Gospel Story Finder

Fifteen-year-old Renata Araujo’s footsteps echoed forlornly as she walked down the cold tile floor. Renata knew that when she reached the end of the hallway and entered her Young Women class, she would be the only one there. The formation of her new ward had made her the only active girl in the Young Women program. “I felt very lonely,” she remembers.
Renata isn’t lonely anymore. The once quiet and almost empty classroom now reverberates with the enthusiastic voices of 10 active young women of the Botafogo Ward, Rio de Janeiro Brazil Andarai Stake. This change took place over only one year. The story of these young women illustrates what can happen when Church members follow President Gordon B. Hinckley’s counsel (included throughout this article) to reach out—especially to new converts, less-active members, and nonmembers.
“There are those who were once warm in the faith, but whose faith has grown cold. Many of them wish to come back but do not know quite how to do it. They need friendly hands reaching out to them” (“‘Reach with a Rescuing Hand,’” Ensign, November 1996, 86).
It all started with 18-year-old twins Camila and Sabrina Reis, who had been less active for months. When Vera Pimentel, Young Women president of the new Botafogo Ward, began calling each of the less-active girls, offering rides to church and to activities, that was all it took for the twins.
“We had been wanting to come back but just didn’t know how,” says Sabrina. “Vera made it easy.”
“The member … will be there to answer questions when the missionaries are not around. He will be a friend to the convert who is making a big and often difficult change” (“Find the Lambs, Feed the Sheep,” Liahona, July 1999, 119).
Soon after Sabrina and Camila returned to church, they began reaching out themselves. When Ana Carolina Batista, age 14, began investigating the Church with her mother, the twins were there to help. The first time she attended church, Ana Carolina’s anxiety melted when the twins sat by her and showed her how to look up scriptures in the lesson. “This made me feel good, because I didn’t know what to do. I felt relieved to see there were people to help me,” she remembers.
Ana Carolina says the twins’ friendship made her decision to join the Church much easier. Sabrina and Camila were also happy; their little class was growing.
“Coming into the Church can be a perilous experience. Unless there are warm and strong hands to greet the convert, unless there is an outreach of love and concern, … he may drop by the side” (Liahona, July 1999, 122).
The chain reaction continued as Ana Carolina reached out to a new investigator. Tatiane Pimenta, age 16, began attending church when she and her family were introduced to the Church by Sister Pimentel. “I felt very timid because I didn’t know anyone,” Tatiane says. “I quietly stayed in the corner.”
But soon things began to change for Tatiane. “I started feeling good because I made a friend.” In one class, Sister Pimentel introduced a game in which all the girls put their shoes in the middle of the floor, put on someone else’s, then got to know the owner of the shoes they had picked. “That’s how I started talking to Ana Carolina,” remembers Tatiane. “She became my first friend, a friend who encouraged me a lot. Because of her, I felt able to join the Church.”
“Every new convert needs … a friend. … Every convert must be ‘nourished by the good word of God’ (Moro. 6:4)” (Liahona, July 1999, 122–23).
Carolina Caetano began coming to Young Women class when her parents returned to church after years of inactivity. Although she had enjoyed Primary as a child, Carolina had never been baptized and was now unfamiliar with the Church and its members. “When you come back, you feel really shy because you don’t know anyone anymore. So at first I didn’t go much,” she says.
But soon the missionaries and Sister Pimentel began to visit Carolina’s home to teach her the gospel. “Whenever [Sister Pimentel] prepared a lesson, she came to my house to explain it to me. And she always helped me read the Book of Mormon,” says Carolina.
Carolina also started making friends. “The thing that helped me come back the most and what helped me want to get baptized was the strong friendships I made here. The girls were always around me, always calling me to say, ‘Hey, come to the activities. Come this Sunday.’ They were always reminding me.”
“Every convert deserves a responsibility. … Of course the new convert will not know everything. He likely will make some mistakes. So what? … The important thing is the growth that will come” (Liahona, July 1999, 122).
Like Carolina, 16-year-old Katarina Echaniz quickly made friends after being introduced to the Church by a ward member. Through the missionary discussions and her friends’ example, she also quickly gained a testimony. Shortly after her baptism, she was called to the Mia Maid presidency. “I felt responsible because there were girls depending on me to do my calling,” she says. “I wanted to do everything well.” Katarina says the assignment has helped keep her strong in the gospel.
“I am making a plea for us to reach out to our brethren and sisters who have known the beauty and the wonder of this restored gospel for a brief season and then for some reason have left it. …
“If [members] respond to this challenge, I honestly believe that they will taste the sweet and wonderful feeling which comes of being an instrument in the hands of the Lord in leading someone back into activity in His Church and kingdom” (“Becoming a Better Home Teacher or Visiting Teacher,” Liahona, September 1998, 37).
From the first time she came to church, 16-year-old Moema Duberley loved it. “The girls were very receptive and tried to help me get to know everybody,” she says. “It made me feel like the Church was my second home.”
But it became difficult for Moema to come to church when her mother stopped attending a few months after their baptism. Partly because of her calling but mostly because of their friendship, Katarina began calling Moema.
“Sometimes I felt like I was bothering Moema,” says Katarina, “but I kept trying because I felt it was important, and I knew God was going to help because I was also praying.”
After months of Katarina’s and other girls’ fellowshipping, Moema returned to full activity. “I came back because I was missing everything I had been learning at church and my relationship with God and the members.”
Now Moema and Katarina share a special bond. “I’m really grateful because I needed a friend when I was less active,” says Moema. “I’m very thankful for Katarina being like this for me. When you spend time away from the Church, you begin to feel that maybe you won’t be accepted. But when people call, it feels good to know you’re not forgotten.”
As for Katarina, “I feel really happy and thankful that Moema came back,” she says. “And it worked! I prayed and it worked.”
“Every convert is a son or daughter of God. Every convert is a great and serious responsibility. It is an absolute imperative that we look after those who have become a part of us” (Liahona, July 1999, 122).
Their seminary friends helped recent converts Daniele Ramalno, age 14, and Pamela Silva, age 16, after they moved into the ward.
“When we’re around nonmembers, some guys will start making fun of us. But the boys from seminary always look after us and treat us nice,” says Daniele. “They encourage us, too.”
“They are very good friends to me,” says Pamela. “They always give us rides to seminary and to activities.”
“It is our obligation to reach out in helpfulness, not only to our own but to all others as well” (“Thanks to the Lord for His Blessings,” Liahona, July 1999, 105).
Not only are the young women of the Botafogo Ward helping each other, they also continue to reach out to others who are not yet active, as well as to members of their community. Whether they are serving in a city park or a shelter for homeless teens, whether they are writing cards to or calling less-active girls, whether they are talking with each other or standing together as they repeat the Young Women theme—there is a singular bond among these girls as they strive to be living examples of the prophet’s words.
“You young men and young women, … I plead with every one of you … to find out about the converts to the Church and put your arms around them and make friends of them. … Please, please, reach out to every convert in the Church and help him or her to become established in the faith” (meeting, Guadalajara, México, 10 March 1998).

