Gospel Story Finder

“Vroom, vroom, vroom!” Brandon pushed his red toy convertible across the kitchen floor, driving it around the table and under the chairs in a zigzag pattern.
“Vroom, vroom, vroom!” Daniel echoed, driving his blue sedan in the same pattern.
Brandon parked his car under his chair. “Mom, what are we having for breakfast?”
Daniel parked his car right next to Brandon’s. “Yeah, Mom, what are we having for breakfast?”
“How about pancakes?” Mom asked.
“Yea, pancakes!” Brandon cheered.
“Yea, pancakes!” Daniel cheered just as loud.
“Will you make me a car pancake?” Brandon asked.
“Yes, I will,” Mom said.
“Will you make me a car pancake too?” Daniel asked, climbing up on his chair.
Brandon frowned. “Why does Daniel always have to copy me?” he asked. “Everything I do, he has to do, and everything I say, he says.”
Mom smiled as she stirred pancake batter. “Little brothers like to follow big brothers because they think their big brothers are really special. When Daniel copies you, he feels special too.”
“But it bugs me, Mom.”
“I can understand that,” Mom said. “But remember that Daniel’s not trying to be annoying. He thinks you’re great, and he wants to be just like you. That’s why it’s important that you set a good example for him.”
Brandon shook his head. “Daniel is lucky that he doesn’t have a little brother to copy him all the time.”
Mom poured batter onto the hot griddle. A wonderful smell soon filled the room. “Brandon,” she said, “you aren’t the only big brother who has a younger brother imitating him. Don’t you like to build model jets just like the ones Jeffrey builds, and drive your train on the track he put together?”
“Yeah, but Jeffrey doesn’t care if I copy him,” Brandon said. “And besides, I don’t say the same thing every time.”
“Jeffrey doesn’t care if I copy him either,” Daniel added.
Mom laughed but then grew serious. “I can think of a person whom we honor when we try to follow His example. Do you know who I mean?”
“Who?” Brandon and Daniel asked together.
“Jesus Christ. Did you know that He is the Firstborn of Heavenly Father’s spirit children? He is our Savior and sets the example for us.”
“Oh yeah,” Brandon said. “You told us that before.”
“He wants us to follow Him. One of the reasons He came to earth was to show us the things we should do and how we should act. Can you think of some ways you can follow Jesus?” Mom asked.
“We can get baptized,” Daniel said.
“And love little children,” Brandon added.
“Good answers,” Mom said. “And how about little brothers? Do you think Jesus loves little brothers?”
“Yes,” they both answered.
“What kind of things do you think Jesus would do to show His love for little brothers?”
“Help them clean up,” Daniel said.
“Help them build things,” Brandon said.
Mom turned the pancakes over. “You’re both right,” she said. “When you help your brother, you’re treating him the way Jesus would treat him.”
“So I can follow Jesus by letting Daniel follow me?” Brandon asked.
“That’s right,” Mom said. “Whenever you treat someone with kindness you are following the Savior.”
“OK, Daniel,” Brandon said. “Should we both have syrup on our pancakes?”
“Yes!” Daniel exclaimed. “I like being like my brother!”

