Gospel Story Finder

I hate going to the doctor. I always dread the fuss, the wait time, the shots, the orders to “take it easy.” When I was really little, I thought nurses and doctors were just mean people who thought I was a pin cushion, but as I got older I figured out they weren’t evil; they were helping. And I almost always felt better soon after seeing them. No matter how boring the waiting room was, how much I yelped getting a shot, or how disappointed I was when the doctor told me I needed to stay off my feet, in the end, it was always worth it.

When Fan Hsieh read about the restoration of the priesthood, he had to know more. “For the first time since I was released from the priesthood in my own church, I thought I might be able to hold the priesthood again,” he says.
After serving eighteen years as a Catholic priest, Hsieh had given up his ministry because he felt “a spiritual void.” Now, as he studied the restored gospel, he was about to discover the true priesthood of God.
Fan Hsieh was born 23 August 1922 in Tayeh, China, an isolated farming community. He did not begin formal education until he was ten years old. After four years in a private school, he enrolled in a Catholic school, began to learn about Jesus Christ, and was baptized a Catholic. “I saw the example of many good Catholic missionaries,” he says, “and I thought maybe China needed more of them to teach the people about Jesus Christ. I decided to become a priest.”
Hsieh’s road to that goal was long and arduous. He attended a Catholic seminary in Wuhan for four years. Then he studied at a Catholic university in the capital city of Beijing [Peking]. A year later, the communists took over the city, and Hsieh escaped to Shanghai, where he attended the Aurora Jesuit University. When the communist forces invaded Shanghai, he moved to the Catholic seminary in Hong Kong. Then, because of the political situation, the seminary was transferred to Macao. While there, Hsieh was ordained a priest in the Catholic church.
Following his ordination, he was assigned to Rome, Italy, where he studied Italian, Latin, and law for four years. Next he moved to Paris, France, where he studied French, Greek, Hebrew, English, Spanish, and German so that he could better understand the original texts and the various translations of the Bible. He wanted to learn all he could about the Savior.
Finally, in 1967, Hsieh’s original desire to teach his people about Jesus Christ became a reality. Cardinal Yu Ping, president of Fu Jen Catholic University in Taipei, invited him to become a member of the faculty as a professor of philosophy and French. In this assignment, Hsieh began to share his growing testimony of Jesus Christ.
“I spent eighteen years teaching and fulfilling my responsibilities as a priest,” says Hsieh. “I was very busy, but I wasn’t happy. I had had the opportunity to study in Europe; I had been a teacher, a student, a professor, a chaplain, a seminary director—my life was colorful—but there was a spiritual void.”
And there were rules and customs within the Catholic church with which Hsieh was uncomfortable, such as the ban on certain books—and he liked to read and study all he could. Another problem that bothered him as an ordained priest was the Lord’s statement: “It is not good that the man should be alone” (Gen. 2:18).
“This particular scripture became a vivid reality for me once when I was seriously sick and there was no one close to take care of me. I felt very alone. I realized the need for a companion to share my life. I decided then that being alone forever wasn’t right.”
This combination of feelings built up over time. Finally, in 1973, he asked to be released from his priestly vows. He resigned from Fu Jen University and was immediately hired by National Cheng Chi University in Taipei. There, one year later, Hsieh met, courted, and married one of his university assistants. He was about fifty years old at this time.
“But giving up the priesthood was difficult for me,” he says. “I had been a priest for so long. Now I had given up everything that I had lived for up to that point in time. I missed sharing my knowledge and understanding of the gospel, something I had been able to do as a priest. I thought about becoming a minister in another church that allowed priests to marry. But because of my belief in the Catholic church, I couldn’t make that change.”
Three years after his marriage, Hsieh was alone in his home when two young men knocked on his door. “They asked to talk to me, and I said I had no time and no interest in whatever they wanted to talk about.
“But as I thought about them, I became more curious. I wanted to know who they were and what they were doing in Taiwan, so I looked out from the balcony of my apartment and saw them going from door to door. I waited for a long time for them to come out of one of the apartments, and then I called to them to come back to mine.
“The first question I asked them was, ‘Are you missionaries?’ When they answered yes, I questioned them about their religion. Many of my questions were left unanswered, and I didn’t feel satisfied with our first conversation.
“That evening, as I discussed their visit with my wife, she reminded me of the Lord’s admonition to ‘beware of false prophets.’” (See Matt. 7:15.)
When the missionaries made a return visit, Hsieh was not going to let them in, but he didn’t want to be impolite. For the entire evening, Hsieh explained to the missionaries what true religion should be. He did not tell them that he had been a Catholic priest, but they felt encouraged by his knowledge of Christianity.
One of the missionaries, Donald B. Cenatiempo, wrote of the experience, “I felt as if we were the students and he was the teacher. We could tell he was a very intelligent and religious man.” The missionaries asked if they could return, and Hsieh said yes. The visits became a weekly ritual.
“I didn’t want to send them away,” Hsieh remembers. “I thought that if their church were true, it would have a prophet and continuing revelation. I asked them why their church didn’t have crosses or crucifixes, and they said, ‘Because Christ is risen; Christ lives. If one of your friends or parents dies,’ they said, ‘do you take out a photograph of them dead and show it to everyone?’ I was spiritually touched by the wisdom of their response.”
Hsieh started to read the Book of Mormon and the Doctrine and Covenants, which he especially liked because it is a record of the Lord speaking to man in these latter days. He asked for other books to read, and the missionaries gave him a copy of A Marvelous Work and a Wonder, by Elder LeGrand Richards.
“We told Brother Hsieh that it was possible for him to receive the priesthood and perform certain duties within that priesthood,” Elder Cenatiempo wrote. “Brother Hsieh understood as well as anybody could in his stage of spiritual progression what it would mean to hold the priesthood—the true priesthood of God.”
Hsieh explained to his wife what he had read, and she found it very interesting. Together, they began to study and pray for understanding. Eventually, Hsieh’s wife announced to the missionaries, “We have prayed and we feel it best to be baptized together.” They were baptized in December 1977.
In the years since that special event in their lives, they have developed strong testimonies that they enjoy sharing with others.
“We have always said that we would be willing to do whatever the Lord wants us to do,” says Brother Hsieh. “And we’ve always tried to use every opportunity and every talent he has given us to help build up the kingdom of God on the earth and to share the gospel message.”
Some unique opportunities have opened up to Brother Hsieh to do this. He has lectured seven times at the International Conference for Christian Professors. “They are interested in the Church because it is quite new and unique in modern Christianity,” he says. “The Lord has given me many opportunities to bear my testimony to these scholars.”
Currently, Brother Hsieh, a member of the Mu Cha Ward, serves as a high councilor in the Taipei Taiwan West Stake and has assisted in work on a second Chinese translation of the Book of Mormon.
“The gospel is the love of God,” he says. “It is important that all men and women hear this message. What we do, we do for the glory of God and the salvation of souls. Friendship is the method by which we share the gospel. The final goal for all is salvation and exaltation.”

