Gospel Story Finder

Now a little international story that I had forgotten about until I read President McKay’s words. Over twenty years ago, John and I visited Austria, as part of his assignment at BYU over International Education. It was during the time of the Bosnian War. There was an international stake in Vienna where they held a Young Women camp. In that camp, girls from all the factions of the war were included. There were girls from Bosnia, Yugoslavia, Serbia, and Croatia. However, during that camp, they were not there to represent the politics of their nations, but rather, they remembered that they are daughters of a Heavenly Father, who loves them and they love him. They had promised to stand as witnesses of God at all times, in all things and in all places. As they remembered their covenant to follow the Lord. They had a week of complete joy, love, and peace. Like President McKay had stated, “It was the testimony of God and obedience to the gospel plan that are the keys to peace.”

Later, as 18-year-old Moisés prepared for his mission, his family continued to face temporal challenges. He doubted his decision to leave and told his mother he wanted to stay home to help her.
“If you really want to help me,” she told him, “go and serve the Lord.”
Kneeling by his cot at the close of his first day in the Mexico Hermosillo Mission, Moisés felt that the Lord was pleased with his decision. He credits his mission for the growth of his testimony of the restored gospel.

Max’s family visited the temple grounds every week. He always brought his video game with him. Otherwise it would be too boring to just walk around. On the way home, Max’s sisters joked and giggled beside him in the car, but he didn’t hear them. He was too focused on his game.
When they all got home, Max walked inside. He was so proud of himself. He didn’t even have to look up to make it to the living room. So much gaming must have made his brain bigger.
“Max, how did you like the temple?” Mom asked. He didn’t answer.
“Max!” she said a little louder. He jumped. He hadn’t seen her sit down next to him.
“Did you like the temple?” Mom asked again.
“It was nice,” he said. His eyes moved back to the game.
“Did you feel anything special?” she asked.
Max sighed and paused the game. Couldn’t she see he was busy?
“I don’t know, Mom. I guess it was all pretty special,” he said with a grin.
Mom didn’t smile back. “Max, I’m a little worried. It seems like you’re playing that thing more and more.”
“Mom, I’m fine,” Max said. “I’m just having fun. I can stop anytime.”
“Oh, really?” Mom said. Now she was smiling. “How about you stop playing your games for a week? And maybe when we go to the temple you’ll be surprised.”
A whole week! What would he do? He worried about giving up his games, but he loved Mom and thought he could give it a try.
Max sighed. “OK. I’ll do it.”
Mom gave Max a big hug. Max looked at his game and frowned. What had he gotten himself into?
The first two days were the worst because all he could think about was his game. He was so bored that even cleaning sounded good. So he did all his chores, and since he had more time before dinner, he did his sisters’ chores too.
After dinner, Max helped with the dishes. Then he thought of something else to do.
“Hey, Dad, wanna play catch?”
Dad smiled. “I’d love to! It’s been too long. Grab your mitt.”
Max went to bed feeling happy. He usually played video games until he fell asleep, but tonight he didn’t even want to. He thought of what he was going to do tomorrow. It seemed like he had so much more time now.
The week raced by. Max spent time with his family, helped his sisters, read the scriptures, and even started learning how to crochet! He had to admit that using his time differently felt pretty good.
Soon the day of the temple trip came. Max had totally forgotten what Mom had said about a surprise. He was just excited to spend time with his family.
The sun was setting as Max’s family walked around the temple grounds. The sky was red, orange, and yellow. Max felt something special as he watched the light shine on the temple windows. This is what it must feel like to live with Heavenly Father, he thought.
Max knew he was feeling the Spirit. He thought about how serving and spending time with other people made him feel happier than always playing his games did. He felt closer to Heavenly Father too.
Mom walked up beside him. “What are you thinking?”
Max looked up at the Angel Moroni glowing gold in the sunset. “That this is even better than video games.”
Mom wrapped her arm around his shoulders. “Surprise,” she said.
Max just smiled.