I remember, early in the days of nuclear engineering, when we were experimenting to confirm some of the hypotheses. One day I was in an area where a swimming pool had been built, and down deep in it were aluminum plates with uranium-aluminum contents arrayed. Three of us were taking turns at the controls, and I remember the thrill of excitement that came to me as we moved the control rods. I happened to be at the control panel when the count-rate meter indicated that the reactor had gone critical; and as I looked down into the pool I could see that shirinkoff radiation, the iridescent blue indicating that in fact there was a controlled chain reaction. That may not appear much to you now with today’s familiarity with physics, but it was a scientific thrill for me.

Later, we experimentally measured cross-sections of materials to determine their nuclear constants. We used a beam of high-energy neutrons from one of the graphite pile reactors, deflecting it with a crystal into experimental apparatus. A young janitor approached the experiment evidencing total disdain for what we were doing. He did not understand it nor did he want to understand it. In kind of an accusatory way he indicated that we were just wasting time, kidding people, doing that which had no real meaning. To show his disdain he reached up to touch the crystal that deflected the beam and to whirl it. Had he not been stopped, that powerful, dangerous beam of high-energy neutrons would have sprayed the room. His if-you-can’t-see-it-taste-it-smell-it-feel-it-hear-it-then-it-doesn’t-exist attitude is all too prevalent in the world today when we talk about things of God, things that really matter.

By the end of May 1829, the same kind of persecution Joseph had experienced in Manchester began occurring in Harmony, and Joseph realized he would need to move again to complete the translation. Along with his wife, Emma, and his scribe, Oliver Cowdery, Joseph was taken into the household of some acquaintances: Peter and Mary Whitmer of Fayette Township, New York.

Mary Whitmer was shown the plates by a heavenly messenger. As far as we know, she never committed her experience to writing. But Mary shared her experience with her children and grandchildren, who later shared it with others. Her grandson John C. Whitmer related, “I have heard my grandmother (Mary M. Whitmer) say on several occasions that she was shown the plates of the Book of Mormon by an holy angel.”

Her son David said that “she was met out near the yard by [an] old man.” Grandson John said this man was “carrying something on his back that looked like a knapsack” and that “at first she was a little afraid of him.” However, “when he spoke to her in a kind, friendly tone and began to explain to her the nature of the work which was going on in her house, she was filled with unexpressible joy and satisfaction.”

John provided further detail on the wonderful witness of the sacred record that Mary received at that time: “He then untied his knapsack and showed her a bundle of plates. … This strange person turned the leaves of the book of plates over, leaf after leaf, and also showed her the engravings upon them; the personage then suddenly vanished with the plates, and where he went, she could not tell.”

John stated: “I knew my grandmother to be a good, noble and truthful woman, and I have not the least doubt of her statement in regard to seeing the plates being strictly true. She was a strong believer in the Book of Mormon until the day of her death.”