When she was just 16 years old, Silvia Henriquez Allred, recently called as first counselor in the Relief Society general presidency, gained a love for Relief Society.
“Shortly after she was baptized, my mother was called as the Relief Society president in our branch in El Salvador,” Sister Allred explains. “She was overwhelmed, but my sister and I [who were also recent converts] told her, ‘It will be OK. The Lord will help you.’ And He did.”
As Sister Allred served as the Relief Society secretary alongside her mother, she was impressed by the opportunities that Relief Society offered in leadership, education, homemaking skills, and service—opportunities Sister Allred says are available “to every woman who embraces the gospel of Jesus Christ.”

Elder Michael Cziesla remembers the struggles of 2017 very well. On a Tuesday in January, he lost his employment with an international law firm when the company declared insolvency. The next day his home was flooded when a water line broke. Burglars ransacked his house the third day trying to take the family’s valuables. In a few days, his life turned upside down.
“I smiled that Sunday as usual as I sat on the stand as stake president,” he said. “No one knew what was going on. But inside I was grieving terribly. I was in a very dark place.”
After the meeting, a quiet, gentle man in the ward asked him what was wrong. “He simply listened, and then he hugged me,” Elder Cziesla said. “I felt the Lord embracing me, that He knew my plight, that all would be right.”

It was a hot summer day as Tyler made his way toward the big fields a short distance from his house. As he tromped up the dirt road, he looked at the tall yellow weeds on either side and pretended for a moment he was a Nephite warrior, hidden by the high weeds as he crept up on the enemy.
Earlier that morning, his father had talked about heroes in the scriptures who performed great deeds to help others. He had said that everyone could perform noble and honorable acts of service. They didn’t have to be big or brave acts to be important, he had explained. “In Heavenly Father’s eyes, any act of selfless service is of much worth.”
“I want to do noble things, too, Dark,” he confided to the big black German shepherd that walked along beside him, dragging a small dog sled (travois). Tyler’s father had helped him make it. It consisted of two poles tied together at one end, which were placed over the dog’s back and secured. The opposite ends of the frame trailed along the ground behind the dog. The load to be hauled—in this case, a box filled with empty jars—was fastened between the poles.
When Tyler had walked deep into the field, he stopped, removed the sled, and lifted one of the jars from the box. He walked toward a jumble of brush on the ground, pulled it away, and stared down with surprise. Where was the old ladder he had hidden there? The ladder helped him climb out across the blackberry bushes and reach the berries that were otherwise impossible to reach.
“Who could have taken it, Dark?” he asked. “Who could have—?”
Suddenly he spied the ladder, laid out across a large bush. A closer look revealed that whoever had used the ladder had picked almost all the berries.
“Madden!” Tyler breathed angrily. “He knows I’m saving up to buy those cowboy chaps.” Tyler could already envision wearing the leather pant legs over his jeans—then he’d look like a real cowboy.
He sat down beside his dog. “Madden did it just to get even, boy, just because I told Mr. Ruggles I saw him swipe that ice cream bar from the store. I couldn’t lie to Mr. Ruggles when he asked me.”
He gazed at the sparse bushes. His family didn’t have a lot of money since Dad had gotten laid off from his job. If Tyler couldn’t make enough money from selling blackberries, he wouldn’t be able to buy the chaps. “There’s only one pair left, Dark,” Tyler murmured.
For a good part of the day, Tyler worked feverishly to fill the jars, not even stopping for lunch. As he reworked the already picked-over bushes, it took him a long time to fill each jar.
A while later, he looked up and noticed Madden pulling a wagon behind his bike. It was filled with cans of blackberries. He was selling them to Tyler’s regular customers! Tyler hurried even faster, dropping one of the jars and losing all the berries from it inside a huge bush. He wiped sweat from his hands onto his pant legs and fumed at Madden.
Dark lifted his head from his cool place in the shade as Tyler placed the final filled jar in the wooden box. He quickly attached the sled to the big dog. “Mrs. Gregory will buy all these jars of berries,” he realized excitedly. “Madden doesn’t know about her because she hasn’t lived here very long.” Mrs. Gregory loved blackberries and always paid Tyler 50 cents a jar. “I’ve got eight jars, Dark. If I add that to what I already have, I’ll be able to buy the chaps!”
As Tyler walked down the rutted dirt lane, his excitement grew. He turned a corner and stopped. Someone was helping Mrs. Gregory sit on her porch swing, and she looked very sad. There were four other cars parked in front of the weathered two-story house and almost a dozen people mingling about. If it was a family reunion, it must be a sad one, he thought. “Maybe we had better come back tomorrow, Dark,” he said.
“Something’s wrong down at Mrs. Gregory’s place, Mom,” Tyler said when he got home. “There’s a bunch of people there, and—” His mother’s serious face made him pause.
“One of Mrs. Gregory’s sons died. They’re having a memorial service at her house, then they’re going to the cemetery.”
“I was going to sell Mrs. Gregory my blackberries today so I could buy those chaps. But …” His voice trailed off. Then an idea came to him. It was something his father had said about doing honorable acts of service for others. At first he tried to ignore the thought, because he so wanted to buy the leather cowboy chaps.
His mother eyed him. “A penny for your thoughts?” she said.
“I couldn’t charge you for that, Mom,” he said, “any more than I can charge Mrs. Gregory for the blackberries.” Tyler stepped to the window and gazed out. “Don’t people usually come back to the house to eat after a funeral?”
“Often that’s the case,” his mother answered. “Why?”
“Well,” Tyler said, “there were a lot of people at Mrs. Gregory’s place. I know she isn’t going to feel like fixing a bunch of food. She’ll probably have help, but I’d like to help her, too.” He turned and faced his mother. “Mrs. Gregory likes blackberries even more than I do. I want to make blackberry pies for her and all those people.”
His mother’s eyes welled up with tears. “I know how badly you want those cowboy chaps. You’re willing to sacrifice them?”
“I want to be like the heroes in the scriptures, Mom, and help somebody.”
Tyler’s mother hugged him.
“If I squeezed a blackberry as tight as you’re squeezing me, Mom,” Tyler grunted, “it would be squished to bits.”
Tyler’s mother laughed. “Would you like a little help making those pies?”
“I was hoping you’d ask,” Tyler said.
Three hours later, Tyler stood before Mrs. Gregory’s door.
“Hello, Tyler,” she greeted, her voice warm but weary.
Tyler pointed to three freshly-baked blackberry pies in the wooden box on the dog sled. “I picked some berries, and Mom and I made some pies.”
Tears gathered in the old woman’s eyes. “How kind of you, Tyler. Just a moment, let me get my purse.”
“Oh, no,” Tyler blurted quickly. “They’re free, Mrs. Gregory. I just want to help.”
Mrs. Gregory bent over and hugged Tyler. He could feel her tears on his cheek. She didn’t say anything, just patted him on the back.
As Tyler walked down the dirt lane from the little two-story house nestled in the big trees and the evening shadows, he felt a feeling he had never felt before. It was warm, different from the warmth of the summer night.
When he finally had saved enough money to buy the cowboy chaps, they were gone—but the good feeling from having done a kind deed stayed.

