. We continued being mindful of spending, putting any extra money we had toward the seemingly never-ending debt.
After four years, we made our last payment on the loans. I couldn’t believe it—we had somehow managed to live, finish our studies, and pay off these debts in time. It was freeing to no longer feel that financial burden on my shoulders. I knew Heavenly Father had helped us.
It was truly a miracle.
Through this experience, I learned that the Lord will magnify our efforts when we have faith and work hard. As He promises us, “I will be on your right hand and on your left, and my Spirit shall be in your hearts, and mine angels round about you, to bear you up” (Doctrine and Covenants 84:88).
When my circumstances seemed impossible, the Lord provided a way (see 1 Nephi 3:7).
After my steady, consistent efforts and the miracles of the Lord, I eventually was able to serve a mission. The moment I realized this was within my reach was such a miracle. I had seen no way to make this happen, but I knew my prayers had been answered.

For example, when I had three young children, I was dealing with fibromyalgia while trying to keep a toe in my career by telecommuting five to ten hours per week. I remember the craziness of one general conference weekend. As I was trying to listen, the Spirit spoke three words to me clearly: “Play more music.” While it may seem like that had nothing to do with my situation, the Lord knew that music was exactly the kind of sand my family and I needed at that time.

Once I was in Turkey with a busload of American tourists. One day we were sitting in our bus after a visit, waiting to continue our trip. Next to where we were parked was a fruit-and-vegetable shop. As we were sitting in the bus, I noticed a boy about ten years old leave the shop and board the bus with a box of fresh cucumbers to give to the people on the bus. Middle Eastern cucumbers are sweet and delicious, and people eat them for snacks. The boy had dressed up for his mission to our bus with his suit coat on and his hair freshly combed and still moist from the combing. I was touched by the kindness of the boy and his shopkeeper father for providing this treat as an act of love and hospitality for the foreigners in their town. It was in keeping with what I have grown to love so much from the culture of Muslims in the Middle East. The smiling boy walked from the front of the bus to the back, offering the delicious treats along the way. There were enough for all. As he began to walk back to the front of the bus, someone offered him money, which he refused; getting money was not the boy’s objective in bringing the cucumbers. The American became insistent and eventually stuffed some money into the boy’s pocket, much to the boy’s embarrassment and dismay. As he tried to escape to the front of the bus, others followed suit, putting money in his pockets or throwing it in his box. As he made his way to the front exit, I noticed his expression change from happiness to disappointment to embarrassment to sadness. By the time he arrived at the front, he was in tears.

I was heartbroken and embarrassed. The boy was deeply hurt. His act of love had been prostituted into an act of business.

But the people on the bus—all fine people—felt good about themselves; they felt justified. Someone had provided them with a service for which they needed to pay. They had paid their own way, and they didn’t want to owe anything to anybody.

At the last general conference, I really took the time and effort to listen to the talks and try to gain something from them. While listening to President Gordon B. Hinckley, I was so touched by his spirit. I thought about the right choices he made when he was our age that helped him stay true to his beliefs. As he was giving counsel to us, I could see the love and devotion he has for us and his calling. As he was laughing and joking, I could see the joy that comes from serving the Lord.
As December and the holidays approached, I knew it was going to be difficult. My dad had passed away just four months before, leaving only my mom and me at home. At the same time, I was lucky to be at a stake conference where President Hinckley made a surprise visit. He bore his testimony and expressed his love. He said: “Do you feel gloomy? Lift your eyes. Stand on your feet. Sing songs of Christmas. Be positive.” These few words meant so much to me. I knew if I did my best at this hard time in my life, things would work out. What President Hinckley said did not take away my pain, but it helped me understand that I needed to be happy and help my mom and family be happy.
After the meeting, the congregation stood and sang “We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet” (Hymns, no. 19). The strength and spirit of love in that building were incredible. After we left the church, we pulled up to a stoplight and amazingly we were right next to President Hinckley. We were so excited and waved to him. When he waved back, you could feel his love. We hadn’t touched or talked to him, but the love I felt from him was strong and unforgettable.
I would just like to tell you how important a latter-day prophet is to me. He is the voice of our Heavenly Father. We not only get answers to our prayers from the scriptures, but also from what President Hinckley teaches at general conference, devotionals, and nights like tonight. Heavenly Father loves me and wants the best for me. He has given me a prophet who helps me know what to do to return to him someday. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

I used to keep all my money in my sock drawer. It was really simple to budget: when I ran out, well, I ran out. But managing my money from my dresser drawer forever just wasn’t realistic. I found that out when I got my first job and then again when I went away to college. My expenses seemed to skyrocket, and keeping track of my money was no longer an easy task. I wanted to be better at managing my money, but setting up a budget at that point appeared overwhelming. If only I had known how easy and important it is.

I recall an experience I heard at a stake conference in Idaho. A farm family in the community had just contracted for the installation of an additional and much-needed room on their home. Three or four days later the father came to the building supply dealer and said, “Will it be all right with you if we cancel the contract? The bishop talked with my son John about a mission last night. We will need to set this additional room aside for a while.” The building supply dealer responded, “Your son will go on his mission, and he will find the needed room when he returns.” Here was the spirit of Christianity—a family sending a boy into the world to teach the gospel, and friends coming to help the family with their problems. What then, indeed, shall we do with Jesus who is called Christ?

