Gospel Story Finder

I would like to tell you a story. It's a personal story. It helps explain God's perspective in a way that has been personally compelling to me. And like many lessons we learn in this life, it seems that sometimes it's the most painful lessons that clarify for us the most important lessons we must learn. After I retired from business last year, Sister Willes and I moved to Provo. We expected to teach at the Brigham Young University - Provo Campus. Three weeks after we got there we received this [mission] call, so we knew we weren't going to be teaching too long. A few weeks after that, our second daughter who lives in Utah gave birth to a critically ill little girl. She was unable to move. She was attached to more pieces of medical equipment to sustain her life than I thought even existed.

This little girl's mother and father asked me on two different occasions if I would give her a blessing, which I was grateful to do. And I found myself in those blessings saying something I had never said before. And that was, that after the doctors and nurses had done all that they could do, the Lord would heal her, completely. You can image my surprise and yes, even some confusion, when I would give those blessings and feel so comfortable about them, to then see as the days and weeks went on that she got worse instead of better.

I could not understand. I thought perhaps I had misunderstood the Spirit, that because of my own desire that this sweet granddaughter of ours live and be whole and happy, perhaps I had misunderstood the Spirit. Therefore out of concern, yes even a quiet desperation, I called President Hinckley - the only time I have ever done this. By this time this little girl was in a hospital in Salt Lake City, not far from where he lives. I asked him if there was any way possible that he could come and bless this little girl? With the kindness that you might imagine only the prophet would have, he said, "Of course," and we arranged a time to meet.

You can imagine how thrilled we were as the prophet of the Lord laid his hands, in this case fingers, on her small head, and gave her virtually the identical blessing that I had given her twice before, promising her that after the doctors and nurses had done all that they could do that she would be touched. . .by the finger of God, and healed totally and completely.

You might therefore understand my surprise and concern when shortly thereafter she died. I didn't understand, until, as I was preparing to speak at her funeral, the Spirit led me to the 55th chapter of Isaiah, where the Lord says,

"For my thoughts are not your thoughts. Neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts higher than your thoughts."

And then I understood that God has an eternal perspective. He is not bound by the narrow earthly perspective that we so often look from, and make decisions from. And given His heavenly perspective, every blessing that this young girl had been promised had in fact come true.

After the doctors had done all that they could do, a little girl who was never to move in this life, was now able to move freely and happily. A little girl that would have had a very limited earthly life, now had an unlimited eternal life. A little girl who would have faced severe tests all of her earthly life, had now passed the one and only test required of her and was now happily and gloriously back with her Father in Heaven. Oh yes, she had been touched. . .and healed. . .totally and completely, as only God can.

I learnt from this experience to rejoice in His eternal perspective. If we are to understand how God answers prayers it is not sufficient to look from our earthly perspective. We must also look from His eternal perspective if we are to understand how and why He does what He does.

At another baptism, a young girl of 14, with tears in her eyes, hugs the sister missionary who has taught her the gospel. Even though this missionary had to leave her home thousands of miles away to serve a mission, it has been worth it.
Two missionary stories with the same emotion and the same sacrifice. It may be surprising to learn they took place 150 years and an ocean apart. The first missionary was Addison Pratt, who baptized in 1844 the first members of the Church in the Pacific not far from Tahiti. The second missionary was Barbara Nauta, a native Tahitian, who left her island home to serve a mission in Canada in 1993.
Just like those missionaries 150 years ago, young Tahitians look to the Lord to guide them as they serve. For example, Barbara Nauta, who grew up in Tahiti, served in the Canada Toronto Mission. She said investigators in Canada were amazed that she had left her warm Pacific island to learn another language (Barbara, who speaks French and Tahitian, had to learn English) and suffer in cold and snow. They asked her why. “I told them the Lord sent me here,” she says.

Sarah Henrie, a Laurel from Glenwood, Alberta, Canada, loves puppies. And she should. Breeding miniature schnauzers has proven to be a good source of income for this young entrepreneur.
“When I was ten years old, my parents got me a dog to raise as a job so that I could do reports on it for my home-study schooling. Then we had a litter of puppies, and I’ve been doing this ever since,” says Sarah.
The puppies have given her valuable experience in learning how to run a business efficiently. She also has realized the value of paying tithing on her income.
“I made a Young Women goal to learn how to clip the dogs myself,” says Sarah. “I took a course at the university, and now I can do it on my own. It saves a lot of money.”
But as Sarah’s business has taken off, she’s learned another, more important lesson about her family. Since her business has grown, Sarah has relied on the help of her younger Primary-age sisters, Kate, Leah, Jennifer, and Amy, to keep things running smoothly. She says that if it weren’t for them, she couldn’t run her business. She also says life wouldn’t be much fun without them.
“I have to be a very good example,” she says. “It’s important for me to choose the right.”

