Gospel Story Finder

Of all the experiences I enjoyed as a mission president, one of the most exciting was the glorious sight of seeing the missionaries baptize converts to the Church. To see those handsome young men lead the baptismal candidates into the water to perform that sacred ordinance always brought a lump to my throat and sent a thrill up my spine. The elders felt the same way about that privilege. One of my fine missionaries had been a very adventurous lad. He loved to rappel cliffs, hang glide, and parachute jump. He even joined an Army reserve unit which gave him regular opportunities to jump. When I asked him how he felt when he stood in the baptismal font with a convert, he replied: “It’s as exciting as jumping out of an airplane.”

As I was going to the park with my friend Emma and her mom, I saw the temple and started to sing “I Love to See the Temple.” When we got to the park, Emma’s mom told my mom that she wanted to start going to church again. My mom was surprised because Emma’s mom hadn’t been to church for a long time. She told my mom, “Natalie was singing Primary songs, and Emma doesn’t even know any.” Now Emma is a Sunbeam. I’m glad I could be an example.

As I sit here today I am reminded of an invitation I received 15 years ago. It was from a good friend of mine who was attending school here. He asked me to come and visit him for two weeks while I was on break from my school. I didn't feel like I had the time or the money and struggled with the decision. As I thought about it I mentioned it to my Dad one morning. He simply said, Go, it could change your whole life. I was surprised by his answer but when I heard those words I felt a deep impression that they were true. So I came and as a result fell immediately in love with this place. So much so that I didn't want to leave when my two weeks were up, but knew that I had to. So I did, with a prayer in my heart that some day He would allow me the blessing of returning to stay and be a permanent part of this wonderful university and place. I mean it when I say, I am truly grateful for the opportunity to be here today.

An example of true love and inspired teaching was found in the life of the late James Collier, who had, through his personal efforts, reactivated a large number of brethren in the Bountiful, Utah, area. I was invited by Brother Collier to address those who had now been ordained elders and who, with their wives and families, had been to the Salt Lake Temple to receive those eternal covenants and blessings for which they had so earnestly strived.
At the banquet honoring this achievement, I could see and I could feel the love that Jim had for those whom he had taught and rescued. Unfortunately, Jim Collier at that time was afflicted with a terminal illness and had to persuade the doctors to allow him to leave the hospital to attend this final night of recognition. As he stood at the pulpit, a large smile came over his face. With tear-filled eyes, he expressed his love to the group. There wasn’t a dry eye to be found. Brother Collier quipped, “Everyone wants to go to the celestial kingdom, but no one wants to die to get there.” Lowering his voice, he continued, “I’m prepared to go, but I will be there waiting on the other side to greet each of you, my beloved friends.”
He returned to the hospital. His funeral service was held just a few weeks later.

