Gospel Story Finder

This type of ultimate concern can be seen in the example of
the young bishop who, against pressures and problems and at considerable inconvenience, traveled to another city to visit a bereaved widow on the eve of her husband’s funeral. The couple had long since moved from the bishop’s area, but he had made the effort to be with his good, wonderful old friends at this tender time. He found the elderly lady standing alone beside the body of her beloved of more than half a century. As he comforted her, she said through her tears, “Oh bishop, I knew you would come.” [Hanks, Gift of Self, 61; emphasis in original]

One day at recess my friends and I were picking flowers off a tree. Some girls came up to us and told us we weren’t supposed to pick the flowers. We stopped picking the flowers and walked away. I told my friends we should tell the truth. We told a teacher that we had been picking the flowers for our teacher. The teacher said we could pick the flowers as long as we didn’t pull on the branches. I’m glad I told the truth.

The news reached me on a telephone that seldom rang. My two sons and I were working in the yard of a mountain home we built as a place of retreat from my heavy responsibilities as president of Brigham Young University. The caller was Elder Boyd K. Packer. He told me about the revelation on the priesthood, which was just being announced. We exchanged expressions of joy, and I walked back to my work. I sat down on the pile of dirt we had been moving and beckoned to my sons. As I told them that all worthy male members of the Church could now be ordained to the priesthood, I wept for joy.

Who would have known that one decision made when I was 11 would touch the rest of my life?
At that time, my family seldom attended church. But my brother and I attended Primary. My teacher, in her lesson on temple marriage, told us, “You have to decide now that you’re going to be married in the temple. It can’t wait. Decide today.” It’s the first time I remember feeling touched by the Spirit, and I did decide, right then, that my goal was the temple.
For a few years, nothing changed. I still seldom attended church, but I thought differently. I believed I would someday go to the temple.
Eventually that one decision began to affect other decisions. When I was 14, I decided that a person planning to go to the temple needed to take seminary. I saw myself as a going-to-seminary kind of person.
My friends from seminary attended Young Women activities, so I started going too. I decided that someone who planned to receive temple blessings would be helped by earning her Young Womanhood Recognition award. It wasn’t easy because of my late start in church activity, but a great leader helped me set extra goals to catch up.
One of my goals was 100 percent attendance at church meetings for one month. It was hard to have my parents drop me off each week. Sometimes I coaxed my little sister into going with me so that I wouldn’t have to sit alone. Achieving that goal helped me see that I was a going-to-church kind of person.
I made mistakes, lots of them. Sometimes I became discouraged and thought my temple dream would never come true. A loving bishop guided me, taught me about repentance, and helped me find the determination that no matter how difficult, reaching the temple would be worth it.
Turning 16 brought more decisions. One of my Sunday School teachers warned, “You will marry someone you date. Make sure you date the kind of person you can marry in the temple.” I took his advice seriously and asked myself about each friendship, “Is this the kind of person I could go to the temple with?” Sometimes my judgment was off. Still I kept to my plan until I found the right person to marry in the right place.
My parents supported me in all my decisions. Mom and Dad stood with me on the stand in sacrament meeting the day I received my Young Womanhood medallion. They were there when I graduated from seminary. They were with me when I received my patriarchal blessing, and they supported me as I attended Ricks College.
They were both with me the day I walked to the doors of the temple. I had finally reached the day when I would enter the temple and receive the blessings I had learned about. The angel Moroni, glowing in the early morning sun on the temple spire, seemed to proclaim my joy to the world. I kissed my parents good-bye as I entered.
If I had waited to decide where to marry, it would have been too difficult to leave my parents outside and be married inside the temple. I wouldn’t have had a strong enough testimony of the gospel and the importance of the temple. I may not even have had the opportunity to decide. Leaders, bishops, and friends helped me. My family supported me. But I never would have made it if I hadn’t first decided that I was going to the temple.
In the temple I learned more about Heavenly Father’s plan for me. I hadn’t reached the end of my goal at all. I had only made one more step. So I decided right then to keep my temple promises, no matter how difficult. I decided I was someday going to return to my Heavenly Father.