When I returned home, I went to my room, knelt on the floor, and began a sincere conversation with Heavenly Father. I told Him that I felt something special about the Mormon Church but that I didn’t want the adversary to delude me. I prayed that He would help resolve my confusion and show me which church was true.
Afterward I felt a great desire to read the Book of Mormon. I prayed again for strength and direction. During my prayer, I felt a strong and good feeling—an interior warmth. I knew I was not alone at that moment. A thought came instantly into my head: “Read the book!”
I opened it and began reading. Before I had finished the introduction, tears began running down my face as the Lord revealed to me the mystery of the Native Americans. The Book of Mormon seemed prepared especially to respond to my concerns. I felt great joy to have my questions answered. It was as though the ancient Americans had spoken from their graves to tell me about their lives and to testify that they also knew Jesus and that He had suffered for them as well.
Amazed with my discovery, I sought out the missionaries and listened to their lessons. On Easter Sunday, March 31, 1991, I descended into the waters of baptism—the best decision I had ever made.

One important reason for her eagerness to serve is the spiritual motivation she has felt since joining the Church. She cites, for example, the manifestation that came to her in January of 1985, the day before she began her work in the temple. As she lay on her bed immediately after retiring, she saw the skeletons of many dead, and then saw an Indian woman, plainly from an earlier era, praying before a distinctive door. She lay awake for a time puzzling about what her experience might mean. But when she reported to the temple the following day, Sister Tintí was assigned to the baptistry where—she found that door!
“I believe I saw that woman so I would know who the people were who needed me,” says the 57-year-old temple worker.

I then drove to the hospital with a concern in my heart for the well-being of the two other beautiful young women who had been involved in the accident. Little did I realize that the lessons I would learn about Christlike character lessons taught by seemingly ordinary disciples were just beginning.

I arrived at the hospital and proceeded to the emergency room. After properly establishing who I was and my relationship to the victims, I was invited into two different treatment areas to identify the injured young women. It was obvious that their respective wounds were serious and life threatening. And the lovely countenances and physical features of these young women had been badly marred. Within a relatively short period of time, the two remaining young women died. All three of these virtuous, lovely, and engaging young women who seemed to have so much of life in front of them suddenly had gone home to their Eternal Father. My attention and the attention of the respective families now shifted to funeral arrangements and logistics.

A day or so later, in the midst of program planning and detail arranging for the three funerals, I received a phone call from the Relief Society president of my home ward. Her daughter had been one of the victims in the accident, and she and I had talked several times about her desires for the funeral program. This faithful woman was a single mother rearing her only child, her teenage daughter. I was especially close to this woman and her daughter having served as both their bishop and stake president. After reviewing and finalizing several details for the funeral of her daughter, this good sister said to me, President, I am sure it was difficult for you to see my daughter in the emergency room the other day. She was severely injured and disfigured. As you know, we will have a closed casket at the funeral. I have just returned from the funeral home, and they have helped my daughter to look so lovely again. I was just wondering . . . why don't we arrange a time when we can meet at the mortuary and you can have one last look at her before she is buried. Then your final memories of my daughter will not be the images you saw in the emergency room the other day. I listened and marveled at the compassion and thoughtfulness this sister had for me. Her only daughter had just been tragically killed, but she was concerned about the potentially troublesome memories I might have given my experience in the emergency room. In this good woman I detected no self pity and no turning inward. Sorrow, certainly. Sadness, absolutely. Nevertheless, she reached outward when many or perhaps most of us would have turned inward with sorrow and grief.