Let me tell you about a woman who has woven her strand of kindness and compassion into my life. Sister Rosetta Colclough, a missionary in Hawaii, came to my junior high when I was eleven and invited all the students to a special religion class taught at the little Mormon chapel near the school. Three other Japanese girls and I, all Buddhists, accepted the invitation. That was the beginning of my Christian instruction, and four years later, I joined the Church.
Last March I received a letter from Rosetta Colclough Stark, now living in Arizona. She enclosed in her letter a little article she had written for her ward newsletter in 1978, fifteen years ago, describing those religion classes:
“One day on the eleven o’clock period, only four [Japanese girls] came to class. I was very disappointed there were so few. … [But] near the close of the period, we stood in the little chapel with bowed heads and closed eyes, repeating in unison the Lord’s Prayer. The soft Hawaiian sun filtered through the windows. As we prayed, I suddenly felt a bright light envelop us, coming from above like an inverted cone. A wonderful feeling of peace and joy filled my heart. I led the prayer very slowly as the bright light enfolded us. I was sure the girls felt it also, as their faces shone with an expression of deep reverence. We almost whispered ‘good-bye’ so as not to break the spell, and they tiptoed out. I thought, ‘One or more of those girls will join the Church and become a great influence for good.’”
She continued: “[After] I returned home, often the sweet faces of those four girls passed before my inward eyes, and I wondered about them. There was one, Chieko Nishimura, that lingered in my mind, and I often looked at the picture I had taken of them.
“Ten years later, my husband and I were attending our sacrament meeting in the Imperial Ward, Salt Lake City, when it was announced that a young Japanese couple from Hawaii would be the speakers. … My heart nearly jumped up into my throat. Yes, it was my little Chieko. … Chieko and I had a joyous reunion after the meeting. We marveled that out of all the many wards in that big city, they should have come to speak at my ward. We were sure the Lord had a hand in it.”
Rosetta lost track of me after my husband and I moved to Colorado but was surprised and delighted, when she was watching the Relief Society sesquicentennial broadcast on March 14, 1992, to hear my name announced. That afternoon she sat down at her typewriter in Arizona and began her letter to me. She said: “[When] I heard your name announced by Sister Jack … I sat up straight and watched the TV screen eagerly and saw your name appear on the screen. Then you started to speak. The dark hair has turned to silver, but that sweet face was easily recognized. Yes, this is my little Chieko whom I taught at the Honomakau chapel in Kohala so many years ago. As I listened to your voice, tears of joy ran down my cheeks. …
“I thank my Heavenly Father that I had the privilege of teaching you about Jesus Christ our Savior in that little chapel. … I have been blessed three times because of it; first, that I was there to experience that light from heaven with you; second, that you came to my ward in Salt Lake City to speak; and today, when I heard you speak to the women of the world via satellite.”
Rosetta says she was blessed, but Rosetta did not know how she was blessing me with her kindness. Even while she was writing that letter, my husband, Ed, was being taken to the hospital, stricken down by a cardiac arrest on the afternoon of the sesquicentennial broadcast. Her letter reached me with a special compassion and love when my sons and I were struggling to accept the fact that Ed would not recover. I did not see the light she felt while we four little Buddhist girls repeated the Lord’s Prayer with her, phrase by phrase. But I know the Spirit whispered to me during that experience, reminding me of my true identity as a daughter of God and prompting me to let those teachings sink deep into my heart so that I could also become a daughter of Christ in the waters of baptism.
Rosetta’s life has touched mine only three times, but the Savior’s love was in each encounter. Rosetta brought me the gospel, she rejoiced with Ed and me after our baptisms, and she brought me great comfort by reminding me of Heavenly Father’s profound love for me when I was suffering such pain while Ed lay dying. I needed that reassurance and love. I needed to remember that Heavenly Father, fifty years earlier, had reached down and laid his hand on a skinny little Buddhist girl and said, “You are my beloved child.”
I’ve shared this story with you because it illustrates so beautifully how our lives weave together in ways we cannot guess or plan. Because Rosetta acted with faith, with kindness, and with love, the pattern created by her life encountering mine is a beautiful one. I know that she has woven shining strands into the lives of many others.

