Gospel Story Finder

It was almost pajama time when Mom poked her head into the living room. “Quick—get your coats on!” she said, smiling.
Alan and Terry looked at each other. “It’s dark out. Don’t we have to go to bed?”
“Bed? When the moon rises and the night calls? Don’t be silly!” Mom laughed as she bundled them into coats.
Keys jangled in their father’s hand as the family hurried outside. Their breath left hazy trails overhead as they ran to the car through the autumn night, frost tickling their noses. The moon was like a huge golden apple that followed the car as it wove down winding roads to the sleepy town below.
“Where are we going?” Terry asked.
Dad’s cheery whistle from the front seat and Mom’s chuckle was their answer.
They stopped at the town park, streaked by moonlight through half-bare trees. The breeze rustled branches, shifting the silver-edged shadows of ancient maples.
Dad and Mom leaped out of the car, giggling, and scurried among the trees.
The empty park beckoned to Alan and Terry. They stepped out, and the ground rustled with maple leaves—knee-high in places.
Where were their parents?
They heard footsteps; then a shower of leaves broke over both children—skittering down jackets and clinging to hair.
“Gotcha!”
A shout of laughter, and a sudden glimpse of Mom and Dad—running hand in hand. Ducking behind a maple tree.
“Follow me!” Alan cried, scooping up an armload of crisp ammunition. He chased the laughter, Terry at his heels, her arms filled with the fall harvest.
They split up and circled the tree.
“Hah!”
Leaves flew.
Flying footsteps crunched.
High laughter joined low, rising to be captured by half-gloved tree limbs. The night exploded as silver light caught reds, oranges, and yellows flung into the air. Shadows gathered and scattered everywhere. New leaves tacked to the ground to be tennis-shoe tromped, then hand-tossed.
Mom chased Alan chased Terry chased Dad chased Mom.
Caught in crisp clouds of captured leaves.
Then, at last, leaves no longer flew but were heaped high, reaching skyward. Mom, Dad, Alan, Terry fell and rolled into parent-pile, child-pile, family-pile.
Corn-flake crunch.
Crinkle.
Crackle.
Chuckle.
Rustle.
Rest.
The golden moon was sliced in half by a cloud.
Yawn.
The family wound their way to the car, still chirping their delight, and tumbled inside.
Crunch, rustle.
Captured leaf-bits complained from coat collars and pants pockets, from ponytails and tennis shoes.
The car grew quiet as it slithered up the hill through the cozy-darkening night.
Home.

After hearing the stake patriarch speak in sacrament meeting, I felt inspired to ask my bishop for a recommend. Then the patriarch and I set a date. As I entered his house that morning, I knew I was on the right path. We told each other a little about our lives. After that, the patriarch laid his hands upon my head and began to prophesy about my life. I could feel that it was all true and that it was really God that was speaking through the patriarch. I wept. I learned many things about myself that day.
Jared Edge, 18Layton, Utah

May I share with you a letter from a young man which reflects the spirit of love and which helped to make firm a testimony of the gospel:
“Dear President Monson:
“Thank you for speaking to us at the National Scouting Jamboree held at Fort A. P. Hill, Virginia. On the tour that we took we saw a lot of famous places like Niagara Falls, the Statue of Liberty, the Liberty Bell, and many other places. The one I enjoyed the most was the Sacred Grove. Our parents had written us all letters to read by ourselves while in the grove. After I had finished the letter my parents had written to me, I knelt in prayer. I asked if the Church was really true and if Joseph Smith really did see a vision and is a true prophet of God, and also if President Hinckley is a true prophet of God. Right after I was done praying I felt this feeling of the Spirit that these things were indeed true. I had prayed before about the same things but never received such a powerful answer. There was no way that I could deny that this Church is true or that President Hinckley is a prophet of God.
“I feel so blessed to be a member of this Church. Thanks again for attending the Jamboree.
“Sincerely,
“Chad D. Olson
“P. S. We gave our tour guide and our bus driver a copy of the Book of Mormon with our testimonies in it. They are the greatest! I want to be a missionary.”
Like Joseph Smith, this young man had retired to a sacred grove and prayed for answers to questions phrased by his inquiring mind. Once more a prayer was answered and a confirmation of the truth was gained.