I had just started college when I decided to learn to snowboard. There wasn’t snow on the ground yet, and I had no idea how I would learn, but I had recently acquired the gear and had the desire. What I didn’t realize then was how learning to snowboard would become an important metaphor for later lessons.
When my friends found out about my recently acquired equipment, they promised to help me learn how to ride my board. We began planning a boarding trip as soon as the local resort opened. I was already envisioning the speed with which I would race down the slopes and the heights I would reach from launching off the jumps.
Finally, the slopes opened, and we loaded up our gear in the back of my Jeep and drove along the slushy roads to the resort. When we arrived, I was immediately impressed by how large everything was. Looking at a map of the runs and being aware of my lack of experience, I determined to learn quickly.
My friends didn’t want me to learn on the “bunny hill”—the green run. They reasoned that there wasn’t enough of a slope to get any speed, and without speed I wouldn’t learn to board. I went along with their plan and rode the ski lift to a blue run. I listened to the advice of my two buddies and then started down the hill, squatting in a tuck to get more speed.
Speed was one thing I understood. It was simple to go fast down that slope. Unfortunately that was all I could do. I soon caught an edge and face-planted in the snow. There was at least a foot of fresh snow everywhere on the hill, so there wasn’t much of a consequence to crashing. That was how I spent the day: racing down the hill as fast as I could go, trying to achieve that flying feeling I had imagined, crashing because I didn’t know how to stop, and then jumping back up and starting again. Pretty soon my friends left me and went to tackle the advanced runs—the black diamonds. I had more fun than I expected that day. I didn’t mind eating snow frequently if it meant I could zip down the mountain full-tilt.
The next week my family took a weeklong vacation at a different resort with very different snow conditions. The area hadn’t received fresh snow in a week, and the entire mountain was covered in a thick layer of icy man-made snow. There were even areas where the snow was so compacted it would have been possible to glide across on skates.
I continued my method of boarding, but it didn’t take long before an ice patch surprised me, causing me to lose control of the board and to land so hard on my tailbone that I couldn’t walk normally for two weeks. I limped and slid my way down the hill and went to our room. I thought I would be stuck inside for the rest of the vacation, lying on my side because it hurt too much to sit.
Eventually my stubborn nature got the better of me, and I went back out to the hill before it grew dark—this time with a different attitude. I rode up to the top, slid partway down the hill, knelt down, and watched every boarder who passed by, analyzing their every move and technique. The pointers my friends had originally given me became clear as I watched other boarders implement them. When I felt like I understood a particular technique, I would try it out myself, taking particular care not to crash. I spent hours watching and practicing. It was very slow work, and I definitely didn’t have the feeling of flying, but I followed this pattern that entire week.
After that week I had learned the necessary skills to ride a snowboard effectively. My friends couldn’t believe the difference when I rode with them again.
It has been several years since that first season. Now I am a very competent snowboarder. I traverse double black diamonds without batting an eye, hit jumps, and zoom down the mountain at incredible speeds, and I finally feel like I can fly. All of this is because I learned to use restraint and realized the need to learn from those who had come before me.
Sometimes in life it seems easier to do things on our own, heedless of the consequences. That doesn’t mean that the consequences don’t exist or that they won’t catch up to us. If we exercise restraint and take the time to learn from those with more experience in life, like our parents and Church leaders, then we can eventually be ready to venture out on our own and take on life’s challenges. We can learn to fly.

