Gospel Story Finder

I grew up as a member of the Church. I was taught the principles of the gospel by my parents in my home, was baptized and confirmed, and received the priesthood from my worthy father. I felt the influence of the Spirit in my life, but I did not receive a witness of the reality of the Atonement until a sunrise testimony meeting in my teen years.
A group of several hundred seminary students gathered before dawn for the meeting. I suppose that I shared my testimony that morning, but I can’t be sure. What I know is that during that meeting, as the sun rose on a new Easter, the Spirit came into my heart and testified of the reality of Jesus Christ—His life, His teachings, His Atonement, and His Resurrection.
Today I still find that the anchor for me through all the years has been the witness I received from the Spirit as a teenager on that Easter morning.

The young men and women of Santa Maria, California, live on the edge of another world, a mysterious, only partly explored domain that covers three-fourths of the earth. They know how to have a lot of fun where the sand meets the sea, and they set out one day in July to have as much of it as they could.
They started with horseplay, acrobatics, and sand surfing on the practically alpine sand dunes of Pismo Beach State Park, within sight of the surf. They had cut small, point-nosed sand surfing boards out of formica and had waxed the smooth surface with paraffin. They can sail down a steep dune as if it were the face of a giant wave.
Later there was frisbee throwing, sand castle building, and clam digging on the beach. Plying the clam forks vigorously, they added the basic ingredient to the clam chowder stock that was already bubbling higher up the beach, thanks to the efforts of the girls. One young man unlimbered his skim board on the wet sand. (A skim board is a round board cut out of plywood and then fiberglassed.) He would run a few steps, holding the board in front of him, then throw it down and jump on it for a slick ride atop the thin film of water left by a retreating wave.
The group couldn’t do any swimming at Pismo Beach because of the rough surf and dangerous currents, so they loaded the chowder and their sandy bodies into the cars and headed for Avila Beach only minutes away. Avila is a swimming beach, and the crowds of people witnessed that the water was fine.
After swimming, sunning, and surfing at Avila, they gathered at a beachside picnic table to enjoy the clam chowder. Afterwards, while most of the group sunned themselves, a couple of young men headed up the beach to a rocky area to explore tide pools, the basins of sea water trapped in depressions in the rocks when the tide goes out. They found starfish and other small sea creatures waiting for the sea to come back and reclaim them.
The next day the group headed back to the sand dunes for some cliff-hanging dune buggy fun and a little more sand surfing. They kept at it till there was nothing left of them but silhouettes against the sky and the sea.

One warm June day, a friend called and explained that her family was planning a week-long float trip down the Middle Fork of the Salmon River, Idaho's pristine wilderness territory. In order to go on the trip, her family had applied and been selected for a permit for a group of about 25 people. A family that was scheduled to go had cancelled and, with just four weeks to prepare, my friend invited me and my family to join the group. The invitation excited me! I couldn't wait to go on such an adventure. I imagined forging large white water rapids, the sun shining on our faces as we smiled and whooped with joy. In my mind I could see my husband and daughters' delight, as we shared this incredible experience together.

That evening, I chatted with my husband about his day at work, making small talk as we prepared dinner. Just when he seemed most relaxed, I slipped in the offer to join our friend and her family in floating the Middle Fork. My husband looked shocked! He was surprised I would consider such a trip knowing I couldn't swim. And I wouldn't say we are a camping family. Our idea of camping involves indoor plumbing, air conditioning, and flattening irons. We had little time to prepare. My husband, always the cautious planner, wanted time to think about the trip before making a commitment.

Two days later I came home from work and there on our kitchen table were four new sleeping bags! Despite some reservations about my inability to swim and our overall lack of preparation, my husband agreed to the trip.

We began preparing for this unexpected adventure. My brother Marty, an experienced white water raftsman, talked to me about rafting safety. He told me that sometimes people just pop out of the boat. He explained that if I found myself in the water, I should pull my knees up close to my chest, placing my body in a sitting position, pull my elbows in close to my body, and use my hands to navigate my direction in the water. This whole idea seemed a bit preposterous to me. Why would someone just pop out of the boat? I asked. My brother carefully explained how that might happen, enjoying the naivety of the question. Our preparations continued. We purchased a tent, lanterns, clothing, and a map of the river. My family was given a large white cooler for food storage. I carefully organized our cooler, placing items that would be needed later in the week at the bottom of the cooler, with lunch and snack items that would be needed immediately on the top. The morning we were to depart, I checked the cooler one more time. It was perfect! In my mind's eye I could see my family asking for something; I would be able to find the desired item in seconds. My family would beam, knowing their wife and mom was the most efficient and organized woman on the trip!

