Gospel Story Finder

In closing may I share with you an example of one who determined early in life what his goals would be. I speak of Brother Clayton M. Christensen, a member of the Church who is a professor of business administration in the business school at Harvard University.
When he was 16 years old, Brother Christensen decided, among other things, that he would not play sports on Sunday. Years later, when he attended Oxford University in England, he played center on the basketball team. That year they had an undefeated season and went through to the British equivalent of what in the United States would be the NCAA basketball tournament.
They won their games fairly easily in the tournament, making it to the final four. It was then that Brother Christensen looked at the schedule and, to his absolute horror, saw that the final basketball game was scheduled to be played on a Sunday. He and the team had worked so hard to get where they were, and he was the starting center. He went to his coach with his dilemma. His coach was unsympathetic and told Brother Christensen he expected him to play in the game.
Prior to the final game, however, there was a semifinal game. Unfortunately, the backup center dislocated his shoulder, which increased the pressure on Brother Christensen to play in the final game. He went to his hotel room. He knelt down. He asked his Heavenly Father if it would be all right, just this once, if he played that game on Sunday. He said that before he had finished praying, he received the answer: “Clayton, what are you even asking me for? You know the answer.”
He went to his coach, telling him how sorry he was that he wouldn’t be playing in the final game. Then he went to the Sunday meetings in the local ward while his team played without him. He prayed mightily for their success. They did win.
That fateful, difficult decision was made more than 30 years ago. Brother Christensen has said that as time has passed, he considers it one of the most important decisions he ever made. It would have been very easy to have said, “You know, in general, keeping the Sabbath day holy is the right commandment, but in my particular extenuating circumstance, it’s okay, just this once, if I don’t do it.” However, he says his entire life has turned out to be an unending stream of extenuating circumstances, and had he crossed the line just that once, then the next time something came up that was so demanding and critical, it would have been so much easier to cross the line again. The lesson he learned is that it is easier to keep the commandments 100 percent of the time than it is 98 percent of the time.

It was dusk as my mother and I drove to my grandparents’ home. I stared out the window, lost in my own thoughts.
“Pretty sunset,” my mother commented.
“Mmmm,” I mumbled in agreement, seeing the glorious sunset for the first time.
“Do you know what Davy says?” she asked me. I turned toward her, suddenly interested. Eloise, my mother’s best friend, had died two years earlier after battling cancer. She left behind four children. The youngest was seven-year-old Davy.
“He says sunsets make him think about his mother,” she said, choking back tears. “He says it’s just like she’s smiling at him.”
I turned my attention to the evening sky. Davy’s words brought me a new perspective. The sunset was now more than a swirl of reds and yellows making intricate and beautiful patterns in the sky. It was a reminder of Eloise and others who had passed on and their love for those they had left behind.
As we drove on in silence, I watched the sunset fade into night. I was suddenly more aware of the beauty of the trees, the stars, the moon, and the clouds. I am thankful to Heavenly Father for the beautiful gifts he gives us every day. And I am thankful for a wise young boy who can see Heavenly Father’s love in something as simple as a sunset.

When Mormon missionaries were proselyting in Mississippi in 1844, their message was not widely received. However, one 13-year-old slave boy, Samuel Chambers, showed unusual interest in the elders’ street meeting discussions, and a nighttime baptism and confirmation soon followed. Born on May 21, 1831, in Pickens County, Alabama, Samuel grew up in Noxubee County, Mississippi, as an orphan. Slave traders took away his mother, Hester Gillespie, while Samuel was a small boy.

Thus he embraced the LDS faith despite “not having kind parents” to encourage him. Nevertheless, as he later told the deacons quorum, “the spirit of God remained with me.” He had “known the gospel to be true ever since I was confirmed,” and after his conversion he “greatly longed” to gather with the Saints, but being a slave he “could never see how it would be brought about.” Samuel was cut off from any contact with the Church but “tho’ lacking age & experience yet God kept the seeds of life alive in me.” During these years in bondage he married. But shortly after the birth of his son Peter his first wife either died or was sold into Texas (the records disagree). Then on May 4, 1858, he married Amanda Leggroan, a slave who was born to Green and Hattie Leggroan in Noxumbra County, Mississippi, on January 1, 1844.