How do three lovely young ladies who are completely deaf speak fluently with confidence and joy?
The answer? With patient faith, hard work, and tender help from parents, sisters, teachers, and their Heavenly Father.
The Ferguson sisters, Deborah, 23, Julie-Ann, 18, and Heather, 15 are from Bangor Branch, Belfast Northern Ireland Stake, and were born with hearing impairments. Two more sisters, Amanda, 22, and Gail, 20, along with parents Peter and Lillian have normal hearing. The girls’ grandparents were also born deaf and mute.
But communication is no problem for this outstanding family. Trust in the Lord and determination are working miracles in their lives.
Proof of this is abundant in Deborah’s many achievements. Her happy personality and eagerness to live life to the fullest have overcome some hearing problems. Since graduating from seminary, she has participated in the Church Scouting program, serving in assistant leadership positions.
Among other hard-earned awards are trophies of all shapes and sizes for numerous sports, including soccer, badminton, squash, and swimming.
“When we held a youth dance festival,” said Young Women president Sister Geddis, “Deborah was the best at keeping on the beat, moving perfectly with the music.” Deborah explains, “Although I can’t hear sound, I feel vibrations through the floor, and with care I can dance as well as anyone else.”
Whether dancing or studying, no obstacles will prevent Deborah from enjoying every program the Church has to offer. “I hope to be a missionary,” she says. “I love to serve and have a great desire to spread the gospel amongst other people with hearing disabilities.”
Her younger sister Amanda feels the same way. Although able to hear perfectly herself, she has seen her family achieve goals they have set and she is determined to help others less fortunate. She is taking a three-year university course in sign language for the deaf so that she will be qualified to interpret and teach.
“I’d like to begin by sharing the gospel with my grandparents, aunt, and uncles who are also deaf,” Amanda explains. “I feel they’re missing so much. I’d love to help them learn the truth.”
Learning plays an important part in sister Gail’s life too—especially in seminary. “It’s a great program. I gain such a lot. Reading the experiences of people in the scriptures has helped me appreciate my own family and their present struggles.”
Gail has an outstanding talent for dealing with children. Acting as “ears” for younger sisters for many years, she has developed patience, kindness, and sharp sensitivity to others’ needs.
Those listening ears are greatly missed by Julie-Ann and Heather for many months each year. These two leave home and family behind and attend school at the renowned Mary Hare United Kingdom Grammar School for the Deaf in Newbury, England. Due to the high academic standards, for one pupil to be accepted at this outstanding school is an accomplishment, but for two from the same family to attend is almost a miracle.
“Letting the children be educated so far away has been a traumatic experience for us all,” Brother Ferguson says. “But through prayer we found comfort and confirmation that our decision was right.”
“We all send letters once or twice a week,” says Julie-Ann, “and there’s a special telephone at school which allows three-way conversations between pupil, interpreter, and parent, so we don’t have to go too long without help from home on any problem.”
“Brother and Sister Williams from Newbury Branch pick us up for church each Sunday,” says Heather. “We enjoy that. There’s a lovely feeling among the members.”
“I love learning everything I can about the Savior and his church,” says Julie-Ann. “I do home-study seminary, and it always helps me. I find sacrament meetings a bit frustrating sometimes, especially when I can’t understand every word the speakers say. People are kind and write things down for me, but often speakers go too fast for me to get all the details.”
Both girls are excellent lip readers, however. In addition, they use hearing aids. They are becoming so expert at understanding others that they are even learning another language—French. “It’s difficult,” says Heather. “I have to concentrate much harder than students with normal hearing.”
Reading music has been part of their lives since infancy. “Our mother used to point out how notes go up and down in hymnbooks at church,” says Julie-Ann, “and if the congregation doesn’t sing louder than the piano, I can pick out the beat and sing hymns.”
“We play recorders the same way,” comments Heather. “I feel pulsation of sound through my feet and legs, and with plenty of practice, we get the tunes right. We have a good orchestra here.”
Although Julie-Ann, Heather, and Deborah use their talents to achieve results in life equal to, and often better than, those of people without hearing impairments, they are sometimes disappointed and hurt by the attitudes of many people towards their disability.
“I prefer to be treated just like everyone else,” Heather says. “It’s really embarrassing when I’m in a crowd and someone starts speaking to me very slowly, waving their arms to emphasize what they are saying. It’s as if they think I am stupid and couldn’t understand them otherwise.”
“Yes,” agrees Julie-Ann, “it’s nice to be accepted as part of the group, spoken to normally, and not stared at as if we’re odd. I often feel like telling people, ‘I’m exactly the same inside as you are.’ It makes me heartbroken and depressed when they are afraid or don’t want to understand me.”
“That’s right,” Heather adds. “I don’t always understand a question the first time someone asks. If I ask them to repeat it, they often say, ‘Oh, never mind,’ and go away! I’d rather they try again and again, so we can learn about each other. I don’t like brief conversations with only ‘Hi!’ or ‘How are you doing?’ I’d prefer to talk properly, long discussions, not too fast or too slow, but real conversations with facial expression and feeling.”
Perhaps because of a certain isolation that deafness creates for them, all three girls have developed a close, personal relationship with their Heavenly Father.
“I talk to the Lord in prayer much of the time,” says Julie-Ann. “I feel the presence of the Holy Spirit strongly and am constantly grateful for the promptings I receive. We watched a video of general conference. During remarks about keeping high standards and avoiding friendships with the wrong crowd, I felt so warm inside as the Spirit testified this was important advice. I could have cried. I didn’t want that wonderful feeling to go away.”
The Fergusons seem to be a part of fulfilling prophecy. In Isaiah 29:18, the prophet wrote, “In that day shall the deaf hear the words of the book.” [Isa. 29:18] Not only are the Fergusons hearing the truth of the gospel themselves, they are becoming well educated and prepared to share those words with all who care to listen with ears, eyes, hands, and hearts.

One such was Edward Ojuka of Uganda. He met the missionaries in Perth, Australia, when he went there to attend college. After studying the gospel for four months, Edward was baptized. But when he talked to his wife, Grace, she was not interested; she was happy in the church they had been in. “I didn’t press the issue,” Edward says, “because I knew without a doubt that one day she would understand it.”

When Edward finished his master’s degree in 1987, he returned to Uganda. Then he decided to pursue a doctorate at Brigham Young University. Through a “chain of miracles” he received the necessary scholarships, and in 1988 he, his wife, and their three children moved to Provo, Utah. Three months later Grace was baptized, and a year after that their family was sealed in the temple.

“The Church’s power is based on the truth that it carries,” Edward says. “My desire in life is to serve. If I can use my learning and my education both secularly and in the Church to help, that would be my heart’s desire.”

My life has been different than most youth in the Church. In fact, I’m not even a member. I’m 17 years old and have been waiting to be baptized for a year and a half. My parents told me that I had to be able to make that commitment without their permission.
But that love didn’t come right away. In the Book of Mormon, Alma compares the word of the Lord to a seed. The seed was planted at girls’ camp. I thought the seed was good so I nourished it. I went to seminary. I took the missionary discussions. The seed swelled, sprouted, and began to grow. When things were going so well, I decided to carry out the challenge that the missionaries gave me and talk to my parents about baptism.
It hurt me so much when my parents said no. I had no choice but to abide by their counsel. I was 15 then. Eighteen seemed so far away.
After a few months, I got used to the idea of being an “eternal investigator.” The members treated me as a member, and I gave my first talk in sacrament meeting after four months of going to church. I completed my first year of seminary. But then when school started again, things started to go downhill.
I was moody most of the time. Discouragement caused most of my depression. I wanted to be baptized so badly it hurt. I’d attend baptisms and I’d leave crying.
I began to wonder about my testimony. I tried talking to people, and they’d say that I was just going through a hard time and to “hang in there.” What bothered me the most was that I wasn’t sure if I had my own testimony or if I was living off “borrowed light.” After those few months of confusion, I finally realized that I had talked to everyone but the one I should have gone to first, my Heavenly Father.
I asked him to help me through this trial. I needed to get back on my feet again, and I couldn’t do it alone. I continued to try to live as I had before all of the confusion started.
A short time later, I received a witness that my prayer was answered. I didn’t have that burning sensation, but I did have a calm, peaceful feeling. The confusion was no longer there. I knew then, as I know today, that the Church is true. I have a testimony; I’m sure of it. I know it’s true with all my heart, and I’ll make sure with all my power that I never lose sight of it again.
Editor’s Note: Kim was baptized December 31, 1991, on her 18th birthday.