My husband took the cooler to a central point to load on a trailer. When he returned he explained that the coolers had been reorganized. All our lunch food was placed in a cooler we would share with my friend and her family. The items that would be needed later in the week to prepare and serve dinner to the group were placed in another cooler and duct taped shut. Although this seemed like a logical decision to my husband, I felt my plan of perfection had been altered. We drove to an area near Stanley, Idaho, and spent the night. We were surrounded by majestic mountains and forests. The beauty that surrounded me filled my soul with peace. The next morning we launched our loaded boats down a long ramp. Once we were at the water's edge, we made final preparations to place our rafts in the water. My husband, youngest daughter, Ashlyn, and I were in the same boat. Our captain had floated the river several times, but had never oared a boat before. My oldest daughter, Karly, was placed in another boat with our Bishop, an experienced oarsman. We were finally ready! Everything was going just as planned. We floated through the splendors of the forest that enveloped us, cresting large whitewater rapids and enjoying the sunshine. Suddenly, our boat hit a very large boulder. The pressure of the water pushed against the raft, wrapping it around the rock. I remember seeing my daughter and husband catapulted out of the raft into the cold, rushing whitewater. And then I saw my own feet entering the same frigid water. Suddenly the current pulled me to the middle of the river. I looked back to see my husband reaching for Ashlyn and breathed a sigh of relief knowing they were safe. My journey, however, was far from over.

The current was so swift I had no control. At the mercy of the river. I was swirling around and couldn't see where I was going. Unable to control my course, I bashed into rocks. Within seconds I was thrust into whitewater. In the middle of the rapids I realized I was being pushed down into the water and my life jacket was floating up. I didn't know it at the time, but in order for a lifejacket to work correctly you must cinch it tight to your body. I prefer loose fitting clothing and so, I did not tighten my lifejacket. The end result was that the lifejacket floated and I was pushed under the water. So, I did what any reasonable woman would do in the same situation. I screamed, "I can't breathe! I can't breathe!" inhaling large amounts of river water in the process. At this point I realized I needed to follow the counsel I had received from my brother. I pulled my knees up to my chest and pulled my lifejacket down with my hands. With the lifejacket close to my body, I floated to the top of the water and could breathe. What a relief! That relief, however, was only momentary as I realized that holding on to the lifejacket meant I couldn't use my hands to navigate. The current continued to move me rapidly forward, throwing me against rocks as I spun, at times floating backward, with no ability to see where I was going.

As the current changed direction, I could see another section of large white water rapids looming ahead of me. I knew my only hope was to try to stop myself against one of the boulders I could see in the clear, cold water. I could see a rock ahead of me and decided to try to extend my legs in an effort to catch myself against the rock. Because the current was so strong, I was concerned I might break my leg, but knew I had to find a way to stop myself. I slowly stretched out my legs and caught myself against the rock. I used all my strength to push against the current that was relentlessly trying to force me off the rock. Exhaling with exhaustion, I examined my surroundings, noting more whitewater just downstream. I wasn't sure how long I could hold on before I would again be carried into the whitewater. I found comfort knowing my family was behind me somewhere, safe and sound.

The temporary safety of my rock shelter was shattered as I heard my youngest daughter, Ashlyn, call out, "Mom! Mom!" I turned to see Ashlyn in the middle of the current and realized she had just traversed the same frigid water and class three rapids I had. I yelled at Ashlyn to swim to the shore. As Ashlyn swam, I uttered a humble and sincere prayer, asking my Father in Heaven to protect my daughters and to keep my husband safe.

As soon as Ashlyn got to shore, she turned towards me and began to sob. She yelled, "Mom! Mom!" I could hear the terror in her voice and became frightened that she would try to swim to me. I told her to stay on the shore where she was safe. At that moment, I heard my husband's voice. I cannot begin to describe my joy when I saw my husband on a raft coming to my rescue. He was reassuring me and telling me to hang on. Inwardly I thought, "No problem! I'm not going anywhere, at least if I can help it." And then, he did what any great husband and father would do. He oared to the shore to check on Ashlyn, telling me that help was on the way.