I chose another hero in that little branch of the Church. He was a United States Marine who came to our meetings wearing his green marine uniform. It was wartime, so that alone made him my hero. He had been sent to Princeton University by the marines to further his education. But far more than admiring his military uniform, I watched him play in Palmer Stadium as captain of the Princeton University football team. I saw him play on the university basketball team and also watched him play as the star catcher on their baseball team.
But even more, he came to my home during the week to show me how to shoot a basketball with both my left and my right hand. He told me that I would need that skill because I would someday play basketball on good teams. I did not realize it then, but for years he was, for me, a model of a true priesthood man.
The same is true for the marine who was my childhood hero. He never spoke to me of his priesthood service or of his accomplishments. He just gave service. I learned about his faithfulness from others. If he even saw the characteristics in himself that I admired, I could not tell.

My mother liked going to church, and because I was the youngest, I would go with her. In 1998, when I was 13 years old, two Latter-day Saint missionaries came to my neighborhood to visit less-active members. I was playing soccer with my friend when the missionaries passed through. We spoke with them, and the missionaries asked if they could visit us the following week. They taught us, and we accepted the invitation to be baptized.

Four years later, in 2002, my father and one of my sisters died just a week apart. I carried on, serving as a district missionary until I received my full-time mission call in July 2004 to serve in the South Africa Durban Mission. I was in the mission field just a few months when my brother called my mission president, informing him that my mother had died and had already been buried. Can you picture how it feels to lose such a mother? Four months later another sister died.

As a missionary, I had been teaching people about the restored gospel. Because of my testimony, I never worried about my losses. I had peace of mind and hope that in due time I would see my parents and sisters again. On the way home from my mission in July 2006, I went to the Johannesburg South Africa Temple and was baptized on behalf of my male family members who had passed on, and I had baptisms performed for my sisters who had died.

Conditions in Zimbabwe remain difficult, but I have a tremendous testimony of the good that can come through following Church leaders and programs. Despite all our challenges, we can find peace and hope in the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. God be thanked that He watches and guides His Church and His children. I thank Him for the temple, which gives us peace and hope that we will meet with our families again.

The Lord said, “These things I have spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer. I have overcome the world” (John 16:33).

Despite life’s challenges, may we keep hoping for good, never doubting and never questioning the Lord’s will.

The spirit of the day was not diminished when the lights in the gym went down low and the music was turned up for the dance that finished off the conference. A stake music committee, made up mostly of youth, had previously selected all the music that would be played, making sure it was fun to dance to, yet didn’t contain inappropriate lyrics.
While the music played inside, the youth on the organizing committee wandered outside for a breather. They inevitably began discussing the big subject of the day. “Being a part of all this really makes me want to work harder to be better—to be more like Jesus,” said Mark Davies, 17. “That would be so great.”
“We heard a lot about Christ today, and his spirit was here,” added Anna. “That’s exactly what we wanted.”
“Oh yes,” Thomasyn agreed. “Even though it didn’t turn out exactly like we’d planned at first, it was a big success.”

It’s been many years since Greg [names have been changed] was in junior high school, but he can still vividly remember how it felt when his tormentors would chase him as he tried to walk home from the school bus. If they caught him, sometimes they would grab his trombone case and throw it into the snow, or they would toss his homework into the pond by his house. Other times they would become more violent, pushing and hitting him, even knocking him to the ground.
“I felt powerless and scared,” he says now. “I didn’t know what to do.”

Today, both Greg and Emily agree that the damage caused by bullying doesn’t have to last forever. Both have gone on to have successful careers and families of their own. And while neither would wish for such a painful experience again, they agree that in some ways they are better people as a result: they are more understanding of those who are struggling and are more anxious to reach out and help. And they know that their worth does not depend on what others think of them, for the worth of every soul “is great in the sight of God” (D&C 18:10).

When I was a boy growing up in a home with a widowed mother, I heard a story that touched me and that has had a lot more meaning since I have had the blessing of having a son of my own.
A youngster was assigned by his father to see to the moving of a large rock. He tugged and pushed, and he lifted and struggled without avail. Some friends were enlisted, but together they could not move it. Reluctantly he reported to his father that he could not budge the rock.
“Have you done all you could?” asked the father.
“Yes,” said the little boy.
“Have you tried everything?” persisted the father.
“Yes,” said the boy. “I’ve tried everything.”
“No, son, you haven’t,” said his dad. “You haven’t asked me.”

When President Heber J. Grant was a young man, his bishop once said, "What are we going to do with that Grant boy?"

His father, Jedediah M. Grant, had been a member of the First Presidency, and he had died early and left a widowed mother to take care of this boy. The bishop did not think he would amount to much--but he became President of the Church!