“I’ve never had it easy,” says Dahvana Daneisha Shanika Providence from Saint Vincent.
After attending different schools due to constant changes in her earlier education and having health issues during her secondary education, she felt the need to achieve her dreams.
Having obtained second place on her first pageant, she decided to pursue her dreams in the textile world.
Being persistent in that dream has gotten Dahvana a scholarship in New York to study fashion after winning Miss Venus Model Caribbean 2018.

Our story begins in 1987 when two elders, Paul Gooch and Garrett Black, were assigned to the Massachusetts Boston Mission. Since there had not been elders in Lowell for a number of years, they felt it was appropriate to seek special help from Heavenly Father on the missionary effort. At that time there were only two Cambodian families who were members of the Church in that area.

Elder Gooch’s journal entry of April 11, 1987, reads: “On this beautiful, clear, spring day, Elder Black and I went upon the top of Fort Hill overlooking the city. We asked that Lowell be blessed as a place of refuge for the Asian people where they could rest in peace and safety, where the Spirit could dwell amidst them in their homes.” Both elders felt inspired. The entry continues, “We asked that Lowell be blessed as a place where the Asians might come to know Jesus as their Savior.”
The elders’ first meeting with Chea was quite accidental. Looking for another family, they happened to knock on his door. Chea was the only family member who spoke English. In the course of their conversation, he told them that he loved Jesus, wanted to find a church, and made them promise to take him to church the next Sunday. Elder Gooch recalls, “I was very impressed with Chea. He was extremely mature and seemed like a 25-year-old in an 11-year-old body.” Chea’s parents told the elders that their son visited several Christian churches on his own, but “didn’t feel right in any of them.”
Chea’s maturity is no doubt a result of many of the things he has experienced in his young life. Like many Cambodians who have found refuge in the United States, Chea and his family are survivors. He was four and his sister Soph was ten when they escaped with their parents from Cambodia after suffering through long days of fear and hard work on a rice farm. The Touch family does not like to speak about the events in their past life. It is painful to recall the tortures and brutal slayings. Seven of their children died in Cambodia.
Chea and his remaining family were able to escape one night in 1979 after the Khmer Rouge was overthrown by the Vietnamese forces. They trekked through the mountains and made their way to the Kavidan refugee camp in Thailand.
They lived in the refugee camp until 1984, when relief organizations sponsored their relocation to the United States. They’ve been in Lowell, Massachusetts, since then. Chea now has two younger sisters: Lundi, who is six, and Dani, age four.
After hearing the discussions and attending sacrament meeting, Chea knew he had found what he was looking for. “The people are so nice. I feel I belong. As I learn the scriptures and read the Book of Mormon, I can feel Heavenly Father’s love for me.” Chea loves to sing and adds, “The music makes me very happy.” Although his parents have taken the missionary lessons, attend church often, and fully support Chea, they have not joined.
After his baptism, Chea and the elders became very good friends. “Almost every day Chea would hop over the back fence and climb the stairs to our apartment,” recalls Elder Gooch. “After fixing himself a piece of unbuttered toast, he would tell us about friends and relatives he wanted us to visit. Sometimes we had a hard time keeping up!”
With a twinkle in his eye, Chea recalls the first person he told the elders about. “Sothom Chea was in my class at school. At first I was afraid of him. I thought he didn’t like me. I asked him if he would like to meet my friends, Elder Black and Elder Gooch. When Sothom said yes I was surprised but very, very happy.” Chea accompanied the elders to all of Sothom’s discussions. He says, “I enjoyed translating the lessons. I learned so much. I could feel the Holy Spirit. Besides, it was fun.”
Old as well as young have benefited from Chea’s desire to share his newfound knowledge. His neighbor, Sophon Heng, a mother of four, and her elderly mother Hong Heng were baptized as a result of Chea’s efforts. Sophon recalls, “Chea was so kind to us. He asked us if we would like to meet two men who would teach us and make us happy. When we said yes, Chea and the elders came to our home each week and taught us the gospel.”
For Chea it is not a sacrifice but a real joy to share Heavenly Father’s message. “Each time I go with the elders I seem to learn something new. I enjoy learning about how to return to Heavenly Father—what I must do and what I must avoid.”
Irene Danjou, Chea’s former Primary president, beams as she remembers, “Each Sunday he would bring a different friend to church. He’d introduce them to me, spell their names, tell me their ages, and sit with them until they felt comfortable. Then he would go to his own class. He did this every week for a whole year!”
One example of Chea’s diligence and enthusiasm as a young missionary is recorded in Elder Gooch’s journal: “I was home for lunch, sitting on my hardwood rocking chair, trying to prepare a talk for zone conference. Somehow I just couldn’t get my thoughts gathered. The telephone rang. It was Chea. He told me that he wanted Elder Black and me to visit the Vongs, a Cambodian family that had been in Lowell for a year. They were praying and fasting to find a church they could attend.”
Saveth Vong and her three children, Chetena, Chendra, and Tola, had narrowly escaped execution. Her husband, a pilot in the Cambodian Army, had been captured. Saveth and her children managed to get out of prison three days before they were scheduled to be shot.
Chea smiles as he recalls his and the elder’s first visit to the Vong home. “Everyone seemed so eager to learn. There were many questions. The Spirit was very strong.” Although the Vongs used a Book of Mormon printed in Cambodian, they needed help with gospel principles. Chea played an important role, assisting the elders as he translated discussions and shared his own experiences in the Church. Elder Gooch’s journal entry continues, “Day after day, Chea sat quietly by Saveth helping her understand the things we taught. He never seemed to tire of the message of the gospel.”
Indeed, as Chea taught the gospel his testimony grew. He recalls, “I remember reading 3 Nephi 27:7: ‘Therefore, whatsoever ye shall do, ye shall do it in my name; therefore ye shall call the church in my name; and ye shall call upon the Father in my name that he will bless the church for my sake.’ [3 Ne. 27:7] I thought, how could it be that I’ve never seen this scripture before? It makes so much sense. Heavenly Father’s true church must be named after his Son!”
This scripture also confirmed for Chea what he knew in his heart was true—that if he prayed to Heavenly Father in the name of Jesus and asked for help to share the gospel message, Heavenly Father would bless his efforts.
When the Vongs made the decision to be baptized, Chea was delighted. Elder Gooch recalls that evening, “While we were driving home, Chea asked Elder Black and me to stop by a grove of trees in a nearby park so that we could thank Heavenly Father. We took turns giving thanks and expressing our joy. When we were finished, Chea climbed on my shoulders. After a few quiet moments Chea lovingly looked down, flashed his million dollar smile and said, “The Holy Ghost is with us, Gooch, isn’t it?”
“Yep, Chea, sure is.”
“I know—I felt it!”
The Vongs were baptized a week later.
Chea will be entering the sixth grade this fall. He loves to fish and play basketball and enjoys video games. Like other Cambodian youth in America, he plays an important role in helping his parents learn their new language and culture. The adults spend long hours working to make ends meet and don’t have much free time to learn English. The youth, on the other hand, pick up the language quickly and bring it home. Chea’s been particularly fortunate. Along with his regular public school classes, he’s in a special program at the Sylvan Learning Center in Chelmsford, Massachusetts. Director Joan O’Brien sees Chea as a unique child. “I think he’s a youngster who will be a real leader in the Cambodian culture. He’s like a pitcher that cannot be filled.”

