Gospel Story Finder

I’m not even a Mormon, and yet I look forward to and enjoy my monthly edition of the New Era. Your magazine helps me to see and reinforce values, standards, and morals that I never learned in my years of growing up as an orphan. My good friends the Wilsons, who live on a beautiful little ranch in John Day, Oregon, were kind enough to give me a subscription to the New Era and also show me the wealth of a strong family unit in a society where everyone is struggling for an identity. Before I met the Wilsons, I had a very stereotyped misconception of Mormon people. But the Wilsons showed me with their generosity, care, and sincerity what wonderful people Mormons are, and my monthly edition of the New Era only helps to enhance these impressions.
Yvonne Mary PepinJohn Day, Oregon

Karen is now a dear friend of mine. But I didn’t know her until I became her ministering sister. My ministering companion was a kind young woman named Ella, who was a senior in high school. We received the assignment to minister to Karen when she was just starting to return to church.

As we ministered to Karen and learned her unique story and needs, Ella and I felt impressed to invite her to come to the temple. This effort enlisted Ella’s tech-savvy skills to fix issues with Karen’s online Church account so she could pay her tithing and make a temple appointment. And I took her to get new temple clothing and helped her feel comfortable going. Karen seemed to glow and be filled with peace and happiness as she and I sat together in the celestial room following the session.

Karen experienced major health issues but also incredible miracles during the time we ministered to her. Supporting her during this time strengthened all of us in the Lord.

We invited her to join us for Relief Society and Sunday School and spent time with her in her home. She has grown beautifully confident in who she is and who she wants to become. She has started to see the good in herself.

When I asked Karen if I could share this special experience of being her ministering sister, she said, “Go for it! Let them know there is a Heavenly Father who loves [them]!” She said the love and concern Ella and I had for her taught her that she needed someone in her life. She said, “They will never know how much I needed them. … Ministering sisters are sent from God.”

Sister Quee and Brother Kargbo both have large families. This is because they include and extend helping hands to other children.
The Welfare & Self-Reliance manager visited with them on their farms as part of the Church’s member-livelihood agricultural project, and they expressed gratitude on how the livelihood project has elevated them to an advanced level of food security.
Because of the extremely large family size, meals were limited to one person per day while other available funds were used for school fees, rent, tithing, medical, and other expenses for daily upkeep.
They shared with the Welfare and Self-Reliance manager that the project support will help them feed their family so they have also planned to assist others who may be in need.

For family home evening our family decided to spread hay on our garden. It’s not in our yard, so we had to drive there. Some of us didn’t want to go because it looked like it was about to rain. Then we remembered that President Spencer W. Kimball had said to plant a garden. When we got there the storm hit, so we left. Arriving home we discovered that a big branch from our neighbor’s tree had fallen onto our driveway! If we had not left, our car would have been crushed! We are glad to be blessed when we follow the prophet.

Bravery is a trait every young man can develop. It is based on love for others more than safety for self. One Venturer Scout who is blind signed up to go on a hike in southern California with his Scout troop. They hiked to Lord Baden Powell Peak over a steep trail. The young man held on to the shirt of a fellow Boy Scout every step of the way. It was a long hike and took two full days. This boy did not complain, did not seek pity, just kept grinding on and on until they came to the trail’s end. Equally as brave was the Scout who volunteered to lead his friend over a steep and challenging trail. He felt honored to help.

In the George household, there are cherished memories about their ancestors that help strengthen the faith of family members. Elder George relates one beautiful story his grandfather told them:
“One man told my Grandpa about being in a stake conference when he was twelve years old, and he became nervous when Elder Kimball [then an Apostle] asked all of the twelveyear-old boys to come to the front. Elder Kimball lined them all up and gave each one of them a crisp, new one-dollar bill. He told them that that was the start of their missionary fund. The man never forgot that experience and he said that it helped give focus to his life.”