Ben stood with his friends after school in the hot sun as they waited for the bus home. He wished for the thousandth time that there was some shade at the bus stop!
“Hey, here comes Frankie,” one of his friends said. Frankie was part of their group.
“Dude, your shoes are so old they must’ve been made out of dinosaur skin!” Vince said once Frankie got closer.
Ben laughed at the joke as he glanced down at Frankie’s feet. Yup, his friend had on the same pair of tennis shoes he’d worn all school year. It was almost summer vacation. By now, the ratty shoes had holes in them and were falling apart.
They liked to give him a hard time about it, but Frankie always laughed it off.
Sure enough, Frankie was chuckling along with everybody else. But then Ben noticed something he hadn’t seen before. Frankie’s smile seemed different somehow. Like he was trying to cover up that he really was upset.
Something cold turned in Ben’s stomach.
His friends teased Frankie about the old shoes until the bus rolled up. This time, though, Ben didn’t laugh with them. He couldn’t help but feel like they’d hurt Frankie’s feelings.
As Ben plopped down onto the hot green vinyl seat of the school bus, he kept remembering the look on Frankie’s face from a few minutes earlier. Frankie walked to the back of the bus and chose a seat by himself.
Ben looked down at his lap. Had they gone too far? He knew Frankie’s family didn’t have a lot of money. In fact, now he wondered if those old scuffed shoes were his only pair besides church shoes.
Even though Ben had snagged a window seat on the bus, he couldn’t enjoy the ride home.
The next day Ben’s bad feeling grew worse. He thought about how he would feel if his friends made fun of what he wore. How often had they done that to Frankie?
And then he saw his friend at school. Ben’s eyes widened. Frankie was wearing new shoes! Not just new shoes, but cool new shoes. Ben felt another stab of guilt as he wondered if Frankie’s family could afford them.
At recess he grabbed a basketball and went over to shoot some hoops with Frankie. “So, where’d you buy those shoes?” Ben asked. “They’re awesome!”
Frankie shook his head and said quietly, “I didn’t. DJ bought them for me.”
Ben nearly dropped the basketball. DJ was one of the kids they hung out with at school. A kid who, now that Ben thought about it, never teased Frankie.
While the rest of them had made fun of Frankie, DJ did something nice instead.
I’m supposed to be Frankie’s friend, Ben thought. Why hadn’t I been nice too?
Ben cleared his throat and stopped bouncing the ball. “Hey. So, um, I’m really sorry about yesterday. You know. At the bus stop. That wasn’t nice of us.”
Frankie just shrugged. “It’s OK.”
“Hey, wanna play a game of one-on-one?” He passed the ball to Frankie. “You can start!”
Frankie’s face lit up in a smile, and Ben knew how he wanted to act from then on. He wanted to help make his friends happy every chance he could.

The young man walked through the door, then stopped, not quite sure what to do next. He had an important question to ask, but he didn’t know who to talk to.
Marion Peterson, the education vice-president of the Utah office of the American Cancer Society, went into the hall to help him.
“He asked me,” said Marion, “if I would look in his mouth and see if he needed to be worried. He had been using chewing tobacco for a while. He pulled down his lip, and it looked horrible, suspiciously like cancer. I told him he had to get help immediately. But he said his mother didn’t know about his habit, and she would find out if he went to the doctor because of their insurance. I begged him to go to a clinic. But he left, and I never knew his name.” Marion still worries about this boy and wonders if he got help in time.

Looking at the Grand Canyon rim far above filled my mind with anything but ease. I was with my dad and six other kids from my ward. We left our camp in the bottom of the Grand Canyon at dusk to avoid the heat of the Arizona sun as we climbed out. My pack was lighter than it had been hiking in, and Dad had lovingly given first aid to my blistered feet with moleskin, so I was feeling fairly capable of handling the hike ahead.
After two miles, we reached a small Indian reservation as darkness fell. After a rest break, we filled our canteens, dug out our flashlights, did some general regrouping, and resumed our trek.
As the night wore on, fatigue and aching muscles were not the only causes of my problems. I had learned to deal with physical exhaustion in competitive swimming. There were times when swimming one more length seemed impossible, yet I could do it because I knew that it was only one more lap. But to continue hiking without knowing how far I’d gone or how far I had left to go was entirely demoralizing.
We walked for four hours. My flashlight carved a hole in the blackness just large enough to show my dad’s shoes and the trail’s edge. There was no moon to see by, and nothing to look at on either side. It reminded me of the nightmare I have where I run as hard and fast as I can but get nowhere. At that moment I hated that canyon more than I have ever hated anything. I felt as though it was something personal, as if the canyon were gloating at my struggle to escape.
I never would have made it out of that canyon without my dad. Watching his feet, I methodically placed my own in his tracks. We stopped to rest more often than he needed; and while I drank the water he carried, he quietly lashed my bedroll to his pack. At one point, after stopping to share what little water was left, I somehow became separated from my dad by a few people. I could no longer see his shoes or hear his voice. I was frantic. Holding back the tears, I stumbled ahead until I resumed my place behind him. Slowly I regained my composure.
I suppose it was because of my weakened physical state that the last few miles of this monotonous journey seemed miraculous. Walking behind my father as we started our ascent of the switchbacks, I began to reflect. This was the hardest thing I had ever done, and at that point, I was not getting myself up the canyon trail. My dad was. Without his footprints to walk in, I felt lost. The side of the canyon became insurmountable without him.
The parallel became clear at that moment. Dad made the trek up the mountain so much easier just by his being there. I followed him without question. I knew he loved me and that he knew I was struggling. He wanted to get me to the top so I could look back and say, “I made it. I am here where I wanted to be. Let’s go home.”
If life is the trek up a mountain, and trials add to my humility and willingness to follow, then isn’t Father in Heaven, like my dad, there to make it easier if I but follow him? Isn’t it his great wish for me to be able to say, “I have fought the good fight. I am where I want to be for eternity. It is wonderful to be home”?