Jill squeezed her eyes shut, then popped them open again. Tree shadows moved across the unfamiliar wallpaper. She wished that morning would come so that she could get the first day at her new school behind her. How she longed to be back at Three Forks! There everyone knew her and she had good friends. But her father’s new job had taken them out of Montana’s January blizzards to the gray curtains of rain in Seattle, Washington.
If only I could find a magic ring, like the little girl in the fairy tale! Jill thought. Maybe then my wish would come true. She let herself drift back to her dream of deep grass rolling in the wind.
Awake once more, Jill saw that it was morning. She looked down at her hand—no magic ring.
“Jill,” her mother called, “time to get up! French toast!”
Her favorite breakfast. Mom was trying to help. Jill put on her dark blue skirt and white sweater, then pulled a sock over her thin, twisted foot and shriveled leg. Taking her crutch, she swung herself to the stairway and expertly two-stepped her way down.
“You look very nice this morning,” her mother greeted her. “And see what Great-Aunt Laura sent you. It’s a ‘schoolwarming’ present.”
By the side of Jill’s plate lay a gold-colored thimble. “Mom! It’s a magic thimble!” She slipped it onto the middle finger of her right hand. It fit perfectly.
“It may not be magic, Jill, but it’s a nice gift from your great-aunt. Now, drink your orange juice and eat your breakfast while it’s still warm.”
“OK, Mom, but I’m going to take the thimble with me, just in case.” If it is a magic thimble, she thought, I’ll have at least one wish come true.
At school the principal, Mr. Pearson, told Jill, “Your teacher is Mrs. Rhodes. I’ll take you up to her class.”
Jill followed Mr. Pearson upstairs to her classroom. All eyes turned toward her when she and Mr. Pearson went in. Blood rushed to her face and neck. This was the moment she dreaded most—people looking at her and staring at her brace and crutch.
A slender young woman came forward, and Mr. Pearson said, “This is Jill Oldham.”
“I’m Mrs. Rhodes, Jill. We’re glad to have you with us. You can sit at this desk here.” She pointed to an empty desk in the front row.
Morning classes began with math. Although she was good at it, the butterflies came back again as she heard the teacher and the class talking about “sets.” What are they, anyway? she wondered.
Jill slumped down in her seat, avoiding her teacher’s eyes. Kathy, the dark-haired girl next to her, had her hand in the air constantly, and she snapped her pencil back and forth between her thumb and forefinger. Suddenly Kathy’s pencil slipped out of her hand and landed on the floor, its point broken off. Mrs. Rhodes frowned. Jill hesitated, then offered her pencil box to her classmate. Kathy flashed a pleased smile as she picked out a sharpened pencil.
Next came social studies. Jill pricked up her ears at mention of the Lewis and Clark expedition. When Mrs. Rhodes asked if anyone could name the three rivers that came together to form the Missouri River, Jill put up her hand.
“Jill?”
“The Madison, Gallatin, and Jefferson rivers.”
“That’s correct. I understand that you moved here from Montana. Is that how you knew?”
“Yes. Three Forks, Montana, is near where our family lived. And, besides, my dad named our three cats after those rivers!”
Mrs. Rhodes smiled, her classmates giggled, and Jill joined in. Then a bell sounded. Recess! The other kids would rush out to the playground, but what would she do? At her old school, she and her best friend used recess to do projects and share secrets. But she didn’t have a best friend—any friends, for that matter—here. She took her crutch and made her way to the end of the recess line.
“Kathy will you be hostess for Jill today?” Mrs. Rhodes asked. “Show her where the lavatories and the cafeteria are.”
“Yes, Mrs. Rhodes.” Kathy replied.
Jill felt her face redden. “You go ahead of me, Kathy,” Jill said. “It takes me longer to go downstairs.”
“Oh, I’ll stay with you. I don’t mind. I hurt my leg last year when I chased our dog over a ditch, and I had to be on crutches for a while. I know how it is.”
As Jill made her way down the stairs, Kathy said admiringly, “You sure know how to handle yourself. You’re twice as fast as I was.”
“Well, I’ve had enough practice.” Jill smiled ruefully.
On the playground the girls first sat behind the baseball safety fence and watched their classmates play one-up. Then Jill said, “C’mon. Let’s swing. I like to pump high. It makes me feel good.”
Kathy said, “I like to pump high too. But I didn’t know you could do that.”
“I can do lots of things,” said Jill. “I can swim and ride a horse and play the piano.”
“Say, where do you live?” Kathy asked on their way back to class. When Jill told Kathy, her classmate exclaimed, “Hey, we ride the same bus! Only I go four blocks farther. I’m glad you came to our school! I’m still mad at one of the kids on the bus. He called me ‘peg leg’ when I was on crutches. He’d better not say anything to you, or I’ll hit him on the head with my lunch bucket, and he’ll have jelly sandwiches hanging from his ears!”
Jill laughed. Putting her hand into her pocket, she discovered her great-aunt’s gift. I found something better than a magic thimble, she thought. I found a friend!

