Gospel Story Finder

One of the pivotal experiences of his life happened when he was 15 years old. His brother, Joe, wanted to serve a mission, but his father—a good man who had lost interest in Church activity—felt Joe should instead attend medical school. Joe and Quentin respected their father highly, so they sequestered themselves to consider his counsel.
They talked well into the night, balancing the pros and cons of each option. The bottom line, they decided, was this: If the Church is just another good institution, Joe could help people better by going to medical school. However, if the Savior truly lived, if Joseph Smith truly was a prophet, if the Church he organized under God’s direction truly is the Church of Jesus Christ, if the Book of Mormon is true, then Joe’s obligation was clear. The next morning Joe approached his father with that reasoning and bore his testimony. He left for his mission soon after, with his father’s support and his mother’s joyful blessing.
That conversation profoundly affected young Quentin. He had always had a testimony of the Savior. However, Joseph Smith, the Church, the Book of Mormon—these were another matter to a 15-year-old. He believed, but he had yet to receive a spiritual witness that confirmed their certain reality.
After he and Joe parted that night, Quentin went to his room, knelt in prayer, and asked for the same witness his brother had, a witness he desired with all his heart. And it came in a way so powerful that any doubts he had were swept away forever.

In 1936, 68 years ago, one of the secretaries to the Quorum of the Twelve told me what a member of the Twelve had told her. She said that in the coming general conference there would be announced a program which would come to be recognized as even more noteworthy than the coming of our people to these valleys as pioneers.
Now, parenthetically, you should not tell your secretary what you should keep confidential, and she should not tell anyone else when she is given confidential information.
But that was what happened back then. It never happens today. Oh, no! I should add that my able secretaries are never guilty of such a breach of confidentiality.
As you who are acquainted with the history know, there was announced at that time the Church security plan, the name of which was subsequently changed to the Church welfare program.
I wondered back in those days how anything the Church did could eclipse in anyone’s judgment the historic gathering of our people to these western valleys of the United States. That was a movement of such epic proportions that I felt nothing could ever be so noteworthy. But I have discovered something of interest in the last short while.
We receive many prominent visitors in the office of the First Presidency. They include heads of state and ambassadors of nations. A few weeks ago, we entertained the mayor of one of the great cities of the world. We have, likewise, recently entertained the vice president and the ambassador of Ecuador, the ambassador from Lithuania, the ambassador from Belarus, and others. In our conversations not one of these visitors mentioned the great pioneer journey of our forebears. But each of them, independently, spoke in high praise of our welfare program and our humanitarian efforts.
And so as I speak in this great priesthood meeting, I wish to say a few words concerning our efforts in behalf of those in need, be they members of the Church or otherwise, in various parts of the world.
When the modern welfare program was put in motion, it was designed to take care of the needs of our own people. In the years that have followed, thousands upon thousands have been served. Bishops and Relief Society presidents have had available to them food and clothing and other supplies for those in need. Numberless members of the Church have worked in volunteer capacities in producing that which was required. We now operate 113 storehouses, 63 farms, 105 canneries and home storage centers, 18 food processing and distribution plants, as well as many other facilities.
Not only have the needs of Church members been met, but aid has been extended to countless others. Right here in this Salt Lake City community, many of the hungry are fed daily by non-LDS agencies utilizing LDS welfare supplies.
Here, in this city, and in a number of other places, we operate beautiful stores where there is no cash register, where no money changes hands, where food, clothing, and other necessities are provided to those in distress. I believe that no better milk, no better meat, and no better flour is found on any grocery shelf than that which is distributed from the bishops’ storehouses.
The principles on which these establishments operate are essentially what they were at the beginning.
Those in need are expected to do all they can to provide for themselves. Then families are expected to assist in taking care of their less-fortunate members. And then the resources of the Church are made available.
We believe in and take very seriously the words of our Lord:
“Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world:
“For I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in:
“Naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison, and ye came unto me” (Matt. 25:34–36).
This is the Lord’s way of caring for those in need which, He declared, “ye have … always with you” (see Matt. 26:11).
Those who are able voluntarily work to provide for those who are not able. Last year there were 563,000 days of donated labor in welfare facilities. That is the equivalent of a man working eight hours a day for 1,542 years.
A recent issue of the Church News carried the story of a group of farmers in a small Idaho community. May I read briefly from that account?
“It is 6 a.m. in late October, and frost already hangs in the air over the sugar beet fields of Rupert, Idaho.
“The long arms of the ‘beeters’ stretch out over twelve rows, slicing the tops off sugar beets. Behind them, the harvesters thrust their steel fingers into the soil and scoop up the beets, pulling them up toward a belt and into a waiting truck.
“… This is the Rupert Idaho Welfare Farm, and those who are working here today are volunteers. … At times more than 60 machines [are] working in harmony together— … all owned by local farmers.”
The work goes on throughout the day.
“[At] 7 p.m. … the sun has set, leaving the land dark and cold once again. The farmers head home, exhausted and happy.
“They have finished well another day.
“They have harvested the Lord’s sugar beets” (Neil K. Newell, “A Harvest in Idaho,” Church News, 20 Mar. 2004, 16).