Ethan Mangum’s path towards his mission in Reno, Nevada, was significantly shaped by the islands he called home throughout his life. Having lived in four island nations across the Caribbean and the Pacific, Ethan credits the people he encountered in these paradisiacal locations for strengthening his resolve to serve as a missionary. He recalls, “When you live overseas, missionary work isn’t something you do once a week, it’s a part of your daily life. People know who you are. They know you are a disciple of Jesus Christ, and they expect you to act differently; to truly live the values you say you will live. That is something I learned from the members who were my friends and adopted family. They taught me that being a disciple of Christ is just part of your life.”
Ethan’s journey began when he moved to St. Kitts and Nevis as an infant. He heard stories from his family about the joy of meeting with faithful Saints in members’ living rooms, emphasizing that the gospel remains true even when the congregation is small. One of his favorite stories of faith during this time is of an ocean baptism where torrential rains halted just long enough for the members to walk to the beach, perform the ordinance, and return to their makeshift chapel before the downpour resumed.
From the Caribbean, Ethan’s adventures led him to Aruba, where he heard English, Dutch, Spanish, and of course Papiamentu spoken as he met with his branch family. In the San Nicolas Branch, he witnessed not only the Saints’ faith but also the daily acts of service they performed for one another and learned that the Lord’s love is not bound by language or nationality.
Next, his journey took him to the enchanting rainforests and towering peaks of Fiji in the South Pacific, where he attended schools of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints near the Suva Fiji Temple. During his seven years there, he encountered numerous miracles brought about by the unwavering faith of the members. He vividly remembers a cyclone that threatened the rededication of the Suva Fiji Temple. He recalls, “We stopped the cultural show early and went home to wait out the storm. We were asked to pray that the storm would be redirected so that the rededication could happen the next day. The faith of the members was strong, and the temple was spared. Even though there was destruction across Suva and other parts of Fiji, the temple grounds were clean. Not a tree branch was out of place, and the rededication proceeded with tears of joy.”
Ethan’s faith continued to grow as he witnessed another remarkable event, where collective prayer changed the course of a storm that threatened President Russell M. Nelson’s arrival in Suva. They greeted him by singing “We Thank Thee O God, for a Prophet” and President Nelson responded to their faith, saying, “I wondered if you could do it. You turned off the rain.”
After his time in the Pacific, Ethan returned to the Caribbean island of Antigua, the land of 365 beaches. There, he found a community of Saints from various islands, and South and Central America, who welcomed him with open arms. Despite the pandemic disrupting in-person meetings, Ethan continued to witness selfless service and the tender mercies of the Lord in the lives of His children.
After Antigua, Ethan briefly resided in the Orlando, Florida area, where he was inspired by the selfless service of Caribbean-origin members who strengthened his desire to serve a mission. His family and island friends and loved ones are thrilled for his opportunity to serve in the intermountain northwest, where he was born.
Ethan reflects on his island upbringing with gratitude, saying, “I am so grateful to have been raised in the islands. The people of the islands are kind, compassionate, and love the Lord. They have been an example to me of living the gospel of Jesus Christ in their everyday lives and have influenced my decision to serve a mission. I know the gospel is true. I know that Jesus Christ, our brother, died for us. I know that Joseph Smith restored the gospel in these latter days so that we could have the opportunity to know peace in this life, to share the gospel with others, and one day return to live with our Heavenly Father. I am thankful to be able to share this message with the people of Nevada, and wherever my future travels may take me, including when I return to the Caribbean and the Pacific, I can continue to spread the gospel.”