I exhaled, looking down stream, unsure if my exhausted body could hold onto the safety of my rock much longer. As I began to mentally prepare myself to be carried away by the current, our bishop threw a line to me and pulled me into the safety of his boat. I later learned the current had pulled Ashlyn from her father's grasp, carrying her past the boat that held my oldest daughter, Karly.

Bishop Ochieng and his wife had a friend who moved away from their neighborhood, but his wife knew where she now lived. The Ochiengs decided to “do something merciful” and visit her and also see how she was doing. They found her in a predicament with rent due and only KSh40 for the whole week. They gave her a little. She wept and the Ochiengs wept with her, because she didn’t know they were doing the 25 ways in 25 days program.

Two of my sisters, widows—one the mother of ten, and the other the mother of eight—after sending their children on missions, talked to their bishops about going on missions themselves.

I well remember the day they called me on the telephone and said, “Guess what? We’ve received our missionary calls.”

I said, “What missionary calls?”

They replied, “Don’t you know?”

I said, “No, I hadn’t heard.”

They responded, “Yes, we’re both going to your old field of labor in England.”

The mission president assigned them to work as companions—twenty months without a transfer. I think that is some kind of a record.

I think back with fond memories to my childhood in Scotland, when we would often celebrate Easter by going for a picnic with my family. We went up the Sidlaw Hills and, once settled, we would begin the egg ritual. My granny would have spent considerable time boiling eggs the night before, with different concoctions to make them different colours. The eggs would all have various expressions drawn on them, and wool would sometimes be stuck on for hair. I probably had some chocolate eggs as well, but I can’t really remember them–what you hold in your memory is the love and effort that goes into something, rather than how good it tastes. I knew that I was loved by these people who found it impossible to tell me in any other way but this.

When I went to Sunday School class that day my teacher was giving out red leather Bibles to some of the children who had 100 percent attendance for a year. I wanted one of those Bibles so bad I could hardly stand it, but there was no way I could get one now. I’d be gone in less than a month.
After class I went up to the front of the room just to look at the one beautiful book that was left. As I reached up to touch it, the teacher turned around from cleaning the blackboard and looked at me.
“You’re moving away, aren’t you, Dora?” she said.
I nodded my head.
“I’ll miss you in my class. I can tell when I see you listening that you are very close to our Heavenly Father.”
I nodded. She was right. I was close to Him. I knew He understood me even when no one else did.
“Would you like to have that Bible to take with you?” she asked kindly.
I bobbed my head up and down so fast I could feel my curls bouncing. She handed me the book, and I hugged it to me.
I reached up and kissed her cheek and skipped from the room, so happy I wanted to sing.
“Thank You, oh, thank You,” I murmured, glancing heavenward.

For several years I have (I hope kindly and gently) stopped students as they have attempted to save a second or two by cutting across the grass or shrubbery. I remember once pointing back to an area that was once grass but that now looked like hardscrabble and saying to a student, “Look what you have done.”

At first, he looked aghast, but then he said, almost apologetically, “I didn’t do that!”

Like the New England cow owner, as an individual he was right, but collectively he had destroyed the beauty of that section of the “university commons.” President Jeffrey R. Holland once reminded us that “no individual snowflake ever felt any responsibility for an avalanche” (“Oh, Lord, Keep My Rudder True,”BYU 1985–86 Devotional and Fireside Speeches [Provo: BYU, 1986], p. 61). Yet an avalanche is but a collection of individual snowflakes.

The many Beehive and Mia Maid girls in this audience remind me of this little anecdote written by a sister who was preparing for a Young Women activity. She said: “My 5-year-old daughter asked me how many ‘Honeyhives’ I had. After a little discussion, I determined she was talking about Beehives. I counted the young women who were Beehives and told her. She had made a paper airplane for each young woman, and proceeded to count out the appropriate number of airplanes.
“When she was finished, she still had a few paper airplanes left. After a moment of thought, she asked, ‘How many Mermaids do you have?’”

The scriptures, prayer, and making and keeping covenants have not only helped the people of Ammon but also first-generation members everywhere—including me. You see, while I was born of goodly parents, I was not taught the gospel at home. However, my parents did teach me moral values and ethical conduct. I remember my nonmember father helping me write the first talk I gave at church. The assigned topic was honesty, and instead of quoting the 13th article of faith, we used an example of a man whose nickname was Honest Abe.