When it comes to lifestyle choices, there are some definite areas where Evan stands out. “It’s difficult at times because everyone else swears,” he says. Swearing is quite common there, Evan explains. But there’s a part of Irish culture that Evan says can be an even bigger challenge.
“The lads like to meet up and go out for drinks,” he explains. “I’m always the odd one out.”
He’s talking about school friends his own age. Drinking alcohol at a young age is common where Evan lives. These social outings happen so frequently that Evan says he sometimes thinks of going along so he’s not always left out. But each time, he stays home.
“I think, ‘What’s going to happen if I do go with them?’” he says. “I know that if I choose not to go, I’ll be blessed because of it. The blessings of keeping the commandments are far greater than the pain of being the odd one out.”
“The blessings of keeping the commandments are far greater than the pain of being the odd one out.”
Evan relies on the Holy Ghost to help him through daily choices. In addition, he also has other sources of strength to draw on.
His Irish friends in the Church are only a text away.
Where Evan lives, because the youth in the Church are spread far and wide, they do a lot of virtual meetings. For one thing, they meet in seminary online.
“Weekly seminary is so good,” Evan says. “Not only do we get to learn about Christ and the gospel while we’re doing seminary, but afterwards the teacher leaves the Zoom call open for us.”
In that open call, they get to hang out, joke, play games, and just be friends with others who share their same values. For Evan, some of his closest friendships have formed through these Church contacts.
One of those connections is his good friend Rob. “We find loads of things funny that are similar,” Evan says. “Rob will find something funny on social media that he knows I’ll like, and he’ll send it to me. Then we’ll text back and forth a bit. A few hours later, I’ll find something funny and send it to him.”
Pretty normal stuff, right? But these small interactions are a big help throughout the week. “It’s good because we can share each other’s laughs, but there doesn’t have to be any swearing or anything else involved.” They can also text each other anytime they just need a little extra strength in the gospel.
Even though the Latter-day Saint youth in Ireland are a bit spread out, they still try to get together physically throughout the year—sometimes involving youth from the entire country.
These activities have involved everything from service projects to renting inflatable sumo wrestling suits. “They’re a lot of fun!” Evan says.
Occasionally at the end of the activities there will be a disco (a dance). These are very different from the school and community discos that take place nearby. For example, at a community disco, if a boy asks a girl to dance with him, it’s almost like asking her on a date—or even to be his girlfriend. Again, it’s just part of the culture there.
Things are different at the Church discos, however. There, Evan says, “we can ask someone to dance and they wouldn’t think we were asking them to be in a serious relationship with us. It’s a lot better.”
These get-togethers with other Church youth in Ireland have a lasting effect throughout the year. They continue their friendships by playing online games, sending texts and talking on the phone, and supporting each other until they can gather again in person.
Evan loves spending time with his family, including going cycling together and singing hymns at home.
Evan has a bit of advice for other youth in a situation like his. “If you feel like you’re the only Church youth at your school, don’t change your standards to try and fit in. If you swear, drink, or smoke to fit in, you’ll miss out on a lot. The blessings are a lot better than the satisfaction of trying to fit in!”
And just in case you fear that Evan is lonely at school because he chooses to live differently, think again. He says that people are aware of his beliefs and respect him even though he’s from a different religion. “I’m accepting of their beliefs, and they’re accepting of mine,” he explains. “I’m great friends with everyone at my school.”
In the end, Evan might not be surrounded by Church youth on a day-to-day basis, yet he lets his gospel light shine all the same. Besides, who knows how many gospel seeds he’s planting just by being such a good example? After all, things tend to grow just fine in Ireland!
Evan’s Testimony
“I know that the Church is true. I know that Joseph Smith did translate the Book of Mormon—and Helaman is one of the best bits in all of it! Because I have faith, I know I can live again with Heavenly Father. I know that Jesus Christ will walk the earth again. And I know that if we do as Nephi says, if we go and do, we will be blessed.”

This story happened in Slovenia.
Maja sat on the steps of her house and rested her chin in her hands. The sun was shining bright, warm rays of light through the tall trees. The air smelled like fresh pine needles.
Mami came out and sat next to Maja. “What are you thinking about?”
“I’m supposed to share my favorite scripture in Primary,” Maja said. “But I don’t have a favorite. And I don’t know which one to pick.”
Mami nodded. “Choosing a favorite scripture is hard.” She looked out at the trees, then stood up. “I have an idea.”
Mami went back inside. When she came back, she was holding her scriptures. “Let’s start with a story. What’s your favorite scripture story?”
Maja thought about it. “I like when Jesus visited the Nephites.”
Mami flipped through the pages in the Book of Mormon. “That story starts in 3 Nephi.” She pointed to the page. “Let’s take turns reading and pick out verses we like.”
Maja nodded and listened as Mami read. She read about Jesus Christ calling His disciples. She read about peacemakers and prayer.
Then it was Maja’s turn. When she finished one of the verses, she paused. She felt like the sun was shining bright enough to fill her heart.
She looked up at Mami. “I like that one.”
“Me too. What do you like about it?” Mami asked.
Maja shrugged as a smile spread on her face. “It’s about Jesus. And it just makes me feel happy.”
Mami smiled back. “That’s a great way to know you’ve found a favorite scripture. Do you want to share that one in Primary?”
Maja nodded excitedly. “Will you help me learn it?”
“Of course!” Mami said.
Mami and Maja practiced one word at a time. While they worked, the birds chirped in the trees, like they were learning too.
All week, Maja kept practicing her new favorite scripture. On Sunday morning, she was a little nervous. She practiced saying her scripture on the long drive to church.
There were only a few kids in Maja’s Primary. But as she walked into the classroom, Maja felt like butterflies were flying around in her stomach.
When it was her turn to share, Maja stood and took a deep breath. “Behold, I am the law, and the light,” she said. “Look unto me, and endure to the end, and ye shall live; for unto him that endureth to the end will I give eternal life.”
When Maja was done, she sat down and smiled. She did it! The nervous butterflies were gone, and the warm, sunshiny feeling was back. She knew her favorite scripture would bring that feeling whenever she needed it.
The scripture Maja learned for Primary still brings her feelings of sunshine and comfort today! What’s your favorite scripture?
Illustrations by Chloe Dominique

One day when I was seventeen years old, I was washing the family car in anticipation of going on a date that evening. My father came out of the house to observe what I was doing. He criticized me to the extent that I felt as if I was doing nothing right. Finally I said something like, “Dad, get off my case. Don’t you understand this is the first time I have ever been a teenager?” He looked at me and said, “Pal, don’t you know this is the first time I have ever been a father?” I grew wiser that day because I realized we all are learning together within a family. We cannot expect our parents to be perfect any more than we can expect ourselves to be all that we hoped to be.