As Kevin sat resting his chin on his fist, he saw a little gray spider starting a web in the corner of the porch. The spider swung out from one wall on a tiny silken thread, but the thread didn’t quite reach across to the other wall.
Gathering up its thread, the spider started again. One, two, three, four times the spider missed, dangling from its own thread.
“C’mon, try again!” Kevin coaxed the spider.
At last, the little creature spun out far enough to attach its thread to the opposite wall.
“Good for you,” said Kevin, getting up from the step.

When I was fifteen years old I decided to buy a Bible. A spirit of restlessness had developed in me and I felt a great need to find answers concerning the reasons for existence.
I frequently gazed into the heavens and at the stars, wondering where God lived and what kind of being He was. When I read the words of Jesus in the Gospels, I believed them to be true. I recognized the path I should take. I loved the scriptures and I was not afraid of sharing this great joy of mine with others.
One principle that had great impact on me was the principle of faith, together with the various gifts of the Spirit: the gifts of healing, miracles, and revelation. I was convinced that if a person could have enough faith, he could truly move mountains.
I was so overcome by all this that I tried to share my joy with all of my friends. Franco, my dearest friend, was the first with whom I shared my beliefs and the results of my studies. We spoke often of the mystery of life. My other friends, however, did not show the same interest in these things.
Though I discussed these things with my friends, I had essentially embarked on this path alone, refusing to join any organized religion because I believed that I would be able to find my answer by increasing my faith in the Lord Jesus Christ.
I felt a definite “progression” as I received confirmation of the things I learned through my reading. But this knowledge led to other questions for which I could find no answers.
One day, as I continued my search for truth, I found a book among several books at home: the Book of Mormon. I do not remember how it had come to be there. Possibly some missionaries had left it with my mother several years earlier when they were in our neighborhood.
As I began reading the Book of Mormon, I noticed that something wonderful and very real was happening in me. I sensed that the Author of the sacred scriptures I had already learned to love was also the Author of these new scriptures I had just found. These new scriptures confirmed the truth of the things I had read previously.
The greatest blessing I experienced was that all the questions that had arisen in my mind while studying the Bible, were answered while studying the Book of Mormon. It provided me with greater understanding by giving added light to Biblical scriptures.
The fact that we have the Book of Mormon in these latter-days confirmed my belief that God still performs miracles.
One day I received a visit from some ministers. I proceeded to show them the miraculous way in which God had once again given to man, through an angel, another collection of scriptures. One of them told me that all these things were manifestations of the devil. I could not share that opinion. I felt great harmony in everything I had read. At that time, I did not know of Ezekiel’s prophecy. I had taken the two “sticks,” the one of Judah (the Bible) and the one of Joseph (the Book of Mormon) and made them one in my hand and in my heart. (See Ezek. 37:16.)
All this had taken place without my knowing which church used the Book of Mormon. It was not until I was eighteen that I became acquainted with missionaries who taught from the Book of Mormon while they were conducting a street meeting in the center of Milan, Italy.
A few months later, guided and sustained by the scriptures, I was baptized into the Lord’s Church.

Several years after I was married, I was called to teach a Sunday School class of fifteen-year-olds. It was a large class of enthusiastic and energetic students. I had to prepare well each week in order to stay ahead of them.
One Sunday after class a young man waited for the room to clear and then asked if we could talk privately for a moment. He poured out his heart to me about a moral transgression that he was involved in. He cried, and I could see that his heart was filled with great remorse.
I encouraged him to go see the bishop, who was his uncle, and eventually I went with him to his appointment and waited outside. Of course, I was not part of what the young man did from that time on, but almost immediately I saw the dark clouds of gloom and grief lift from this young man’s face. In time he was back to being the normal and fine young man that I had known him to be for some years previous. Repentance cleansed his soul and it cleansed his heart, mind, and even his face. His eyes were brighter, his smile broader, and his walk and the way he carried himself suggested happiness.

“Can you tell me what talents Taylor has that I could share with the class?” my eight-year-old’s Primary teacher asked me. She had telephoned because Taylor’s class would be talking about talents they had received from Heavenly Father.
My mind went blank. I thought back over the past eight years, trying to come up with an answer. At four days old Taylor had suffered a stroke that left him with profound brain damage and an uncontrollable seizure disorder. He is unable to see, speak, or communicate. He has never progressed past a six-month-old child’s level of mental development. He spends most of his days in a wheelchair as we care for him and try to keep him comfortable.
We cheered when he learned to giggle or drink from a special cup, and we celebrated when he could stand and take a few steps. But while we cheered and celebrated on the outside, on the inside we wept with the realization that these small achievements were probably as significant as any Taylor would attain. Somehow I didn’t think this was what his Primary teacher wanted to hear.
I cleared my throat and uncomfortably answered, “Taylor really doesn’t have any talents that I can think of.”
This kind sister then forever altered my relationship with my son by her response.
“As I thought about this lesson, I realized that every child of God has a talent,” she said. “I would suggest that Taylor’s talent is that he teaches others to serve. If it is OK with you, I would like to talk to our class about how I have noticed Taylor’s talent here at church. I have seen the other Primary children learn to push his wheelchair, open doors for him, and overcome their fear to wipe his chin with a handkerchief when needed. I think that is a great talent by which he blesses our lives.”
I murmured in agreement, and we quietly said good-bye. I wonder if that Primary teacher knew what a profound impact that conversation would have on my life. Taylor remained the same. He still requires a great deal of care. Hospitals, doctors, and therapists still take up a large part of my life. But my perspective changed, and I began to notice his talent.
I saw how people around us would alter their behavior as they sought to care for him. I also noticed how he reminds us to slow down, notice his needs, and become more compassionate, observant, and patient.
I do not know God’s purpose in having Taylor face such daunting challenges, but I believe that his Primary teacher gave me a small glimpse of it. He is here to share his talent with us. He is here to give us the opportunity to learn how to serve.