When l was a youngster, my parents moved our family into a tough city-edge neighborhood. It was during the dark days of World War II, and with little housing available, we took what we could get near my father’s defense effort job. We had lived in the country among friendly folks, and now among strangers, I didn’t know what to expect on my first day at school.
My worst fears were realized. Many of the students and teachers were strangers in the transient conditions of the war. Not only did disagreement abound, but physical fighting broke out among my 12-year-old peers. There seemed to be no particular issues involved, just an effort by everyone to determine who was the “toughest.”
Later that year, in an effort to curb this unwanted practice in which so many young people were getting hurt, several faculty members managed to gain some control over it by putting boxing gloves on the combatants. Tournaments were held during lunch hour, and the nice thing was that a person could choose to compete or watch, as he preferred. I wanted no particular part in it. I already felt sufficiently challenged physically by the time school began just in walking three miles one way to class. Much energy was spent in work at home and getting up early to run through orchards and leap canals just to reach school.
However, there were obviously many students with pent-up energies who participated in these noon-hour boxing matches. Besides, I was content to believe that some of these kids who claimed to be “fourth toughest” or “second toughest,” or whatever, really were what they bragged to be. I was also a little dismayed, however, that they put so much ego—at times a little oppressive and unbearable for the others—into being physically tough. And if no one challenged them, under the arrangement, they could continue to claim whatever title they wished without even tying on the boxing gloves.
I was therefore somewhat pleased, but mostly aghast one day when a newfound friend of mine, a slightly built young man by the name of Terrance, told me he was going to challenge Phillip. Phillip had declared himself “Number Four.”
“Don’t do it!” I tried to persuade him. “Phillip will kill you!”
“We’ll see about that,” Terrance answered gamely. “How do we know unless I meet him in the ring?” Then, quietly, Terrance continued: “I think Phillip is talking too much about it. Frankly, I think he’s bluffing.”
I watched the first round with my hands over my eyes. But the round was no sooner over than Phillip stated he did not want to continue. That made Terrance Number Four. Suddenly, it was like in the cowboy movies. When they saw how easily he had wrested the title from Phillip, everyone wanted to challenge Terrance. And if Terrance didn’t want to “lose face” he had to participate.
As we were walking the three miles up the long a hill toward our homes in the government housings project, past monotonous rows of look-alike houses, Terrance confided something to me. “I know that fighting doesn’t really resolve anything. And personally, I never did like to fight. Where did it get either Phillip or me? I just wanted to humble him, but now I wonder if he’s better off than me. I don’t know. Maybe I can defeat Number One, but I know that wouldn’t prove anything, would it? I just wish there were some way out of this.”
Yet, Terrance acknowledged that he probably had already gone too far and there was no way out, except to finish what he had started. He trudged into his house, recognizable by the number over the door, and parted with: “Well, no use beating around the bush. Tomorrow, I’ll skip Number Two and Three and go right to Tracy, Number One.”
The next day word got around quickly that freckle-faced little Terrance was going to do battle with the much larger and stone-faced Tracy. Everyone ate lunch quickly and settled down to watch the proceedings. The boxing ring was in the basement of the school next to the boiler room. It was fine for a few dozen spectators, but on that particular day hundreds of kids packed into the concrete window abutments and stood on chairs to peer over heating pipes. I got there early and had a pretty good seat next to the custodian’s closet.
The two sparred for several rounds without either gaining much advantage. In the fifth round, several of the crowd said they thought that it should be over fairly soon, that Tracy was “just beginning to warm up.” However, as I looked at both of their faces, they appeared equally tired. When the round was over, Tracy walked over to Terrance. I could barely hear what Tracy was saying: “Why don’t we just declare it a truce and call ourselves co-champions? I’m not sure going on any further would prove either one of us better than the other.”
Terrance agreed. They put their arms around each other and the crowd cheered both as winners.
That by no means ended the daily boxing tournaments. But somehow, they were never the same after that. Deciding who was toughest just didn’t matter as much anymore. The two toughest kids in school had decided it wasn’t important.