While discussing how to approach our friends, my wife and I decided that our friends would more likely agree to the lessons if other non-Mormon couples were in attendance. They would be more relaxed in a group, less the center of attention. Furthermore, we had been impressed with Wilford Woodruff’s success in teaching people in large groups. Apparently, during those occasions, the Spirit was very intense, so strong that listeners sometimes received a testimony strong enough to motivate them to request baptism on the spot.
Having gone this far, we contacted one of the district leaders in our mission, Elder Bruce Chadwick, whom we knew, and told him our plans. He was enthusiastic and even offered to do the teaching, with the help of one of the zone leaders, Elder Dennis Stoddard.
A day or so later, Elder Chadwick and Elder Stoddard visited our home to discuss the matter further. We decided to serve dessert each time, to break the ice while everyone visited for fifteen or twenty minutes before the lessons started. In this way we would not interfere with the spiritual influence the elders wanted the investigators to carry home.
The teaching elder would periodically ask for our comments, a signal to us, if we felt inspired, to bear our testimony on the point just discussed. We would also help answer questions. The elders decided to postpone the baptismal and Word of Wisdom challenges until the end when we could meet with each investigator individually. This avoided any hint of pressure during the group meetings without hindering the conversion process: the baptismal and long-term activity rates turned out to be higher than usual.
Before each lesson, the elders were supposed to come early, to kneel with us as we asked for the help of the Spirit. Also, I was to ask a member to open with prayer and another to close the lessons with prayer.
Finally we were ready to arrange the meetings with our friends. We hoped we could get two groups of four or five investigators each if we invited all forty on our list. One group would meet on Friday evenings and the other on Saturday evenings.
When we first used this approach, we were very surprised. About two-thirds of our friends accepted. After merely asking just sixteen couples on the original list, we had two groups of six investigators each. So together with three or four spouses who were members, the missionaries, and ourselves, each group consisted of about thirteen or fourteen people.
As we hoped, the Spirit of those meetings was very strong. Overwhelmed by the experience, most of the nonmembers were visibly moved.
Usually, one of the elders led the first half of a discussion and the other the second half, encouraging questions throughout. Sometimes the investigators were asked if it might be possible to wait until next week for an answer to a question. They always agreed, and we always returned to the question as promised. Answers to most questions, however, were generally immediate, competent, and inspired. The investigators almost always were satisfied.
We were careful and patient in answering questions, usually from the Bible, but sometimes from latter-day scriptures. The Spirit converts, but people also need to be convinced intellectually that the Church is true. This they can do by hearing the lessons, by reading the Book of Mormon and other Church literature, and by having their questions answered. As they do this with sincere intent, they usually are much more able to distinguish between purely emotional reaction and the influence of the spirit. Consequently, we never tired of answering their questions and always tried to do so competently, clearly, and under the influence of the Spirit. Each question was answered, but not always immediately. Some questions raised issues the investigators were not ready to discuss yet, and others would have led the discussion away from the main point being stressed. In such instances, we gave the reason why we were postponing the answer and tried to give the investigator an idea when it would be answered.
When all of the lessons were completed, we thanked everyone for participating and told them we would be visiting them at their homes. Within two or three days, with the elders, we visited each couple, answered any remaining questions, and then simply invited them to join the Church. To our surprise, in the first group about two-thirds of the investigators accepted the invitation.

Here’s an experience I had in my first year as bishop. I needed to call a new Relief Society president, and I didn’t have much time to do it – I don’t remember why. My student ward had over 200 members, the vast majority sisters; thus there wasn’t enough time to interview each sister. What would you do if you were in my situation? Pray! I prayed a lot about this. I knew I could not do this by myself, but I had confidence that I would receive divine help.
Within a day or two, one of the sisters in the ward came to my school office just to say hi – that’s what she said, anyway. We chatted for a short time, and it became crystal clear to me that I was talking to my new Relief Society president. So I extended the call. She was pretty shocked, but I knew she was the one Heavenly Father had chosen to be the new Relief Society president.
What’s the lesson here? Heavenly Father was aware of Mike Weber – an inexperienced newly called bishop who needed help. And I testify that if He is aware of me, He is aware of you as well. I know that is true.

When I was president of the Southern States Mission, one of our missionaries preached on that dream of Nebuchadnezzar in one of our meetings where we had some investigators, and I stood at the door to greet them as they went out. A man came up and introduced himself as a minister, and he said, “You don’t mean to tell me that you think that the Mormon Church is that kingdom, do you?”

And I said, “Yes, sir, why not?”

He said, “It couldn’t be.”

I said, “Why couldn’t it?”

He said, “You can’t have a kingdom without a king, and you don’t have a king, so you don’t have a kingdom.”

“Oh,” I said, “my friend, you didn’t read far enough. You just read the seventh chapter of Daniel, where Daniel saw one like the Son of Man coming in the clouds of heaven, ‘and there was given him dominion, and glory, and a kingdom, that all people, nations, and languages, should serve him.’ (Dan. 7:14.)

“Now,” I said, “my friend, tell me how can the kingdom be given to him when he comes in the clouds of heaven if there is no kingdom prepared for him? That is what we Latter-day Saints are doing.”

Illustrated by Sal Velluto and Eugenio Matozzi
In 1847 Latter-day Saint pioneers were traveling across what is now the United States to find their promised land in the West.
The Saints did not know exactly where they were supposed to go. Brigham Young was President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles at the time. He was the only one who knew where the Lord wanted them to establish Zion. But he was very ill.
Brigham Young: Elder Woodruff, I need to continue traveling westward.
Elder Woodruff: But you’re too sick!
Brigham Young: Nonsense. Just lay me in the back of your carriage.
On July 24, 1847, Elder Woodruff drove the team of horses pulling his carriage toward the Great Salt Lake. Lying in the back of the carriage was President Young.
Elder Woodruff: Heavenly Father, please bless President Young that he will know where to lead the Saints.
As soon as President Young saw the desert valley of the Great Salt Lake, he told Elder Woodruff to stop.
Brigham Young: This is the right place; for the Lord has shown it to me in a vision.
Twenty-two years later, Elder Woodruff remembered that event as he was writing in his journal.
Elder Woodruff: Today I attended a Pioneer Day celebration. We now number more than 100,000 souls. See what God hath wrought!