It was left to Primary teachers, Young Women leaders, and priesthood leaders to provide me with gospel instruction. When I was seven years old, my junior Sunday School teacher taught us about prayer, and I wanted to pray. She taught us about tithing, and I wanted to pay tithing. She taught us about fasting, and, well, I was only seven years old, so I didn’t want to fast. But when she taught us about baptism, I wanted to be baptized. I am grateful for my goodly parents who supported me in my decision and who later also became members of the Church.

We have mentioned that Brigham Young had his tests. So did Heber C. Kimball—he was tried to the core. I believe there are those even in the Church who would say in their hearts that the test of Abraham is too much; that a loving God would not require such a thing of any man, least of all someone as faithful as Abraham. Those who have such thoughts had better think again. Modern revelation indicates at least three times that each of us who seeks eternal life must one day be tried, even as Abraham.38 I put the question once to President Hugh B. Brown, when we were in Israel: Why was Abraham commanded to go up on that mountain (traditionally Mount Moriah in Jerusalem) and offer as a sacrifice his only hope for the promised posterity? President Brown wisely replied, “Abraham needed to learn something about Abraham.”39 By being tested, all of us will one day know how much our hearts are really set on the kingdom of God.

Heber C. Kimball’s test was of that kind. A pure and humble man, at the restoration of the principle of plural marriage he was commanded—and that’s the word, not counselled—to take a second wife; and to make it worse, in that soul-wrenching setting he was told he must not yet confide this to his own companion, Vilate, whom he loved with a pure love, and with whom he had shared his spiritual life since their marriage, and particularly from the time they entered the Church. At the time of his baptism a voice had spoken to him, giving him some insight into his origins, his genealogy, and also whispering of things yet future. One thing he was told by the Spirit even then was that he and his wife would never be separated.40 Now, years later, he was being asked by a prophet to become separate in a sense—to enter plural marriage.

Filled with anxiety, Heber spent much of his nights pacing the floor. His dear Vilate begged him to tell her what was wrong, but because the Prophet had told him not to he couldn’t and wouldn’t. Finally, she in faith and desperate need went to her room and poured out her soul to God. “What is it, O Lord? How can I help my beloved?” And the Lord saw fit to give her a wonderful manifestation, for she saw and heard unspeakable things. She returned to her husband, her face aglow, and said, “Heber, what you kept from me the Lord has shown to me.” She covenanted to honor the principle with him. Heber, who had been supplicating the Father at the same time as she had, embraced her with comparable joy.

Heber passed the test. Later the Prophet, in tears, took him and his wife Vilate upstairs in his own store and blessed them personally and sealed upon them blessings that only come to those who have come up through affliction.41

Being the only member of the Church in my family was not easy. I longed for a way to share all I had learned about the Church with my family but feared they would accuse me of trying to convert them. I struggled with doubts. I knew the Lord wanted me to share the gospel with my family, but for more than a year I was too afraid to suggest that we have family home evening.
Finally, with my heart racing in fear, I asked the Lord for courage and strength to invite my family to have family home evening. To my surprise they said an enthusiastic “Yes!” to the suggestion, and our relationship has never been better.
Through family home evening I have been able to share the gospel and my testimony with everyone from my mother to my three-year-old niece. What a blessing it has been to read the Book of Mormon with them and hear that they believe what they are reading. In addition, the missionaries have been welcomed into our home to assist in our scripture study.
The greatest blessing is that in such a busy time of work, school, and other activities, my family is committed to meeting together every Monday and devoting an hour to learning more about the Lord. Laughing, singing, and kneeling together in family prayer have brought a tremendous sense of peace and love to our home.
Arlene Pryce, Don Valley Ward, Toronto Ontario Stake

One man I came to know in the business world truly exhibited Christ-like values. Tom Monahan. Tom was an orphan. He was raised in a Catholic orphanage in Michigan. He was admitted to the University of Michigan. After studying there for a few semesters, he found that he could no longer afford the tuition and board, even with his scholarship. So, he decided to drop out and buy a pizza shop close to campus. He put up $200 for his half of the business–that’s about $2,000 in today's dollars— and his brother sold his Volkswagen to come up with $200 for the other half. A few months later, his brother sold out and asked for his $200 back.

Tom was pretty successful. He grew his pizza shop with new locations. Today, you know his company as Domino’s Pizza. It has 21,500 shops around the world.