It was in this town of Zwickau that my grandmother was invited by an elderly single woman to attend church with her. The setting was still desperate—the war was just over. Food was scarce, and so were all other goods, like coal to heat our homes or cook our meals. Houses had been destroyed, and a family was fortunate if they were all still alive and had a roof over their heads.
My grandmother accepted the invitation of this dear single sister to attend sacrament meeting with her. This act of kindness might appear small and not too hard to do, but it changed our lives forever.
We attended church in a cold, cramped, backroom meeting place with electricity often failing, leaving us in the dark. But at the same time, this room was filled with the Spirit, and the divine light of the message of the restored gospel was in great abundance, and we were surrounded by the love, friendship, and helping hands of the dear members.
All of our family joined the Church. Because I was only six at the time, I was baptized two years later in a local indoor swimming pool by one of the Church leaders in our branch. I will always remember the feeling of warmth, safety, and importance as I came out of the water after this sacred ordinance had been performed.

Although temple marriage is associated with eternal promises, a husband and wife need not wait for eternity to experience the blessings of celestial marriage. Many temporal blessings also come from preparing for and being married in the temple. About eight years ago, Lee Hing Chung of Hong Kong lost an arm in an industrial accident. As a result, he also lost his job and became sick and despondent. But today faith fills his heart as he contemplates being sealed in the temple with his wife, Kumviengkumpoonsup, and their children.

“Before we joined the Church,” he says, “I was primarily concerned with making money. Now I have different priorities. … I am so grateful that we are together and that we can be together forever. … The presence of the temple reminds me to be good, to be disciplined, to be worthy” (quoted in Kellene Ricks Adams, “A Dream Come True in Hong Kong,” Liahona, March 1997, 38).

One day I was sitting on the sofa listening to a CD. When the hymn “Teach Me to Walk in the Light” (Hymns, no. 304) came on, I thought about Jesus Christ’s sacrifice for each of us. I remembered His love, humility, and compassion, and I felt my heart fill with gratitude. The Lord’s Spirit testified to me that the Savior loves us.
My two-year-old son was sitting beside me, looking at pictures of Jesus Christ. He must have felt something as well because he looked up at me and said, “Mommy, Jesus loves you!”
Jesus Christ is a part of my and my family’s lives. He is in my thoughts and heart. His gospel has changed my life.

When we finally arrived at the São Paulo Temple thanks to one last ride from a friend we made on the train, the temple lodging was closed. Resigned but happy, we made ourselves comfortable on a couple of benches outside the temple. There it was, just as beautiful as we had dreamed it would be. It was now midnight, and we cried as we hugged, tired and wet from the falling rain. We didn’t feel the dampness, the hunger, or the cold, just an indescribable sense of happiness for being so close to the house of the Lord. We had been obedient, and there was our reward.

While we were basking in that moment, someone tapped me on the shoulder. It was one of my former mission companions, who had been sealed in the temple that day and was returning from dinner with his wife. He let us stay in their apartment that night, and the next day he was a witness to our sealing, performed by the temple president himself. How beautiful it was to see my wife in the celestial room, all dressed in white.

With a loan from my missionary friend and help from the temple president, we made the return trip in less than five days, without any delays—and with only $20 dollars to begin a life with my wife, Maria Ondina, as my eternal companion.

Follow is another invitation. On the pioneer trek, Ethan G. gained a greater understanding of this word. “Sometimes I haven’t felt the best on trek, or I’ve felt kind of discouraged,” he admitted. “But I realize that the pioneers also felt that way.”
Ethan used to wonder why the early pioneers were willing to do what they did. He said, “I feel like I might have just given up. But as I’ve thought about that, I kind of realized that it’s because they loved the Savior, and they have a hope they can become better through Him. I want to try that too.”
Before Ethan went on the trek, he read about pioneers from the past, felt a connection with them, and was inspired by their faith to follow Jesus Christ. And what is Ethan doing now? He is preparing to receive a call to serve as a full-time missionary. True to President Monson’s counsel, he is getting ready to show others the way to follow.

Illustration by Scott Greer
Ever since I was little, I was fascinated by the stories of Church leaders who served in the armed forces. Many of them have been war heroes and great examples of valor and humility in their home countries. Their experiences inspired me to participate in my country’s military.
When I was 13, I entered a school known for its strict military discipline and infantry training. My schedule was demanding. I often was so exhausted by the end of the day that my scripture study and seminary participation seemed impossible.
By my second year at school, I had made plans for my life: upon finishing school at age 18, I would go directly into officer school and graduate four years later as an officer in the Guatemalan Army. All my wishes and dreams seemed to be coming true.
One day I told my mom about my plans, and she asked, “When are you planning to serve a full-time mission?” From that day forward her question lingered in my mind every time I thought about my future.
I still had a rigorous schedule, but I started to show more interest in my spiritual training. I started attending seminary, working with the full-time missionaries, and participating in Church activities. Following the advice of my older brother who was serving a full-time mission, I also began reading the Book of Mormon.
When I was training to be a paratrooper, we had very intense training each day. We would get back to our barrack almost crawling, but I always found the strength to read the Book of Mormon. Daily reading of the scriptures strengthened my spirit and helped me continue with my training.
One evening several of my friends gathered around my bed to ask me some questions about the Book of Mormon and the Word of Wisdom. It was my opportunity to be the best kind of soldier—one who defends the truth and brings freedom through a firm and convincing testimony of the Book of Mormon.
When I was 19, I enlisted again in an army—the army of God, the most powerful army of all. I had the privilege of standing shoulder to shoulder with the valiant elders and sisters of Zion in the battalion of the Mexico Puebla Mission. Girded with the armor of God, we proclaimed the gospel and fought for liberty with courage and strength.
We are fighting against the hosts of darkness, but the victory belongs to God. I want to continue to be a brave soldier, enlisted for our King. We have powerful weapons: the Book of Mormon, the Holy Ghost, and the fulness of the gospel. We are led to victory by living prophets. If we train and prepare ourselves for the coming of our Savior, Jesus Christ, He will give us crowns of honor in celestial glory.