Now I like a little story that President Grant used to tell about the love that converts have for their missionaries. He told about a couple who came here from one of the Scandinavian countries. They hadn’t been taught much about the gospel. All they knew was that it was true. And so the bishop went to this couple and taught them the law of tithing. They paid their tithing. Then later the bishop went to them and taught them about the fast offering. They paid their fast offering. And then the bishop went to them again to get a donation to help build a ward meetinghouse. They thought that ought to come out of the tithing, but before the bishop got through with them, they paid their donation on the meetinghouse.
Then the bishop went to the father to get his son to go on a mission. Now I can hear President Grant standing here, saying, “That was the straw that broke the camel’s back.” The man said, “He’s our only child. His mother will miss him. We can’t let him go.” Then the bishop countered, “Brother So-and-So, who do you love in this world more than anyone else outside of your own relatives?” And he thought for a few minutes. He said, “I guess I love that young man who came up to the land of the midnight sun and taught me the gospel of Jesus Christ.” Then the bishop countered, “Brother So-and-So, how would you like someone to love your boy just like that?” The man said, “Bishop, you win again; take him. I’ll pay for his mission.”

Robert Sorhaïtz is just such a man. Reared in the Pyrenees Mountains near the Spanish border, he is proud of his Basque heritage. But family traditions made gaining a testimony a challenge. “It was difficult for me to develop a testimony,” he says. “I gave my wife flowers when she was baptized, but the gospel was not for me. We attended church and prayed together for three years.

“Then one day we attended the baptism of a young man. I had been preparing, and I decided I wanted to be baptized, but I thought I would surprise my wife. So I left her side and found the bishop. He gave me an interview, I put on the wet clothes of the young man who had just been baptized, and I went forward. My wife cried with joy when she realized what was happening.” Since that time, Brother Sorhaïtz has been devoted to the gospel and has served as president of the Bayonne Branch three times.

Because of the social injustices and conditions in which my parents grew up in the 1940s in New Zealand, education for M?ori was not an easy path, particularly in higher education. In fact, my father, Benjamin Turi Hippolite, only went to school until his freshman year of high school. Unfortunately, at the end of that year, the principal of the school forced him to leave because the principal refused to approve of the financial funds for one more M?ori. My dad reflected on this experience decades later saying, "I really did want to go to school. I would have stayed only if there was half a chance."

After this sad ordeal, dad worked so hard and helped his other siblings afford schooling. You could say my dad received a PhD- a PhD in the “School of Hard Knocks.”

I will add that although both my parents had very little formal education, they could read people and had emotional intelligence. They were hard workers! Despite the hardships and challenges, dad became the first M?ori City Councilman in Nelson city. He went on to be a regional manager at one of the largest insurance companies in the country. He was a manager at the Department of Conservation. How did he do this? He learned invaluable skills as a labor missionary, and he was actively engaged in the gospel and served in several callings in the Church such as a gospel doctrine teacher, teacher development leader, district president, stake president, and so on. Although his formal education was limited, dad continued to embrace the gospel and learn from the inspired programs of the Church. My mother, Emma Hippolite was continually learning. She read Church publications from cover to cover. She became a renowned seamstress, developed her creative talents in multiple areas. She took night classes to eventually qualify and become a residential social worker. My generation is the first to accomplish higher education at all levels (bachelors, master's, and PhD).