When he was in school, an English teacher assigned the class to collect some examples of bad English, to write down the mistakes. He went to Church and heard a speaker who was an immigrant and could not speak English very well. He did not say two sentences until he had made mistakes. This young Heber Grant thought, "I'll fulfill my assignment."

He did not have paper to write on. In those days the boys and the men wore shirt collars and cuffs that were made of celluloid, a kind of plastic. You could write on them. So he got his cuff out, and when the man made a mistake, he wrote it down. He was collecting mistakes in English. Then the same thing happened! He forgot the mistakes and began to listen. The power of the Spirit took over. He left the room both inspired and ashamed.

Last summer, I was baptized. The water was very warm. When my dad lifted me out of the water, I felt very good inside. The Holy Ghost testified that I was doing what Heavenly Father wanted me to do. I was very happy.
When I was baptized, I made a covenant, or a two-way promise, with Heavenly Father that I would follow Him and keep His commandments. He promised to help me and guide me with the gift of the Holy Ghost.
After my baptism, the bishop welcomed me as a member of the Church and taught me a lesson. He asked me to stand on a chair and look at a picture of Jesus Christ that was hanging on the wall. I could also see a reflection of myself in the glass of the picture’s frame. It taught me that Jesus will always be with me when I need Him.
I know that getting baptized is a great thing. I am so glad I made the decision to get baptized, and I know you will be happy if you do so too!
Illustration by Simona Love

Abu sat outside watching people walk by on the street in front of his house. Abu was very hungry. Marian, a woman who was selling sweet biscuits, was near him, walking back and forth in the street. The biscuits looked delicious in their brightly colored wrappers. Marian carried them in a pan on her head. Abu really wanted a package of those biscuits. He knew they would be very good.
Marian stopped and set the biscuits down right in front of Abu.
“She knows I am hungry and has put the biscuits here for me!” he thought. He quickly picked up a package of biscuits.
Just then, his father saw him. “Abu, what do you have?” he asked.
“Papa, I’m so hungry! I need some biscuits,” Abu said.
Papa gently took Abu into his arms. “Abu, I want you to have some biscuits,” he said. “But you cannot take things from other people without asking or paying for them. Did you ask Marian if you could have some of her biscuits?”
“No,” Abu said, looking at the ground.
“Let’s give Marian back this large package of biscuits, and I will buy you a small package. I want you to learn to be honest. Do you know what that means?”
“Tell me, Papa,” Abu said.
“It means to do the right thing,” Papa said. “It means to pay for things instead of stealing. It means to tell the truth instead of lying. It means to do what you say you will do. So we will pay Marian for a package of her biscuits. Marian needs the money to buy food for her children. I love you, Abu, and Heavenly Father loves you too. And He is happy when you do the right thing.”
“I love you too, Papa,” Abu said. “I want to be honest always.”

When I was 19, I also traveled far from my family for the very first time to Utah. I attended a YSA ward. My English was limited, and I didn’t know anybody. I felt lost. I will never forget my dear Bishop Moody. I grew up without a father, but as soon as I met him, he became a father figure to me. I am not sure we communicated very well (because of language barriers); but I remember the power of the sanctity of his office. I remember feeling so strongly that he was my bishop. I looked up to him, and I never wanted to do anything that would disappoint him. In fact, one time on a group date my friends took me to a place that was clearly the wrong place to be in. I felt bad being there but didn’t want to be the first to say anything. As time passed and no one said anything about leaving, the thought came to my mind: What would Bishop Moody think if he saw me here? I then had the courage to stand up and say, “I want to leave. If no one is willing to drive me, I’ll just walk.” I never told him this, but I will thank him forever.