When the Civil War brought the collapse of the Confederacy, Samuel became a freedman. He turned to shoemaking and then to sharecropping in order to support his family. It had been 21 years since his baptism. “I then commenced to save means to gather (to Utah),” he recalled, and “this took me four years.” This desire to join the Saints is most remarkable in Samuel’s case because he had “never heard another word of the gospel” since his baptism.

Finally in 1870 the 38-year-old freedman left Mississippi with 26-year-old Amanda and teenaged Peter. Evidently their means of transportation for part of the journey was a simple, ox-drawn wagon. Accompanying them was the family of Amanda’s brother, Edward Leggroan. He and his wife were in their mid-20’s and brought with them three children under six years of age. Like others who had migrated to Zion, this small group came with high hopes. At the same time the fact that they were black gave them cause to worry about what the future might hold for them in the strange new land. But one thing was certain with Samuel: “I did not come to Utah to know the truth of the gospel, but I received it away back where the gospel found me.” They arrived in Salt Lake City on April 27, 1870.

Andy Taylor had a problem. And he was worrying about it so much that he hardly noticed anything else going on around him. He didn’t even hear the click-clacking music of his skateboard wheels as he rolled along toward Mr. Weber’s house.
The problem had started right after his baptism. “Now remember, Andrew,” Sister Thomas had said, “every member of the Church should be a missionary. And that’s what you are now—a real member.”
Even though he had always felt like a member, Andy knew now that he really was a member. Still, he’d asked Sister Thomas if even Primary kids were supposed to be missionaries, and she’d said “Yes, even Primary kids.”
When he got home, Andy asked his father the same question and got the same answer. That’s why he was going to see Mr. Weber. Maybe Mr. Weber can help me, he thought. He’s a great thinker.
Andy screeched his skateboard to a stop in front of Mr. Weber’s house, opened the door, and walked in. “Mr. Weber,” he called. “It’s me, Andy Taylor.”
Several months ago, shortly before Andy’s eighth birthday, Mr. Weber had been injured in a terrible automobile accident. He couldn’t walk or talk or do anything now except lie in his bed. He even had a full-time nurse to help take care of him.
Andy had started coming to see Mr. Weber every day after school, just for short visits, to keep him company. At first the visits had been hard for Andy because he had had to do all the talking. Then one day Andy discovered that Mr. Weber could sort of talk to him by blinking his eyes—one blink for “yes” and two blinks for “no.” After that they talked about everything. Well, Andy did all the real talking, and Mr. Weber did all the blinking, but it was almost like they were both talking out loud.
It was because he and Andy had become such special friends that Andy was allowed to walk into Mr. Weber’s house whenever he wanted. And now Andy just had to talk to his friend about his problem. “Hi, Mr. Weber,” Andy said as he seated himself on a stool by the side of the bed. He always sat close enough to clearly see Mr. Weber’s eyes. “Did you get a lot of rest today?”
Mr. Weber blinked his eyes once for “Yes.”
“Great! I have a really big problem that I want to talk over with you. Is that OK?”
“Yes,” Mr. Weber blinked.
So Andy explained about his baptism, about how he was now a real member of the Church, and about how every member of the Church should be a missionary. “But how can I be a missionary when I’m only eight years old?” Andy asked. “Maybe only grownup members are meant to be missionaries. Is that right, Mr. Weber?”
“No,” Mr. Weber blinked.
“You mean kids should be missionaries, too?” Andy asked.
“Yes.”
“That’s what Sister Thomas, my Primary teacher, said, and my father agrees with her. But being a missionary kind of scares me. You see, I don’t know how to be a missionary.”
Mr. Weber blinked once. “Yes.”
“Yes?” Andy repeated, surprised. “I do know how to be a missionary?”
“Yes,” Mr. Weber blinked.
“But I don’t knock on doors like real missionaries do.”
“No,” Mr. Weber blinked twice.
“And I’ve never read to you from the Bible or the Book of Mormon.”
“No,” Mr. Weber answered.
“Boy, am I lost.” Andy tried to think of anything that he might have done that would make Mr. Weber think of him as a missionary, but Andy’s mind was as empty as the time he had flunked a spelling test. He just sat there and couldn’t think of a thing.
Andy glanced up and saw that Mr. Weber’s eyes were closed. It was his way of telling Andy that he wasn’t talking enough. If Andy didn’t talk, Mr. Weber couldn’t blink.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Weber. I know you want to talk, but I’m stumped. How can I be a missionary?”
Mr. Weber’s eyes glanced quickly from one side of the room to the other, then he stared really hard at Andy. Deliberately he did the same thing again.
Let’s see, Andy thought. By first looking at his room and then at me, he’s trying to tell me something. “You want me to figure out some connection between your room and me?”
“Yes,” Mr. Weber blinked.
Andy got excited, knowing that he was close to the answer. “Let’s see. Your room and me, and we’re talking about me being a missionary. Am I being a missionary by visiting you in your room?”
“Yes,” Mr. Weber blinked again.
Andy was pleased with his lucky guess. Suddenly he remembered pictures he had seen of pioneers throwing seeds from sacks slung over their shoulders. “I remember something from a Primary lesson,” Andy said. “Farmers plant seeds that grow. And when I’m good and do good things, maybe I’m planting ‘missionary seeds.’”
“Yes,” Mr. Weber blinked, and his eyes were really shining now. That meant that Andy had it right.
“So even though I’m only eight years old and I don’t knock on doors like real missionaries do, I can still be a missionary by setting a good example and by being kind and thoughtful. And visiting you is one way that I do good—is that it, Mr. Weber?”
“Yes,” Mr. Weber blinked.
“Wahoo!” Andy yelled. “That’s it! I can be a missionary by helping those around me. I’m going to help Mrs. Gandey in her garden and Mr. Thompson with his lawn. And I’m going to keep visiting you. Thanks, Mr. Weber.” Andy jumped down from the stool and added, “I’m glad that we had this talk. I’m going to be the best missionary that you ever saw!”
“And thank you, Andy Taylor,” Mr. Weber’s eyes seemed to twinkle back. “I’m glad that we had this talk too.”