Sometimes we feel that we don’t have any particularly important gifts. One day, a discouraged sister pleaded, “Lord, what is my personal ministry?” He answered, “Notice others.” It was a spiritual gift! Since then, she has found joy in noticing those who are regularly forgotten, and God has worked through her to bless many. While some spiritual gifts may not be prominent by the world’s standards, they are essential to God and His work.7

Patrick Smith, another young man in the Hingham stake, reports that once a month in his branch’s Aaronic Priesthood meetings, the young men report on any missionary experience they have had and then set up times to work with the full-time missionaries.
“Not long ago I went with the missionaries to teach a family who had already been taught the Joseph Smith story,” Patrick says. “The elders asked me to teach about Christ coming to the earth and establishing His Church. Preach My Gospel clearly illustrated everything and listed scriptures to back everything up. It was all outlined there.
“I knew about these things and had a testimony of them, but Preach My Gospel and going on exchanges with the missionaries has helped me teach these principles better,” Patrick says. “The doctrines outlined in the book have reinforced what I’ve learned at home and in Primary for as long as I can remember. And the things taught in Preach My Gospel invite the Spirit, which is the most important thing we can have when we’re talking about the Church.”

But again, can we pray when we hardly have the heart for it? Lorenzo Snow leaves us the glimpse that after he was, as he felt, stillborn into the Church, nothing really significant happened in and after his baptism and confirmation. He kept praying for life, for the witness of the Spirit. It didn’t come. Feeling that the heavens were as brass over him, he nevertheless went to an accustomed place for prayer. He had no sooner opened his lips than the Spirit descended upon him. He describes it as being like the rustling of silken robes. There descended upon him a Spirit that was more tangible in its effect upon every part of his body than the surrounding water in baptism. He was filled, having prayed when he didn’t feel like praying (see Biography and Family Records of Lorenzo Snow, comp. Eliza R. Snow, Salt Lake City: Deseret News, 1884, pp. 7–8).

The doctors said she wouldn’t live, but Iris JoAnn Alvarado is thriving. Her faith, and the faith of her family, has preserved her life many times. When her mother was about to give birth to JoAnnie, the stake patriarch came to their home. He felt impressed to give Sister Alvarado a blessing. She didn’t understand then why she needed a blessing, but she did after JoAnnie was born. The baby weighed only a little more than four pounds, and the doctors discovered that throughout the pregnancy she had not received much oxygen and that the last three months she had probably not received enough nourishment. The Alvarados were told that she would die and that if she didn’t, she would have severe brain damage from the lack of oxygen.
But JoAnnie’s family prayed for her, and their prayers were answered. She lived. At four months she was standing; at eight months she could walk. When she started talking, it was in short sentences, and the words were very clear—there was obviously nothing wrong with her brain. Today, at 10 years of age, she continues to excel, getting straight A’s in all her school classes.

Second, cheating takes away the satisfaction of doing well in your classes. Nothing will give you more confidence in your abilities than doing well in a class by studying hard. One young chemistry student found out that someone in his chemistry lab had the answer book for all the lab experiments they would be assigned that semester. It seemed like the whole class played around in the lab and then filled in the correct answers while he did his lab work without cheating. He was made fun of, but in the end, when the class was assigned individual projects for their final grade, he was way ahead because he had actually learned the things he was supposed to have learned.

It happened in Japan some fifty years ago-almost fifty-four or -five. I, my dear brothers and sisters (four kids), mom and dad-[we] were happy. They [were a] Buddhist family. War broke out. Father was called to serve. Two weeks before the war ended, he became sick and came home. [He] found no food in his home. [All the] workers [were] gone. He took young people, and boys and also older people to catch fish. By two [o' clock], his engine boats [had] caught a lot of fish. And they [were] heading to harbor and on the way-two weeks prior to the war ending-Americans and Marines bombed and killed these eight people except for one. A fourteen-year-old boy helping [catch fish], caught the debris and spent a day and a half to reach to the seashore. He told everything that [had] happened. This father left behind the four kids and of course the faithful wife and mother, who became poor.

The family [of] four, the boy, [the] third child, when he graduated from his junior high, [there was] no money to send [him] to senior high school. So he found a little tiny shop, a bean curd shop made with soy beans, [and started] working from 4 o'clock in the morning, making tofu. And [he] started selling in the morning for the breakfast, which everyone wanted. Then he would rest a little while and then make the tofu for the evening and rest, looking up at the stars. After 6, he changed, ate, and biked [to] the evening school. He came home at 10:30, and jumped into bed by 11.