A small green lizard darted in and out of the crevices in the crumbling old stone pier that jutted out into the Red Sea. The hot, glaring desert sun made its body glisten. The lizard stopped suddenly, and its yellow eyes watched Abu Ibn (son of) Hassan putting his catch of five fish into the net bags that had been slung over the sides of his donkey. He had caught three kanad, a type of mackerel, and two small hamur, which looked like sea bass.
Abu hoped these fish would help his father get more money at the suq (marketplace) in town ten miles across the Saudi Arabian desert.
For a few moments Abu stood beside his donkey and listened to the tinkling sound of small bells coming from the village, a tiny gathering of stone houses for fifty-two fishermen and their families. Every family owned a donkey, and every donkey except Abu’s had a bell on a thong tied around its neck. Abu’s father had a large family to feed. There never was any extra money for a bell. Abu dreamed of the day when his father would sail home with his dhow (boat) stacked high with fish. Then there would be money for a bell—maybe even a brass bell.
When Abu arrived home, his mother and sisters were full of news.
“We have a new fisherman in the village,” his mother told him.
“He owns a camel,” one of his sisters said.
“Yes, he must be rich!” another sister added. “His name is Rathman, and he is building a house. He doesn’t seem to have any family, but his new house will be bigger than any around here. He brought men from the town to help him.”
Abu ran outside and kept running until he came to where the new house was being built. The workmen were already putting up the walls. The floor would be dirt, and the roof would be made of thatched date palm leaves.
“Is-salaam alaykum (Peace be upon you),” Abu greeted one of the workmen.
“Wa-alaykum is salaam (And upon you be peace),” the workman answered.
Abu was impressed with the size of the new house. He was about to step inside when a harsh voice shouted, “Boy, get to where you belong! Don’t bother the workmen!”
Abu turned and met the angry eyes of Rathman. He had a great hooked nose, a thin-lipped mouth, and his legs and arms looked like old, dried sticks. Abu ran for home. His tobe (a long, shirt-like garment) hindered him, so he pulled it above his knees. His red kaffiyeh (headdress) fell off, but he didn’t stop to pick it up.
It was weeks before the excitement caused by the coming of the new fisherman subsided. Rathman’s dhow was the largest at the stone pier. His camel delivered his fish to the suq earlier and fresher than anyone else’s fish. It was learned that he was a friend of the sheikh (leader of the tribe) who lived in the big town.
Unlike the bells on the donkeys, which rang together and sounded like music in the village, the bell on Rathman’s camel was large, and it clanked and clunked when the beast moved. The camel held its head high, as though it was too proud to look at the lowly donkeys. Each time the fish were taken to the market, the camel would race past the donkeys, carrying not only a bigger load of fish but also Rathman on its back. The donkeys would have to plod along, trying to avoid the sandy dust that the camel kicked up. The fishermen walking beside their little animals would have to listen to Rathman’s mocking laughter.
At the pier, Rathman crowded his fishing dhow into the best place. He walked around the village as though he were a sheikh himself.
One evening Abu’s father told his family some bad news. “Rathman has ordered that the bells be taken off all the donkeys.”
“Why?” Abu’s mother asked.
“He said that the sound of our donkey bells keeps him from hearing his camel bell,” Abu’s father explained.
“But, Father, the men are not going to do it, are they?” Abu asked.
“They must,” his father said, “or Rathman may go to the sheikh, and the sheikh could punish us.”
The next day the bells were taken off the donkeys. The village was a sad and silent place. For weeks nobody sang or laughed. All that could be heard was the ugly sound of the camel’s big clanking and clunking bell.
Then one day after Rathman took his fish to the suq, he was late getting back to the village. The people saw him walking home across the desert without his camel.
One of the fishermen found enough courage to ask what had happened. Later he told Abu’s father, “Rathman’s camel stepped on a stone and fell. It strained a muscle and refuses to move.” The fisherman started laughing. “Rathman smells awful. The camel got angry and spat on him!”
All the villagers treated Rathman’s trouble as a big joke. Rathman stayed in his house, but he could hear the people laughing. Nobody offered to help him.
Abu felt sorry for him and spoke to his father about it. “Shouldn’t we try to help Rathman get his camel back to the village?”
“After the way he has treated us?” his father asked.
“But we are taught to be good to our enemies,” Abu said.
His father looked at him with a worried frown, then walked away.
Early the next morning Abu loaded his donkey with a bag of water and a bag of hamdh bushes for the camel. A few villagers looked curiously at the goatskin bags as Abu started through the village.
There were no dunes between the village and the town. At this time of the year the flat sand was abloom with zahra hamra, a beautiful pink flower. Abu enjoyed walking among the blooms while looking for Rathman’s camel. When he found the injured animal, Rathman was sitting beside it. The man didn’t speak to Abu, even when the boy started to feed and water the camel.
Suddenly Abu saw a long line of donkeys coming toward them from the village. When the fishermen and the donkeys arrived, Abu saw that the donkeys were hitched together and that they carried ropes and an old dhow sail.
“I told the men what you said—about being good to our enemies,” Abu’s father told him.
After tying the camel’s legs together, the men maneuvered it onto the sail and dragged it back to the village.
Rathman didn’t thank them, and the fishermen grumbled a little. Then, a week later, they found a small basket full of new donkey bells in the middle of the street. On top was a solid, shining brass bell marked, “For Abu.”