“You are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen.” I smiled, as the boy I loved whispered in my ear. We were holding hands, waiting to enter the sealing room of the temple, where we would be sealed for time and all eternity. As we entered, I caught a glimpse of us in one of the golden-edged mirrors in the sealing room. We did look beautiful—both of us, dressed in white, smiling, glowing, filled with a joy we didn’t know existed. I felt my eyes become moist as I watched the room fill with friends and family. The Spirit of the Lord was strong.
As the door closed I reflected on a time when I did not feel so beautiful. Four years before I didn’t know much about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Some of my friends were members, and I knew they didn’t smoke or drink alcohol, but I didn’t know much about their religion.
My first year at college was exciting. It was the first time I was away from home, and I was determined to do and try everything I had never done before. I ate junk food and stayed up all night chatting with my roommate, who was a member.
Then I began to date Todd. He began to take me to parties at his fraternity. At the time I did not have the gift of the Holy Ghost, but I could still sense darkness at those parties.
Soon Todd began to pressure me to do things I was uncomfortable with—things my parents had warned me against. After one such night of resisting his pleas, I lay in bed and wept for hours. I remembered a feeling I had when I was a child that was sweet and pure. I had felt close to God. Now, I felt far from Him.
I knelt and began to pray. I pleaded with the Lord to forgive my sins, and I told Him I would give anything to feel sweet and pure again. Afterward, I felt as though a burden had been lifted off of my shoulders. I had a warm, peaceful feeling in my heart. I knew the Lord had heard my prayer. Everything would be all right.
The next day my roommate asked if I would care to come to church with her. I reflected on the previous night with Todd, and agreed to go. I needed some spiritual guidance.
The church was much different than the ones I had attended as a child. I was surprised there was no priest. It was fast and testimony meeting, and I was interested to see how deeply the members felt about their religion. I began to feel a desire to be that committed to the Lord.
I started talking to the missionaries. I liked what they told me, but each night I asked the Lord if the Church were true, and each night I received no answer. My parents were upset that I was investigating the Church. They gave me some anti-Church literature that confused me. I asked my member friends about what I had read, and every question I had about the Church was answered. Finally, I felt as if I would burst if I did not know. I knelt in my room and pleaded with the Lord to reveal to me if this was His true Church.
What happened then is hard to describe. It was as if the veil was parted, and I remembered what I knew from the premortal existence. Everything that was confusing before was now crystal clear. I saw the truth so strongly that I knew that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God, and that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was the true Church of Jesus Christ. I was filled with an indescribable peace. I knew the Lord had answered my prayer to find my childhood feeling of peace again.
I made the decision to be baptized. It was not an easy decision. My parents told me I would tear the family apart if I went through with it. Many of my friends, including Todd, would not speak to me when they heard I was joining the Church. I felt alone.
When I was baptized my parents did not come, but as I came from the waters of baptism I knew I was home. I had found the truth and I would never let it go. I felt closer to God than I had ever felt before.
I felt beautiful. It was the deep and glowing beauty that comes from righteousness. It was the same beauty that I saw in all the faces surrounding me in the temple. And as I knelt across the altar from my future husband and saw our reflections go on forever in the mirrors that surrounded us, I knew I would give up everything to be worthy to be in that room. I would give up everything to feel the peace and joy and beauty that filled my soul. It was beautiful, and nothing on earth could ever compare.