Someday Torrance, California, will boast a 12-acre park with landscaped picnic areas, sports fields, and a playground for children; and the 10,000 residents who live within a square mile will be able to thank some active LDS youths for helping to bring it about.
The huge stacks of tumbleweeds and trash collected by the young people of the Torrance California South Stake helped the city move closer to beginning work on the park. For the youths, the cleanup campaign followed President Kimball’s advice that Americans devote 24 service hours to their communities this year. The project was also part of a three-day Bicentennial youth conference.
Choosing the theme, “Join the Freedom Train—Share Your Gospel Heritage,” the young people began the conference with a flag ceremony and color guard presentation. Then the 400 members and nonmembers were treated to a banquet served by their adult advisers. Of course, the decorations were all patriotic red, white, and blue. Song, dance, comedy, and a touch of dramatics were provided by the “Sounds of Zion,” a 50-member, touring Utah State University performing group. The college students reviewed the early days of movies, radio, television, and popular music. Also included were Church hymns and patriotic songs.
The next day the young people went to work at Torrance’s del Thorne Park. There are currently no park facilities available for nearby residents. The area will welcome the park when completed, and the young people will enjoy its features, knowing they contributed to its success.
The cleanup project was followed by the Rio Hondo Institute’s three-act musical-drama, Moroni’s Promise. The play centers on a young man’s uncertainty about accepting a mission call until he prays for guidance. After the play the Torrance young people danced to the music of “Pacifica,” though no one could believe they were still able to stand on their feet after the day’s work.
On Sunday evening the youth gathered for a sacrament and testimony meeting conducted by Stake President Eldon H. Morgan. President Morgan spoke on liberty, the true meaning of freedom, and why we should live within the law. Many youths bore their testimonies and expressed deep feelings for their families, Church, and country.
When the conference came to an end, the young people recognized that they had helped serve their community, made new friends, shared testimonies, and strengthened their commitment to do the Lord’s work. These were goals they had determined themselves. They knew that if they made up their minds to get something done, they probably would.

Shannon, a young mother, did not expect that she would teach her children the power of prayer when they piled into their van to drive to their home just 40 minutes away. There was no storm when they left their grandmother’s home, but as they began to drive through the canyon, the light snow turned into a blizzard. The van began sliding on the surface of the road. Soon visibility was near zero. The two youngest children could sense the stress of the situation and began to cry. Shannon said to the older children, Heidi and Thomas, ages eight and six, “You need to pray. We need Heavenly Father’s help to get home safely. Pray that we will not get stuck and that we will not slide off the road.” Her hands shook as she steered the car, yet she could hear the whisper of little prayers repeatedly coming from the backseat: “Heavenly Father, please help us get home safely; please help us so we will not slide off the road.”

In time, the prayers calmed the two little ones, and they stopped their crying just as they learned that a road closure prevented them from driving any farther. Cautiously, they turned around and found a motel for the night. Once in the motel, they knelt down and thanked Heavenly Father for their safety. That night a mother taught her children the power of holding true to prayer.

Paul’s counsel, “Be thou an example of the believers,” applies equally to members. Most have not been and may never be full-time missionaries. But all can be member missionaries. That statement reminds me of a report of a humorous event. On a large playing field at a missionary training center, a sign was posted. It read, “Missionaries Only!” People who also wanted to play on that field posted a new sign of their own. Their sign read, “Every Member a Missionary!”

Each member can be an example of the believers. Brethren, as followers of Jesus Christ, each of you can live in accord with His teachings. You can have “a pure heart and clean hands”; you can have “the image of God engraven upon your [countenance].” Your good works will be evident to others. The light of the Lord can beam from your eyes. With that radiance, you had better prepare for questions. The Apostle Peter so counseled, “Be ready always to give an answer to every man that asketh you a reason of the hope that is in you.”

Let your response be warm and joyful. And let your response be relevant to that individual. Remember, he or she is also a child of God, that very God who dearly wants that person to qualify for eternal life and return to Him one day. You may be the very one to open the door to his or her salvation and understanding of the doctrine of Christ.

After your initial response, be ready to take the next step. You may invite your friend to attend church with you. Many of our friends do not know they are welcome in our Church buildings. “Come and see” was the Savior’s invitation to those who desired to learn more about Him. An invitation to attend a Sunday meeting with you or to participate in a Church social or service activity will help to dispel mistaken myths and make visitors feel more comfortable among us.

As a member of the Church, reach out to those you do not know and greet them warmly. Each Sunday extend a hand of fellowship to at least one person you did not know before. Each day of your life, strive to enlarge your own circle of friendship.

You can invite a friend to read the Book of Mormon. Explain that it is not a novel or a history book. It is another testament of Jesus Christ. Its very purpose is “to the convincing of the Jew and Gentile that Jesus is the Christ, the Eternal God, manifesting himself unto all nations.” There is a power in this book that can touch the hearts and lift the lives of honest seekers of truth. Invite your friend to read the book prayerfully.

The Prophet Joseph Smith said “that the Book of Mormon was the most correct of any book on earth, and the keystone of our religion, and a man would get nearer to God by abiding by its precepts, than by any other book.” The Book of Mormon teaches of the Atonement of Jesus Christ and is the instrument by which God will fulfill His ancient promise to gather scattered Israel in these latter days.

Many years ago two colleagues of mine—a nurse and her doctor husband—asked me why I lived the way I did. I answered, “Because I know the Book of Mormon is true.” I let them borrow my copy of the book, inviting them to read it. A week later they returned my book with a polite “Thanks a lot.”

I responded, “What do you mean, ‘Thanks a lot’? That’s a totally inappropriate response for one who has read this book. You didn’t read it, did you! Please take it back and read it; then I would like my book back.”