Repeating the words of an Apostle, David said, “Fear is a chief weapon of Satan in making mankind unhappy.”1
David Ikegami, a deacon from Oahu, Hawaii, had an assignment to speak during a Sunday mission conference. Seven months ago he had lived through one of the worst Christmases ever—not just for his family, but for the whole country. He chose to speak out against fear.
He would know a thing or two about fear. The year was 1942. Months earlier, the scenic island where David’s family lived had been turned upside down with destruction as Japan bombed Pearl Harbor. The day after that devastating attack, the United States entered World War II.
Fear for the future still covered the land like a blanket. To make matters more difficult, Japanese-Americans, such as the Ikegami family, lived with serious racial prejudice after the bombing of Pearl Harbor. Life was neither simple nor easy for this young man.
Seven months ago he had lived through one of the worst Christmases ever.
So how did he find peace? For one thing, he focused on serving. He joined a group who helped to build trails and clear thorny kiawe trees from trails for military camps. Meanwhile, his family joined fundraising efforts to help the U.S. soldiers. These funds were used for everything from buying books to movie screens and projectors to help raise morale.
David then said, again quoting the same Apostle, Elder John A Widtsoe, “There is safety wherever the people of the Lord live so worthily as to claim the sacred title of citizens of the Zion of our Lord.”2
David found peace by focusing on Jesus Christ.3

My husband and I were living in on-campus housing at the Texas State Technical Institute when our two oldest children were four and two. It was our first experience in Texas hill country, and I loved it! Every spring, central Texas is awash with flowers. In gardens, woods, vacant fields, on roadsides, everywhere I looked there were more blossoms to see.
I took my children on stroller rides nearly every day. We’d find new places to explore, and I let the children pick as many wildflowers as they wanted. We’d finish our ride through a neighborhood where most of the houses had beautifully maintained flower gardens.
One day we came around a corner to discover a large mass of papers spread across one of the flower gardens. The wind quickly scattered the paper all over the yard. I decided to tidy up the litter before it spread further. I grabbed handfuls of pages and stuffed them in my diaper bag.
As I looked down, I realized I was holding pornography. Appalled, I asked my children to stay in the stroller as I snatched up the rest of the pages. I became upset as I saw glimpses of things I never wanted to see. In my heart, I began complaining, “Why didn’t God warn me to go another way home?”
Then I heard the unmistakable huff of school bus brakes. About a dozen kids got off the bus. They all moved past the yard that had been filled with pornography only moments before.
In that moment, my whole perspective changed. I now knew why I hadn’t been warned to go another way. I was grateful I was there to pick up those pages so those children could be spared seeing those damaging images. As I made my way back home, I thought, “What if the school bus had come later? What if I had never found out why I had that experience? How long would I have been upset with God?”

Throughout his life Joseph F. loved his father with a special kind of devotion, a devotion prompted by the choice relationship that can exist between father and son. His last memory of his father, as Hyrum rode off to Carthage, was vivid. “Without getting off his horse,” President Smith related later, “father leaned over in his saddle and picked me up off the ground. He kissed me goodbye and put me down again and I saw him ride away.” This experience was to be followed by days of uncertainty and then a night of terror. “I remember the night of the murder … when one of the brethren came from Carthage and knocked on our window after dark and called to my mother, ‘Sister Smith, your husband has been killed.’” This occurred when he was only six years of age. As a mature man he still remembered the uncertainty and terror of that night.

“I witness the complete and absolute truth of the Savior’s incomparable atoning sacrifice and of His glorious Resurrection. As we focus our lives on this thought, I promise we will feel His hope, His peace, and His love.
“When we unexpectedly lose someone we love, the sadness and grief can be overwhelming.
“Late last year, the life of radiant Brigham Young University freshman Anna Peterson ended suddenly following a tragic sledding accident. Anna was a humble, loving, and kind disciple of Jesus Christ. She sought ways to help others feel God’s love. In fact, she had just finished her application to become a full-time missionary.
“Though many lost a friend when Anna passed, her parents, John and Julie, lost a beautiful light, who they had cared for, prayed over, and loved for 18 years. The death of a daughter is enough to engulf anyone in grief. However, despite the deep sorrow they feel, John and Julie have chosen to lean on the Lord Jesus Christ.
“I asked John—who served as a missionary with me when I presided over the France Bordeaux Mission—and Julie to share with me their thoughts as they continue to practice faith in Jesus Christ in the face of this tragedy. This is what they shared with me:
“John: ‘Anna’s sudden and tragic death tore what feels like a massive wound in my chest. But there is a balm in Gilead, and as we have leaned into gratitude for both the Savior’s Atonement and the wonderful, amazing times we had in Anna’s 18 years, the tender mercies fill us to overflowing. We have strength to press on.’
“Julie: ‘Shortly after Anna’s accident, I was prompted to make the theme of our efforts ‘Turn to the Light, Our Savior.’ As we share with each other these opportunities to choose light rather than choosing darkness to cope, we strengthen each other, and the Lord carries us in our grief. I/We choose to trust the Lord.’
“I sincerely admire John and Julie’s faith in Jesus Christ. They are a wonderful example to me. During this Easter season, I testify that Jesus Christ broke the bands of death, allowing all to live beyond the grave, and, most importantly, He promises each of us that as we believe in and follow Him, we can live with Him forever—yes, forever!”