In my own immediate neighborhood we have had our share of heart-wrenching tragedies. In October 1998, 19-year-old Zac Newton, who lived only three houses east of us, was killed in a tragic automobile accident.
Less than two years later, in July, 19-year-old Andrea Richards, who lived directly across from the Newtons, was killed in an automobile accident.
One Saturday afternoon in July 2006, Travis Bastian, a 28-year-old returned missionary, and his 15-year-old sister, Desiree, who lived across the street and two houses north of us, were killed in a terrible automobile accident.
One month later, in August 2006, 32-year-old Eric Gold, who grew up in the house next door to us, suffered a premature death. And others in this neighborhood have also suffered heart-wrenching experiences privately endured and known only to themselves and God.
With the loss of five young people, one might assume that this is an unusual number of trials for one small neighborhood. I choose to think the number only seems large because of a close, caring ward, whose members know when there is a pressing need. It is a ward with members who are following the admonition of Alma and the Savior—members who care and love and bear one another’s burdens, members who are willing to mourn with those that mourn, members who are willing to comfort those in need of comfort, members who endure together.
In each of these instances we saw an outpouring of love, service, and compassion that was inspirational to all. Bishops arrived, home and visiting teachers went into action, and Melchizedek and Aaronic Priesthood quorums and Relief Societies organized to take care of both spiritual and temporal needs. Refrigerators were stocked, houses cleaned, lawns mowed, shrubs trimmed, fences painted, blessings given, and soft shoulders were available for crying on. Members were everywhere.
In every one of these instances, the families who lost a loved one expressed increased faith, increased love for the Savior, increased gratitude for the Atonement, and heartfelt thankfulness for an organization that responds to the deepest emotional and spiritual needs of its members. These families now speak about how they got to know the Lord through their adversity. They relate many sweet experiences that grew out of their pain. They testify that blessings can emerge from heartbreak. They give praise to the Lord and would echo the words of Job: “The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord” (Job 1:21).

While I was serving as Area Supervisor in South America, a most unforgettable experience happened in Montevideo, Uruguay. I wanted to change some money because I was living in Brazil at the time, so Brother Carlos Pratt took me to a money exchange house in downtown Montevideo. He introduced me to one of the officials, and the official said they would change $1,000. I did not have $1,000 in cash and had only a check drawn on a bank in Salt Lake City. The exchange house had never done business with me before. In fact, they had never seen me before and could not expect to ever see me again. They had no way to verify if I had $1,000 on deposit in the bank upon which I had drawn the check. But they accepted my check without hesitation—based solely on the fact that I was a Mormon and that they had previously done business with other Mormons. Frankly, I was both grateful and pleased because of their confidence.

Years later in York, whilst serving as a home teacher with his son, they were assigned to a less active family who would not let them into their home. On birthdays and at Christmas they would leave gifts and cards hoping for an opportunity to teach in their home. One day, as they went out to visit others, they felt prompted to try once more. As they knocked on the door, their son informed them that the family were all at the hospital where their daughter was giving birth. Quickly buying flowers and a card they headed to the hospital to offer any support or help they could give the family. Because of this they were able to minister to the family who gradually returned to activity.