I think dinosaurs are terrific! My mom says I’ve been crazy about them ever since I could talk. I can’t always visit the museum or library when I want to, so I go on lots of pretend dinosaur hunts. Then I make a museum in the backyard. When my family and friends visit my museum, I tell them all about these wonderful animals.
Other prehistoric creatures roam my backyard too. I dig holes in the dirt and fill them with water so the woolly mammoths and sabertoothed tigers can have a drink at my tar pit.
One day my backyard games turned into the real thing. I was digging a tar pit in the garden when my shovel clanked on something buried underground. I bent down to see what it was and I came up with a hard brown rock about the size of my fist.
I couldn’t wait to show somebody what I had, and I ran into the house calling, “A fossil! I found a fossil!”
“Take that dirty dog bone back outside,” Mom said.
So I did. I pulled some picnic benches together and set up my museum workshop. I knew just what to do because I had watched the scientists through the glass wall at the Page Museum. The equipment I needed was under the kitchen sink: a scrub brush, a towel, a container for water.
I went to work cleaning my discovery. With the brush and water I scrubbed off most of the garden soil. I dried it with a towel. It was smooth and dark brown with two bumps on one end. The other end looked like it had been broken.
It was a wonderful fossil. I played museum with it until dinnertime. This time when I took it into the house Mom didn’t say no. And the next morning she told me she had looked at my fossil while I was sleeping. “I’m sorry I called it a dog bone,” Mom said. “It really does look rather unusual.”
Then she called the page Museum at the La Brea Tar Pits in Los Angeles, California. She described what I had found in the backyard, and the man asked her to bring it in for him to examine.
So the next Saturday our family drove to the museum. We met the man my mom had talked to on the phone. I showed him my fossil. He showed it to another man, and I thought he said, “Bison.” Then he looked at me and said, “I think you’ve found something, son.”
The man took us into a room on the other side of the glass wall. There were rows and rows of big gray drawers. He pulled open a drawer and brought out a fossil that matched mine and another one that was longer than my arm.
“You have found part of a rib bone of a Bison Antiquus,” he said. “This long one is what the entire bone looks like.”
He told me that the Bison Antiquus is an extinct relative of our American buffalo and that an ancient Indian tribe used to hunt the Bison Antiquus in what is now Southern California. I closed my eyes and tried to picture all this happening in my own backyard thousands of years ago.
“Before you leave, be sure to take a look at the skeleton of the entire Bison Antiquus in the exhibit area,” the man said.
My mom asked him what we should do with my fossil. And he said to take it home and save it, because someday I might be a paleontologist who studies fossils.
We said good-bye and he shook my hand. “Keep up the good work,” he told me.
And I have. I still play museum in my backyard. Sometimes friends come over to help me dig because they heard about my fossil on the six o’clock television news. But mostly I play with my little brother, Jeff.
The other day Jeff found something in the dirt, and I knew it was a fossil. We showed it to Mom and she promised to take us back to the museum soon. I wonder what this fossil is. It sort of looks like it came from a sea animal.
When I grow up I want to learn all about prehistoric animals. Then when I find a fossil, maybe I’ll have a real museum and can figure out what it is all by myself.