Admitting that they had only turned its pages, they accepted my invitation. When they returned, they said tearfully, “We have read the Book of Mormon. We know it is true! We want to know more.” They learned more, and it was my privilege to baptize both of them.

Another way that you can share the gospel is to invite friends to meet with full-time missionaries in your home. Those missionaries are called and prepared to teach the gospel. Your friends, in the comfort of your home and with your constant reassurance, can begin their journey toward salvation and exaltation. The Lord said, “Ye are called to bring to pass the gathering of mine elect; for mine elect hear my voice and harden not their hearts.”

Scripture tells us that “there are many yet on the earth … who are only kept from the truth because they know not where to find it.” Isn’t that your opportunity? You can become their own disciple of discovery!

Now in this day of the Internet, there are new and exciting ways you can do missionary work. You can invite friends and neighbors to visit the new mormon.org website. If you have blogs and online social networks, you could link your sites to mormon.org. And there you can create your own personal profile. Each profile includes an expression of belief, an experience, and a testimony. Because this is a new feature, most of these profiles are available in English. Profiles in other languages will follow.

These profiles can have a profound influence for good. Two months ago a young man named Zac—a freshman in college—saw an ad for mormon.org on television in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. He connected with the website and was intrigued by the profiles of Church members. At our website he found the link that informed him where he could attend church. The next Sunday, dressed in a white shirt and tie, he attended church, was introduced to members of the ward, and enjoyed all three hours of meetings. He was invited to a member’s home for dinner, followed by his first missionary lesson. In less than two weeks, he was baptized and confirmed as a member of the Church. Welcome, Zac! (He is listening.)

Each exemplary follower of Jesus Christ can become an effective member missionary. Members and full-time missionaries may walk arm in arm in bringing the blessings of the gospel to cherished friends and neighbors. Many of them are of Israel, now being gathered as promised. This is all part of the preparation for the Second Coming of the Lord. He wants each of us truly to be an example of the believers.

I know that God lives. Jesus is the Christ. This is His Church. The Book of Mormon is true. Joseph Smith is its translator and the prophet of this last dispensation. President Thomas S. Monson is God’s prophet today. I so testify in the sacred name of Jesus Christ, amen.

We all willingly serve. Sometimes we feel underwhelmed with our calling and wish we were asked to do more. Other times we are grateful when it is time for our release. We do not determine the callings we receive. I learned this lesson early in my marriage. As a young couple, my wife, Kathy, and I lived in Florida. One Sunday a counselor in the stake presidency explained to me that they felt impressed to call Kathy as an early-morning seminary teacher.
“How will we do it?” I asked. “We have small children, seminary begins at 5:00 a.m., and I am the ward Young Men president.”
The counselor smiled and said, “It will be OK, Brother Andersen. We will call her, and we will release you.”
And that is what happened.
Sincerely asking for and listening to the thoughts and concerns voiced by women is vital in life, in marriage, and in building the kingdom of God.

After that, the missionaries came to our home and gave us the first discussion. Then came the invitation: “Will you pray to Heavenly Father to know if the Book of Mormon is true?” We both agreed to do it.
On the first night I prayed before sleeping, but I was so tired that I fell asleep without waiting for a response. On the second night I prayed again, but I didn’t receive an answer. The next night I prayed once again. I wanted to feel what the missionaries had taught me: “Your bosom shall burn within you; therefore, you shall feel that it is right” (D&C 9:8). I prayed and waited, but I didn’t receive a response. Still, I went to bed certain that one day I would receive it.
The next day was the first Sunday of the month, and we went to church. It was then that it happened. During class I began to feel something I had never felt before—something that made me feel so happy. When sacrament meeting began I had a desire to bear my testimony, but I didn’t have the courage. However, I was certain that the Book of Mormon was true.
My brother and I accepted the gospel without reluctance. We had testimonies of the Book of Mormon, and we knew that everything else the missionaries taught us would be true too.

Having been raised in a competitive and non-religious Asian country, I have always had a great desire to become a successful person, but I didn’t have any eternal principles or truths to guide me. In my country, “successful” meant being rich and powerful.
My parents always taught me that there was no such thing as God. For them, religion or God was a bunch of nonsense and only for weak people. For a long time I considered myself atheist. They taught me that I shouldn’t trust anyone but myself. So from a young age I have used my high ambitions as motivation to study and work extremely hard.
My parents had high expectations for me. They wanted me to keep my grades high at all times. It made me sad to see their disappointed faces or to hear them argue with each other when I got a bad grade. Along with my regular schoolwork, I would also have to do extra homework on the weekend so I could keep an A average.
Even after accomplishing goals I had set, I still felt that there was something more in store for my life. Deep in my heart, I knew that surely there had to be more to it.
One day I decided I was going to find out for myself if there really was a God. If He did exist, I wanted to know what He wanted for me or if religion was just a bunch of nonsense created by the imagination of human beings. I was not afraid to receive either one of these two answers. I just wanted the truth.
Around that same time, I became close friends with one of my basketball teammates named Taylor. One morning I asked him for a ride to school. He said yes, but I would have to get up an hour earlier to go to seminary with him. I reluctantly said yes, not knowing what it was. I enjoyed seminary, though more because of what I felt than what I learned.
Soon after that, Taylor asked me to go to church with him. At first I thought church was a little boring and weird, but eventually I was moved by the warm and peaceful feeling that I felt at the service.
However, I still wasn’t persuaded that the good feeling had anything to do with God. How did I know that it didn’t come from myself? How did I know that I didn’t make myself feel that way?
After many internal debates, I went to Taylor’s mom in search of answers. She told me that I could receive my answers by reading the scriptures and praying about the answers that I was looking for. I prayed without receiving any answers and struggled to obey the rules and commandments that I was learning about. I became frustrated many times. I expected a marvelous and dramatic appearance of God or some sort of miraculous event to prove that God was real. Basically, I wanted an unshakable testimony all at once. The truth is, the more I prayed, the more clarity I felt in my life. The more I followed the commandments, the happier I became. The more I read the scriptures, the more revelation I received. Gradually, my testimony increased, like the rising sun in the morning.
It took me two years to decide to be baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Though I lived many good moral standards and principles before, I can now say that I have found the eternal and ultimate truth: God lives. Jesus is the Christ, our Savior and Redeemer. The heavens are open. A prophet of God walks the earth today. The Atonement of Jesus Christ is real. God really does forgive all repentant sinners. I may not be as smart or as gifted as other people, but the knowledge I have is priceless.