High in the volcanic mountains that surround Lake Atitlán in Guatemala lies the city of Sololá. Fabian Arnoldo Guit Batz* (12) has called it home all his life, as have his father and grandfather. They are Cakchiquel Indians.
Although the family has lived here for a long time, it is a pioneer family—Fabian’s grandfather was the first member of the Church baptized in Sololá. Since that time the Church has grown. Fabian’s family goes to Esperanza Branch in the Sololá District. His father is the elder’s quorum president, and his mother is the district Primary president. They hope that their district will soon become a stake and their branch a ward.
Fabian and his family are very close. At home he works with his sister, Ana (21), and his mother spinning wool into yarn, then winding the yarn to sell to weavers. Everyone in the family helps keep the house clean. He and his brothers also helped finish their new home, which they will move into soon.
Fabian’s family prays and reads the scriptures together each day. “It makes us feel closer to each other,” he said. His favorite scripture story is about Nephi returning to Jerusalem with his brothers for the brass plates. “Nephi’s brothers weren’t happy about obeying their father, but Nephi wanted to obey his father and kept trying to get the plates until he succeeded,” Fabian said. “We need to show respect for our parents and grandparents like Nephi did by being obedient.”
Fabian and his brothers and sister were sealed to their parents in the Guatemala City Temple. “Being sealed was like something God gave us to bring our family closer to Him and to each other,” Fabian said.
The Guit family hopes someday to do temple work for their ancestors. “Although we know the names of many of them, no birth and death records for the Cakchiquel people were kept until recently, so it is very hard to do family history,” Brother Guit said.
The family is also close at church. “Practically every Sunday Fabian is the only deacon to pass the sacrament,” his brother Victor (19) said. “Our brother Miguel (15) often prepares the sacrament, and another brother, Julio (17), blesses it.”
At school the gospel is very much a part of Fabian’s life. “I always pray for help when I have tests. I am not frightened to take tests that I have prayed about.”
“Fabian always studies hard,” Ana said. He is grateful for the opportunity to go to school. Although the schools are public schools, you have to pay a fee to attend. If you don’t have the money, you can’t go to school. Not all the children in Fabian’s branch are able to go to school, because their families aren’t able to pay the fees. Fabian hopes that he can complete his education and become a math teacher.
None of Fabian’s friends at school are members of the Church. “Many of them think we pray to and worship Joseph Smith. I explain to them that that isn’t true. They sometimes ask me questions about the Church, and I answer them the best that I can. I like to tell them about the scriptures, especially about the Book of Mormon and what it teaches.”
He also tries to be a good example to his friends. “One time in my class at school, the teacher had a bag of candy on her desk. The candy was for the school to sell. When the teacher wasn’t in the classroom, some of my friends wanted to steal some of the candy. I felt the Holy Ghost telling me that it was the wrong thing to do, so I told my friends that it was wrong and that I would not do it. All the other children in the class decided not to take any, either.”
Helping others is very important to Fabian, not just because it is a commandment, but because “it makes me feel good inside.”
“Once, when I was seriously ill,” Miguel said, “I had to stay in bed all the time. Fabian is the one who came and sat with me and kept me company and took care of me.”
Fabian is also helping with an elder’s quorum project. There is a sister in their branch whose husband died five years ago. Later she joined the Church. Her family disowned her and refused to help her and her two daughters. The branch is building them a home. Fabian helps work on the house with the elders. Sometimes the full-time missionaries and the young people in the branch also help. Fabian shovels sand to make cement, and under the direction of the elders, he helps with the building and cleaning up. He is happy when he is helping others.
“We love Fabian,” said Brother Guit. “I think we all have a special feeling toward him because he is the youngest in the family. He is so helpful to others. He studies the scriptures because he loves them and wants to be prepared when he goes on a mission.”
“He has a great respect for us, his parents,” Sister Guit said. “I like that he comes to me when he needs help with his schoolwork or in preparing a talk for church.”
“I think the most important things I can do,” Fabian said, “are to obey my parents and to keep Heavenly Father’s commandments.”

Years ago Bonnie McKean Giauque won the National Wheelchair Decor Contest. This Salt Lake mother had been stricken with multiple sclerosis and had to care for her husband and five lovely daughters from a wheelchair. She decorated her wheelchair as Raggedy Ann so that children seeing her would have something to comment on besides her handicap. One fast day she confided that she and another friend, likewise handicapped, had decided, “Aren’t we lucky because we have wheelchairs?”