The first principle is to give and receive encouragement and help. All cross country courses are brutal, but the hilly, 10,000-meter championship course in Stillwater, Oklahoma, is considered by many athletes to be one of the most difficult cross country courses they have ever experienced. In a performance that Coach Ed Eyestone called “otherworldly,”36 Conner Mantz won this year’s National Collegiate Athletic Association (NCAA) individual men’s cross country national champion­ship. In a postrace interview, Conner described a powerful experience during the race:

During the race, Adriaan Wildschutt from Florida State came up next to me, and we ran together. When he came up next to me, he said, “Hey, man, we can catch these guys up ahead. Let’s work together.” At first I was like, “You know what, by all means you take the lead right now for me, because I am dying in this heavy headwind.” He took it for a couple hundred meters. Then I was able to bounce back and take it for about the next thousand meters.37

Conner’s experience stands out to me for two reasons. First, he was encouraged by his opponent in the middle of a championship race, which is a wonderful reminder that there are good people everywhere who are seeking to work together. Second, Conner had the eyes to see and the humility to receive the help he was offered.38 He could have brushed off his opponent and continued the race alone. But Conner accepted his opponent’s offer to work together. The two ran together to overtake the lead, ultimately taking first and second.

LeGrand Nonales Terceño, as he was playing “I Love to See The Temple” on the piano under the beautiful Acacia trees outside the temple, was amazed when one by one little children drew nearer to him and sang the words of the song. Some of them grabbed their parents’ hands and asked them to sing along.
Some visitors requested him to play their favorite hymns while waiting to enter the temple. One guest said, “You’re inviting the Spirit with your music.”
LeGrand shared, “That lifted me up. I felt that moment Heavenly Father was smiling over us.”

I would like to tell you about an experience I had as a student. I was learning French, and I realized that in order to progress in my studies I needed to immerse myself in the language. So I applied for an internship and went to work as a nanny for a wonderful French-speaking family in Belgium. For the first several weeks I traveled with the family in France. As I had hoped, my language skills were improving daily—being corrected by a two-year-old was highly motivating.

Eventually, when we arrived back at the family’s home near Brussels, I had Sundays free, so I could attend church. My hosts were kind enough to help me determine which trains and trams I would take to get to the nearest chapel, and the next Sunday I ventured into Brussels on my own. After taking the train into the heart of the city and making various connections, I began walking through the busy city streets. Brussels is a beautiful and vibrant city. I came to love it. On this first trip through the city, however, I began to feel overwhelmed, a bit lost, and very much alone. In fact, the stresses of the last several weeks started to weigh heavy—the difficulties of constantly communicating in another language, of fitting into another family’s routines, and of adjusting to a new employer’s expectations. Lost, alone, and overwhelmed, I said a silent prayer and walked on.

Finally I turned a corner and caught sight of a bright white row building with “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints” in French posted on the front. It is hard to describe exactly what happened at that moment, but what I can say is that the sight of that sign brought peace to my soul. Yes, I was relieved to have found the church building, but it was something more than that. The oppressive weight I had been feeling was lifted. I felt like I could go on. I smiled the biggest smile I had had on my face for quite some time and marched right into that building to enjoy one of the most powerful testimony meetings I have ever experienced.

When he has the chance, Michael likes to get together with other LDS youth. Like when he sang in the choir for the dedication of Church history sites in historic Kirtland. He talks warmly about the three- to four-hour drives to Kirtland for practices. But he remembers most the wonderful experience of the dedication and the fireside the night before where he saw President Gordon B. Hinckley and other General Authorities speak.

“We see these people in general conference. But this was live. And at the end of the dedication everyone got up and spontaneously sang ‘We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet,’” Michael remembers (Hymns, no. 19). “It was surreal almost. It was an amazing feeling throughout the whole dedication. It was neat.”