Rosemarie Koning, 14, is a Dutch national living in Frankfurt with her parents. She also told about some missionary experiences.
“One time we were asked to mark off which of the churches do have bishops, prophets, and other required offices. We found out that our church is the only one that has all of them. I talked to my girl friend about it and showed her the chart. She was astonished to see that our Church is the only one with all the priesthood offices.
“Sometimes,” Rosemarie continued, “I get so excited about a lesson that I have to share it. So I take my seminary book to school and open it up. Out of pure curiosity, other students come over to find out what I have. I’ve even had school teachers ask me about it.”

A couple of years ago I saw a film about King George VI, who led the United Kingdom through the dark hours of World War II. When he was forced to take the throne after his brother’s abdication, he doubted his ability to become the powerful leader the country needed in the face of war. George didn’t have the charisma of his predecessors. He also had a disabling speech impediment, and his most dreaded fear was that he would have to speak to the nation in an effort to galvanize them toward victory.

One scene depicted George watching television as Hitler stirred up his nation to engage in war. Hitler’s ferocious rhetoric and proclaimed invincibility contrasted with George’s humility and apparent vulnerability. However, George refused to let his weakness overwhelm him. Instead, he used his God-given gifts of dignity, courage, and perseverance to overcome his disability through long and exhausting therapy. He eventually addressed the nation in a powerful speech and became the right man at the right place to lead his people to victory.

During the past several years, since the series of events began that led to my divorce, I have experienced more sleepless nights and have prayed more earnestly than at any other time of my life.
Why had the one thing I feared most happened to me? How could I rebuild my shattered hopes? I remember seeing a cartoon of a small boy giving a book report, saying, “This book taught me more about horses than I ever wanted to learn.” I often told the Lord in my heart, “This experience is teaching me more about emotional maturity than I ever wanted to know.”
One night in particular, I poured out my heart to God. I felt overwhelmed by the events that left my children without a father in the home. During that dark time, it seemed impossible to bear the thought that I had destroyed something precious and had lost something vitally important to me, and to my children. I did not sleep well that night.
I knew Christ had died so that we might not have to bear the weight of our failures and guilt indefinitely; but I could not see how even my repentance and Christ’s atonement could undo what had gone wrong in my own, my former husband’s and my children’s lives. I thought, “The Lord himself has never injured anyone, as I have, through ignorance, selfishness and poor judgment. He has never failed. He does not have to bear the constant burden of knowing that he has damaged a loved one’s life.”
“Neither do you,” came the quiet answer in my mind. I was suddenly flooded with the realization that when I accepted our Savior’s sacrifice for my sins, he had taken them on his shoulders in a more real sense than I had ever understood. Once I had repented of those sins and made what restitution I could, the matter of who had been at fault was no longer important; the concern shifted form the past to the future. “Now,” I seemed to hear, “what shall we do to help our children, you and I together?” That deeply impressed me: my children are Heavenly Father’s children, too, and the work of teaching them to love the Lord and live the gospel is as important to him as it is to me.
As soon as I understood that fact, I felt my feelings of failure and inadequacy go away. I realized that I didn’t need to be perfect before I could be a good mother. By humbly admitting my weaknesses and by exerting faith in Christ, I had taken into partnership, or had been taken into partnership by, a perfect Being. I was not rearing my children alone after all—I had the right to do so together with a loving Father who desired their welfare (and my own) even more than I could comprehend! That was a comfort beyond description.

I was once teaching the law of tithing to a group of Church leaders in Africa. One brother said, “Elder Tingey, how can I pay tithing when I have no income?” I inquired and determined that he had a large family of seven or eight children and was unemployed. I asked how he fed his family. He said he had a small garden and raised geese. I asked, “What do the geese do?” He replied, “They lay eggs.” I responded, “What if one morning you discovered 10 geese eggs in the nests of your geese?” A light flickered on in his soul. “I could take one egg and give it to my branch president,” he answered. He understood, and he could become a full-tithe payer.