I have always had a difficult time wading into a lake or river slowly. It is just like cutting your finger off a little bit at a time! I would rather have one giant breathtaking shock than the dozens of painful ones that come from slowly wading into the river.
A few years back I was at a Young Men’s camp in Canada. At that time, local Church members furnished all of our instructors and youth leaders and ran the camp with wonderful members of the Church.
During the week I was there, the staff organized a “Polar Bear” club. In order to qualify you had to swim at 6:00 A.M. four mornings in a row in the cold Elbow River. It had snowed eight inches at an elevation 1,000 feet higher than our camp. Of course the staff thought I ought to join the club.
At 6:00 A.M., down to the river we went. I filled my lungs with all the air they could hold so I could not suck in anything else when the shock of the cold water caused me to catch my breath. I dove in, and it was ice cold. I swam to the middle of the river where it was almost chest deep.
In a moment a stake president dove in and came up right beside me. After the shock of cold, he asked, “Did I have my glasses on?”
“I don’t know,” I replied. “Did you?” He said he thought he had.
“Swim over to the bank and see.”
In a moment he came back and said, “I did have them on.”
The Elbow River was flowing about 10 to 12 miles an hour. I imagined it would have carried his glasses down the river toward Calgary.
Here was a stake president who had spent his own money to drive from western Canada to Calgary, had brought his whole family with him in an older wood-paneled station wagon. He had all the gasoline, lodging, and meal expenses coming, and the training fees. I knew it must have been a terrific financial strain on him. I was certain he could not afford $200 or $300 for a new pair of glasses.
I walked upstream about 20 or 30 feet. I offered a prayer and asked Heavenly Father to help me find his glasses. Mind you, it was 6:00 A.M., the water was cold and clear but flowing relatively fast. I lay down on my back and floated downstream. I had an impression and stopped. I looked down in the water and thought I could see something glistening on the bottom of the river. I dove down and came up with the stake president’s glasses and handed them to this great man.
I have thought of this incident many times since. I believe it was an experience that taught me to see more clearly how much the Lord loves those who, like this stake president, do their best to serve him. He who knows when the sparrow falls also knows when his children are in need of even the smallest things. (See Matt. 10:29–31.)

Just for a moment, suppose that it’s your turn; you’ve received the large white envelope from 47 East South Temple Street with the title “Elder” before your name. It’s signed by President Harold B. Lee and you are “hereby called to be a missionary of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints to labor in the Samoa Mission.” (It could be any mission in the world, but since Samoa is the only one with which I am intimately familiar, let’s use it.) “Samoa!” You look it up and find that it’s about 2700 miles south of Hawaii and 13 degrees below the equator in the South Pacific. “Wow, the South Pacific! How lucky can a guy get!”

The Language Training Mission for the South Pacific and the Orient is at the Church College of Hawaii. Your assignment there is to get a good grasp of the foreign language and memorize most or all of the missionary discussions in that language. This is to be done in eight weeks, studying a minimum of ten hours a day. Meanwhile you are being weaned from family, girl friend, and dragging Main Street.

It’s a terrific challenge, a task that seems too tremendous for you to handle by yourself. In fact, you try your hardest to learn the sounds, structure, and sequences—and fail. It’s discouraging; you wonder if perhaps a mistake has been made, if you have been sent to the wrong mission. Then part of the magic starts to unfold as you become humble and teachable and go to the Lord for help. He’s ready to help you, and you are now prepared to receive his help. A few things begin to fall into place. Once in a while you recognize a verb. A few of the nouns become familiar, and the sounds begin to have meaning, and progress is being made.

Finally the day comes when you arrive in your field of labor. It is a land of beautiful beaches, breathtaking sunsets, pinnacled volcanic mountains, crystal clear rivers, swaying palms, and green, perpetual green, everywhere. All is there in majestic splendor, but for many months you hardly notice because you are preoccupied.

The food takes some getting used to. You had visions of exotic dishes, fresh fruits, South Sea delicacies. Instead your main diet consists of breadfruit, baked taro, boiled green bananas, canned mackerel, and a dozen other things whose names you can’t even pronounce.

You thought your language was pretty good, but now you find that the people talk too fast, and you can hardly understand a word they are saying. When they laugh, you think they are laughing at you because you said a word wrong. You probably did and they probably are.

You thought it would be fun to sleep on a mat in a fale (native house)—until you find that there is nothing under that mat but rocks, and your mosquito net does a better job of keeping the varmints in than out.

The heat and humidity are stifling. It’s so humid that rain or shine you’re soaked at the end of the day.

You discover that your legs weren’t designed for sitting crosslegged on the floor for hours on end. But your companion tells you that it’s improper in the Samoan custom for you to stretch your legs out while sitting. And don’t stand while drinking. Don’t ever whistle, don’t sing while walking, and never, never run in a village. And a thousand other don’ts, just because “it looks bad for a missionary,” and “it’s not proper custom.”

Then there’s your companion. He’s a little different (so are you, but that realization hasn’t sunk in yet). Besides, any odd little habits he may have are magnified out of proportion because of your closeness. He might visit a family two or three times before presenting a discussion. Anyone knows that these are the last days, and we don’t have time to waste on people. We’ve got to get in there, give our message, call them to repentance, give them their chance, and then move on to the next house.

Occasionally you wish you were home. Home—Mom’s cooking, security, hot water, electricity, mattresses and box springs, four seasons, an occasional drought, and indoor showers.

Again you are faced with a challenge. It’s a challenge of a different nature, but the solution is much the same. Humble yourself; become teachable; turn to the Lord; commit to do your part. The scriptures take on new meaning to you as you read of great missionaries: the apostle Paul, Alma the Younger, the Sons of Mosiah, and many others. You think to yourself, “Wow, they really had it rough. Come on, Elder, toughen up!”

Once again you begin to make real progress. Not overnight, mind you, but step by step, day by day, one obstacle at a time. One day you give your first discussion to a contact. You get nervous halfway through and your companion has to bail you out. The next time you make it all the way, and you feel great.