A member wrote to me from England. When her bishop asked if she would accept a call to teach early-morning seminary, he told her she’d better pray about it before she accepted. She did. She accepted. When she met the parents for the first time the bishop stood beside her. She announced that she felt the program should go to five days a week. Some parents looked doubtful. One person said, “They won’t come. They’ll vote with their feet.”
Well, the doubt was half right. The students did vote with their feet. But their attendance in those cold and dark morning hours is now above 90 percent. That teacher and her bishop believed that if the students would start to come they would be strengthened by power more than their own. It came. That power will protect them when they go to places where they will be the only Latter-day Saints. They will not be alone nor without strength, because they accepted the invitation to gather with the Saints when it was not easy.
There is another simple thing to do. The Lord’s Church has been restored, and so any call to serve in it is a call to serve Him. That bishop in England was so wise. He asked the woman to pray about her call to serve. He knew what answer she would receive. It would be an invitation from the Father and His Beloved Son. He knew what she has learned by responding to the call from the Master. In His service the Holy Ghost comes as a companion to those who try to do the best they can. She must have felt that as she stood before the parents and when she saw the students vote with their feet. What looked hard, almost impossible under her own power, became a joy in the strength of the Lord.
When she reads and ponders over the scriptures and prays to prepare for those classes, she knows that the Savior has asked the Father to send her the Holy Ghost, just as He promised His disciples He would at the Last Supper, when He knew what trials they would face and that He must leave them. He did not leave them comfortless. He promised them the Holy Ghost, and He promises it to us in His service. So, whenever the invitation to serve comes, take it. It brings with it help to pass tests far beyond those of that call.

A few years before she passed away, she was diagnosed with cancer, a disease she fought with great courage. As a family we learned, strangely enough, that cancer is a disease of love. It provides opportunities to mend fences, say goodbyes, and express love. A few weeks before my mother’s death, we were visiting in the family room of my boyhood home. Mom had fine taste and liked nice things. She also longed to travel, but our family lived on a modest budget, and these dreams were not quite realized. Knowing this, I asked her if she had any regrets. I fully expected to hear she had always wanted a larger, more beautiful home or perhaps an expression of sadness and disappointment over never having traveled. She pondered my question for a few moments and replied simply, “I wish I had served more.”

I was shocked at her response. My mother had always accepted Church callings. She served as ward Relief Society president, Sunday School teacher, visiting teacher, and in the Primary. As children we were always delivering casseroles, jam, and bottled fruit to neighbors and members of the ward. When I reminded her of all this, she was undeterred. “I could have done more” was all she said. My mother had lived an exemplary and full life. She was loved by family and friends. She had accomplished much in a life that was often hard and which was cut short by disease and sickness. In spite of all of this, her greatest regret was she had not given enough service. Now, I have no doubt my mother’s earthly sacrifice has been accepted by the Lord and that she has been welcomed by Him. But why was it foremost in her mind just days before her passing? What is service, and why is it so important in the gospel of Jesus Christ?

First, we are commanded to serve one another. The first commandment is to love God. “And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.”
We demonstrate our love when we help and serve each other.
President Gordon B. Hinckley has said: “No man can be a true Latter-day Saint who is unneighborly, who does not reach out to assist and help others. It is inherent in the very nature of the gospel that we do so. My brothers and sisters, we cannot live unto ourselves.”
The Savior taught His disciples this important principle in Matthew:
“Lord, when saw we thee an hungred, and fed thee? or thirsty, and gave thee drink?
“When saw we thee a stranger, and took thee in; or naked, and clothed thee?
“Or when saw we thee sick, or in prison, and came unto thee?
“And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.”
This service is to be given unselfishly, with no thought of personal gain or reward. It is to be given as needed, not when convenient. Opportunities to serve may not always seem obvious, as it is human nature to worry about our own wants and needs. We must resist such tendencies and look for opportunities to serve. When we visit with those who are suffering from sickness, loss of loved ones, or other heartbreak, it is not enough to simply say, “Call if there is anything I can do.” Rather, look for ways to bless the lives of others through seemingly simple acts of service. It is better to do even things of little consequence than to do nothing at all.
Second, we have an obligation as members of the Church to accept callings to serve in building the kingdom of God on earth. As we serve in our various callings, we bless the lives of others. In missionary work lives are changed as people learn of the gospel of Jesus Christ and receive a testimony of its truth. By the sacred work in the temple we bless the lives of those who have gone on before us. In gospel service we have the privilege to teach others, to strengthen the youth, and to bless the lives of the little children as they learn the simple truths of the gospel. In Church service we learn to give of ourselves and to help others.
President Spencer W. Kimball, a great example of service, said: “God does notice us, and he watches over us. But it is usually through another mortal that he meets our needs. Therefore, it is vital that we serve each other in the kingdom.” The responsibility of service in the Church, however, does not relieve us of our responsibility to serve our families and our neighbors. President Kimball went on to warn, “None of us should become so busy in our formal Church assignments that there is no room left for quiet Christian service to our neighbors.”
Finally, we have a responsibility to render service in our communities. We should work to improve our neighborhoods, our schools, our cities, and our towns. I commend those in our midst who, regardless of their political persuasion, work within our local, state, and national governments to improve our lives. Likewise, I commend those who volunteer their time and resources to support worthy community and charitable causes, which bless the lives of others and make the world a better place. My grandfather taught me at an early age, “The public service we render is the rent we pay for our place on earth.”
Service requires unselfishness, sharing, and giving. My wife and I learned a valuable lesson during our time of service in Africa. We were assigned to a district conference in Jinja, Uganda. Early Saturday morning before our meetings began, we took the opportunity to tour a new chapel in the area. As we arrived at the building, we were greeted by a young boy of three to four years of age. He had come to the Church grounds to see what was going on. Struck by his broad smile, Sister Snow reached in her purse and handed him a wrapped piece of hard butterscotch candy. He was delighted.
We spent a few minutes touring the chapel before returning outside. We were met by more than a dozen smiling children, who each wanted to meet the new neighborhood candy lady.
Phyllis was heartbroken, as she had given the boy her last piece of candy. She disappointedly gestured to the children there was no more. The small boy who initially greeted us then handed the candy back to Sister Snow, gesturing for her to unwrap it. With a heavy heart, Phyllis did so, fully expecting the boy to pop the butterscotch candy into his mouth in full view of his envious friends.
Instead, to our great surprise, he went to each of his friends, who stuck out their tongues and received one delicious lick of the butterscotch candy. The young boy continued around the circle, occasionally taking his own lick, until the candy was gone.
Now, one can argue the lack of sanitation with this gesture of sharing, but no one can dispute the example set by this young boy. Unselfishness, sharing, and giving are essential to service. This child learned that lesson well.
It is my hope and prayer we can all do more in giving service. If we fail to serve, we fail to receive the fulness of the privileges and blessings of the restored gospel. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