In 2023, President Russell M. Nelson delivered his now-famous address “Peacemakers Needed.”2 When my husband, Alexander, and I heard this prophetic message, we felt convicted to act. We had demanding work and school schedules, but we knew that our time was not our own—rather, it was a covenant gift from God. We felt inspired to create the Peacemaker Project, an academic student association dedicated to helping BYU students “engage in productive disagreement based on mutual respect and dignified dialogue.”3

Each of you has been given unique gifts, bestowed with the sacred purpose of building the kingdom of God. God Himself will accompany you in this pursuit. As Elder David A. Bednar taught, “The enabling power of the Atonement of Christ strengthens us to do things we could never do on our own.”4

I saw this miracle take place in my own life as I led the Peacemaker Project. The truth is, my husband and I are woefully unorganized, as the current sorry state of our apartment can attest. Despite our questionable abilities, the Peacemaker Project has reached thousands of students at BYU as well as students at 17 other campuses across the United States—a testament to God’s willingness to multiply our meager loaves and fishes.

As I was nearing the end of my master’s program I had the opportunity to attend an international professional meeting in Adelaide, Australia. A post-conference tour took us on a ten-day adventure from Adelaide on the south coast across the outback to Darwin on the north coast. Out in the middle we stopped near Alice Springs at a place called Ayers Rock. This is a large sandstone dome that seemingly rises up with nearly vertical walls over 1,100 feet out of an otherwise flat mulga desert. A tourist route that goes up the gentlest slope has metal posts cemented into the stone and connected to each other with chains. Even with this assistance, ascending the rock is only a feat for the fit and adventurous.

The night before our chance to assail the rock, a South African adventurer, a park ranger, and my roommate decided to do a free climb on the backside of Ayers Rock. This plan, hatched out over a few too many at the local bar, was shared with me upon my roommate’s return to our room. I’m still not sure how, but early the next morning I found myself following these characters in the ascent. The first 500 feet weren’t so bad, but, as I was the only climbing novice in the group, I was lagging behind, getting tired and a little nervous. It was apparent that we had passed the point of no return, as I found going up steep sandstone was much easier than going down. Three-quarters of the way up I found a little depression in the windswept stone to rest in, and I knew I was in trouble. My legs had turned to jelly and quivered uncontrollably. I was scared nearly to the point of panic. My companions, all experienced climbers, were struggling to find solid grips, as the sandstone composition was flaky near the top. Seemingly strong grips would peel off when exposed to weight.

As I sat there on my perch and looked out over the vast, beautiful desert, I thought my family might want to know what I saw in my last moments on earth. I pulled out my camera, slipped off the case, snapped a couple of photos, and was brought back to reality as my camera case tumbled down the slope, previewing my unseemly path to the bottom. Paralyzed with fear, realizing one slip would have me ending with a splat, I wished we had told someone where we had gone—but no one knew. I’m not even sure that what we were doing was legal, and my hungover companions were not bolstering any confidence.

I felt all alone, overwhelmed by despair. And then a thought flickered in my mind, and I instantly remembered that somebody knew where I was: God knew! In an awkward beginning, realizing He knew how I had ended up in this predicament and also knowing I had probably not listened to His still-voiced counsel, I began to plead with the Lord. In an effort to show my sincerity, I entered into one of those deal-making kind of prayers: “Lord, I’ll give up this and this and I’ll do that and that if you will only get me out of this mess!” It was then that I realized my legs had stopped trembling, my breathing had slowed, and a peace had replaced the panic. My group had found a way up the slope, and though it was the most treacherous and steepest part and required greater strength and effort, I was able to scramble up to the top with renewed confidence.

That was one of those moments in my life in which I received an infusion of spiritual reality and gained a sense of who I could really trust in every place and in every circumstance.

“I don’t want to go to school!” Maddy cried. “I’ll miss you! And I’m scared.”
Mommy hugged Maddy. “I’ll miss you too. But school is important. It helps you learn and grow.”
Maddy was sad. She wanted to stay home forever.
“Sometimes life takes courage. That means we have to be brave and do hard things,” Mommy said.
“What do you mean?” Maddy asked.
“Well, think about some of your favorite scripture stories,” Mommy said. “I bet Daniel was afraid of the lions. But Heavenly Father helped him.”
Maddy nodded. She liked that story!
“Or Esther,” Mommy said. “I bet she was scared to talk to the king. But she was still brave.”
Maddy knew that story too! She helped Mommy name some other people in the scriptures who showed courage.
Joseph Smith told the truth even when people didn’t believe him. Nephi followed Jesus even when it was hard.
“You don’t have to sail across an ocean like Nephi did,” Mommy said. “But you do have to go to school. And just like Heavenly Father helped all of those people, He will help you too.”
Maddy wiped her eyes. She wasn’t crying anymore.
“Maybe we can color a picture together to help you remember you can be brave,” Mommy said. “Then you could take it with you to school.”
Maddy liked that idea! She still felt a little scared. But she knew Heavenly Father could help her be brave, just like he had helped Daniel, Esther, and Nephi.