Our Heavenly Father also helps us in other ways. Jesus said: “And these signs shall follow them that believe; In my name shall they … lay hands on the sick, and they shall recover.” (Mark 16:17–18.) Healings are a very real part of the restored church, and are often borne witness to in fast and testimony meetings.
An older man said: “I used to have emphysema so bad that I couldn’t walk half a block without being totally out of breath. Then a few months ago they called me to be a sealer in the temple. I was very concerned, because I knew I would have to climb stairs there, and I just couldn’t do it. But when they set me apart for that responsibility they also blessed me that I would have the health I needed to do the task. Brothers and sisters, that blessing has come to pass. And I’m not just blessed in the temple; yesterday I played four rounds of tennis and didn’t even feel winded at the end. And I won them!”

In 1971 I received my college degree and we moved to Illinois, where I was to teach at Southern Illinois University. A few months later I had an unusual experience which brought Douglas’s story vividly to mind once more.
It was Saturday, and I had risen early to grade papers before getting ready for a Church leadership meeting. Finishing just in time to dress and get to the meeting, I hurried down the hall toward our bedroom.
As I reached the end of the hall, I felt a sudden, intense pain on the forepart of my left foot, a pain so intense I fell to the floor and grabbed my foot. I had stepped on a needle! I called for help, and Susan and the children rushed to my side as I sat holding my foot, wincing with pain.
The whole event was painfully familiar. Susan got the pliers, and I pulled on the needle. It wouldn’t come out. We agreed that I should go immediately to the hospital. I found I could drive our station wagon even though I had a needle in my foot. Unlike Phil Garland, however, there was no question whether the needle should stay in or come out.
It was about 6:00 A.M. when I limped into the emergency room and told the nurse what had happened. The doctor arrived a few minutes later and did some preliminary examinations. He found that the needle was so deeply imbedded in my foot that he would have to call a surgeon to remove it. Instructing me to lie on the operating table and wait for the surgeon to arrive, he left me alone. For nearly forty-five minutes I waited there, with no one else in the operating room. During that time I began to think seriously about things that matter most when one believes his life to be in danger. I immediately recalled my Christmas talk in Tallahassee, Florida, the previous year. What irony! Here I was, living Phil Garland’s experience. And like him, I found myself thinking about dying—and more importantly, about living.
The surgeon finally arrived and began his examination of my foot. “Is it true that a tiny piece of metal in the body can eventually cause you to die if it is not removed?” I asked.
The doctor smiled. “I think I’ve heard that before … but I’m not certain it’s true. But you won’t have to worry,” he continued, “yours will be out in a few minutes.”
As the surgeon went to work on my foot, a scripture I had quoted many times as a missionary again came to mind: “As in Adam all die …” (1 Cor. 15:22.) Symbolically, I thought, we all have a tiny piece of metal in our bodies. The Lord calls it mortality. I think it was at that moment that I fully realized for the first time in my life that I, too, would eventually die.
After the surgery, I returned home to my family. They meant more to me then than they ever had before.
My foot eventually healed, but the vivid impression of the experience has never left me. Since then, I have thought seriously about my life. What is the purpose of this life? What matters most? Where do I spend most of my time?
I have located and purchased a copy of “Precious Jeopardy: A Christmas Story.” I read it each Christmas season and reflect on my experiences, both those that are past and those that lie ahead. And like Phil Garland’s needle, my needle is mounted on velvet and placed on our dresser as a constant reminder of the uncertainty of life and the importance of priorities. It is a precious gift, one I will always remember.

I made a mistake similar to the one you wish to avoid because I was afraid I would not be accepted by my so-called friends. This is the biggest mistake I have ever made. I was enslaved to that habit for the next eight years. I am just now getting over my addiction.

Drugs caused my love for life to slowly fade. I was ready to give up on life when I decided to turn my life around. I had to get rid of a “friend” to let go of the ties that held me back.

I now love myself enough that nobody can shake who I am. I do not know you personally, but I love the person you wish to be. If you ever have to give up a friend to protect yourself, do it. If your friends insist on falling, don’t tumble with them.

Name withheld

This Christmas story occurred in the middle of the summer some years ago at a naval training center.
The man opposite me in the room had the many stripes on his uniform that signified long and distinguished service; I was an apprentice seaman in boot camp. Nonetheless, Commander Hamilton, as he had greeted me at the door, had been most gracious—he called me “Mr. Hanks,” seated me with cordiality, and we talked as equals.
The commander, senior chaplain at the great training center, had invited me into his office to discuss the possibility of my becoming a chaplain. I was quick to explain that because I had interrupted my university training to serve as a missionary, I had not finished an academic degree and didn’t qualify for the chaplaincy under the navy’s standards. He replied that he felt he might be able to do something about getting a waiver of that requirement, all other things being favorable.
Commander Hamilton was a rangy, strong-looking man for whom I had immediately formed a feeling of respect and admiration. I had learned that he was one of the survivors of the aircraft carrier Yorktown when she was sunk by enemy action in the war and that he had been in the water for many hours before rescue. I was complimented and humbled that such a man would be considering his proposed action after having visited our group of LDS servicemen at the base.
“Before I recommend you to the Chief of Chaplains, Mr. Hanks, do me a favor, please. Talk to me about your experience in your Church, about what you think may help me in my recommendation of you as qualified to represent the Lord in the military chaplaincy.”
I began to explain to him the lifelong experience of a young man in the Church that had helped me prepare for such a significant opportunity. We went back to the beginning—the early participation, the 2 1/2-minute talks, the service as deacon, teacher, priest, elder, seventy; Scouting, seminary, institute, Sunday School teaching, leadership opportunities, missionary service.
As I talked, he who had been so courteous and kind and interested began to fidget, to lose interest, and I realized, as we do when we are seeking to communicate person-to-person, that I was not connecting, that l was losing the battle, and I became more anxious. Earnestly I tried to tell him what there is in the stage-by-stage opportunity in the Church for a young person to develop the quality to be a servant of God.
After a time his demeanor completely changed, and he interrupted me, saying very brusquely, “Say, Hanks, do you believe in Jesus Christ?”
“Yes, sir!” I said, “Everything I believe relates to Jesus Christ. My faith, my life, center in him as my Savior. The Church I belong to is founded on him and follows him as its living head. It is named in his name.”
He said, looking at his watch, “Well, you have been talking for seven minutes, and you haven’t said so.”
I think I have not made that mistake again.