Such remarkable volunteer service goes on constantly to assure supplies for the storehouses of the Lord.
Since the early beginnings, the program has moved beyond caring for the needy to the encouragement of preparedness on the part of families of the Church. No one knows when catastrophe might strike—or sickness, or unemployment, or a disabling accident.
Last year the program helped families store 18 million pounds of basic foods against a possible time of need. Hopefully, that time will never come. But the good, wholesome, basic food so stored brings peace of mind and also the satisfaction of obedience to counsel.
Now there has been added another element. It began some years ago when drought in Africa brought hunger and death to uncounted numbers. Members of the Church were invited to contribute to a great humanitarian effort to meet the needs of those terribly impoverished people. Your contributions were numerous and generous. The work has continued because there are other serious needs in many places. The outreach of this aid has become a miracle. Millions of pounds of food, medical supplies, blankets, tents, clothing, and other materials have staved off famine and desolation in various parts of the world. Wells have been dug, crops have been planted, lives have been saved. Let me give you an example.
Neil Darlington is a chemical engineer who worked for a large industrial company in Ghana. Eventually, he retired.
He and his wife were then called as a missionary couple. They were sent to Ghana. Brother Darlington says, “In areas of famine, disease, and social unrest, we were there as representatives of the Church, extending a helping hand to the destitute, the hungry, the distressed.”
In small villages they drilled new wells and repaired old ones. Those of us who have fresh, clean water in abundance can scarcely appreciate the circumstances of those who are without.
Can you picture this couple, devoted Latter-day Saint missionaries? They drill into the dry earth. Their drill reaches the water table below, and the miracle liquid comes to the surface and spills over the dry and thirsty soil. There is rejoicing. There are tears. There is now water to drink, water with which to wash, water to grow crops. There is nothing more treasured in a dry land than water. How absolutely beautiful is water pouring from a new well.
On one occasion, when the tribal chiefs and the elders of the village gathered to thank them, Brother Darlington asked the chief if he and Sister Darlington could sing a song for them. They looked into the eyes of the dark-skinned men and women before them and sang “I Am a Child of God” as an expression of their common brotherhood.
This one couple, through their efforts, have provided water for an estimated 190,000 people in remote villages and refugee camps. Contemplate, if you will, the miracle of this accomplishment.
And now, literally thousands of their kind, married couples, couples who otherwise might simply have lived out their lives in largely idle pursuits, have served, and are serving, in scores of ways and in scores of places. They have worked and continue to work in the impoverished areas of America. They have worked, and still do so, in India and Indonesia, in Thailand and Cambodia, in Russia and the Baltic nations. And so the work expands.
Joining with others, the Church has recently provided wheelchairs for some 42,000 disabled persons. Think of what this means to people who literally have had to crawl to get about. With the aid of selfless doctors and nurses, neonatal resuscitation training was provided to nearly 19,000 professionals in the year 2003 alone. The lives of thousands of babies will be spared as a consequence.
Last year some 2,700 individuals were treated for eye problems, and 300 local practitioners were trained in sight-saving procedures. The blind have literally been made to see.
Where devastating floods have come, where earthquakes have created disaster, where hunger has stalked the land, wherever want has been created by whatever cause, representatives of the Church have been there. Some 98 million dollars in cash and in-kind assistance have been distributed in the past year, bringing such aid to a total of 643 million dollars in just 18 years.
I have been a firsthand witness to the effectiveness of our humanitarian efforts. In traveling the world, I have seen the recipients of your generosity. In 1998 I visited the areas of Central America, which had been ravaged by Hurricane Mitch. Here the distribution of food and clothing was quickly organized, and the cleaning and rebuilding of devastated homes and shattered lives was a miracle to behold.
There is not time to go on recounting the reach of these great and significant programs. In extending help we have not asked whether those affected belong to the Church. For we know that each of earth’s children is a child of God worthy of help in time of need. We have done what we have done largely with the left hand not knowing what the right hand is doing. We seek no commendation or thank-yous. It is compensation enough that when we help one of the least of these our Father’s children, we have done it unto Him and His Beloved Son (see Matt. 25:40).
We shall go on in this work. There will always be a need. Hunger and want and catastrophes will ever be with us. And there will always be those whose hearts have been touched by the light of the gospel who will be willing to serve and work and lift the needy of the earth.
As a correlated effort we have established the Perpetual Education Fund. It has come about through your generous contributions. It is now operating in 23 countries. Loans are extended to worthy young men and women for education. Otherwise, they would be trapped in the stagnated poverty their parents and forebears have known for generations. Some 10,000 and more are now being assisted, and experience to this date indicates that with such training they are now earning three to four times what was previously possible.
The Spirit of the Lord guides this work. This welfare activity is secular activity, expressing itself in terms of rice and beans, of blankets and tents, of clothing and medicine, of employment and education for better employment. But this so-called secular work is but an outward expression of an inward spirit—the Spirit of the Lord of whom it was said, He “went about doing good” (Acts 10:38).
May heaven prosper this great program, and may heaven’s blessing rest upon all who serve therein, I humbly pray, in the sacred name of Jesus Christ, amen.