In 1991, Alfred Kyungu was a 24-year-old student at the University of Lubumbashi in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, living with his uncle, Polydor Ngoy. One day his uncle told him about an appointment with some missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
“Don’t miss this good opportunity,” his uncle told him.
Soon both he and his uncle were meeting regularly with a senior missionary couple from Utah. At first, Alfred was hesitant to join a new, foreign religion. After six months of discussions and answers to many questions, however, Alfred and his uncle were baptized on September 21, 1991.
In some ways, joining the Church was not an easy transition. Many in the community were suspicious of the Church and wondered if Latter-day Saints were mystics or even truly Christian. Fortunately, the members of their small branch were kind and welcoming. Elder Kyungu and his uncle received strength from “being taught the principles taught by Jesus Christ.”
Elder Kyungu married Lucie Kabulo Malale in 1998. They were sealed in the Johannesburg South Africa Temple in 2004. They are the parents of two daughters and one son.
Alfred Kyungu Kibamba was born in Kamina, Democratic Republic of the Congo, on October 31, 1966, to Domitien Kyungu Nkimba and Celestine Ngoy Mbuyu.
Elder Kyungu received both a bachelor’s degree and a master’s degree in social sciences and international relations from the University of Lubumbashi. He worked in several government positions for the Democratic Republic of the Congo and for the Church as a coordinator for seminaries and institutes and as a family history manager.
An Area Seventy at the time of his call, he has also served as an institute teacher, ward Sunday School teacher, counselor in a bishopric, high councilor, counselor in a stake presidency, and president of the Democratic Republic of the Congo Mbuji-Mayi Mission from 2016 to 2019.

When I was a boy, 12 years of age, my father took me to a meeting of the priesthood of the stake in which we lived. At the opening of that meeting, the first of its kind I had ever attended, three or four hundred men stood and sang “Praise to the Man.”
Something happened within me as I heard those men of faith sing. There came into my boyish heart a knowledge, placed there by the Holy Spirit, that Joseph Smith was indeed a prophet of the Almighty. In the many years that have since passed, years in which I have read much of his words and works, that knowledge has grown stronger and ever more certain. Mine has been the privilege of bearing witness across this nation from sea to shining sea, and on continents north and south, east and west, that he was and is a prophet of God, a mighty servant and testifier of the Lord Jesus Christ.
That testimony I reaffirm to you this day and I leave my testimony in the name of Him of whom Joseph Smith was a witness and of whom I also am a witness, even the Lord, Jesus Christ (from Ensign, May 1977, 66).

While serving a mission in England, one morning I read Acts 11:28, which briefly mentions a prophet named Agabus who prophesied of a famine that eventually came to pass in the days of Claudius Caesar. At the time I didn’t give the seemingly insignificant verse much thought.
Two days later my district leader, Elder Gallafent, telephoned and said he wanted to do a companion exchange the next day. The next morning my companion and I took a bus to Southampton, where we met Elder Gallafent and his companion, Elder Langston. I set out contacting people door-to-door with Elder Langston while the other two drove back to Winchester.
Our morning had been uneventful until we knocked on a certain door just before lunch. The woman who answered the door was a neighbor visiting from the house next door. I soon learned that the woman who lived there was in the living room within reach of my voice.
When I announced we were missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, the woman in the living room yelled that she was of another faith and knew all about the “Mormons” and wasn’t interested in learning more. When I replied that everyone should be interested in a living prophet on the earth, she cried, “That’s not so! There are no prophets on the earth! Jesus Christ was the last prophet.”
Then something strange happened. A question came to my mind: “What about Agabus?”
I immediately called out, “What about Agabus?” There was a long pause. Then the woman responded, “Who’s Agabus?”
“A prophet who lived after Christ and who prophesied of a famine that came to pass,” I said.
She asked me, “Where did you read that—in your Mormon Bible?”
“No,” I replied, “in the book of Acts, chapter 11, verse 28.”
“Show me,” came the skeptical voice. The neighbor let us enter, and Elder Langston and I made our way down a small hallway into the living room, where a woman in her 40s was seated on the sofa.
I opened to the scripture and handed her the Bible. After she finished reading, she didn’t know what to say. I told her of the living prophet on the earth at that time, President David O. McKay (1873–1970). I testified of the Prophet Joseph Smith. The Spirit was so powerful that I knew she could feel it.
Elder Langston and I left two copies of the Book of Mormon—one for this woman and one for her neighbor. I walked away feeling like I was floating on air. I was sure she would be baptized. Why else would I have remembered Agabus?
The following Sunday at church, I rushed up to Elder Gallafent and Elder Langston and asked, “Did you go back? What happened? Tell me!”
They told me they had gone to her home to give her the first discussion but were turned away. She returned the Book of Mormon we had given her.
I couldn’t believe it. I sat through church wondering why I would receive such a wonderful prompting and then have it result like this. I was terribly discouraged, but I tried to put it out of my mind.
The next Sunday as I walked into the church foyer, Elder Langston ran up to me with an ear-to-ear grin.
“Remember that woman we left the Book of Mormon with?” he asked.
“Of course,” I replied.
He then reminded me that we had left two copies of the Book of Mormon—one with the woman and one with her neighbor. The neighbor had never taken her copy home. So, without the knowledge of the woman of the house, her daughter had begun to read that copy and wanted to know more about the Church.
The woman eventually took the missionary discussions with her daughter, and both were baptized.
As I look back more than 30 years and recall the question that came to me, “What about Agabus?” I am reminded of another scripture: “But the Comforter, which is the Holy Ghost, whom the Father will send in my name, he shall teach you all things, and bring all things to your remembrance, whatsoever I have said unto you” (John 14:26). I am grateful that as a missionary I was able to have the Spirit bring to my remembrance the significance of Agabus. The Holy Ghost truly was my teacher that day.