After a long day of driving my bus in Victoria, Australia, I was making my last trip of the evening, heading home. On the way I saw two well-dressed young men walking. I decided to stop the bus and ask them if they needed a lift.
I asked them why they wore name tags, white shirts, and ties. One of them explained that they were missionaries for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. As I asked questions about their work, I felt something fill the bus that I later realized was the Holy Spirit. When I asked them to tell me more about Jesus Christ, I couldn’t help but become excited by their answers.
Unfortunately it was getting late, so I dropped off the missionaries in Dandenong. Afterward, I was sad when I realized that I did not get their phone number. For weeks I prayed that I could meet them again. As I drove my bus route, I even looked for them. Months went by, and then an unbelievable thing happened on my birthday, August 19, 2002.
As I was eating lunch with my wife, Camelia, a knock came at the door. When she answered it, I heard familiar voices. It was the missionaries I had met on the bus! They were just as surprised to see me as I was to see them. They had been tracting on our street and were led to our house. My prayers had been answered.
Elders Jason Frandsen and James Thieler immediately began teaching us. The Book of Mormon and the Prophet Joseph Smith were new to us, but we easily understood the gospel because we had a Christian background. The missionaries asked us to pray about and ponder what we were learning. As we did so, we felt the Spirit, a desire to attend church, and a prompting to be baptized. We have been blessed ever since.
Today, several years later, I still drive a bus, and I still give rides to missionaries. But now I help them carry out missionary work by introducing people to them and by sharing the Book of Mormon and other Church materials with my passengers.
People on my bus can’t help but notice how happy I am. When they ask why, I simply say, “The Lord has done this for me. He can change your life too.”

One month ago I turned 13, and my mom wanted me to start reading the New Era, so I started looking through some old copies. In the April 1973 issue I read an article called “Becoming Saviors on Mount Zion,” which explained that we should never stop giving—not gifts of money but of service to others. All my life my sister had helped me and I had never helped her. Just then she walked into the room and said she had to get the dishes done in half an hour and that she was too tired to do them. Right then I told her I would do them, but of course, she wouldn’t let me do them alone; she had to help.
In the last month my sister and I have become very close. We have been sneaking around helping each other and doing our work together. You know, it’s a lot more fun helping someone. Before it was just me trying to keep the commandments, but now it’s both of us. My sister has told me how much she appreciates me bringing her closer to the Lord. I don’t think it was me so much as it was the New Era.
Name Withheld

I should like to give you another example. One of our most respected community-minded citizens began to act as though his feelings had been hurt and to stay away from socials where, in the past, he had gone and taken a most active part. People started accusing him of being a sorehead, a poor sport, antisocial, etc., and even evaded him whenever possible. Later, a medical diagnosis showed he was suffering from a brain tumor, which had been the cause of his lack of interest in activities that he had previously attended and even sponsored.