The completion of the Kirtland Temple was foundational for the entire Church. It was accompanied by spiritual outpourings, doctrinal revelations, and restoration of essential keys for the continuing establishment of the Church. Like the ancient Apostles on the day of Pentecost, many members experienced marvelous spiritual experiences in connection with the dedication of the Kirtland Temple. But, as in our own lives, this did not mean they wouldn’t face challenges or hardships going forward. Little did these early members know they would be faced with a United States financial crisis—the panic of 1837—that would test their very souls.

One example of the challenges related to this financial crisis was experienced by Elder Parley P. Pratt, one of the great leaders of the Restoration. He was an original member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. In the early part of 1837, his dear wife, Thankful, died after delivering their first child. Parley and Thankful had been married almost 10 years, and her death devastated him.

A few months later, Elder Pratt found himself in one of the most difficult times the Church has experienced. In the midst of the national crisis, local economic issues—including land speculation and the struggles of a financial institution founded by Joseph Smith and other Church members—created discord and contention in Kirtland. Church leaders did not always make wise temporal decisions in their own lives. Parley suffered significant financial losses and for a time became disaffected with the Prophet Joseph. He wrote a stinging criticism to Joseph and spoke in opposition of him from the pulpit. At the same time, Parley said he continued to believe in the Book of Mormon and the Doctrine and Covenants.

Elder Pratt had lost his wife, his land, and his home. Parley, without telling Joseph, left for Missouri. On the road there, he unexpectedly met fellow Apostles Thomas B. Marsh and David Patten returning to Kirtland. They felt a great need to have harmony restored to the Quorum and persuaded Parley to return with them. He realized that no one had lost more than Joseph Smith and his family.