Joseph F. Smith was the first president of the Church to visit Europe. When John Ruothoff, a young boy with failing eyesight, discovered that President Smith would be visiting in Holland, he said to his mother, “The Prophet has the most power of any missionary on earth. If you will take me with you to the meeting and he will look into my eyes, I believe they will be healed.”
After the meeting President Smith lifted John’s bandages, looked into his eyes, blessed him, and promised him that he would see again. Later at home when the bandages were removed the boy cried out, “Mama, my eyes are well; I cannot feel any more pain. I can see fine now, and far too.”

The year I turned 12 years old, our family’s Easter celebration coincided with the April general conference. We adjusted accordingly. I remember joining my cousins in front of my grandparents’ big TV dutifully watching the Saturday morning and afternoon sessions. Shortly after the afternoon session, we had dinner, an Easter message, and then time came my favorite activity: the Easter egg hunt.
Just as my aunts slipped outside to start hiding the eggs, my mom grabbed me and reminded me that things were different since my last birthday. “Peter, you need to get changed for the priesthood session. Dad will take you with all the uncles.”
I frowned. “Will I have time to get some Easter eggs?”
“Maybe,” Mom said, “if you hurry. Your clothes are in the back room.”
I ran through the hall of my grandparents’ home to where Mom had stowed my change of clothes. As I changed, I could see my aunts—my mom had now joined them—hurriedly scattering Easter eggs and candy across the back lawn. I checked my watch. We only had about 15 minutes before the priesthood session started. I looked out the window again. Would there be time?
As I watched, my aunts disappeared from the yard. When they reappeared, all of my cousins and little brothers swarmed around them, baskets in hand, scooping up the eggs and chocolates. I started putting on my tie, hoping that if I hurried, there might be some left.
My mom came through the back door. “There won’t be time, Peter. Are you ready to go?” She had an Easter basket in her hand with some eggs and candy in it. “I saved you some.”
I looked in the basket. It wasn’t as much as I normally managed to grab. I probably sighed a little. “Thanks, Mom,” I said, as I took a few pieces out of the basket.
“You’d better hurry,” she said. “I think they’re all waiting for you.”
I was greeted with a mixture of smiles and compliments. “Hey, there’s my sharp nephew!” said one of my uncles. “Looking good!” said another.
I smiled. I was suddenly excited as we rushed out the front door and piled into a couple of cars to make the quick drive to the chapel. My dad’s joy in having his son with him for the first time was palpable. I sat down between my dad and my grandpa. With my uncles, we took up a good portion of the bench. I think I kept smiling through the entire session.
I don’t remember what any of the speakers said that night, but I do remember the difference between missing the Easter egg hunt and being with the rest of the priesthood. I was happy. I had been a deacon for only four months, but I could feel the love that my father and uncles had for me and the camaraderie we all had as brethren of the priesthood. I was lucky to have that experience when I was so young, but from it, I have developed an abiding love of the priesthood, general conference, and my family. Now, as each general conference approaches, I try to re-create those feelings that I first felt as a young deacon at my first priesthood session.

The background, in a word, is that the Prophet had promised those brethren in the name of the Lord that he would defend them even if it meant giving up his life. Had he been all alone in the Carthage Jail, the story might be different, but he was not.

He was there with two members of the Twelve, John Taylor and Willard Richards – Willard Richards weighing over three hundred pounds, the largest target (and the only one who would not be injured) – and with his brother Hyrum. He did defend them as he had promised. In fact, we now know from the records that the first man up the stairs that day, anxious and eager, was met by a fist and rolled back down. That fist was Joseph Smith’s.

Inside the room they had nothing to defend themselves with except two pistols, plus two walking sticks which they used in an effort to divert the rifles. Some of the balls went off in the ceiling. When Jacob Hablin and James W. Woods visited the room shortly after the martyrdom they counted the pockmarks of the balls that were shot through the door or doorway. There were thirty-six. According to Willard Richards, all that shooting occurred in less than two minutes. Both Hyrum and Joseph received five balls; John Taylor, four.

The previous night, the Prophet had had some private conversations. We know that he had borne to the guards his testimony of the Book of Mormon and the Restoration, and later his last testimony to the brethren present. We know also that earlier he had pleaded three times with Hyrum for Hyrum to leave him and go back. Hyrum could only say, “Joseph, I can’t leave you.” Hyrum, it turns out was the first to be killed.

How did the Prophet make the decision to leave that room, or to try to leave it, through the window? Films depict Joseph falling off balance out through a large glass plate window. This was a jail. Even the upstairs had walls as thick as two feet. The window was small, and Joseph was a large man, and for him to get through it required considerable effort.