When he became wealthy, he began to buy some of the things he had always wanted.

He bought dozens of vintage automobiles. He built a massive new office for himself in the Domino’s office building. He even bought the Detroit Tigers baseball team. They won the World Series in the first year he acquired them.

And then it hit him. He was not living by the principles and values that he had been taught in the orphanage, by the values of his Christian faith. Tom sold his cars, sold the baseball team, and moved his office to a desk next to his secretary. He even decided to sign the Millionaire’s Vow of Poverty in which he promised he would not own a luxury car nor fly first class. Finally, he decided to sell his company.

My firm decided to buy it from him. I got to do something I had never done before or since: I made out a check for over one billion dollars and signed it.

I did not expect him to do what he did next. He turned it over and then signed all that money over to Catholic charities and to Ave Maria University in Florida, a college he founded to promote the ideals of Jesus Christ.

Tom’s was one of the most sudden transformations from worldly values to Christian values that I had ever seen, first-hand. And in a small way, it reminded me of the transformation of Paul the Apostle. Tom’s commitment to his core values inspired me to do so more fully myself.

Margaret tucked her children into bed. Her son, Jeffrey, opened one eye. “Mummy, when can we go to the temple?”
Margaret kissed his forehead. “As soon as it’s finished.” She turned out the light.
Margaret was looking forward to the temple dedication too. She was excited to be sealed to her family. But the temple was far away in New Zealand. It would cost a lot of money to travel from their home in Australia. They had saved for months. They even sold their car. But they still needed 200 more pounds.
She knelt to pray. “Heavenly Father, please help us get the rest of the money we need.”
Just then her husband, Don, walked in. “I saw my father today. He apologized for not visiting us, and he gave us this.”
He handed her a piece of paper. It was a check for 100 pounds! Margaret could hardly believe it. Don’s father hadn’t talked to them in months. It was a miracle!
A few days later, Margaret’s parents visited. “We’ve been saving some money,” her father said. He pressed 100 pounds into Margaret’s hand. “Have a good trip!”
Margaret smiled. They had enough money now!
There was one more problem. The trip would take six weeks. Don’s boss said he couldn’t be gone that long. After a lot of prayer, Margaret and Don decided Don would quit his job.
Finally it was time to go. Margaret and Don helped their children onto the train. They rode it for five whole days.
“Are we there yet?” Jeffrey asked Margaret.
“Not yet,” she said. “Now we’ll take the boat to New Zealand.”
But there was more bad news. The boat had crashed. It wasn’t taking passengers. Had they come this far for nothing?
No! Margaret’s prayers were answered again. Someone gave them plane tickets. Soon Margaret and her family were flying over the ocean. Next stop, New Zealand!
When Margaret finally stepped inside the temple, her heart was warm. She even got to shake the prophet’s hand. “Heavenly Father will bless your family because you chose to come here,” he said.
Later, Margaret and her family dressed in white. They knelt around an altar to be sealed. Margaret beamed. Now they could be together forever!
When they got home, Margaret and Don had only 5 pounds left. But Margaret remembered the prophet’s promise. Heavenly Father would bless them.
And He did! The next week, Don came home with happy news. “I got a job! It’s even better than the one I had before.”
Margaret hugged him tight. She knew going to the temple would always be worth it.