The old car barely ran anymore. The engine stalled just as I pulled into the parking lot. There were few other cars around; it was just the beginning of August, and school didn’t start for another month. The dormitory was a long rectangle of orange-brown brick. It looked rather like a warehouse with lots of windows. I coasted to a space with a clear downhill run in front of it, so I wouldn’t have to get someone to push-start me when I had to leave. I set the parking brake and let out a big sigh. It had been more than two years.
I staggered up the steps with all my worldly possessions balanced precariously in my arms. Luckily someone had the door wedged open with a folded welcome mat. I plopped all of my things down in front of the table in the lobby where Coach Reese was passing out room keys.
“Marchant, David C.,” I said.
“Marchant …” he repeated as he sorted through his box of keys. He found one with my name on it and handed it to me. “Don’t we have to call you Pastor, or Father, or something like that now?”
“Coach, I explained all of that before I left,” I said with pretended impatience, “but if you’ve forgotten, I suppose I could spare an hour or two right now. Could you call for some pizza?”
“Always a wise guy,” he said, shaking his head. “I just hope you still remember how to play football after two years in South America.”
“Me too,” I called back as I started down the hallway with my pile of bags.
I could hear the music even before I got close to my room. Obviously my future roommate had already arrived, and he liked playing music loud enough to rattle our door. I carefully let my things fall to the floor of the hallway and listened. It definitely wasn’t the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. The doorknob buzzed my fingertips as I turned it and stepped inside. Dorm rooms are comfortably furnished, about on par with your average state prison cell; they contain a couple of desks with chairs, two closets, and a pair of beds about six inches shorter than most football players. One of the beds in my room was occupied by a large young man casually flipping through the pages of a magazine. He had already staked claim to one side of the room; it was covered with posters, a pyramid of beer cans, and a giant stereo box that looked detailed enough to control a manned space flight. He hadn’t noticed me as I hadn’t yet made any noise over a hundred decibels, so I leaned in front of him and waved. He looked up with a start, stood up, and turned down the music. I’m six-foot-four, and he was a little taller than me, and looked generally like the kind of guy you like to have on your side if a fight ever breaks out.
“Mike Webster,” he said, grabbing my outstretched hand. “Freshman tight end.”
“Dave Marchant,” I said. “Sophomore linebacker.” I nodded my head toward the bare side of the room. “I’ll take this bed.”
Training camp is football’s version of the Missionary Training Center. For a month you’re cut off from the outside world. You do nothing but eat, sleep, and practice football, and your body soon feels like the losing entry in a demolition derby. The passage of time is eased somewhat by the wonderful company you keep; one hundred bruisers whose demeanor would give Miss Manners a terminal migraine. Actually, by the end of the month quite a brotherhood develops among teammates under such trying circumstances.
That first night all we had was an orientation meeting, and after it was over I went straight back to the room and got ready for bed. Mike came in a couple of minutes later.
“Man,” he said, “those coaches treated me like a king when they came to my high school in the spring.” He sat down on his bed and started examining the playbook they’d just given us. “Now they act like I’m some Marine recruit or something!”
I laughed a little, remembering my freshman year. “They tend to take things a little serious during camp,” I said, “but don’t let it get to you.” Out of habit I turned back the covers on my bed and knelt down to say my prayers. Even before I got started, I had a strange feeling that someone was watching me.
I turned around, and sure enough, Mike was staring at me like I’d just pulled a rabbit out of a hat.
“What are you doing?” he asked in a concerned voice. I wasn’t sure what to say. I got up and sat down on my bed for a second. I hadn’t thought about how I was going to act in situations like this. Before my mission it was easy being the only member of the Church on the team; I was just a Mormon incognito. I kept the gospel tucked carefully under a bushel, ensuring that no one could make life miserable for me. Remembering how I used to act was starting to make me feel guilty; here I was a returned missionary, and the guy who would be my roommate for a whole month didn’t even know I was a member of the Church.
“I believe in God and I’m saying my prayers,” I explained in my best door-approach-type voice. “I’ll be doing this every night and every morning.
You can basically ignore me, but I would appreciate it if there was no music playing during that time, if that’s possible.” His eyes were still as big as golf balls.
“Oh,” he said nervously. His eyes were searching as if he were looking for a possible escape route. “Fine. Fine. That’s uh … That’s just fine.” I turned back to my prayers. After I finished I stayed on my knees a while, thinking about what my duty as a missionary was in this situation. I should get up and tell Mike I’m Mormon, I thought. I should ask him what he knows about the Church and if he’d like to know more. Then I’ll challenge him to take the discussions. I reconsidered when I thought about how he reacted to my prayer. He’d freak out, I concluded to myself. He’d grab his stereo box and go sleep on a couch in the lobby tonight and ask coach for a room change first thing in the morning.
Then I remembered something my mission president had told me in my last interview with him, not two months before.
“Missionary work involves both planting and harvesting,” he counseled. “You have seen a lot of harvesting the past two years. Now go home and do some planting.”
For the first time, what President Bender had told me started to make sense. It was no longer my calling to teach Mike the discussions and challenge him to be baptized. My job now was to let the light of the gospel plant the seeds inside of him. I knew what to do. I’d throw away that candle-snuffing bushel, and I’d start acting more like a candlestick.
I climbed in bed and got ready to read my scriptures. I took out a blue missionary copy of the Book of Mormon and placed it in plain view on the edge of my desk. I opened the New Testament to Matthew, chapter 5, where the Savior talks about this whole candlestick and bushel thing. I glanced over at Mike, who was unsuccessfully trying to act nonchalant and ignore me. I was obviously the first praying and Bible-reading linebacker he’d met.
The next day during the afternoon practice, the linebackers, tight ends, and running backs met for tackling drill. This is a very sophisticated variation of running into a brick wall on purpose. Two players line up ten yards apart and run full speed into each other, smashing themselves senseless. I was fourth in line on my side. I looked over at the other side and saw Mike. He was third in his line. I said “excuse me,” and stepped around the guy in front of me, so I would be in line to tackle Mike. I could see Mike peering around his line, trying to see what I was doing. I could see a smile creep onto his face when he realized I had changed places so I could tackle him. I knew what he was thinking: This is one of those religious wimps. He reads the Bible. I hope I don’t put him in the hospital.
Now, for Mike to have a reasonable basis for serious consideration of the gospel, his preconception about men of faith would have to be reformed. So when our turn came I did my best. I have to admit that it was a great effort. I let out two years of pent-up tackling energy on Mike. Planting my helmet square into his number, I lifted him up off the ground and body-slammed him into the grass, ending up almost in a headstand on his sternum. He just lay there for a second. I helped him up, gave him a friendly slap on the helmet, and trotted off. When I got back in line I looked over and saw him in the other line, rubbing his chest and looking very perplexed. He was getting ready to see some light.
I continued to leave the Book of Mormon on the edge of the desk. It took another week before Mike’s curiosity got to him, or at least before I caught him. The linebacker meeting ran a little late that night, so when I got to the room I opened the door quietly in case Mike was asleep. He was leaning over from his side of the room, gingerly holding open the Book of Mormon with his fingertips, as if it might bite him, and peering inside.
“Hi there!” I said cheerfully. He just about jumped out of his socks.
“How ya doin’?” he said, trying to think of something to say. “I was just …”
“Listen,” I interrupted, “you can borrow that book anytime you want. You don’t even have to ask.”
“Oh no,” he stammered, “I don’t … uh …”
“Honestly,” I said. “It’s no bother. I have two copies.”
“Well,” he said, “maybe I will look at it some other time.” I left it at that.
Two nights later it was really hot, and I was having trouble sleeping. I could tell Mike was awake also, as I heard him wrestle with his sheets about every fives minutes in a vain effort to get comfortable.
“Marchant,” he whispered, “you awake?”
“Yeah,” I said, “what’s up?”
“Is that book—” he asked, “that blue one on your desk—is it like the Mormon Bible or something?”
“Well, it’s not a Mormon Bible,” I explained. “But it is a religious history, like the Bible is. We consider them both to be books of scripture.”
“What do you mean, history book!” he said out loud in the darkness.
“Well, Mike,” I started out, “the Bible is basically a religious history of the ancient Mideastern people, and the Book of Mormon is a religious history of the ancient American people.”
“Don’t give me that!” he shot back in the darkness. “That’s no history book.” He threw off the covers and turned on the light. He grabbed the Book of Mormon off my desk and flipped right to the page with Arnold Fribergs’s painting of a well-muscled Nephi on it.
“Look at this guy!” he said, shoving the book in my face and pointing to Nephi. “This looks more like Muscle and Fitness magazine!”
It took me the better part of an hour to explain that picture and all the rest of them to his satisfaction. After that Mike kept the Book of Mormon on his desk, and whenever we couldn’t sleep we would talk about the gospel.
At the first of September school started. Mike and I decided we’d see if we could room together for the whole school year. His parents flew in from California for the first home game, to see their son’s college debut. As I was jogging off the field after the game, Mike grabbed me and introduced me to them.
“Mom, Dad, this is my roommate, Dave Marchant. He’s that Mormon guy I’ve been telling you about.”
I got a lump in my throat. I was sure they were going to tell me that they weren’t going to allow Mike to have a roommate who was a religious fanatic.
“How do you do,” I said. “Your son is pretty tough for a freshman.”
“We’ve heard about you,” his father said as he shook my hand. Oh no, I thought to myself. Here it comes.
“And we want to thank you for being such a good friend to Mike,” he continued. His mother put her hand on my shoulder and said: “Our next-door neighbors at home are LDS, and they’re such fine people.” I offered a prayer of gratitude in my heart for the light of that family, whoever they were.
Mike’s parents took us both to dinner at their hotel, and afterward I drove him to the airport so he could see them off. They wanted to let us use their rental car to drive back to the university, because we always had to push-start my car, but we said we were used to it. On the way home, while we were stopped at a stoplight, I asked Mike if he had told his parents anything else about the Mormons, besides the fact that I was one.
“Yes,” he said matter-of-factly, “I told them I was thinking about becoming one.”
“You did what?” I choked, as I popped the clutch and stalled the car right in the middle of the intersection.
“Well,” he explained, “I told them that I read the Book of Mormon and I think it’s true. They’ve always said that when I was old enough, I could choose my own religious beliefs. Anyway, I think we better get out of the middle of the intersection.”
He got out and push-started us. When we got going again I decided I had better find out if he was really serious.
“Mike,” I counseled, “are you sure about this? When did you read the Book of Mormon?”
“Whenever you weren’t around,” he said, “and sometimes I used my flashlight and read it after you were asleep. Anyway, it says in this part at the end to pray to God to find out if it’s true.” He stared out the window at the lights going by. “I did, and it is.” He turned toward me. “What do you have to do to belong to this church of yours?”
I started to feel that missionary glow inside again. It was a nice feeling.
“Well,” I said, “I suppose we could find some harvesters around town someplace.”
“Harvesters?” Mike’s voice had that concerned tone again.
“I meant missionaries,” I laughed. “I told you how I used to be one.”
“Oh, yeah,” he remembered. “Who push-started the car for you when you were in South America?”