One day he was found in a hospital bed, critically ill. His doctor could not diagnose anything. Brothers and sisters, [his] mother called, his big brother called, they said that they cannot make it; they could not help. Brothers and sisters, that night that little boy as a Buddhist boy, prayed, "God are you there? Buddha are you there?" No spirit, no angel, no lights-nothing.He fell asleep and next morning was very fresh; after few days he left hospital.

It was a Monday. Monday, [which was] missionary p-day, knocking doors p-day. They [were] knocking all day, however, no success. Then finally they decided to go home, but somehow, a young missionary from St. Anthony, Idaho, turned to [his] companion, "Can we knock few more doors?" They decided to knock a few doors.

[They] came to the little boy [who] was staying in the grandmother's home. [He had] left that tofu shop because he got sick. He saw Americans. He was told they came from America. The boy said, "You just go, I no like you guys. Americans, you kill my father".The missionary took [off his] gentleman hat, [the] young man from St. Anthony.

"How old are you, young man?" the young man said.

"I said leave."

My dear brothers and sisters, this young missionary [said], "We have a message for you. A message that your Heavenly Father came to a boy just like you and your Savior came to a boy just like you. We want to tell [you] a story." The boy froze, "I give you 10 minutes then."

Missionary walked in and taught that little boy. That missionary taught so beautifully, "I saw a pillar of light exactly over my head above the brightness of the sun." The missionary started crying, telling about the brightness of the sun "which descended gradually until it fell upon me... When the light rest upon me, I saw two personages, whose brightness and glory defy all descriptions...One of them spake unto me, calling me by name pointing to the other-This is my beloved Son, hear Him."[1]

You know what? That Japanese boy believed them. Embarrassed, [he] asked them to come back. Somehow [the] missionaries came back every day, [though they] almost didn't know where to go. [They] taught that little boy, my dear brothers and sisters. He wanted to be baptized, but he was too young and needed permission. [He] called [his] mother, "Mother I found a wonderful church. I want to join and be baptized. Two young men came from America." She hung up.

That missionary fasted and prayed and the boy did also. [The] next day he called, "Mother don't hang up. I've found a wonderful church. Please give me permission." Almost ten minutes back and forth, he was begging and she was pleading [him] not to. Finally, [his] wise mother said, "Son, you're too young to make a decision, but one condition, if you [do] not quit right in the middle, I'll let you join. Remember, don't you ever quit in middle." Missionaries took him the next day to biggest baptismal font, which [is] called [the] Pacific Ocean.

That young boy, that young boy was affected by the Sacred Grove [story] of Joseph Smith by [the] missionaries. My dear brothers and sisters, I have to sit down.

You may wonder who is that boy? Is that little boy still active in the Church? My dear brothers and sisters, I am, I am that little boy who said, "No thank you, go away." Thank God [for] missionary work. Now, I want to make straight-[the] gospel changed my nature. I love you. I love you beautiful American people.

One youth Sunday School teacher wondered how to help two young men with autism act for themselves. When she invited class members to share what they were learning, she worried that these two young men might refuse her invitation. But they didn’t. One stood to teach what he had learned and then invited his classmate with autism to help him. When the first began to struggle, his classmate stayed with him and whispered in his ear so that he could feel successful. They were both teaching that day. They were teaching what the Savior taught, but they were also teaching how the Savior taught. When the Savior taught, He acted out of love for the one He was teaching, just as this classmate did for his friend.