When I was very little, I suffered various forms of abuse and mistreatment from a member of my family and someone else outside of my family. Because of that abuse, I grew up with fear, hatred, and a lot of resentment in my heart. At times I believed I was the cause of what had happened to me, and I felt guilty. I felt like the dirtiest human being in the world. And I carried those feelings with me growing up.
However, everything changed when I was 20 and missionaries knocked on my door to share a special message with me—a message full of faith, love, and hope. They told me about the gospel of Jesus Christ.
As I listened to them, I felt the peace and tranquility in my heart that had been missing for most of my life. I could honestly feel that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ truly loved me and that my value had not diminished despite everything I had gone through. Could this be the way to finally be free of the guilt and shame I had carried with me throughout my life?
The missionaries continued to visit and teach me, and only two months later I was baptized. I had never been so happy in my entire life. As I kept learning more and more, the principles and teachings of the gospel showed me how I could (it was actually possible!) find the strength to move forward with peace, forgive, and end the conflict I had carried for so long in my heart.1
I was especially comforted by the words of Elder Patrick Kearon of the Seventy during general conference when he spoke of abuse. He taught:
“You are not defined by these terrible things that have been done to you. You are, in glorious truth, defined by your eternally existing identity as a son or daughter of God …
“With arms outstretched, the Savior offers the gift of healing to you. With courage, patience, and faithful focus on Him, before too long you can come to fully accept this gift. You can let go of your pain and leave it at His feet.”2
I know now that I am not guilty of what happened to me—I was a victim of others’ terrible actions.
I am so thankful for the healing power of Jesus Christ. Learning about Him and striving to follow Him has helped me move forward with the knowledge that He suffered for me and understands everything I have been through. Learning that He bore my burdens alone so that I would never have to was an amazing realization for me and has deepened my faith in Him.
But my own turmoil about my abuse wasn’t the only part of me that needed healing. I learned that Jesus Christ, through the power of His Atonement, will not only cleanse us of our sins but also comfort us and help us to move forward, grow, and forgive those who have hurt us deeply.
Forgiving is hard, and sometimes it may seem impossible. It did for so long in my case. But as I focused on recovering from the repercussions of abuse, I realized that I could work toward forgiveness slowly over time because it was necessary for complete recovery.
President Russell M. Nelson recently taught us about ending conflicts in our lives. He said: “If forgiveness presently seems impossible, plead for power through the atoning blood of Jesus Christ to help you. As you do so, I promise personal peace and a burst of spiritual momentum.”3
To free my soul from hatred and resentment, I relied on the Savior to help me truly forgive and let go of the conflict in my heart. It was a long process, but as I exercised faith, I did feel the reassuring love and peace of the Savior replace those negative emotions I had carried for so long. I was finally able to realize that although the past can’t be erased or changed, it can be accepted and overcome, and that helped me feel so much hope for the future.
Despite what I believed when I was young, the Lord is with us through everything. He loves us with infinite love. I was so hopeless about my life circumstances, but He showed me how He can help us turn our worst suffering into beautiful faith and strength.
I love this gospel and have no doubts about the path I have taken as a disciple of Jesus Christ. I know in my heart that Jesus Christ and my Heavenly Father love me—and each one of us. They stand ready to help us do the seemingly impossible, especially if the impossible involves forgiving the seemingly unforgivable. Be strong, persevere, have faith, and you will be very blessed.
I know I have been.

Emma Whitney’s life was completely different to what it became as a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Twenty years old, living in Scunthorpe, England, Emma describes her life before discovering the Church as full of drink, drugs, partying, toxic friends, no respect for herself, little education, and challenges to her mental health.
Learning and understanding God’s words has always been a desire for Emma. One life-changing experience brought Emma to her knees; pouring her heart out in prayer led to an answer a few weeks later, by accepting a request to participate in a Bible study class with full-time Church missionaries. Understanding the words of the Bible has been a struggle for Emma; on the other hand, she says, “Even though the words are old English words, I understand the Book of Mormon clearly.”
Scripture study and prayer are factors that enable Emma to stay strong and to say no to situations that she deems would be bad for her. Inspiration which led Emma to change her ways and join the Church, was understanding that she could turn over a new leaf and all would be forgiven. Therefore, after five weeks of investigating the Church, Emma was baptised on the fifth of May 2021.
In 2022, clean from drugs and alcohol, surrounded by good friends, a good relationship, good family relationships, and studying the subject of communications using the online BYU-Pathway programme, Emma says she is genuinely happy and strengthened. Dealing with her past has been easier for her as she talks about the importance of looking after her body, “I was just abusing my body in every way you could think of. I’ve come to realise that to take pride in our bodies is a gift from God.”
Follow Emma’s journey at lds.scripturestudy on Instagram.

Danny Cope maneuvers his motorized wheelchair with the skill of a parking attendant. He can’t move his arms or fingers very well, but he prods the control stick mounted on his armrest with his fist. Danny’s wheelchair has seen a lot of action. As a deacon in the Oakridge Ward in the El Dorado California Stake, he uses it to fulfill his Aaronic Priesthood duties.
The wheelchair takes him to collect fast offerings and to quorum and Scout activities. His dad even made a special sacrament tray attachment so Danny can pass the sacrament with the other deacons. Since he isn’t able to lift the tray himself, the ward member nearest to the aisle helps him. Cerebral palsy might limit him physically, but mentally and spiritually he keeps moving.