When Robb Thomas, a 14-year-old teacher in the Bangor Ward, Augusta Maine Stake, decided to start a genealogy club in his school, Garland Street Junior High, he got a lot more than he bargained for. The club rapidly became one of the more popular clubs in the school.
“It was hard at first, because a lot of people didn’t understand the word genealogy, and they wanted to make fun of it,” Robb said. But when the club started bringing in films and guest speakers and taking trips to the state archives, interest grew quickly.
“One of the fellows who made fun of the club to begin with eventually ended up joining,” Robb said.
Other students now share an interest in discovering their ancestry. “It’s something I didn’t have before,” said 15-year-old Mary England, a member of the club. “I discovered my great-aunt had worked on tracing a family tree, but her records were misplaced.”
“I went to my grandmother, and she talked about my great-grandparents—who they were, and where they were born. I used that as a starting point,” said Holly Sands, 15, another member of the club.
Robb worked with the student council to obtain permission for forming the club, which meant finding a supervisor, making a presentation to the student council, and convincing the council to vote in favor of his proposal. “Robbie got the ball rolling, and then we got in and pushed beside him,” Holly said. A bake sale was used to generate finances.
Robb says he’s had a lot of opportunities to explain Church beliefs because of his work with the club. “Some people in the club asked me informally to make a presentation to them about temples and why we have them,” he said. “I showed them pictures of the interior rooms and the outsides of several temples, and we talked about baptism for the dead, endowments, and why genealogy is so important. We talked about temple marriage, too.”
Robb also spends a lot of time at the public library doing research and thinks about a career in genealogy. “I get a lot of help and encouragement from people in the ward, from missionaries, and from my parents,” Robb said. “I have some relatives in Salt Lake City who have helped out, too.”
This fall, Robb starts high school at Bangor High. There’s already a genealogy club there, and you can bet he’s got plans (along with many of his friends) to be active in it.

For eight American seminary students living with their families in Quito, Ecuador, Christmas is a special time of year. In an effort to give something of themselves at this time of the year, they decided to share Christmas with an orphanage in the northern city of Latacunga.
The first efforts began in making gifts for the 70 children, ranging in age from 10 days to 12 years. For the boys they made bean bag mice, and for the girls they made soft snow-women dolls. Trying his hand at running a sewing machine, Bryon Bowers said, “I felt needed making those presents.”
When the big day came, the students wrapped each gift and loaded a basket with extra goodies like formula for the babies, rice, school supplies, and candy canes for everyone. At the orphanage, the students sang Christmas carols, helped the children reenact the Christmas story, and introduced Santa. Lamont Loveland recalls, “It was a very good experience for me because I had to play the part of Santa. It was fun to see the children’s faces when I handed them their presents.” Cory Goodman adds, “I’ve been here before, but I’ve never seen the children so excited.”
The seminary students brought five piñatas filled with candy and set them up for the children to break. Brenda Reinhart observed, “Seeing the love and unselfishness these orphan children showed was a lesson to me. After the candy from the piñata was collected by the children, they looked around to see who hadn’t received any so they could share theirs.”
During the two-hour drive back to Quito that evening, Carrie Reinhart expressed a wish, “I want to spend my next birthday here sharing with these wonderful children.”
Paulette Kaudelka spoke of the yearning most of them had felt during the day. “When I left the orphanage, I wanted to take all those little children with me and give them a better life.” Penni Kaudelka and Clayton Bowers felt their testimonies grew with this opportunity to serve.
In summing up the feelings of the group, I can only say we were all touched by the love given and then returned tenfold that day.

Before I met Ben, I was nearing the age of missionary service and had seriously considered serving a full-time mission. But then Ben entered my life, and I knew that Heavenly Father had a different plan for me.
When Ben and I got engaged, relatives who knew about my thoughts to serve a mission asked me about my choice, and I would tell them, “I decided that I wanted to pick my own missionary companion—and stay with him for eternity.”
When you’re married, you and your spouse have the chance to participate in the work of salvation together. Ben and I have found great joy in building a Christ-centered home, studying and living the gospel together, serving in the Church, and inviting others to come unto Christ. As we work together to build the kingdom of God, we grow closer, our love deepens, and life is more fulfilling.
Despite what the world may say, marriage is awesome and is worth making a priority. When you’re married, you have a teammate, you give and receive love, you enjoy life more fully, and you have someone to build the kingdom of God with. All of that brings us great joy, and because we were sealed in the temple, we can have this joy forever! If we keep our covenants, we will be together for eternity and receive the crowning blessings of the priesthood. We “have found in marriage the richest fulfillment of human existence.”4