After several months of improvement, the moment you’ve been striving for arrives. The mission assistants pull up to your fale one morning and say, “Pack your box, Elder, you’re transferred.” You are now in a new area, and your new companion has been in the mission field for three days. That means you’re in the driver’s seat, the senior companion, charged with directing the work of the Lord in your area.

This is your big opportunity to do things your way. A wave of fear sweeps over you as you realize that you really are in charge, and your new companion looks at you like, “Well, what do we do now?” You fight off your fear, “gird up your loins,” and go out to preach repentance to the people.

A month passes, maybe two. You’re putting in the hours, working the area, giving discussions, making out the reports. All the physical essentials of proselyting are there, but something is missing. People are polite. They let you into their homes and let you give a lesson if you wish. But they seldom ask you back, and you can tell that they aren’t really interested. Their custom prescribes that they receive you cordially, and they honor their custom.

You begin to do some real soul-searching and pray earnestly to understand how to get through to the people. And then the words of counsel that your father gave you before you left focus sharply in your memory: “Son, unless you really love those people, nothing else you do matters.” The words ring true. You ask yourself: “Do I? Do I really love these people?” And your own conscience gives you the answer.

The next time you go out to proselyte, your methods are changed. Instead of just preaching, you begin to listen—not only to what people are saying, but you fine-tune your spirit to the feelings behind the words. It’s a revelation to you as you begin to understand that these people have real problems, joys, hopes, and fears just like everyone else.

One Sunday one of the sisters in the branch approaches you and asks you and your companion to bless her baby who is critically ill. Your faith wavers, but hers doesn’t. The blessing is given, and a life is saved by a mother’s faith. You are left with a deep respect for the faith of a people who, when one of theirs is sick, go to the elders even before they seek medical help.

You visit a nonmember family. As is often the case, they prepare a meal for you before you leave. This is common, and you had not taken much note of it before. This time you pay particular attention. The little red rooster that had been crowing when you arrived is now boiling in the pot. The last bunch of bananas is plucked. Enough money is found to buy a can of corned beef. You look around. The house is small, the roof needs patching, there are many children in the family, and they have little clothing. Yet they give you the best they have, and the only reward they hope for from you is your blessing, as a servant of the Lord, upon their family. As you leave there is a lump in your throat and mist in your eyes. You are humbled with the realization that you are charged with teaching the perfect gospel to a people who know and live the principles of true Christianity. You find there is much to be learned from them as you teach them the restored gospel.

A change in your sources of motivation now begins to take place. Language and language study become tools to better communicate the feelings of the Spirit, not just to impress your fellow missionaries or to send tapes home in a foreign language to impress Mom and Dad. Your fasting and prayers change from an emphasis upon your own needs to those of your contacts. Gospel study changes from a mere accumulation of theological facts to a sincere application of those truths in your own life. A whole new realm opens up to you now. Experiences that seem natural in themselves become revelations of truth.

You find that the Spirit of the Lord can be as powerfully present in a grass hut as in the nicest chapel; that the greatest gift with which a missionary can be blessed is to teach effectively and with the Spirit, to be sensitive and perceptive of the feelings of others, to discern their needs and wants; that the most productive and rewarding hours of your proselyting day are the “overtime” or “extra-mile” hours given in service when the body says, “I’m tired; let’s go home,” but the greater desire within you says, “One more house—maybe, just maybe, we’ll find a receptive spirit”; that the true fruits of your labors consist not in how many but in what kind of baptisms result—be it one or one hundred—and the feeling of grateful joy you receive when the Lord permits you to be a partner in the miracle of conversion.

The end of your mission nears. You are now an old timer among your fellow missionaries. On one of those last days, 9:00 A.M. finds you and your companion, as usual, walking to your first appointment of the day. Buried in your own thoughts you think of how the sun made a golden highway across a glassy sea as it rose that morning; how the storm of the day before made the rivers and waterfalls swell and the green foliage seem so much deeper and brighter after the clouds receded a little and the sun broke through; how the sunset over the tops of the mountains was reflected from one cloud to another until the whole sky was filled with shades of purple, yellow, pink, and blue; of the night breeze that cleared away the clouds and caused the palm leaves to clatter and the roar of the breakers to be carried clearly across the beach and village green long seconds after appearing as silver crests of reflected moonlight, tumbling one on the other against the coral reef hundreds of yards from the shore, to become mere lappings upon reaching the sand. All of this is but a fitting stage on which some of God’s choicest children have been placed.

As you continue up the trail, the now familiar lump again rises in your throat and the mist comes to your eyes, accompanied by a prayer in your heart that in some way you have given as much as you have received.

So, future missionary, be it the South Pacific, the Orient, South or Central America, Europe, Scandinavia, or the USA, the conditions and challenges may differ, but the key to success is love, the love you feel for your Father in heaven and the love you have for his children.

NARRATOR: At the age of 12, Evan Stephens crossed the ocean with his parents, walked across the plains, and settled with them in Willard, Utah, where his desire to become a musician took root. While he was still 12, Evan attended his first choir rehearsal. Though he loved music and intended to become a musician, he had not learned to play or read music. The choir sang from some expensive anthem books, and young Evan dared to ask to take one home. At first he was most emphatically refused, but after much pleading from Evan the choir leader relented and young Evan had the book for a night. And it was an eventful night. From that one book he learned the meaning of key signatures, time signatures, note values, the staves, and marks of expression. Rising rapidly in the world of music, Brother Stephens eventually became an outstanding conductor of the Tabernacle Choir. He was a prolific composer and author, publishing several songbooks. Twenty-six of his compositions appear in our hymnbook. (Personal reminiscence of J. Spencer Cornwall.)