On one occasion I was in the office of President Henry D. Moyle when a phone call he had placed earlier in the day came through. After greeting the caller, he said, “I wonder if your business affairs would bring you into Salt Lake City sometime in the near future? I would like to meet with you and your wife, for I have a matter of some importance that I would like to discuss with you.”

Well, though it was many kilometers away, that man all of a sudden discovered that his business would bring him to Salt Lake City the very next morning. I was in the same office the following day when President Moyle announced to this man that he had been called to preside over one of the missions of the Church. “Now,” he said, “we don’t want to rush you into this decision. Would you call me in a day or two, as soon as you are able to make a determination as to your feelings concerning this call?”

The man looked at his wife and she looked at him, and without saying a word there was that silent conversation between husband and wife, and that gentle almost imperceptible nod. He turned back to President Moyle and said, “Well, President, what is there to say. What could we tell you in a few days that we couldn’t tell you now? We have been called. What answer is there? Of course we will respond to the call.”

Then President Moyle said rather gently, “Well, if you feel that way about it, actually there is some urgency about this matter. I wonder if you could be prepared to leave by ship from the West Coast on the 13th of March.”

The man gulped, for that was just eleven days away. He glanced at his wife. There was another silent conversation, and he said, “Yes, President, we can meet that appointment.”

“What about your business?” said the President. “What about your grain elevator? What about your livestock? What about your other holdings?”

“I don’t know,” said the man, “but we will make arrangements somehow. All of those things will be all right.”

Such is the great miracle that we see repeated over and over, day after day, among the faithful. And yet there are many among us who have not the faith to respond to the call or to sustain those who have been so called.

I have since learned that my father was born in Tiruchirappalli, Tamil Nadu, India. He was the youngest of six children. His father, Harold Norman Watts, was a railway man in the signals division. When my dad was just eighteen months old, his father Harold passed away, leaving his mother Daisy to care for their large family. Through the kindness of Christian boarding schools and Daisy’s hard work, all the children received a good education and made good their lives.
In 1972 my father, his mum and two brothers and two sisters immigrated to Australia establishing themselves in Perth, Western Australia. My father joined the Australian army in 1973, serving in various postings. He met my mother in Melbourne in 1982 and their first date was to a Stake YSA dance. Later, my mother introduced him to the missionaries. Accepting what he had been taught and with the faith and testimony the size of a mustard seed, he was baptized on 9 May 1982. A year later my parents were married and sealed in the New Zealand Temple. Together they had five children. Heavenly Father and living the Gospel have been a blessing in all our lives.
In 2011 my brother Anthony was called to serve in the India Bangalore Mission. I was twelve years old and I remember him telling us how hot it was and how the electricity would always go off and you just lie in bed in a puddle of your own sweat! He would always talk about the rats he would catch in his apartment too and how he would use a bucket to go to the toilet. It all seemed so foreign and different.
Seven years later I too was preparing to serve a mission. I remember the night my call letter came, and I had all the family gathered around. Everyone had made their guesses as to where I would go. We all thought that I for sure would go to Temple Square. When I actually read my call, I was absolutely shocked! I thought, “Do they know that I am a girl!?” I knew that there were girls serving in India when my brother was on a mission, but they were Indian girls! I had no idea that they sent foreign sisters there and I wondered if I was the first one? Later I learned that I am the first sister from Australia to serve in India.
Another shock was how soon they wanted me to be prepared and ready to leave. I had just eight weeks from the time I received my call to the time I had to report to the Provo MTC. I quickly applied for my overseas Indian citizenship. It normally takes 6-8 weeks or more to arrive which meant that it would have come on the day I was supposed to leave. I knew there was a reason I was to leave so soon so I just put my faith and trust in the Lord that everything would work out. I ended up getting my visa in just five weeks! That is just one of the miracles I saw as I prepared for my mission. It was a crazy whirlwind getting ready for my mission, but it was a testimony to me that the India New Delhi Mission was where I needed to be.
Before leaving Australia for India, I was blessed to participate in the sealing of my father’s family members in the Melbourne Australia temple. Although I did not know my grandmother very well, this made me feel closer to her. And now that I am here, I am coming to understand my father better. I see his friendliness and hospitality in the Indians I meet every day and have come to know that it is part of the culture.
I am so thankful to be able to experience the joy and growth that sharing the gospel I love brings to me and to others. I know that this is the Church of Jesus Christ, restored and established once again on the earth. I know that the Saviour lives and that his Atonement is real. I have been able to feel comfortable no matter where I am in the world as I know that I will always have the constant companionship of the Holy Ghost and always be able to feel of my Heavenly Father’s love for me.