Luke S. Johnson was also called to the original Quorum of the Twelve in 1835. His spiritual resolve weakened over some financial speculation in 1837. Looking back later he said: “My mind became darkened, and I was left to pursue my own course. I lost the Spirit of God, and neglected my duty; the consequence was, that at a Conference held in Kirtland, September 3, 1837, … I was cut off from the Church.” By December 1837 he joined the apostates in publicly denouncing the Church and was excommunicated for apostasy in 1838. For eight years he had a medical practice in Kirtland. Then in 1846 he and his family returned to the fellowship of the Saints. Said he: “I have stopped by the wayside and stood aloof from the work of the Lord. But my heart is with this people. I want to be associated with the saints; go with them into the wilderness and continue with them to the end.” He was rebaptized in March 1846 and came west with the original company of pioneers in 1847. He died in Salt Lake City in 1861 in full fellowship at the age of 54.

And as they set up the basic organization of the conference, again the central committee went to the scriptures, in the spirit of service, for their guidelines. They read the counsel given to Moses:

“Provide out of all people able men, such as fear God, men of truth … to be rulers of tens:

“And … every great matter they shall bring unto thee, but every small matter they shall judge: so shall it be easier for thyself, and they shall bear the burden with thee.” (Ex. 18:21–22.)

Under the guidance and the approval of the district and mission presidencies, the central committee decided to divide the 300 youth who would be attending the Naramata conference into companies of ten, with captains of ten to be elected from among the companies. And then they wrote out a list of instructions for these captains:

“You are now a ‘Captain of Ten’ upon whom an important stewardship has been bestowed. Be a friend to all those in your charge, remembering that to lead is also to serve.

“Study carefully the following suggestions, which, if followed in the right spirit, will ensure that this conference will be a profound personal success—for you and those youth in your charge.
Make a friend of everyone in your group.
Assist others in maintaining conference rules.
Assist others in maintaining Church standards.
Be sure your group is awakened on time.
Do not retire until every youth in your group has been accounted for.
Be sure every member of your group is aware of, and understands, conference plans.
Cooperate with and assist your adult chaperons.
Accept assignments from the conference committee when asked.
Hold morning and evening prayers with your group.
Bear your testimony whenever appropriate.
“At all times,” the instructions reemphasized, “watch out for the girl or boy who needs friendship, some of whom can be seen eating silently alone in the cafeteria or standing shyly on the darkened sidelines of the dance floor.”

But the problem was quickly solved. The young people gladly doubled up where possible and rolled out their bedrolls on the floor where not, and once gear was stowed and friendly introductions made, companies of ten were formed and captains elected.

Throughout the day thoughtful, caring service was offered in large ways and small. In meetings when those on the stand didn’t have a hymnbook, someone from the audience would jump up and give his copy to the person without. If there were not enough chairs in a workshop, a dozen self-motivated volunteers would rush to find more. If a youth was walking between meetings loaded down with suitcases, chairs, or other paraphernalia, others would quietly walk up behind him and ask if they could help carry the burden. Captains of ten conscientiously watched over their companies, and none went friendless or uncomforted, not even those not officially attending the conference.