When James R. Heap accepted his mission call, he was well aware of the years of college, medical school, and residency lying ahead. Still, he wasn’t worried that a mission break would hinder him professionally. Upon returning home he quickly made up for “lost” time. After three years of college he was accepted to medical school—the first year of medical school was applied to his graduation requirements—and he became a doctor of medicine at the age of 26, the same age as many others who had gone straight through. (Incidentally, he was serving in the branch presidency of a student branch at the time.) He then took a three-year residency at Scott Air Force Base Medical Center in Illinois and is presently established as a family practice specialist in Phoenix, Arizona.
During those years of internship and residency, he continued his Church service, fulfilling many responsible callings, among them executive secretary, Sunday School teacher, and high councilor.
Dr. Heap feels that his mission contributed in a large way to his success as a physician. When he returned to college, he found that his capacity for learning, and the speed with which he did it, were increased. More importantly, devoting his time and talents to full-time missionary work brought about an increased love and concern for others. “Intelligence alone is not enough,” he maintains. “Intelligence plus a Christlike love for mankind is the perfect combination for a successful and respected physician.”
In addition to his present responsibilities as husband, father of five, and physician, Dr. Heap still finds time to serve as the ward music chairman, ward organist and choir accompanist, family relations teacher, and temple preparation seminar teacher. He has done more, at the relatively young age of 30, than many do in a lifetime.
How does he manage it, one might wonder.
“The more I give, the more I’m blessed and the more I’m able to do effectively,” he answers. “Happiness has come into my life through service to my God, my family, and my fellowmen.”

“I was fortunate when I was a boy to have an outstanding Sunday School teacher. When she talked about the apostle Paul, we could almost hear him preaching. She made every character in the scriptures come alive. She was an unusually kind woman and let us boys know that she expected us to be gentlemen.

“In our class we had collected some money to use for a big party. One Sunday morning our teacher came to class and told us that one of our classmates would be absent—his mother had passed away. We were all very unhappy. The subject of the lesson that morning was that it is better to give than to receive. After she had presented the lesson, she talked about the hard times ahead for the absent boy’s family. ‘How would you students like to follow the Lord’s teachings?” she asked. ‘How would you feel about taking our party fund and giving it to this boy’s family as an expression of love?”

“The decision was unanimous. I remember that I was the treasurer of the class, and the teacher said to the boy’s father, ‘Brother Devenport, the class would like to make an expression of their feelings.’ Then she called on me to make an expression, and afterward I handed our party fund to him. I think that was one of the first times I saw a grown man weep. This simple act of kindness welded our class together. We learned through our own experience that it truly is more blessed to give than to receive.

On a memorable Christmas Eve in 1937, Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin, then a full-time missionary, and his companion walked from Salzburg, Austria, to the village of Oberndorf, nestled in the Bavarian Alps. While visiting the village known as the inspiration for the hymn “Silent Night,”1 they paused in a small church to listen to Christmas music sung by a choir.
“A crisp, clear winter night enveloped us as we began our return trip,” Elder Wirthlin recalled. “We walked under a canopy of stars and across the smooth stillness of new-fallen snow.”2
As they walked, the young missionaries shared their hopes, dreams, and goals for the future. In that heavenly setting, Elder Wirthlin renewed his commitment to serve the Lord: “I made up my mind that I would magnify any callings I received in the Lord’s kingdom.”3

by Shayla Chatterton
“Last year we had cable TV; this year we don’t even have TV!” wailed one member of the Dallas Texas East Stake. Their youth conference was to consist of winterizing Camp Grady Spruce on Possum Kingdom Lake, and at first many participants were not excited at the prospect of working outside in the 103-degree Texas heat. But they changed their tune.
They found that hard-working service was actually fun, as they cleaned, scraped, and repainted ski boats; hauled away 15 truckloads of brush; washed and cleaned tent and office areas; repaired windows and screens; and built a wood and steel fence and gate at the entrance.
Of course there was some fun included. Campfire songs, rapping, speakers, and a dance were some of the highlights. And the testimony meeting at the end capped it all off.
The results?
“Everyone worked so hard and quickly that the work was done much sooner than we expected,” said camp director Jan Beaty.