For some time, I felt unheard and unseen. Though I was surrounded by so many people, I yearned for one to notice me for who I was, yet it never happened. I always sought to feel a sense of belonging and a sense of purpose. Only when I started becoming older did my once-young mind begin to mature, and I slowly began to realize the true meaning of life.
It wasn’t just about being around people or trying to belong somewhere; it was about having that profound love and faith in Jesus Christ and God. I struggled heavily throughout Covid, battling my own battles as well as dealing with battles of those around me. I locked away my feelings from everyone, but what I didn’t realize was that there was always one person there for me, one who I ignored and didn’t let in.
It took a situation in my family’s life that has impacted me in more than one way for me to finally turn to Him. I found myself playing hymns on YouTube, listening to Church talks, and finally beginning my journey of reading and feasting on the words of the Book of Mormon.
Never in my life have I been so at peace and so loved. I feel seen and heard, and I know someone is there for me, maybe not physically there to give me a physical hug, but that spiritual hug that wraps around me daily. A scripture that resonates with me is found in John 3:16, “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.”

Before my first mission, when I was attending the university, I invited a lovely young lady to attend the university’s junior prom dinner dance. I had dated this fine girl a few times before. Every time we came home from a date, her father would be in his big leather chair, fully dressed, waiting for us.

As I went to pick her up the evening of the dance at the university, her father said, “What time will you be home?” I responded, “Sir, as you know, this is a special dinner-dance at the university; the dinner is scheduled to be served after the dance, so we would like to stay out later than usual.” I added, “You may not wish to wait up for us that late.” He simply said, “I will be waiting for you.” The dance was special, but the dinner service was terribly slow. I soon developed indigestion. The longer it went, the worse I felt. When we got back to her home, I found the father had kept his promise. There in his big leather chair was this wonderful, concerned family patriarch waiting for one of his fine daughters to be safely back under his own roof. He said something like this, “What keeps you out so late, James?”

In addition to spending evenings and Saturday mornings in rehearsals, the youth also served at the temple open house. Imagine spending five weeks of your summer vacation putting on and taking off slippers, hauling water and cookies, and smiling for 150,000 open-house visitors. That’s exactly what these faithful youth did between July 23 and August 20, 2005. “People would comment on how the young people were always smiling. That’s what they noticed,” recalls Alicia Bremmer of the Garden Grove First Ward.

“I felt really special because they noticed us. It is just cool because people really appreciated it,” Krista agrees. “The visitors were really interested and curious—nonmembers and members alike.”