On July 24, Pioneer Day, the Utah Boys decided to help the campers celebrate. With good-humored exaggeration Zeb wrote of their fun:
“We were up at daylight and called out the ‘National Guard’ [the boys] which fired a volley of musketry, and any kind of guns that were handy. Then the ‘Martial Band’ struck up ‘Hail Columbia’ (the band was composed of tin pails, pans, bake-kettle lids, bells, and various instruments of music); then there was another volley by the Guard; and at sunrise, the firing of cannon (which was about 3 inches in length), and concluded the morning performance with an Indian jig.”
That night the boys held a “grand ball” at the “Bachelors Hall,” meaning a square dance in front of their tents.

I grew up in a country under occupation. The occupying soldiers did not treat my people well. Many in my town were arrested, beaten, shot, or even killed by the soldiers for no apparent reason. One day when I was 16, the soldiers came to my university and shot one of the students in the head. For two hours they would not allow him to be taken to the hospital. That day I developed hate in my heart for those soldiers. I could not forgive them for the pain they caused my people and could not forget the image of that student.
When I joined the Church at age 25, it was difficult to attend church because checkpoints, curfews, and other travel restrictions were imposed on us. I had to risk my life to sneak out so I could take the sacrament and be with fellow Latter-day Saints. It was hard being the only member of the Church in my family and in my town. I wanted to be with members of the Church, yet I was turned back by the soldiers almost every week.
One Sabbath as I was trying to cross the checkpoint, the soldier told me that I was not allowed out and demanded that I go home. I looked at the soldier and remembered the Savior’s words: “Love your enemies” (see Matthew 5:43–44).
I realized then that I did not love that soldier. The hate I felt as a teenager had disappeared after I joined the Church, but I did not love my enemies. The Savior Jesus Christ gave us this commandment, yet my heart could not love those occupying soldiers. This bothered me for days, especially since I was preparing to go to the temple at that time.
One day I came across the following scripture: “Pray unto the Father with all the energy of heart, that ye may be filled with this love, which he hath bestowed upon all who are true followers of his Son, Jesus Christ” (Moroni 7:48). I felt Mormon was speaking to me personally and showing me how to love.
I decided to ask Heavenly Father for help. I fasted and prayed for help to love my enemies. For days I felt no change, but I didn’t realize that Heavenly Father was gradually changing my heart. About a year later, as I was trying to pass through one of the checkpoints, the soldier told me I was not allowed in. This time I felt differently. As I looked into the eyes of that soldier, I felt an amazing love for him. I felt how much Heavenly Father loved him, and I saw him as a child of God.
I now know, like Nephi, that the Lord gives us no commandment save He shall prepare a way for us that we may accomplish the thing which He commands us (see 1 Nephi 3:7). When Christ commanded us to love our enemies, He knew it was possible with His help. He can teach us to love others if we but trust Him and learn from His great example.
Whom do you need to forgive? Prayerfully consider an appropriate time and place to speak with this person (or people) and express your love and forgiveness.