Willard Richards used the strangest adverb in his whole account when he said that after emptying the pistol (which misfired a couple of times) the Prophet turned from the door, dropped the pistol, and went to the window.

It is difficult to understand how anybody could have heard the words in such a fracas, but one man, outside the jail, claimed he heard the Prophet cry, “Oh Lord, what shall I do?”

How fast can a man’s mind work in such circumstances? What was going through his? It was certain death at the door, that was clear. It was certain death at the window, because balls were coming through it, and John Taylor had just been blasted under the bed, writhing in pain with four wounds. Yet Joseph decided to get out – hoping, Willard Richards believed, that it might save the lives of his brethren.

Whether that was his intent or not, he was hit from behind – twice, maybe three times – but managed anyway to pull himself up and out, and then – from the window. “He’s leaped the window!” someone shouted, and those on the landing rushed downstairs and outside. “Shoot him, – shoot him!” said Levi Williams, and they shot several times more.

One account says that the Prophet died with a smile. Perhaps he was conscious long enough to know that the promise he had made to Willard Richards had been fulfilled: “Willard . . . you will stand where the balls will fly around you like hail and men will fall dead by your side, and . . . there never shall a ball injure you.” Perhaps he knew that John Taylor would become the third prophet, seer, and revelator.

Some months ago I sat on an airplane beside a gentleman from the Far East. After exchanging a few pleasantries, he, responding to my inquiry, told me about his business activities. He then inquired about mine. This, of course, led to a gospel discussion. He had no religion, although he said his mother was a Christian. He had no concept of a God, no idea whether he had had a pre-earth existence or whether he would live on after death. He had no purpose in life except to work hard and obtain a “reasonable standard of living.” After discussing a few fundamental gospel truths, he responded: “Such concepts would surely give one an objective to live for.”
A few weeks later I mailed him a letter and sent him some literature.
In his response, he wrote:
“I still remember you, that I really enjoyed the conversation exchanged with you on the [airplane]. …
“I have been working hard … without ‘purpose.’ … You made my eyes open for what is the true purpose of working every day and [of] life itself. …
“In the meantime,” he said, “I cannot stop drinking and smoking so far”—he was carrying a package of liquor when we were talking, and I let him read the Word of Wisdom. So he said, “I cannot stop drinking so far, but I shall never forget where we came from, and why we are here, and where we go after we leave this probation.”
As to who we are, I had explained, of course, as Paul told the Athenians on Mars’ hill, that we are “the offspring of God.” (Acts 17:28–29.) This statement required some explanation because, as he pointed out, our physical bodies are the offspring of our mortal parents. At this point I let him read in the revelation the Lord’s statement that “the spirit and the body are the soul of man” (D&C 88:15) and emphasized the fact to him that it is man’s spirit which is the offspring of God. This opened the way for an explanation that God himself is a soul, composed of a body of flesh and bones as tangible as man’s, and a spirit; that he is a resurrected, glorified, exalted, omniscient, omnipotent, and—in spirit, and power, and influence—an omnipresent person, the ruler of the heavens and the earth and all things therein; that the spirits of all men are literally his “begotten sons and daughters.” (D&C 76:24.)
This concept is what he must have had in mind when he wrote, “I shall never forget where we came from.”
As to why we are here on earth, I reminded him of the self-evident fact that, as the offspring of God, we inherit the capability of reaching, in full maturity, the status of our heavenly parents just as we inherit from our mortal parents the capability to attain to their mortal status; and that since God has a body of flesh and bones, it was necessary and perfectly natural for us, his spirit offspring, to obtain such bodies in order that we might be like him; that coming to earth was the means provided for us to obtain these bodies. I further explained to him that this mortal probation provides us the opportunity to, while walking by faith, prove ourselves worthy to go on to perfection and exaltation in the likeness of our heavenly parents.
I explained what Abraham wrote concerning his vision of the council in heaven where the gospel plan was presented and the creation of this earth projected. We considered Abraham’s statement:
“Now the Lord had shown unto me, Abraham, the intelligences that were organized before the world was; …
“And there stood one among [those that were spirits] that was like unto God [namely, Jesus Christ], and he said unto those who were with him: We will go down, for there is space there, and we will take of these materials, and we will make an earth whereon these may dwell;
“And we will prove them herewith, to see if they will do all things whatsoever the Lord their God shall command them;
“And they who keep their first estate shall be added upon; and they who keep not their first estate shall not have glory in the same kingdom with those who keep their first estate; and they who keep their second estate shall have glory added upon their heads for ever and ever.” (Abr. 3:22–26.)
We all know, of course, that the program thus announced was implemented. The spirits who kept their first estate—that was their spirit estate—are added upon, as promised, by receiving mortal bodies as they are born here upon this earth as human souls.
The promise is that if they keep this, their second (that is, our mortal) estate, they “shall have glory added upon their heads for ever and ever.”
It thus became clear to him, as it is to all of us, that we came to earth for two purposes: one, to obtain physical bodies of flesh and bone in the likeness of our Heavenly Father; and two, to be proved—to see if we “will do all things whatsoever the Lord” our God commands us.
This was what my friend had in mind when he said, “I shall never forget … why we are here.”