Meanwhile, Gabin’s return ticket to Libreville remained undetermined. Fortunately, the kind-hearted Havrenne family, members of the Charleroi Ward, invited Gabin to live at their home in Erquelines, a small town near Charleroi, while his situation in Gabon was being resolved. After several weeks, his hosts insisted that he stay and proposed to have him help with the gardening around the house. “It was a difficult time in my life,” Gabin recalls. “Here I was, a trained electronics engineer with no money and no job—stranded in Belgium, pruning bushes and pulling weeds. But through it all I learned humility and this experience was one of the best lessons in my life.”
By 2005, Gabin still worked for his room and board as a gardener—and he was still struggling with the government of Gabon to organize his return. His Belgian student visa had long-since expired. In limited correspondence with his older brother in Libreville, Gabin learned that his family was very discouraged by the situation and desperately wanted him to return home.
By this time, he had received the Melchizedek Priesthood and had been ordained an elder. He also received his patriarchal blessing. In separate interviews, his bishop and stake president asked if he might be interested in serving a full-time mission. Gabin responded, “Yes, I would.” A missionary application was completed and submitted—and a few weeks later Gabin received his mission call from Salt Lake City. He was instructed to enter the missionary training centre on 20 June 2006—and then report to the Brussels Belgium Mission—a mere 60 kilometers from where he was then living.
Missionary preparation began in earnest and Gabin went to The Hague Netherlands Temple where he received his endowment. He was anxious to serve the next two years as a full-time missionary, but after having informed his family in Libreville of his plans, they became angry with him. They could not understand why he was interested in running off on a mission. “You must return home”, he was told. “After all, we supported you and it is selfish not to return home to help out the family.” Gabin became conflicted and during this personal struggle, he met with President Kevin S. Hamilton, who at the time was President of the Brussels Belgium Mission and who was to become his mission president. He asked for advice and counsel. President Hamilton, told him, “Trust in God—things happen for a reason. Everything will turn out all right, but in unexpected ways”.
A few days before his departure—and in a twist of fate that can only be understood by going forward in time to several years later—Gabin received two official letters in the mail. One, from the government of Belgium, indicated it had recently discovered that he was living in Belgium on an expired student visa and ordered him to be immediately deported back to Gabon. The second letter was from Libreville—and included his return airline ticket.
The stake president recommended that Gabin fly home and then he would work with the missionary department in Salt Lake City to get things sorted out. So, in the spring of 2006—nine years after first having left his family in Libreville—Gabin was finally going home. He packed a suitcase, and among his personal possessions were two copies of the Book of Mormon, his mission call, DVDs of both 2004 general conferences, his patriarchal blessing, a few tithing slips, and some temple garments.
Over the next few weeks, the stake president in Charleroi worked with the missionary department in Salt Lake City to resolve this unusual situation. Things became even more complicated because in 2006 the Church was not officially recognized by the government of Gabon and no ward or stake was organized in the country. Gabin, now living in Gabon, had no local priesthood leader. The Belgian government was not prepared to issue a missionary visa due to the expiration of the student visa. Finally, a decision was made to cancel his mission call. Gabin was home to stay.
He moved in with his older brother, and during that year, found a job as an electronics technician in a local business. The dreams of his higher education were beginning to come true.
With no organized Church unit in Libreville, Gabin held unofficial meetings on Sundays and family home evenings on Mondays at his home. Some friends and a few family members attended with interest. Gabin would teach from the Book of Mormon and they would watch 2004 general conference sessions.
Throughout this time, Internet services inside Gabon were unreliable and costly—and accessing websites outside the country was almost impossible. From time to time, Gabin was able to access Church websites and download a general conference talk or two. These he would print out and add to his Sunday “lesson plans”.
In 2008, he met Fleur and fell deeply in love. Gabin remembers, “I found a girl!” Fleur had a daughter, Eve, and he fell in love with her, too. Fleur and Eve usually attended a local Protestant congregation, but throughout their courtship, he taught them missionary lessons. They started attending his Sunday meetings and family home evenings on Mondays. Gabin and Fleur were married in 2013 in a civil ceremony.
At the beginning of 2014, Gabin found an article online reporting that Elder David A. Bednar, of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, had a few months earlier been in Libreville. It was just after the Gabonese government had officially recognized the Church and had permitted the beginning of missionary activities. Elder Bednar had dedicated the country of Gabon for the preaching of the gospel and he had organized the Libreville Branch. Gabin was stunned. For more than eight years he had likely been the only endowed member of the Church living in Gabon and suddenly there was a branch organized in his home city.
Using an email address found in the article, Gabin wrote to the Africa Southeast Area office, asking questions about the Church situation in Libreville. Elie Monga, president of the Brazzaville mission in the Republic of Congo, was informed and a few days later, while at work, Gabin received a visit from Elder Michael Moody, the first senior missionary to serve in Gabon.
After their initial greeting, Gabin said to Elder Moody, “I have a few questions. First, where can I pay my tithing?” For more than eight years, Gabin had carefully kept his tithing money in a small box.
“Second,” he asked, “Where can I buy new temple garments? Eight years ago, I brought a few to Libreville, and every night since I have been carefully hand washing them.” Elder Moody went to the car, opened his suitcase, and gave Gabin a brand-new pair of garments that he had been prompted to pack in his travel case that morning.
The next Sunday, Gabin, Fleur, Eve, Gabin’s nephew Yann, plus Annaïck and Pauline, Fleur’s nieces were six of the ten people sitting in the Libreville Branch sacrament meeting. Fleur was taught the missionary lessons and shortly afterward was baptized and confirmed a member of the Church. And so were Eve, Yann, Annaïck, and Pauline.
In 2015, Gabin adopted Eve. And later that year the three of them—Gabin, Fleur, and Eve—flew to Johannesburg, South Africa, where this unlikely story concludes with significant eternal consequences. Fleur received her endowment, she and Gabin were sealed together, and Eve was sealed to them both in the Johannesburg South Africa Temple.
In 2016, Elie Monga, president of the Republic of Congo Brazzaville Mission, travelled to Libreville to preside over a division of the Libreville Branch. Gabin Mendene was called to serve as president of the Libreville 2nd Branch. Shortly afterward, while attending district conference, Elder Kevin S. Hamilton—former Brussels Belgium mission president and now a General Authority Seventy and president of the Africa Southeast Area—looked out from his seat on the rostrum. And sitting there in the middle of the congregation was someone he had not seen in ten years—a patient man with an extraordinary conversion story and a church pioneer in Africa—Gabin from Gabon.