When Troy and Sheralee Johnson were young, they had a problem—with each other. They fought all the time.
“They just couldn’t seem to leave each other alone,” says their mom, LeAnn. “A lot of times they couldn’t even be in the same house together.”
At about the time Troy and Sheralee were having the most trouble getting along, the Johnsons decided it was time to commit the family to daily scripture study.
“During a general conference session when I was still pretty young, President Ezra Taft Benson counseled all of the Saints to read and study the Book of Mormon both as a family and personally. He promised blessings to all the families that followed his counsel. My parents decided that if anyone needed blessings, it was us,” says Sheralee.
A family meeting was held and all eight Johnsons agreed to get up early every morning to study together. That was more than nine years ago, and the family has hardly missed a day since.
The family’s dedication also brought about an unexpected, although welcome, result.
“When we started reading scriptures together, the overall feeling in our house changed, and Troy and I just didn’t fight anymore. We focused on other things, like school and church. Then, since we weren’t fighting, we could really get to know each other,” says Sheralee.
“I don’t remember anything specific happening to make us stop fighting,” says Troy. “Things just changed for the better and we started to get along. I guess we just had a better feeling in general and that made things better between us.”
Now Troy, a returned missionary, and Sheralee, a student at BYU, are friends. In fact, Sheralee says she really missed having Troy around while he was on his mission in Rome, Italy.
“Until he was gone, I didn’t really realize what an integral part of my life Troy had become. I couldn’t wait to see him again,” she says. The rest of the Johnson siblings, Curtis, Benjamin, Michael, and Angie, are now carrying on the tradition, getting up at the crack of dawn to study the gospel every day.
“Growing up, I learned how the Book of Mormon affects our lives,” says Troy. “The same feeling continued on my mission, and that helped with the work.”
“Our parents really taught us the importance of the Book of Mormon. We knew that if they made that much of an effort to get us up, it must be important,” adds Sheralee.
Is getting up at 5:30 A.M. to study scriptures with your family a challenge? Troy, who isn’t a morning person, answers a hearty “yes.” Is it worth it? Troy and Sheralee both say they wouldn’t have it any other way.