When we returned to Japan after our marriage, the Lord’s promises came to pass in my life as I looked for full-time employment.
I was working only part-time when our first child arrived. We were elated, but I knew I would not be able to support our growing family without a full-time job. We began praying earnestly for heaven’s help.
Before I served my mission, I had wanted to work in foreign trade. But to be hired by a trading company, an applicant generally had to be a university graduate who held certain certifications. I hadn’t finished college and had no certifications, but when we prayed, we felt that the Lord would bless us and prepare a job for me.
I decided to take the hiring exams at a number of trading companies despite my lack of education. The first two turned me down, but I had a curious experience when I applied at a third company.
The Church had few Japanese members during that era, and many people were prejudiced against the Church. When three representatives from the third trading company interviewed me, they looked at my résumé and learned that I was a Latter-day Saint. They began asking me questions about the Church, requesting detailed answers. Having recently returned from my mission, I had no problem talking about the restored Church of Jesus Christ.
For what must have been at least 40 minutes, I spoke about the gospel and bore my testimony of the life of Jesus Christ, the Apostasy, Joseph Smith’s First Vision, the Book of Mormon, the Restoration of the true Church of Jesus Christ, and the teachings of the Church.
Not one of the interviewers stopped me while I spoke. A few days later the trading company offered me a job at an astoundingly high salary. Later, when I asked my manager why they had hired me, he replied, “During your interview I gained an assurance that you were conscientious, sincere, and loyal, and that you would be someone who would work in such a way for our company.”
I testify that the Lord fulfills His promises. During my interview I felt the power and Spirit of the Lord upon me, just as He promises to those who attend the temple and honor their temple covenants. I also felt His Spirit with me while I worked for the company, where I was blessed to make many valuable contributions.

Miranda hurried through the front door, thankful that her house was cooler than the hot summer weather outside. She was sweaty from playing her last football game of the season and frustrated because the Teal Turbos had lost. Again.
Mom came into the room carrying a water bottle and a bag of leftover orange slices from the game. “You played a great game. Being goalie is a rough job.”
Miranda had played well—she had blocked a lot of shots and kicked harder than usual. But most of the other girls on her team had never played football before, and today made it official: they had lost every game this season.
“I just wish I could be on a team that won once in a while, you know?” A few tears leaked out of the corners of Miranda’s eyes and fell onto her blue-green jersey. As she squeezed her eyes shut, the phone rang.
Mom picked up the phone and after a moment said, “It’s for you.”
“Hi, Miranda? This is Tom, coach of the Chili Kickers. I was watching your game today. You looked great out there.”
Miranda’s heart started beating faster. The Chili Kickers was the best football team in the league!
“Our team is going to the regional championship games next month. You played so well today that I want you to come with us as a back-up goalie.”
Miranda’s heart nearly leaped out of her chest. This was her chance to play with a winning team!
“I’d love to come!” Miranda said. They talked for a few minutes about the details before she hung up and ran into the other room to tell Mom. Together they started writing the dates of the practices and games on the family calendar.
Suddenly Mom stopped writing, her pen hovering above one of the calendar squares.
“Uh-oh. Miranda, these games are on Sundays. Here, look.” She pointed to the game schedule and turned to Miranda with a worried frown. “What do you think we should do?”
Miranda’s heart sank, and she bit her lip as she thought about her options. Mom might let her play if she asked, but when she thought about playing on Sunday—and especially about missing church—she got a sick feeling in her stomach. She knew Sunday was for going to church and worshipping Heavenly Father, and she couldn’t really do those things while playing football.
“I think I should probably call him back and tell him I can’t play,” Miranda said. She tried hard not to cry. Even though she knew it was the right choice, it was hard to give up something she wanted so badly.
“And you know what I think?” Mom said, giving her a big hug. “I think you are one great kid.”
That Sunday, as Miranda sat in Primary, she thought about the good decision she had made. The coach was surprised when Miranda had called and said she couldn’t play football on Sundays. He had tried to get her to change her mind, but she had stuck with her decision. Now, as she listened to the Primary songs and lessons, Miranda smiled. The peaceful feeling in her heart told her that she was in the right place. She’d made a winning decision after all.