During Primary opening exercises, Sister Ashbourne, the Primary president, held up a painting of Jesus Christ.
Dustin liked that picture of Jesus. His family had the same picture in their home. It had a special place over the piano.
A white cardboard mat surrounded the picture. “We’d like everyone to sign his or her name on the mat,” Sister Ashbourne said. “That way we’ll frame Jesus with our love. We’ll take it to each classroom so all the children and teachers can sign it.”
Dustin struggled with his handwriting. A third grader, he was learning cursive writing, but a learning disability slowed his progress. His hand shook each time he had to write in cursive. He was nervous about the idea of signing the mat.
The Primary presidency brought the picture to Dustin’s class. Sister Beeker, his teacher, passed the mat to the children. Each one took a turn signing it. When it was Dustin’s turn, he hesitated.
“I don’t write very well,” he whispered to Sister Beeker.
“You can print your name if you feel more comfortable,” she said.
Dustin looked down at his feet. He didn’t want to admit that his printing was not much better than his cursive writing.
“Do you think Jesus cares how good your handwriting is?” Sister Beeker asked gently.
Dustin thought about it. He knew that Jesus loved everyone. “No,” he admitted.
His teacher nodded encouragingly. “That’s right. Do you know what Jesus does care about?”
Dustin shook his head.
“He cares that you’re here in church. He cares that you love Him and honor Him. He cares that you treat others kindly.” She handed the pen to Dustin.
Dustin smiled at Sister Beeker. “Thank you,” he said. He wrote his name the best he could and gave the mat back to his teacher.
The following week, Sister Ashbourne showed the painting in the mat and frame to the entire Primary. “We’ll hang it right here,” she said, pointing to the front wall of the room, “where we can see it every week.”
Dustin looked at Jesus’s face, which seemed to shine with love, and he felt a warm glow in his own heart.

As a young elder, I had been in the mission field about one year, and while reading scriptures and words of the latter-day Apostles about revelation and the Holy Ghost, I had a stunning awakening. I did not have a testimony of my own, specifically of the Father and the Son. I went on my mission living on the borrowed light of my wonderful parents. Never doubting their words, I had not thought about seeking my own spiritual witness. On a February night in San Antonio, Texas, in 1962, I knew that I had to know for myself. In our small apartment I found a place where I could quietly pray out loud, pleading, “Heavenly Father, are You there? I must know for myself!”
Sometime later that night I came to know for myself for the first time in my life that God and Jesus are real. I did not hear an audible voice nor see a heavenly being. I knew in the same way you too may have come to know—which is “by the unspeakable gift of the Holy Ghost” (D&C 121:26) and the spirit of revelation (see D&C 8:1–3) speaking peace to my mind (see D&C 6:23) and assurances to my heart (see Alma 58:11).
From that experience I witnessed the results of Alma’s counsel to “awake and arouse [my] faculties … to [conduct] an experiment upon [His] words” (Alma 32:27). These words or seeds have grown into trees, indeed giant trees of testimony. The process continues with more experiments upon the word, resulting in additional trees of testimony, now a veritable forest based on revelation through and by the Holy Ghost.

When I was 17, I’d taken out a small insurance policy that I thought would be useful, when it matured, to go towards a deposit for a house. I cashed it in early. (I lost nothing; every penny I had paid was returned to me; there was no financial penalty for early exit.) I was sent a cheque that paid for my whole mission. Isn’t it funny how things work out? Another small unplanned blessing. I then posted my papers.

Moses Mahlangu, of Soweto, South Africa, patiently but persistently waited sixteen years for baptism. When he speaks of his long wait, Brother Mahlangu compares himself to Cornelius, who he says was “very good in waiting to receive the word of God or to be a member of the Church until the angels came and told him what to do.” (See Acts 10:1–7.) Today, at age sixty-seven, Moses is a groundskeeper at the Johannesburg South Africa Temple, which he regularly attends.

With great anticipation, my family waited in line at the Bountiful Utah Temple open house. Our guide explained to us that as we walked through the temple, we would need to wear covers over our shoes. Tens of thousands of people had already visited the temple that day, walking through rain and snow. Shoe covers would help keep the temple clean.
I assumed we would put the covers on our shoes ourselves. But when we reached the door, I saw a group of young men and young women—volunteers from a nearby stake—placing the covers onto people’s shoes. Caught by surprise, I automatically raised one foot, then the other, as a young woman assisted me. I was a little embarrassed, feeling that I could certainly have done it myself. And I doubted that the task was enjoyable, considering the cold weather, the wet and messy shoes, and her uncomfortable kneeling position. As the young woman finished, I offered an inadequate thanks. Even after she had assisted thousands of others, her smile and kind response were sincere and tender.
I felt overwhelmed by her act of service. Then suddenly I was filled with a sweet thought. If the mortal Messiah were here today, wouldn’t he also be serving in a quiet, selfless way—making that which was unclean clean? Deep emotion washed over me, and I felt the Savior’s deep love. Had he not knelt in Gethsemane and died on Golgotha to make the highest, most sacred things possible for us?
A feeling of reverence accompanied me throughout the tour. The temple was beautiful, but what I remember most happened at its doorstep.