On a rainy Saturday morning prior to a Kolwezi district conference in 2013, President Ellie Monga, Counselor in the Lubumbashi Democratic Republic of the Congo Mission and Elder Jeffrey Wright, the mission finance secretary, welcomed two strangers at the mission office. Their clothes were muddy, and they were exhausted. They arrived pushing a single, beat-up bicycle and carrying a parcel that was wrapped in a torn and dirty plastic.
President Monga and Elder Wright inquired about their journey and learned that these two tired pilgrims, Brothers Yumba Muzimba Paul and Muba Wa Umbalo Delphin, had arrived from Kinkondja, a city located 600 kilometers (375 miles) north of Kolwezi. They had departed eight days earlier as part of a larger group that was traveling to attend the district conference. En route, most of the group fell sick and decided to return to their homes—but these two brothers were determined to complete the journey by themselves, taking turns between pedaling the bicycle and riding on the back. They said that they had travelled the last three days continuously through the night without stopping and without food—and after a tire went flat, they pushed the bicycle through the rain along the muddy roads. Their bicycle was broken, and these brothers had no money for tools or parts. They had not eaten for three days. They did not know how they would fund a return to their homes.
Brother Paul and Brother Delphin explained that they represented the roughly 60 Saints living in the Kinkondja area and had come to bring tithing from those Saints and to attend the district conference. This came as a surprise to President Monga and Elder Wright as there was no officially organized Kinkondja branch of the Church. Elder Wright recorded in his journal, “It was my honor to receive [the tithing envelopes]. It was my honor to process them.” Elder Wright continued, “I have never felt like I had handled such sacred money before in my whole lifetime.”
Brother Paul related that he was one of three men from Kinkondja who had begun writing to then-Church President Spencer W. Kimball in 1975, asking for missionaries to be sent to the DRC—known as Zaire at the time—and especially to their own village. Brother Delphin added that his deceased father was one of those same three men. (This was well before the Church had been formally organized in the country and before the first missionaries arrived in 1986.) These brothers said that years before, both had been baptized and ordained to the Aaronic Priesthood. But in earlier instructions from Church leaders, they were told that they could not be ordained to the Melchizedek Priesthood because at that time they lived too far away from an organized Church unit.
For the next two days, President Monga and Elder Wright taught and trained Brother Paul and Brother Delphin in the duties and obligations of the Melchizedek Priesthood. During his interview with Brother Paul, Elder Wright stressed the obligations associated with priesthood ordination, and reminded Brother Paul that “the priesthood is an irreversible event with heavy consequences based on the oath and covenant of the priesthood.” Speaking through President Monga as translator from Kiluba, his native language, Brother Paul replied, “I have waited for this event for 38 years, anticipating this happening for me. Do you think I will fall away? I will never turn away.”
Both brothers were sustained to receive the Melchizedek Priesthood in the district conference, and afterward ordained by Elder Wright with President Monga translating his words into Kiluba. After their ordinations, they were further authorized by President Monga to baptize their wives and children and to administer the sacrament to the Saints upon their return to Kinkondja. Brother Delphin, the younger of the two brothers, was given an additional instruction to dedicate the grave of his father to “honor him as one of the original converts and pioneers of the great work in the Congo.”
Elder Wright recorded in his journal: “I told the mission president [President Phillip McMullin] that night about the condition of their bike and mentioned that I was going to recondition it, buy them [a second] bike and buy them some tools to fix the bikes.” He and President McMullin also funded a ride home for them along with their bikes in one of the big trucks that travel the route to Kinkondja. Before departing, the brothers were given Church materials to take back to their village—among those materials were a sacrament tray and cups so that these newly-ordained and authorized priesthood holders would be able to conduct the ordinance of the sacrament each week.
That Kolwezi district conference in 2013 was memorable for all involved. The district president asked the Kinkondja brethren, to share their powerful testimonies in priesthood meeting and in the Sunday session of conference. They had arrived very tired and very early on Saturday morning. By the end of the conference, they—and all who heard their stories and their testimonies—left refreshed, fulfilled, and feeling God’s love in their hearts.

Another favorite image comes from a story told by Elder John R. Lasater of the Seventy.
Many years ago, Elder Lasater visited a country in Africa as part of an official government delegation. One day, when they were traveling in the desert in a caravan of black limousines, an accident happened. The car he was in crested the hill, and he noticed that the vehicle in front of his had pulled off the road. He said, “The scene before us has remained with me for these many years.”
An old shepherd, dressed in long, flowing robes of the Savior’s day, was standing near the limousine talking to the driver. Nearby stood a small flock of about 15 sheep.
The car had hit and injured one of the sheep, Elder Lasater’s driver explained. And because it was the king’s vehicle, the shepherd was now entitled to 100 times the value of the little lamb when fully grown. But under that same law, the lamb would be killed and the meat divided among the people.
Then the driver said to watch: “The old shepherd will not accept the money. They never do.” When asked why, he added, “Because of the love he has for each of his sheep.”
They watched as the old shepherd reached down, lifting the injured lamb in his arms and placing him in the folds of his robes. He kept stroking the lamb, repeating the same word over and over, and when Elder Lasater asked the meaning of the word, he was told, “Oh, he is calling it by name. All of his sheep have a name, for he is their shepherd, and the good shepherds know each one of their sheep by name.”