Sept. 13, 1853 I was stopped by ruffians. They said they would sink me in the Bay. (It made me mad.) I asked them if I could say a few words and I commenced to talk. I told them it was their religion that slew righteous Abel, killed the prophets, crucified the Savior and put his disciples to death, persecuted the Saints, martyred the Prophets Joseph Smith and Hyrum, and drove the Latter-day Saints, men, women, and children, into the deserts and mountains among the hostile Indians to suffer death and starvation. Then I told something about the religion of Jesus Christ. The sun was just setting when I stopped, as I saw the man of the sloop coming toward me. He wanted to know if I was ready to go. I told him yes. Says I, “I thought you would have been gone long ago.” “No,” says he, “there has been no wind.” We started for the boat. (Some of my persecutors begged me to forgive them. Says I, “Repent of your sins, be baptized, and get forgiveness of them.”) (11)

Says I, “How long have I detained you in talking to them people.” He said, “About one hour and a half, but there has been no wind.” The wind then began to rise. We made a quick trip over (in silence). As soon as we landed I started to go to Mr. P. Lewis’s. Says he, “Hold on, you must take supper with me.” I was surprised as he had always been my enemy. Says I, “I do not want to be late to meeting.” Says he, “You will not have to wait long. I am going to your meeting.” When we got in the man went in the kitchen. I heard his wife say, “What have you brought that fellow here for?” Says he, “To supper.” And says to her, “I never heard such preaching before as he gave the sailors and roughs. … They were going to drown him and he talked to them by the power of God; and I am going to his meeting and I want you to go. Hurry up the supper.”

It was another dreary, lifeless, and boring day. For the last little while, everything had been the same, and though I tried to be happy, I was growing bored and restless. It was the middle of the COVID-19 pandemic and my country was in lockdown, so we were all encouraged to stay home until further notice.
Every day when I looked at myself in the mirror, I saw an emptiness there. It could have been because I couldn’t see my friends or because I wasn’t able to work or support my family at the time. I had just graduated from college and wanted to become a teacher, but I needed to pass an examination that had been postponed because of the pandemic.
I felt unhappy, like something was missing in my heart, but I couldn’t completely figure out what it was or even how I could find it.
One night, my cousin was browsing through a book. It was dark blue and entitled “Ang Aklat ni Mormon.” She had recently gone with her friend to something called “family home evening” and had been talking to missionaries on the phone a few nights a week ever since. On this particular night, she was talking on the phone while skimming the book when suddenly she asked me if I could help her answer a question from one of the missionaries.
“Seriously?” I thought. “You’re the one being asked, so why do I have to help?”
But I gave in and asked her what the question was. And she said, “Ano daw layunin mo sa buhay?” (“What do you think is your purpose in life?”)
My heart started beating so fast when I heard the question.
“This is it! This is what I’ve been looking for. This is what’s been missing in my heart,” I thought.
I stared at my cousin, smiling, and borrowed the phone to answer the missionary’s question. I told him that I believed that the purpose of life is to be happy, to enjoy life, and to serve others and be kind to them. And he agreed!
He and his companion also asked if they could teach my cousin and me more about the gospel, and we said yes. My family was taught by missionaries when I was young. My mother is a member but had been less active for most of my life, but after the conversation on the phone, I wanted to learn more.
Every time the missionaries shared something about the gospel, I felt joy in my heart, particularly in learning about the plan of salvation and the promises of Heavenly Father and the Savior. Eventually we went to church, and the members welcomed us with their warm hearts and helping hands.
I could feel in my heart that I was taking the right path. And after a few months, I was baptized by a close friend who had helped me move forward in the gospel.
Making a lot of changes in my life after joining the Church was hard. And my life is far from being easy or happy all the time. But as I have had new opportunities to serve and deepen my testimony, I have come to know with certainty that everlasting joy is indeed found in this gospel.
I feel joy in my heart whenever I read the scriptures, hear divine inspiration from our prophets and apostles, and witness the testimonies of the members around me. I’ve found my answer to the question those missionaries asked over the phone: the purpose of life is to be a better person for God, for myself, and for my family, all while striving to return to Him. And this knowledge has brought me the exact happiness I’ve been looking for. Continuing to serve people and take my family to church is now my top priority, because I want them to experience true joy.
President Russell M. Nelson taught, “When the focus of our lives is on God’s plan of salvation … and Jesus Christ and His gospel, we can feel joy regardless of what is happening—or not happening—in our lives.”1
I too testify that true happiness can be found only in following Jesus Christ. Every opportunity I have had in the gospel of Jesus Christ has filled my soul with joy, especially as I have allowed these experiences to help me grow closer to Him.
Before the COVID-19 pandemic, I had been happy with my life. But the true joy the gospel brings is different from happiness. Even in the pandemic, the gospel brings me peace and shows me the purpose of life, which helps me keep moving forward with faith and hope.
I finally found my missing piece. I needed the joy that following Jesus Christ brings to my heart and my life, as we all do.