As I reflect on service-oriented, servant leaders who have been examples along my path, my heart swells with gratitude for families who took me in as their own when I was far from home. My last semester at BYU, I had an opportunity to teach middle and high school mathematics at the LDS Technical College (now the Fiji LDS Church College). Aunty Irene and Uncle Meli Lesuma, who had known me since I was a little child growing up at TVA, were living in Suva at the time. They immediately welcomed me into their family home along with their children and Nana who taught me how to love the Lord, how to make Fijian curry and roti, and even how to iron my white blouse with starch! When Nana saw my first attempt at ironing, she said, “I will show you how and then you can do it. You are teaching the Lord’s children; you can not have wrinkles in your blouse.” Through their daily examples at work, church, and home, I saw what it meant to embody the hymn “Lord, I would Follow Thee”.

One mother reinforced these points in a family home evening lesson. She began by showing a picture of the Salt Lake Temple and one of a gambling casino. The family discussed how architects strive to harmonize form and function as they design buildings. They noticed how the towering spires of the Salt Lake Temple lead the eye upward toward the heavens, inviting reverence and awe. “I explained that the temple’s outer dignity and grandeur accurately reflect the sacred purpose of the building—to lead us toward God,” the mother says.

Then the family discussed how the casino’s exterior reflects the purpose of that building. “We could see how the gaudiness of that building indicates excess. It beckons people to seek worldly pleasures,” this mother continues. The family talked about how building materials, colors, and design all contribute to the overall purpose of a building.

“When I held up pictures of a person in modest clothing and one in immodest clothing, our children immediately made the connection that clothing can reflect the purpose of a person,” she explains. The family could see that immodest clothing draws attention to the body of the person wearing it. They could also see that modest clothing allows the spirit of the person wearing it to radiate. “We ended by discussing how the way we dress can either contribute to or detract from our divine purpose as children of God,” she concludes. “I challenged our family to make sure that the way we dress accurately reflects who we really are and what we are about.”

In November 1914, I was back in my native Italy, and called to serve in the Italian army and fought in France. Once I told some men in my company the story of the people of Ammon—how they had refused to shed the blood of their brothers and had buried their weapons rather than be guilty of such great crimes. The chaplain reported me to the commanding officer, and the next day I was escorted to his office. He asked me to tell him the story I had told. Then he asked how I had come into possession of the book. I received as punishment a ten-day sentence of bread and water, with the order that I was to speak no more of the book.
After the end of the war, I returned to New York, where I met an old friend, a pastor of my former church. He interceded for me with the synod, and I was finally admitted to the congregation as a lay member. As an experiment, it was agreed that I should accompany one of the pastors on a mission to New Zealand and Australia.
In Australia, we met some Italian immigrants who asked questions about the errors in some Bible translations. They were not satisfied with my companion’s answers. When they asked me about it, I once again told the story of Christ’s appearance to the people of America. When they asked me where I had learned such teachings, I told them of the book I had found. The story was good to them but bad for my colleague. He reported me to the synod, and once again they cut me off from the church.
I returned to Italy shortly after. Then, in May 1930, while looking in a French dictionary for some information, I suddenly saw the entry “Mormon.” I read the words carefully and found that a Mormon Church had been established in 1830 and that this church operated a university at Provo [Brigham Young University, Utah]. I wrote to the university president, asking for information about the book and its missing pages. I received an answer two weeks later telling me that my letter had been passed on to the president of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
On June 16, 1930, President Heber J. Grant answered my letter and sent a copy of the Book of Mormon in Italian. He informed me that he would also give my request to Elder John A. Widtsoe, president of the European Mission, with headquarters in Liverpool, England. A few days later, Elder Widtsoe wrote to me, sending me a pamphlet that contained the story of the Prophet Joseph Smith, the gold plates, and the coming forth of the Book of Mormon. Finally, I had learned the rest of the story of the torn book I had found on top of a barrel of ashes.
On June 5, 1932, Elder Widtsoe came to Naples to baptize me, but a revolution had started in Sicily, and the police at Palermo refused to let me leave the island. The following year, Elder Widtsoe asked me to translate the Joseph Smith pamphlet into Italian and to have 1,000 copies published. I took my translation to a printer, Joseph Gussio, who took the material to a Catholic bishop. The bishop ordered the printer to destroy the material. I sued the printer, but all I received from the court was an order to him to return the original booklet.
When Elder Widtsoe was released as president of the mission in 1934, I started correspondence with Elder Joseph F. Merrill, who succeeded him. He arranged to send me the Millennial Star, which I received until 1940 when World War II interrupted the subscription.
In January 1937, Elder Richard R. Lyman, successor to President Merrill, wrote that he and Elder Hugh B. Brown would be in Rome on a certain day. I could meet them there and be baptized. However, the letter was delayed because of war conditions, and I did not receive it in time.
From then until 1949, I was cut off from all news of the Church, but I remained a faithful follower and preached the gospel of the dispensation of the fulness of times. I had copies of the standard works, and I translated chapters into Italian and sent them to acquaintances with the greeting, “Good day. The morning breaks—Jehovah speaks!”
On February 13, 1949, I sent a letter to Elder Widtsoe at Church headquarters in Salt Lake City. Elder Widtsoe answered my letter on October 3, 1950, explaining that he had been in Norway. I sent him a long letter in reply in which I asked him to help me to be quickly baptized, because I felt that I had proven myself to be a faithful son and servant of God, observing the laws and commandments of his kingdom. Elder Widtsoe asked President Samuel E. Bringhurst of the Swiss-Austrian Mission to go to Sicily to baptize me.
On January 18, 1951, President Bringhurst arrived on the island and baptized me at Imerese. Apparently, this was the first baptism performed in Sicily. Then, on April 28, 1956, I entered the temple at Bern, Switzerland, and received my endowment. At last, to be in the presence of my Heavenly Father! I felt that God’s promise had been fully fulfilled—the day had come indeed when the source of the book was known to me and I was able to enjoy the effects of my faith.