While cargo was delivered and provisions replenished in Honolulu, Brooklyn passengers were free to explore the island. Hundreds of natives were waiting for us to land. They greeted us with wide smiles and twinkling black eyes.
Some of the Hawaiians came on board and were delighted when they saw the nine-month-old Kittleman twins, Hannah and Sarah, and asked to take them ashore to show them to their queen. After they had been gone for more than two hours, Sister Kittleman became alarmed, and the ship’s crew organized a posse. Just as the sailors were ready to start a search, two young girls came running toward the ship with the babies. Queen Kalama had sent many gifts for their mother.

During the mid-20s when his first daughter was born, Brigham farmed in the summer, pursued his various handskills in the winter, was even employed for a while in a woolen mill and also a paint factory, where he used the cannonball his father had carried home with him from the Revolutionary War to grind the paint. Elder S. Dilworth Young reports a family tradition that Brigham invented an ingenious “water-powered pigment crusher,” with the cannonball “as the pestle to an iron pot mortar,” thus saving a good deal of work and time.17 However, he found that to succeed as a painter in the area where he lived, he would have to adulterate the linseed oil like his competitors. Unwilling to do so, he moved to Oswego, on Lake Ontario, and built a large tannery and then to Mendon, where he had his own carpentry shop. There a second daughter was born.

At age 18 I decided to leave the Church. For a time, leaving my Savior’s side did not seem to have any repercussions in my life. In my home country of Chile I was able to live comfortably on my salary. I felt I would always be able to finance my worldly lifestyle and could continue to ignore the promises I had made at the age of 14 in the waters of baptism.
I pursued this course for a few years, but then things stopped working out for me. Everything seemed to grow dark around me. I lost my job and had difficulty finding work. I had to do whatever kind of work I could just to survive. This should have made me wake up and find the path once again, but it didn’t.
Not long after this, my father passed away in 1998. Because I was the eldest son, a large part of the responsibility for taking care of my mother and younger brother fell on my shoulders. I bid farewell to my carefree lifestyle and came to realize that sometimes the Lord allows things to happen that we don’t understand until we see the end result.
I believe He allowed me to be drained economically to show me that the only way out was to pay tithing, which I did after returning to church and renewing my covenants. In this manner He patiently and lovingly brought me back to the fold.

Sometimes we may be a little fearful of sharing our testimonies, perhaps because we do not wish to offend or to be criticized. President Thomas S. Monson, First Counselor in the First Presidency, tells of a time when he faced the choice of bearing testimony or remaining silent. On an airplane flight, an off-duty flight attendant sat next to him reading a copy of A Marvelous Work and a Wonder. President Monson discovered that she was not a member of the Church. He recalls:
“I wondered silently, Should I be forward and say more about the Church? The words of the Apostle Peter crossed my mind: ‘Be ready always to give an answer to every [one] that asketh you a reason of the hope that is in you’ [1 Pet. 3:15]. I decided that now was the time for me to share my testimony with her.”
This woman later joined the Church and thanked President Monson for sharing his testimony (see Ensign, May 1995, page 50).

While watching a Mormon Message for Youth, I witnessed another bedroom that had become a holy place. The video shows Ingrid Delgado, a young woman from El Salvador, sharing her feelings about the temple. She says, “It is good to know we have a place where we can get away from the things of the world and receive sacred ordinances and help those who couldn’t receive them in this life.” As she speaks, the video shows Ingrid reading her scriptures, surrounded by Mormonads, quotations, a Personal Progress book, pictures of her family and the temple, and yes, her favorite stuffed animals.5 Perhaps without even realizing it, she has created her holy place away from the things of the world. I wonder how many times Ingrid has read her scriptures, felt the Spirit, and received answers to her prayers in her holy place.

As impressive as each of the presenters was that night, describing the various accomplishments of President Nelson, I was even more spellbound by a conversation I struck up with a man seated next to me in the audience. He didn't know who I was, but he knew President Nelson, then Dr. Nelson, director of the Thoracic Surgery Residency Program of the University of Utah Medical School in 1955.

This man described to me how he was a student of President Nelson's at the time. He shared with me many memories, affirming what I was hearing from the lectern. Most interesting to me was his description of the teaching style of President Nelson, which he said brought with it a large measure of notoriety. He explained that much of the teaching of residents who were to become heart surgeons was conducted by faculty members in the operating room. Here they observed and performed surgery under faculty supervision--which served as a laboratory classroom. He shared that the operating room environment under certain faculty surgeons was chaotic, competitive, filled with ego--a pressure cooker where resident surgeons felt their career was on the line each and every moment. He described how it was very difficult, sometimes even demeaning. He then explained the unique environment found in President Nelson's operating room. It was a peaceful, calm, and dignified atmosphere. Residents were treated with deep respect. However, following the demonstration of a procedure, Dr. Nelson expected the highest standard of performance from each of the residents. This man described how the best patient outcomes and the best surgeons came out of Dr. Nelson's operating room. This doesn't surprise me at all. This is the exact leadership style that I have experienced and observed firsthand and have been the recipient of in the Quorum of the Twelve. I feel that I have been, in a sense, one of his "residents in training."