Elder Cowley’s daily journal entries reflect concerns common to all missionaries. He anxiously awaited letters from home. The first letter did not arrive until more than six weeks after he started his mission.

“The fleas bothered me so much that I was unable to sleep,” he wrote one day. Still, he managed to find humor in the situation. “I call them my best companions because they stick to me so close.”1 He soon began rubbing flea powder over his entire body and sprinkling it liberally on his covers before going to bed. “I trust that this will stupify [sic] them.”2

The “ordinary” life continued: he was sick for two days with a stomach ailment; he performed his first baptism; he was delighted to get a fruitcake from home.

Young Elder Cowley quickly grew to love the people in his mission field. He felt at ease with the Maori people and took an interest in their culture. He and his companion frequently traveled some distance—by foot, bicycle, horse, boat, or train—to meet with members and investigators.

But by early February 1915, Elder Cowley was temporarily without a companion (a difficulty not encountered by present-day missionaries), and he battled homesickness by studying the Maori language and visiting his Maori friends. His journal entry for 8 February is typical: “This is a very lonely place and I am afraid that I would be inclined to be homesick if I didn’t have my books to study. … After studying several hours I took a walk up the road to another Maori home. Here I made some new friends and had a little religious conversation.”3

Elder Cowley’s assurance that his family was praying for him also strengthened him in hard times. “For eight months I was very sick,” he later wrote. “I had boils, sunstroke, tapeworms, was kicked in the abdomen by a horse, and it was just one thing after another. I used to wake up in the morning, and I would say to myself, ‘Well, all of them at home, my father, mother, and brothers and sisters are down on their knees offering up their prayers in my behalf.’ … That meant something to me.”4

As his love for the Maori people blossomed, Elder Cowley had even more of a desire to learn their language. Soon after rising, he would turn to his books. “I studied until noon and then had dinner and took a little rest,” he wrote. “The rest of the afternoon was also spent in studying.”5

Years later, Elder John Longden, an Assistant to the Twelve, told how Matthew, when he was only 17, was blessed to learn Maori. “He had only been out for two and one half months, and a district missionary conference was called. … Brother Cowley had an opportunity to speak. … He spoke for fifteen or twenty minutes in a fluent Maori tongue, so much so that it amazed the older Maori people in the congregation.
“After the meeting … the district president said … ‘How did you master this Maori language in such a short time?’ …
“Brother Cowley said, ‘When I came here I did not know one word of Maori, but I decided I was going to learn twenty new words each day, and I did. But when I came to put them together, I was not successful.’ By this time they were passing a cornfield, and Brother Cowley said, ‘You see that cornfield? I went out there, and I talked to the Lord, but before that, I fasted, and that night I tried again, but the words just didn’t seem to jell. So the next day I fasted again, and I went out into that cornfield, and I talked to the Lord again. I tried that night with a little more success. On the third day I fasted again, and I went out into the cornfield, and I talked to the Lord. … I told him that I had been called by this same authority to fill a mission, but if this was not the mission in which I was to serve to please make it known because I wanted to serve where I could accomplish the greatest amount of good.’
“That was the spirit of Brother Cowley. He said, ‘The next morning, as we knelt in family prayer in that Maori home, I was called upon by the head of the household to be mouth. I tried to speak English, and I could not. When I tried Maori, the words just flowed forth, and I knew that God had answered my prayer and this was where I should serve.’”6
Though he was scheduled to complete his three-year mission in 1917, Elder Cowley had become so fluent in the Maori language that President Joseph F. Smith (1838–1918) asked him to remain in New Zealand an additional two years to translate the Doctrine and Covenants and Pearl of Great Price into Maori. Elder Cowley willingly complied. He later served as president of the New Zealand Mission and presiding General Authority over the entire Pacific area, never losing his fluency in Maori.
Just months before he died of a heart attack in 1953 at the age of 56, Elder Cowley wrote that his experiences in New Zealand “have since been an anchor to my faith. … It was there that I learned the value of patience, long suffering, kindliness, forgiveness and the other virtues that are so necessary in the regeneration of the human soul … There amidst the fleas and filth, I loved and was loved.”7