Dianna and I understand this challenge suggested by President Hinckley, as we reflect on our own conversion experience. Dianna was raised in a Catholic home and attended Catholic schools her entire life. I was raised as a Methodist and my grandfather was a Methodist minister. Dianna grew up in the city of Des Moines and I grew up on a farm in NE Iowa! Where we come from, they call that an intercultural marriage!

Six months after we were married, we moved to Virginia where I began working on my doctoral degree. Our understanding of the gospel grew after many, many steps over a period of the next four years.

a. The first step in our journey was that we resolved to attend church together. During that time, we attended several different denominations.

b. The second step was meeting the Litchfords when Bill was enrolled in graduate school. Coming from Utah, they were the first LDS members we had ever known. Through their friendship and examples, several misconceptions about the LDS church were dispelled. We gained an appreciation for their strong values, religious involvement, commitment to family, and their deeper understanding of life. They were not only member missionaries, but also patient friends.

c. This led to the next step. It was during one of our visits in their home that they shared a “Book of Mormon” with us which had their testimony written inside. “We would like to share with you one of things that we value above all others. It looks like a book, yet therein you will find the fullness of the gospel of Jesus Christ and one of the keys to our happiness. Love, Dan and Nancy.”

d. They also introduced us to the missionaries. In fact, for the next two years we met all the missionaries assigned to that community. Finally, upon accepting a position to teach at Utah State University, we felt it was important to hear the missionary discussions. Needless to say, this was a big jump—even a giant leap—several steps forward and upward. The missionaries taught us how to pray as a family and about the plan of salvation. They also taught us about the restoration of the gospel and about feeling the spirit to witness truth.

e. Another significant step occurred during our first year in Virginia where I received my first priesthood blessing, following a car accident which broke some bones in my hand. The doctor scheduled surgery when he learned I played the piano; during one of my final checkups, he commented that he was surprised that I was already playing the piano when another patient of his with a similar injury that occurred at the same time was still in a cast.

f. There were a series of other steps as well, including conversations with some of Bill’s curious and missionary-minded students at Utah State. As a nonmember, I was often asked by my second-graders about my membership in the church and I was invited to attend their baptisms. And we were blessed with supportive friends and neighbors. But when we learned we were expecting our first child, we knew we needed to make a decision—four years after meeting our LDS friends. We had procrastinated our spiritual progress long enough.