—Someone else was impressed with the lost money, too—the girl who lost it. She had been encouraged by her LDS friends to join them at Chiemsee and was dismayed when her funds for the entire activity disappeared. Her roommates helped her to search, had prayed with her, and had come to the desk to see if the clerk could offer any suggestions.
“Twenty dollars?” he said, trying to hide his grin. “Why, yes, someone turned it in just five minutes ago. …”
“... and the young lady’s money was returned to her,” the article implies, but the full resolution is not present in the provided text.

One Friday night in December 2008, after a Christmas shopping trip with two of his friends, Chris was killed when the car he was riding in slid on some ice and crashed into a truck. News of the accident spread quickly and seemed to affect the whole town. The next day, hundreds of (mostly non-LDS) teens gathered at the stake center, seeking comfort. On Monday those same young people also crowded into the seminary building.
Faced with so many grieving teens, Brother Scott simply told them the truth—that Heavenly Father has a plan, that death is part of that plan, and that Christ’s Atonement makes it possible to return to our Heavenly Father. He taught them that the work of bringing souls to Christ continues even in the spirit world and that perhaps Chris was now doing that work.
Liz Shimbashi, 17, remembers that time well. “Lots of people came to the seminary building after the accident. It was hard at school, but then people would come here, and they realized, ‘Hey, seminary is a good place.’ So we invited them to return, and lots of them did.”
For many of the non-LDS teens, the need to be comforted grew into a desire to know more. And the seminary students, who had already been enthusiastic about sharing the gospel, now did it with a more serious purpose and deeper understanding.
“The biggest reason people came was because they saw how much Beans loved people, and through that they saw his testimony,” recalls Rachel Bennett, 16. “I think they wanted to know what he knew.”
Luke Nelson, 16, says, “Beans’s death made me notice how other people didn’t know what we know and that we’re so comforted because of what we know about the Atonement. I want to share that with everybody so they can be comforted and be peaceful and happy.”
“People wanted to know the answers to questions like ‘Is he going to heaven?’ So they came to seminary to learn just because of his example,” says Megan Fajnor, 17.