In the midst of the late spring rainy season in Phnom Penh, Cambodia, the Tonle Sap River—which has poured into the Mekong River for months—defies its natural movement and changes course to flow in the opposite direction.
This directional change causes the Tonle Sap Lake at the head of the river to swell to five times its size, bringing much-needed nutrients to the fish and birds that feed there.
Like the river that changes direction, members in Cambodia have felt how the gospel of Jesus Christ has helped change the direction of their own lives. Their hearts now overflow with the joy and peace the gospel brings. This swell of joy provides spiritual food for their souls.
Although the country has faced dark times, the gospel of Jesus Christ has helped many Cambodians see the light of a new day shine through the darkness of the past.
During the country’s political turmoil in the 1970s, many Cambodians were driven from their homes and lost family members.
Loy Bunseak, president of the Siem Reap Branch in the Cambodia Phnom Penh Mission, was nine years old in 1975, when he and his family had to leave their home. They—along with millions of others—were required to perform hard manual labor in the country’s vast fields.
During this time, President Loy lost both of his parents and five of his eight siblings.
Despite the hardships, President Loy always had at least one thing to help get him through his pain.
“I always had hope,” he says.
The determined hope that helped President Loy get through the trials of his childhood is the same hope that later allowed him to recognize the truth of the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Because Cambodia is largely a Buddhist country, President Loy grew up without a knowledge of Jesus Christ. He began to learn about the Savior when Latter-day Saint missionaries came to his home and told him and his family they had an important message to share.
“I had never heard of Jesus Christ until I met the missionaries,” he says. “I wanted to learn more about Him.”
After intense study and discussion, President Loy and his family were baptized in 2001.
“The missionaries helped me learn from the Book of Mormon, but I received my testimony of its truthfulness from God,” President Loy says. “I could see how living by the teachings of the Book of Mormon made my family happier.”
President Loy’s experience is not unusual. Khan Sarin, president of the Sen Sok Branch in the Phnom Penh Cambodia North District, was separated from his family as a teenager and forced to work in the fields.
“I felt hopeless at this time,” President Khan says. “I did not know if I would survive.”
Looking back, President Khan feels that the Lord protected him from harm several times in his life. As a young man he joined the army and was shot at from as close as 20 feet (6 m) away but was not hit. He also stepped on many active land mines that did not explode. One land mine he stepped on did explode, but he was not seriously injured.
Because of the dangerous circumstances soldiers found themselves in, they did whatever they could to be protected. Several men in the military got tattoos because they believed the tattoos could help keep them safe.
“Before I became a member of the Church, I didn’t know anything,” President Khan says. “Now I know that it was Jesus Christ—not the tattoos—that saved me.”
After President Khan’s wife, Suon Sokmo, met the missionaries and was baptized, he was impressed by the changes he could see taking place within her. He accepted her invitation to study the scriptures together, and he soon decided to be baptized.
“The most important thing that I ever received in my life is the testimony I obtained from studying the scriptures,” he says.
Pich Sareth, a member of the Phnom Penh 12th Branch in the Phnom Penh Cambodia North District, also saw trials at a very young age. He was only five years old when he was separated from his family and forced to work in the fields. He would sometimes find crabs or frogs he could eat to quell his hunger.
Brother Pich’s wife, Seng Tha, and her family were also forced from their home. Because she was only four years old and small, she was not required to work, as other children were. She was separated from her family much of the day and was watched by elderly women who could not work.
After meeting the missionaries in 1995, Brother Pich and his wife began to learn about the love Heavenly Father has for them. “When I had problems, I could see that praying helped me get through them,” Brother Pich says. “I knew Heavenly Father cared.”
After Brother Pich decided to be baptized, his wife also gained a testimony of the gospel and was baptized.
Since their baptisms, Brother Pich and his family have recognized the joy that stems from gaining a testimony of Jesus Christ. The Pich family takes time every day to read the scriptures. As they have done this, the joy of the gospel has permeated their souls.
“We feel we are on the right path now, and we want to stay on this narrow path and continue to progress,” Sister Seng says. “I am grateful every day that we can have our children on this path with us.”
The joy that President Loy feels extends in both directions—to his ancestors as well as his descendants. President Loy and his family visited the Hong Kong China Temple in 2004. Not only were President Loy’s wife and children sealed to him, but the saving ordinances of the temple were also completed for his father, mother, and the brothers and sisters he had lost.
“I cannot even explain the joy I felt in the temple,” President Loy said. “I knew my family was being made strong. I know that the temple is necessary for families to live together forever.”
President Khan and his family also had the opportunity to be sealed together as an eternal family in the Hong Kong Temple. “The feeling I felt at the temple is something I had never felt before. It is hard to express my feelings in words,” President Khan says.
Thanks to the spreading of the gospel, members in Cambodia are receiving the spiritual nutrients they need to survive. Although the Church is growing in Cambodia, members hope that this growth is just a precursor to a huge blossoming of the gospel in their country.
Just as the fish and animals receive needed nutrients when the Tonle Sap Lake overflows, a growing number of Cambodians are receiving the spiritual nutrition they need thanks to the overflowing desire in members’ hearts to share the gospel.
“When a pot is covered, it boils over,” President Khan says. “This is the feeling I have in my heart. I must open my heart to tell everyone what it is feeling.”
President Loy hopes the residual effect of the gospel being taught in his home will be that his daughters will continue to embrace the gospel and teach their children.
“After I found out about Jesus Christ, everything became better in my life and with my family,” he says. “Having the priesthood in our home brings us together. If we have a problem, we sit and discuss it as a family.”
Since the government of Cambodia granted the Church legal recognition in 1994, thousands of Cambodians have accepted the gospel. The Pich family looks forward to the day when the gospel will spread across all parts of the country. Brother Pich says, “I hope someday there will be a temple in Cambodia.”
Sister Seng agrees: “Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, are alive. My hope for the future is that the Church will continue to grow so a temple can be built.”
President Khan recognizes the ways his life has changed since learning of the Savior. He believes the gospel of Jesus Christ is the only thing that can heal Cambodians from their past trials.
“After I became a member of the Church, I lost a lot of the pain I felt from things that had happened in the past. I’ve received a new light that I never had before,” he says. “Everything feels new.”