g. These final steps included going to Heavenly Father in prayer and fasting, meeting with the bishop in the ward we had been attending, and then, with faith, setting a baptism date. Soon after that huge step, I received the Aaronic priesthood. Six months later, Lindsey, the oldest of our four daughters, was born and I received the Melchizedek priesthood and was ordained an elder so I could give her a name and a blessing.

h. At that point, we both received our patriarchal blessings, outlining some of the plans the Lord had in store for us in this life and the next.

i. One year after our baptism, we prepared to go to the temple, received our endowment and were sealed to each other for time and all eternity. Then Lindsey was sealed to us.

You can see there were a series of many steps—some small ones, some giant leaps—that we needed to take and each occurred ... line upon line ... and each moved us forward and upward in our relationship with Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ.

In the following months, Robert struggled to find and keep work due to uncertain economic conditions. He considered emigrating with his family. In January 1855, his mind was set: “I have been six weeks out of work, and we expect to emigrate this season for we are heartily sick of this land.” A month later, Robert was still out of work. The Hazen family, now resolved to emigrate and sold their furniture. They looked forward to “Gather with God’s people this year”. However, they still didn’t have enough money. Robert had been without work for over three months; what could they do to pay for passage to the United States of America?
The difference was made up by Robert’s elderly mother-in-law, also a member of the Church, who sold her house and joined them on the journey to Zion. On 25 March 1855, a small group of the Newcastle Saints set off for Liverpool on the first step of their journey. Ultimately, Robert and his family arrived safely in the United States of America and eventually made their way to join the Saints in Utah.

Several years ago I had the opportunity of doing some work inside a State Prison. Prior to entering the prison for the first time, I was quite nervous. I had built up in my mind some preconceived ideas of what it would be like inside a state penitentiary. Having never been inside one before my imagination went wild. The only thing I had to work with was what I had seen in the movies, and you know how reliable that is. As I arrived at the prison the first day it looked more like the movies than I thought it would. The fences had razor wire across the top; there were tall guard towers with real live guards with guns standing in them. As I entered the inside of the facility a guard located in a protected booth opened every door that I went through. The door would slide open, I would walk through then it would slide shut behind me before the next door would open in front of me. I never did get completely comfortable with that process. I guess I always had some part of me that worried that they might not let me out some day.

The inmates that I met inside the prison were men who did not use an eternal perspective to help them face their life=s challenges. One evening I had one of the inmates approach me and asked if he could visit with me privately. He introduced himself. I will call him John. He said to me, “You=re a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, aren’t you?” I told him that I was. He told me that he was also a member of the church. He asked if I had served a mission. I told that I had. John then told me that he was a return missionary as well. I asked John what his experience was like as a missionary. He described it as being wonderful. With tears in his eyes he shared his feelings about the church and our Savior. As we talked further we found out that we served in the same mission, with the same mission president, but not quite at the same time. I had gone home a few months before he entered the mission field. John served faithfully as a missionary, introducing the gospel to many people. I asked John if he would share with me how he ended up in prison.

He told me he had been raised in a LDS home. He attended primary as a child and mutual as a young man. John was faced with some challenges in his life as a youth and he began to drift away from activity in the church. He started experimenting with drugs and alcohol. This behavior increased to the point that he became addicted to heroin. He began committing crime to support his drug habit and was sentenced to prison at age 18. He served a short sentence and was released form prison and decided to turn his life around. He went back to church with a sincere heart and expressed a desire to serve a mission. He served successfully and after his mission he decided to pursue his education at BYU. Things were going quite well for John for quite some time. Then some challenges came into John=s life. He made some poor choices as he tried to deal with these trials and returned to the use of heroin, which again led him down the path toward prison. That is where I met him, in prison, incarcerated for many more years.

As I think back on John=s experience it touches my heart. Here is a man who has a testimony of the Savior and his teachings. He is an intelligent man with a mind that is capable of producing much good. Yet he was not able to apply gospel principles in his life when he was faced with difficult situations. Instead of looking at his trials with eternal eyes he looked at them with temporal eyes and chose shortsighted solutions to the situation.