My husband and I were missionaries serving in Tarbes, France, in the Pyrenees Mountains. It was Christmas Eve, and we decided to go down to the city at Verdun Plaza to give away copies of the Book of Mormon. The street was deserted, and we started to ask ourselves what we were going to do with so many books. Suddenly, we saw a young man who seemed to not know where to go.
We approached him and offered him a Book of Mormon. He became joyful as he listened to us talk about the gospel. He explained that he was alone that Christmas night and that he would read the Book of Mormon and not feel alone.
After he left, we looked around the street again and saw a woman walking slowly toward us in the cold night. A glimmer of happiness shone in her eyes when we presented her with a Book of Mormon. She told us that she had become a widow recently and was happy that we were concerned about her. She said she was extremely grateful to us. As she walked away, we saw her hold the book against her heart.
That night we distributed every copy of the Book of Mormon that we had brought with us. Most of the people who we gave them to were alone, distressed, and very much in need of love. We went back home that night with the impression that we had received the greatest Christmas gift because of the joy that we were able to give to others.

Ben is a great example of helping others and being a blessing in their lives. He looks out for people who are not as popular or don’t feel as involved. He thinks of others more than himself. When Kelon moved into Ben’s ward, Kelon described his life as “nothing but a party” that was going in the wrong direction. He felt empty inside. But because of the examples of his Latter-day Saint friends and particularly that of his best friend, Ben, he saw there was a better way. Ben invited Kelon to participate in Church activities. At those activities Kelon noticed there was something different about the young men there. He wanted to be like them. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he knew he wanted it. He wanted to be happy like they were.
He prayed to God and knew that he needed to join the Church. Ben baptized his best friend when they were 16. Kelon said of his baptism, “I had finally found peace, and I felt the loving arms of the Savior as I came out of the font. I’m grateful for good friends who live what they believe.”

Near the end of a stressful day, John A. Widtsoe sat in his office, “rather tired after the day’s work.” He was facing a controversial problem, and he was feeling the heavy weight of his responsibilities. “I was weary,” he said.
“Just then there was a knock upon the door, and in walked George Albert Smith. He said, ‘I am on the way home after my day’s work. I thought of you and the problems that you are expected to solve. I came in to comfort you and to bless you.’
“… I shall never forget it. We talked together for awhile; we parted, he went home. My heart was lifted. I was weary no longer.”
Recalling this experience many years later as a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, Elder Widtsoe (1872–1952) said: “That was the way of George Albert Smith. … He gave of his own time, his own strength.”1

It requires faith to establish and act upon a vision. But it is only when we move forward in faith that we put ourselves in a position in which the Lord can bless us. A young couple recently shared an experience with me that illustrates this point.

As it had been with Christiane and me, their vision was to begin their family as soon as possible after they were married. They had two criteria for doing so: they needed health insurance and they wanted to be able to care for their baby without using child care.

Not too long after the wife graduated from college, she got a job that provided health insurance and would allow her to work from home. Their plans seemed to have fallen in place exactly as they had hoped, and soon they were expecting their first child. They felt they could both care for the baby between their work and school schedules.

In the summer, the soon-to-be father was looking for an internship in his chosen profession. He had several interviews, but none of them worked out. In October, when his wife was seven months pregnant, she got a call from her boss. The boss informed her that the federal grant that funded her salary would not be renewed. The agency was happy to offer her another job, but she would not be able to work from home. The couple was heartbroken. They thought they had planned well and that the circumstances were perfect for the wife to be able to stay home with the baby.

Several weeks went by, and they adjusted to the idea that they would need to use some form of day care. About three weeks before her December due date, the husband received a call out of the blue from one of the business owners who had interviewed him in the summer. The man said he had just made some new hires and had put a rejection letter in the mail to the husband. But then he had had a very strong feeling that he should hire the husband. The business owner told the young man to ignore the rejection letter, and he then offered him a full-time position with benefits.

In concluding her account of these events, the wife wrote:

We were overjoyed. We knew that the Lord had taken a special interest in our desire for me to be a stay-at-home mom. And the Lord’s plan was even better than our plan. If things had gone our way, I would have had to work while caring for our child, but with this new situation I was able to devote my full time and attention to our new baby, which had always been our ultimate goal.