Eleven-year-old George Monk attended the temple dedication with his mother and grandmother. He saw “a man appear at the south-east circular window of the assembly hall of the Temple.” When he told his mother, he was surprised to hear her say she could not see him. As the meeting continued, he saw “two other [angelic personages moving] … across the upper part of the hall from south to north … and five others [who] had entered the large compartment and were ranged upon the wide ledge which runs along the wall under the row of circular windows.” He described them as “the prettiest men” he had ever seen. Just prior to the benediction, he said, “Mamma, look at that one under the clock, he is the prettiest of them all. See! he is holding up both his hands like this.” Then George held up his own hands to show his mother. In all, he saw eight angelic personages and described them as “dressed in loose flowing white robes” and “most, if not all, had long and somewhat wavy hair.”

Soon after the Nagas joined the Church, their branch president encouraged the family to prepare to go to the temple. “Every time he spoke of the temple, he had tears in his eyes,” remembers Brother Naga. “And every time I saw that, I said to myself, It must be true. His testimony penetrates to my soul.”
Maryann and Inosi accepted the challenge. But they had no savings. How could they manage the trip financially? The couple decided that their family could quit eating beef and stop drinking cocoa and milo (a cereal drink). Instead, they would eat bele (a vegetable similar to spinach) and tinned fish and drink lemon-leaf tea; they would put away the money they saved on food and use it to travel to the temple. When they told their four young daughters of their plan, “they loved the idea,” remembers Brother Naga. “And they reminded us of our goal continually.”
About that time, Inosi and Maryann moved their family to Suva. They had lived in furnished quarters in Nausori, so they had no furniture for their new home; they spread mats on the floor on which they slept and ate. Some friends and family members ridiculed them. “They thought that since I was a civil servant, I should be able to afford nice things,” says Brother Naga. “But we wanted to save our money for the temple trip.”
In October 1976, directors of the Church Educational System offered Inosi a job as coordinator of the seminary program in Fiji. He hesitated to accept the position until Joseph Sokia, director of the Church Educational System in Fiji, told him, “If you accept the seminary job, you will have the chance to change the lives of our young people.”
That touched Inosi. He remembered that his district president had asked him once in an interview whether he would be willing to work full-time for the Church if he was needed. Inosi had said he would. Now was the time to keep that commitment.
Leaving government employment after twelve years was hard; Inosi lost his pension, his government benefits, and his opportunities for overseas travel. “But I knew I needed to go,” he says. Some of Inosi’s extended family and some people of his village were frustrated with his decision. They were proud of Inosi’s government position and told him he was making a mistake. But Maryann supported him, telling him, “Wherever you take us, we will follow.”
When Inosi resigned from his job, he asked to be paid for the leave that was due to him rather than taking the days off. Because her husband would have to travel frequently in his new assignment, Maryann also resigned from her job and asked to be paid for the leave that she had earned. When the couple added that money to what they had already saved, they found it was enough to take them and their daughters to the temple.
“When we got on the plane,” Brother Naga says, “I had 102 New Zealand dollars in my pocket. That was all our money. We didn’t know how we were going to pay our living expenses for the two weeks we would be in New Zealand.”
But Church members met the Nagas at the airport, arranged for lodging in a member’s home, and provided food and transportation.
“After we came back from the temple, the Lord blessed us,” Brother Naga says. “Not only were we able to buy furniture, we were able to extend our house.”
On 12 June 1983, Elder Howard W. Hunter created the Suva Fiji Stake and called Inosi as its first president. “I didn’t know what to say, because I think there were men who were more capable of fulfilling the calling,” he remembers. “But I am grateful to have been able to serve my brothers and sisters on this island. It has been a great privilege and opportunity.”
Shortly afterward, President Naga was interviewed to be associate area director of the Church Educational System. When he declined because he did not feel he had the proper education or qualifications to serve well in that position, his supervisor, Robert Perrington, disagreed. “I’ve been sitting up all night thinking about this,” he said. “At four o’clock this morning your name came clearly to me.”
President Naga went home to consult his wife. After the couple prayed for some time, Maryann said, “You go back and tell Brother Perrington that if the Brethren want you to do it, you will do it.”
President Naga has been blessed as he carries out his responsibilities. “When the Lord calls you to a position,” he says, “he provides a way for you to fulfill it.”
Now, nine years later, Inosi Naga oversees the Church Educational System in Fiji, New Caledonia, Vanuatu, and Tuvalu. He was recently released as stake president, and now serves as the Church’s Fiji Public Affairs director. Maryann is ward Primary president, and the six Naga children—Ana, twenty-two; Emily, twenty; Keresi, eighteen; Vilimaina, fifteen; Leua, thirteen; and Inosi, nine—are growing up knowing the strength that the gospel can bring to a family.
In the few short years since Inosi Naga received that book from the missionaries, his life and those of his family have been changed eternally. The elders were right—the book was golden.