I want to serve a mission! The only problem is, I’m not even old enough to drive, let alone leave my family for a year and a half.
Fortunately, I had the opportunity to serve now—by volunteering during the Philadelphia temple open house! I participated in the youth cultural celebration, led tours, and even played the violin with my brother in the reception hall. I realized that I can be a missionary without even wearing a tag!
Katie L., 15, Pennsylvania, USA

My brother Noah, my nephew Brice, my niece Kaitlin, and I formed the Lost Dog Club to find our neighbors’ lost dogs and return them. We found a dog with no collar and took it around the neighborhood looking for its owner. We were walking up Alhambra Street when a lady saw us and called out the dog’s name in a surprised, joyful voice: “Oh, Peaches!” She ran to her dog and gave it a big hug. I could see tears welling up in her eyes because she was so happy. She said, “God bless you all!” and gave us candy.

An unforgettable and frightening experience I once had with President Lee was when he invited me to come to his home to participate in giving a blessing to a very sick mutual friend. As we gathered with a few family members, President Lee asked me if I would anoint the brother’s head with consecrated oil. This I did humbly and in a spirit of inadequacy. I had never before had the opportunity of having this rich spiritual experience of having a prophet of God seal an anointing that I would pronounce. I recall with vividness even today President Lee’s sealing of this ordinance. It seemed to me he was struggling for words, direction, and guidance to give encouragement to this good brother. I had the feeling he wanted to promise him complete recovery and health from a serious malady, but the words didn’t come as he pronounced the sealing. It was evident as the seconds passed he was not only troubled but groping for direction that would be positive and rewarding, not only to the recipient but to others in the room who had grave concern over the individual’s health. President Lee never did promise health, strength, and recovery to this individual. He gave words of encouragement and touched on the basics of the total gospel plan, but the promise of healing was not forthcoming.

Immediately following this experience, President Lee took me aside in another room and said softly and in perfect mildness, “Marv, he’s not going to get better, is he?”

I responded to President Lee, “No. I could tell you wanted to promise this type of blessing, but it was apparently not to be.” I recall his final comment after we walked away from the family members: “The Lord has other plans, and he determines not only what we promise but what will happen.”

In June 1991, my wife, Alla; our son, Alex; and I moved from Belarus in the former Soviet Union to Denmark. My work as an anesthesiologist made me particularly eager to improve my English, so I enrolled in an English class taught by two sister missionaries serving in the Denmark Copenhagen Mission of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
I found myself wanting to learn more than English. I had learned about Jesus Christ only after the Soviet government lifted the ban against religion during that remarkable period of Soviet history called glasnost. I was uncomfortable, however, with the rites of the predominant church and so had not pursued the matter further.
The missionaries were different. Their friendliness seemed to warm my heart, and when they taught us that “men are, that they might have joy” (2 Ne. 2:25), I was thrilled to the marrow of my bones. I could remember only two times in my life when I had felt joy—the day I married Alla and the day Alex was born. Now I could actually see joy radiating from the faces of the missionaries as they taught the gospel.
The other missionaries and the members Alla and I met reinforced our first impressions. “If such wonderful people are members of this church,” I told Alla, “then this is the true Church!”
Alla and I were baptized in August 1991. We felt that warm feeling in our hearts that accompanies receiving the gift of the Holy Ghost. It had a cleansing effect upon our bodies and our souls, and we thought we couldn’t be happier. But we were wrong. It was only the beginning. At every Church meeting, the feelings we had at our baptism returned. We have become more calm, patient, and kind. We are trying to follow the perfect example of Jesus Christ, even though it is sometimes quite difficult.