I met Anthony a long time ago. We had just moved into the area. I went to this new school and started to make friends. Anthony was one of them. We were maybe six or seven years old. It’s funny to think about that, now that I am 26.
We were playing a game called Pog. It’s a game we play in France—I don’t know if it’s played elsewhere. While we were playing, Anthony tried to swipe one or two of my game pieces. Suddenly, we started to fight. Our teacher had to pull us apart. After that, I think we appreciated each other more. We started doing things together—playing video games, skateboarding, and cycling. Little by little, we began to spend more and more time together.
My mother always wanted our family to pray. It was part of our practice at home. Same thing with reading scriptures too. These things were ingrained in us. One night I slept over at Anthony’s place. As I prayed before bed, Anthony saw me and asked what I was doing. I don’t remember what I said exactly; I just remember we were in his room and we talked about prayer.
Anthony came a few times to my house, and he saw us read the scriptures, ask a blessing before eating, and pray as a family. He saw us sing hymns together too. I asked him once or twice to come to church. I must have seen from his reaction that he wasn’t too excited about the idea of coming to church. I told myself, “Well that’s it, I guess, and it’s too bad, but we’ll just continue to be buddies.”
Anthony:
At first I was a little distant about the Church. I didn’t understand much, and I was a bit afraid to speak with Cayo about how his family gathered together for prayer. So in the beginning I didn’t respond to invitations. But little by little, I felt good. I felt in my heart that Cayo’s family was different from other families.
Cayo:
Eventually we both moved on to other things. We lost track of each other several times over the years, but we would always bump into each other again. When we were teenagers, we became close friends again.
Anthony:
I could see that Cayo was different from my other friends. We all do dumb things as we’re growing up, but Cayo helped me choose a good path.
Cayo:
Anthony started to come to church with my family. Then things evolved naturally, the missionaries spent a lot of time with us, and Anthony became quite familiar with the Church. He knew what prayer was, he knew the hymns, he knew all that—he was just not a member.
Anthony:
From age 8 to age 18, I reflected a lot about getting baptized. But it took me a long time because I had a lot of things I needed to change in my life, even though I tried to live good principles.
At the age of 18, I met the missionaries in Cayo’s home. The missionaries taught me the lessons to prepare me for baptism. They helped me, and their message touched my heart. During this time, my mother and my little sister were introduced to the missionaries. They were baptized a few months before I was. I was baptized on March 10, 2007.
Cayo:
It took the time that it took, more than 10 years, but finally he was baptized.
It’s interesting to see how the Lord does things. After that, I went on a mission in France and we wrote to each other. Now we’re going to be separated because Anthony just became a gendarme [policeman], and he will leave to work for two to five years in Guyana, but I’m sure we’re going to stay in touch.
Anthony:
Since I joined the Church, I do what is required to stay on the strait path and to share the gospel with those around me. It’s something that’s very simple, but the gospel can be difficult for others to accept and to live. As members of the Church, we are truly different from others.
Other members of my family had trouble seeing why my mother, my sister, and I get ready for church every Sunday. I get dressed in my suit and leave at 8:30 to be to church by 9:00, and I often stay until 3:00 in the afternoon because of my calling. I enjoy visiting with other members and finding out what’s going on in their lives. I like being able to participate with the members; it’s exceptional. It’s important to have people around us who are members, to have unity, and to feel like we’re strengthening each other.
Cayo:
I believe the Lord does everything He can so we can truly, honestly, and deeply change. Becoming a Latter-day Saint and a disciple of Christ is not just a question of deciding to adopt certain attitudes; it is to witness a profound change in ourselves. I saw that change in Anthony.
Anthony:
Knowing I have a Heavenly Father comforts me. It also comforts me to know that He sent His Son, Jesus Christ, to die for us—for me.
But, in any case, I know it’s true. I also know the scriptures are true. The Book of Mormon is true. I’m convinced of it. The Church is true. We have a true prophet, Thomas S. Monson. The Twelve Apostles are truly called of God.
That’s something I didn’t understand before, and I think that, even today, I don’t understand it completely. It’s very powerful and it’s unique as an emotion.
Cayo Sopi (left) and Anthony Linat (right) walk through their neighborhood in the suburbs of Paris, France. They have been friends since childhood.
“As we got to be closer friends, I could see that Cayo was different from my other friends,” Anthony remembers. Over time, Cayo’s example helped Anthony to become more interested in the restored gospel.
Cayo and Anthony plan on staying in touch after Anthony moves to Guyana.
“Since I joined the Church,” Anthony says, “I do what is required to stay on the strait path and to share the gospel with those around me.” Sharing the gospel is “something that’s very simple,” he says.
Cayo remains grateful for the opportunity he had to share the gospel with his friend. “I believe the Lord does everything He can so we can truly, honestly, and deeply change,” Cayo says. “I saw that change in Anthony.”
Anthony says finding the gospel has been a blessing in his life. “Knowing I have a Heavenly Father comforts me,” he says. “It also comforts me to know that He sent His Son, Jesus Christ.”
“It’s interesting to see how the Lord does things,” Cayo says. It took more than 10 years for Anthony to be baptized, but in that time, Anthony gained a strong testimony.