President Smith had learned early in life that great men always make time for those in need. When only five years of age, his mother had dressed him up in his little black velvet suit and sent him to see Brigham Young. He carried a letter asking some assistance from President Young in getting some railroad tickets to go to Ogden. Sister Smith’s husband was in the mission field in Great Britain and she was too poor to acquire the tickets herself.
Little George walked the two blocks to President Young’s office and pushed open the huge timber gate in the wall that then surrounded the headquarters of the Church. As the massive gate swung back on its heavy iron hinges, the little boy found himself face to face with a rather large Scot, named John Smith, who demanded of the boy, “What do you want?” Frightened to death George answered, “I want to see President Young,” to which the Scot bellowed back, “President Young has no time for the likes of ye.” According to President Smith’s own account he was by now nearly ready to faint, but just then the door of the office opened and President Young walked out and asked:
“‘What’s wanted, John?’
“John replied, ‘Here is a little fellow wants to see President Young,’ and then he roared with laughter. He thought it was a good joke. But with all the dignity in the world, President Young said to him, ‘John, show him in.’
“There was nothing else the guard could do then but to let me in and he took me up to the porch where President Young was standing, …
“President Young took me by the hand and led me into his office, sat down at his desk and lifted me up on his knee and put his arm around me. In the kindest way one could imagine, he said, ‘What do you want of President Young?’
“Just think of it! He was President of a great Church and Governor of a Territory, and with all the duties he had to perform, yet I as a little boy was received with as much dignity, and kindness as if I had come as a governor from an adjoining state.”

President Wilford Woodruff learned why people on the other side are so busy through a vision he received of the spirit world in which he spoke with the Prophet Joseph Smith.
I saw him at the door of the temple in heaven. He came and spoke to me. He said he could not stop to talk with me because he was in a hurry. The next man I met was Father Smith [Joseph Sr.]; he could not talk with me because he was in a hurry. I met half a dozen brethren who had held high positions on earth, and none of them could stop to talk with me because they were in a hurry. I was much astonished. By and by I saw the Prophet again, and I got the privilege to ask him a question. “Now,” said I, “I want to know why you are in a hurry. I have been in a hurry all through my life; but I expected my hurry would be over when I got into the kingdom of heaven, if I ever did.” Joseph said: “I will tell you, Brother Woodruff. Every dispensation that has had the Priesthood on the earth and has gone into the celestial kingdom, has had a certain amount of work to do to prepare to go to the earth with the Savior when He goes to reign on the earth. Each dispensation has had ample time to do this work. We have not. We are the last dispensation, and so much work has to be done, and we need to be in a hurry in order to accomplish it.” [“Discourse Delivered at the Weber Stake Conference, Ogden, Monday, October 19th, 1896,” Deseret Weekly, 7 November 1896, 642–43; also The Discourses of Wilford Woodruff, sel. G. Homer Durham (Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1946), 288–89]
Hurry is the operative word. Urgency would describe the work on the other side of the veil. We know what that work is in which the righteous spirits are so busily engaged. It is the preaching of the gospel of Jesus Christ—proclaiming, as Isaiah described it, “liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound” (Isaiah 61:1).