When I joined the Church in Taiwan as a teenager, paying tithing was not difficult because I had little income. After I graduated and began working, it became a little harder. There were always so many things to buy and so little money to buy them with. But each year at tithing settlement, I could honestly tell the branch president that I had paid a full tithe.
Then last year my mother had to be admitted to the hospital intensive care unit. I was sorely worried about my mother and also about how we would pay for her care. The following Sunday I remembered I hadn’t yet paid my tithing that month. Thinking I would need all my money to pay the hospital, I decided to put off paying my tithing until the next week. As Sunday approached once again, a small voice reminded me that the Lord has promised to open the windows of heaven when we pay tithing. “Now is the time to give my faith a test,” I thought.
I withdrew some money from the bank and placed it in a tithing envelope. I felt a little hesitant, but summoning my courage, I gave the envelope to my branch president. Although I felt reluctant to let go of the envelope, I decided to leave the matter in God’s hands.
Just a week later, I received a telephone call informing me that our insurance company would soon be sending a check. “For how much?” I asked. The amount was many times more than the tithing I had paid. I know that when we are faithful, God will never forsake us.
Lu Chia, BYU Chinese Ward, Brigham Young University Sixth Stake

Their call to serve is especially significant for Monic, as she grew up and was baptised in the Netherlands.

“It warms my heart to be able to meet those people again that received me with so much love 30 years ago,” she said. “They were the foundation of my personal journey in the gospel. I know I did a lot of receiving back then. Now, I hope to be able to give and help build up the Lord’s Church in the Netherlands.”

As a teenager, Monic was invited to the baptism of a young boy whom she babysat. After attending the baptism, she began attending other Church events and activities and soon fell in love with the people. She started reading the Book of Mormon. As she read, she found herself not being able to put it down — there was something unique about it. She was baptised shortly after and said it was the best thing she ever did.

Now, 30 years later, Monic is once again reading the same Dutch Book of Mormon from which she studied as a young adult while investigating the Church. Instead of reading to find direction and answers in her own life, she is now reading and preparing to help others find answers to their questions.

I was in a fast and testimony meeting only last Sunday. A 15- or 16-year-old boy stood before the congregation and said that he had decided to be baptized.
Then one by one, boys of the teachers quorum stepped to the microphone to express their love for him, to tell him that he was doing the right thing, and to assure him that they would stand with him and help him. It was a wonderful experience to hear those young men speak words of appreciation and encouragement to their friend. I am satisfied that all of those boys, including the one who was baptized last week, will go on missions.