Although Cyrena feared setting off on her own, she trusted in the Lord and His promises. She soon found that her new religious community, her fellow Saints, cared for her as if she were part of their families. Because she lived in Alexander Stanley’s home for a short time, she was able to set out with his company for Far West, Missouri.

During the trip, Cyrena fell gravely ill and spent much of her time lying sick in a wagon. She wrote, “I shall ever remember how kind and good the sisters and brethren were to me during that long ride from New Portage, Ohio, to the Missouri River. They gave me every attention that could be given under the circumstances, many times sacrificing their own comfort for mine.”7 Although some felt she would not recover, Cyrena held on to her faith and the promise of her patriarchal blessing that she would go to Zion. She survived the journey, reaching Far West in the fall of 1838, and her health continued to improve.

Susanna can still remember the good feelings she had when she was baptized. A week before her baptism she had a dream she remembers very clearly. In the dream she saw a huge mountain in front of her and a path that went straight to the top of the mountain. She saw another path that went sideways up the mountain, but it seemed well lit. She chose the sideways path and soon found herself in deep darkness. She had a sad feeling and turned around.

“Sometimes we choose the wrong path,” she says, “but we can always turn around and find the way to Heavenly Father.” Susanna is courageous enough to always find her way!

Shortly before the April 2020 general conference, President Russell M. Nelson invited my wife, Kalleen, and me into his office, where he called me to be the General Young Men President. As our heads were spinning over this totally unexpected turn of events, he stood and said: “This is an important time for the youth of the Church because it’s an important time for the Church. The youth will play a critical role in this wondrous time.” He added, “You know, I have invited them into the Lord’s battalions.”
“Yes, President Nelson,” I said. “I know you have, and I know they are listening.”
“Well, it’s important that they do, because they are needed.”
I am paraphrasing only a little here, but he then went on to talk with great energy about the long-prophesied gathering that is taking place and the important work the Lord has for our youth to do. He spoke with a sense of urgency and great immediacy that they have been specifically sent to prepare for the Savior’s return.

I was sent to France as a missionary in 1949. Missionary work then was much different from missionary work now. There was no Missionary Training Center, so when I arrived in Paris, I had had no language training at all. There wasn’t a set of lessons to teach investigators. Different missionaries used different methods to teach the gospel.
I had been in Paris for just a few weeks when my companion received word that his mother was dying of cancer. Since his scheduled release date was only weeks away, the mission president allowed him to return home early to see his mother. If that had happened today, another elder would have been transferred to my area to be my companion. But in those days I was left to work by myself until transfers for the entire mission were made.
Before he left, my companion and I had scheduled a few lessons. I knew that I would have to take care of those appointments. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know the French language, and there were no prepared discussions. I was nervous and frightened.
I began to read the Book of Mormon and to pray as hard as I could. I would pray, and then I would read, then I would pray again and read some more. This went on for several days.
Finally it was time to go to my first appointment—the Alvarez family. They were a lovely couple whom we had just begun teaching. When I went, I didn’t know what I was going to say. I had a testimony of the gospel and the Restoration, but I did not know French.
But when I went to see this family, the Lord took over. For two hours I taught them. I’m sure that it wasn’t in beautiful French, but I was able to communicate with them how I felt about the gospel. They understood the message and were touched by the Spirit.
That night when I returned to my apartment, I knew that there really was a Father in Heaven and that he had called me on a mission. I knew that Heavenly Father had watched over and helped me—had loosed my tongue—and that he watches over all his missionaries. It was the first spiritual testimony that I had received in my life of the truthfulness of this work. Serving a mission was one of the greatest blessings that ever happened to me.