One afternoon as our family drove out of town, we passed a chapel of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Jokingly, my father said, “You’ve not tried there yet.” I asked what kind of church it was, and he said it was the Mormon church. I remarked that the name on the front of the Church didn’t say that, and he responded, “Mormon is only their nickname; but don’t try them. They’re an odd lot.”
Since the church building was some four miles from my home, I decided to write and ask about their beliefs. The following week, a letter arrived for me from the branch president, inviting me to attend their meetings. I felt excited, yet nervous, as I read it—something I had never felt before while investigating a church. I decided it was time for me to ask my Heavenly Father about this.
I wasn’t quite sure what to say, since the Lord’s Prayer was the only one I had said before. However, as I finished a simple prayer asking the Lord to show me the way, I heard my mother call me. I went downstairs to find two men sitting in the front room. They had come to our door to see if our family would like to know more about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. My mother had asked them if they had come in answer to my letter, but they said they had never heard of me.
I sat silently while the three spoke together, and for the first time in my life all that my mother said seemed confusing, yet these two men made everything so clear. That night I thanked the Lord for sending the truth to me.

My husband and I had the great blessing of working with over 350 missionaries in Portugal. As the missionaries came to know the Savior’s Atonement was for them, when they knew the Savior’s gift to them was a remission of their sins and eternal life after all they could do,[3] there was a complete change in each of those young elders and sisters. They were anxious and even joyful most days to arise early and work long hours. They were able to face rejection. It was a privilege, an honor to wear the missionary tag, “Elder Jones, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.” The badge was a wonderful and constant reminder of whose errand they were on.
I remember one fine elder who entered the mission field knowing he had said good-by to his mother for the last time on this earth. His unwavering testimony of the Atonement and the plan of happiness sustained him and strengthened him during the time of her death. He knew the restored gospel of Jesus Christ provided answers, he would see her again and she would be whole and free of pain.
Faith in Jesus Christ gave focus to the missionaries and brought them to repentance. They were better able to resist temptation and follow the promptings of the Holy Ghost. As it says in Mosiah 3:19, they became as little children, obedient to God and more loving. These changes qualified them to enjoy the gifts which come through the Holy Ghost. They came to love those they served better. And as they continued to serve Him, they came to love Him even more. Peace was a blessing that we saw come into the lives of these “peaceable followers of Christ,” our dear missionaries.[4]

As I earlier stated, I learned to observe the Sabbath day from my parents. I grew up on a large farm where we had animals to feed and care for, cows to milk, and vegetables to pick, harvest, and market. It would have been very easy for our family to break the Sabbath day. Although we attended to the essential chores—such as feeding the animals and milking the cows, taking the water turns when they came, and preparing our large trucks with harvested and packed fresh fruits and vegetables for a 4:00 a.m. Monday departure for market—we never did other farm work on Sunday. Our tractors were turned off, and no plowing, planting, or cultivating was done on the Sabbath. We never hauled in the hay before a coming storm. My parents had a very simple philosophy: “The day we violate the Sabbath day and have to miss our Sunday meetings to care for the farm is the day we sell the farm.” As I grew up, married, and had a family of my own, my wife and I taught these same principles to our children.

“I started coming to church when I was 16,” he explained. “I met the missionaries on the street. I thought they were lawyers or executives by the way they were dressed. Then I realized they were foreigners. I was curious about them, so I started hanging around them, asking questions.
“In my first discussion, they told me about the Book of Mormon and about Joseph Smith, and I thought, What a great experience to have. I believed it all.”
“Mom didn’t like that and didn’t want me to come to church at first, but she finally said it was all right. Still, when I asked her if I could get baptized, she said no way. So I continued going to church for about seven months, not being a member.”
“What finally changed her mind?” I asked.
“Well, I fasted and prayed, of course, and my birthday was coming up, so I told her that the best gift she could give me would be permission to be baptized. I guess I bugged her so much about it, she finally said to go ahead. You know the rest of the story.”