One item that is always on the agenda of every class or quorum presidency every month is the members they don’t see very often or at all. The deacons only have a couple of members they don’t see regularly. In the presidency meeting, Mark Jones asks, “Have any of you seen Francisco?”
Royden answers, “No, it was like two weeks ago.”
Mark says, “I’ll talk to the bishop about it. I think he has a ride problem.”
Royden then brings up a project he’s trying to work out. Their ward is so spread out that it requires long distance to call from one area to another. Royden is trying to figure out just who can make calls to whom without using long distance.
“It’s like the food chain,” explains Royden. The others look at him blankly.
“It’s like there’s one big predator,” continues Royden, “that eats something that eats something else, and so on.”
The light dawns. “Oh,” says Jay, “like a phone web. That’s a good idea.” And they are soon figuring out a plan to contact the other quorum members without running up phone bills.

When President Soares asked Luan what he would like to do when he left the hospital, Luan said he would like to perform vicarious baptisms in the Recife Brazil Temple. After Luan left the hospital, President Soares and Bishop Farias helped him fulfill this desire. Luan performed as many baptisms as his strength would allow. At the end of his day at the temple, he was beaming with happiness that he could do something for others, even though he was in great pain himself.

In 1938 Hitler had his armies invade western Czechoslovakia, and he soon ruled it. All Americans were warned to leave the country. Before the mission president, Wallace Toronto, left, he set apart Josef Roubícek, a Czech and a priest in the Aaronic Priesthood, as the acting mission president. For the next five and a half years, Church headquarters received no word from the Saints in Czechoslovakia.

During that time President Roubícek held regular meetings. For a few months the government outlawed public meetings. When that happened, President Roubícek kept in touch with members by mail. In his letters, he encouraged them to study the Book of Mormon with their families.

When the war ended in 1945, an American soldier took a letter from President Roubícek and mailed it to President Toronto. “I wish to inform you,” President Roubícek wrote in the letter, “that after six years of war all members of the Church have remained well and alive. It has been a terrible time. … The [Saints’] … testimonies of the truthfulness of the gospel have not wavered even in the worst moments of this great conflict.”*

Francisco is sometimes tormented at school because he is a member of the Church. One day two boys he was playing with started to hit him. One of them hit him very hard in the head. “I didn’t fight with them,” he said, “because I don’t like to fight and I know that it is bad. Also something told me not to fight with them. It was the Holy Ghost.”
The director of the school called in the parents of all three boys to help solve the problem. After the meeting, the director told Francisco’s parents how impressed she was with him for not fighting, for telling the truth, and for his good example for the other children. “My friends were punished for what they had done—they couldn’t go out at recess for one or two weeks.” Francisco is grateful that the Holy Ghost prompted him to do what was right.

I had prayed strongly for a missionary experience ever since my first year at girls’ camp. Each young woman was given a Book of Mormon to write our testimonies in and was encouraged to pray for a missionary experience. For four years, I looked to give someone my Book of Mormon.
One Sunday as we set up for Young Women, my leader asked me if I would befriend her niece who was coming from Texas to visit for the summer. I didn’t know what to do, so I did just what she asked me to. I started being a friend. After a while, I forgot about giving away my Book of Mormon. I had a new friend. The more I got to know Gianna, the better friends we became. It wasn’t long until we started discussing our different religions. The more questions she asked, the more I wanted to share. I found myself turning to the scriptures all of the time. I could tell the things I read were truly words from God.
I started getting more out of the scriptures. Not only were those questions helping Gianna, they were also helping me to gain a stronger testimony of truths I’d grown up with. It wasn’t just my scripture reading that improved, I also had more meaningful prayers. I prayed fervently to find the answers, and be the friend she needed. As a result, I came closer to my Heavenly Father.
I never had to send in mission papers. I never had to go tracting or teach any lessons. Nobody even accepted the offer of the Book of Mormon. But I think I had one of the best missionary experiences anyone could have. Like many missionaries, I was strengthened in the gospel as I tried to share it. I became closer to Heavenly Father and learned to study the scriptures as I tried to answer questions. I came to appreciate people of other faiths. Best of all, I gained a friend I will always love while sharing the dearest thing to my heart.