Parley sought out the Prophet, wept, and confessed that what he had done was wrong. In the months after his wife, Thankful’s, death, Parley had been “under a dark cloud” and had been overcome by fears and frustrations. Joseph, knowing what it was like to struggle against opposition and temptation, “frankly forgave” Parley, praying for him and blessing him. Parley and others who remained faithful benefited from the Kirtland challenges. They increased in wisdom and became more noble and virtuous. The experience became part of their foundations of faith.

Wong Yun Tai remembers the warm September evening in 1984 when her life changed. The Wong family live on the 21st floor of the Wu Yuet House, a government housing project in the Tuen Mun area of Hong Kong’s New Territories. That evening, 15-year-old Wong Yun Tai, who goes by the English name Belle, was eating dinner when a knock came at her door. Two strangers wearing white shirts, ties, and curious black name tags were at the door. They talked to her through the metal gate that remained locked even though the door was open.
Belle was busy eating, so she told her two visitors to come back in an hour. “I was interested in religion, and I really wanted to know what was true. I was just like Joseph Smith. I really wanted to know which church was God’s true church,” recalls Belle.
When the missionaries returned, she listened politely to their message. Afterward, they gave her a Book of Mormon to read, said a prayer, and then left. It was a simple meeting, but it had a powerful effect on Belle. “When I prayed, I had a very unique, good feeling in my heart,” she says.
A month later, Belle was baptized. Then the real work began. Belle, the second oldest child of Wong Hong Tsuen and Wong Leung Nan Ho, wanted her parents and brothers and sisters to experience the same gospel joy that had become such an important part of her life. She began sharing what she had learned.
Now, more than a decade later, she’s still sharing. Since those humble beginnings, seven of the eight Wong children have joined the Church, as have Mom and Dad. Belle served a mission in Hong Kong. So did two younger sisters, Angela and May.

Sam Walker of Shelley, Idaho, had been a missionary in Argentina for two weeks when he decided to accept the challenge in Moroni 10:4 [Moro. 10:4]:
“I would exhort you that ye would ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, if these things are not true; and if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you by the power of the Holy Ghost.”
He waited until his companion was asleep, and then he went into the bathroom to pray in private.
“I wore my overcoat over my pajamas because our bathroom had no roof,” says Elder Walker. “I can still remember kneeling down on the hard, damp floor. As I prayed, I listened intently for that still, small voice. When I felt my knees could take no more, I closed my prayer and went back to bed.”
Elder Walker continued to pray for a “sure testimony” of the Book of Mormon, but without the results he wanted. One day, he and his companion were teaching an elderly gentleman.
“An extraordinarily sweet spirit began to fill the room as my companion taught this man about the Book of Mormon,” remembers Elder Walker. “Suddenly my companion stopped and looked at me. I knew it was my turn to bear witness of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon. I don’t remember my exact words, but I do remember the warmth of the Holy Ghost bearing testimony to me. It grew stronger as I bore testimony to our friend that the Book of Mormon was true. At last I felt the sure knowledge of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon I had been seeking.”

Often the real value of something is not recognized until it is taken from us. To illustrate, consider a man who had lost the use of the priesthood through transgression. Later it was returned to him as part of the restoration of ordinances he obtained through full repentance. After the restoration, I turned to his wife and said, “Would you like a blessing?” She enthusiastically responded. Then I looked at the husband, now capable of using his priesthood, and said, “Would you like to give your wife a blessing?” Words cannot express the profound emotion of such an experience and the bonds of love, trust, and gratitude it created. You shouldn’t have to lose your priesthood to appreciate it more fully.

I think when people look at missions, they often see service missions as a “lesser” mission compared to a teaching mission. I’ll admit that when I was applying for my mission, I had some of these feelings. My priesthood leaders, the Missionary Department, and I worked on my application for over six months. I wanted to serve a teaching mission. I felt that I needed to.
Eventually, I met with my stake president, and I learned I was called to a service mission. My path was headed in a different direction than I originally anticipated, but surprisingly, I felt peace. I knew it was right.
Since starting my mission, I’ve been able to keep people company while they sit alone in cancer infusion rooms and serve in the temple as an ordinance worker. I’ve also had the opportunity to write articles for YA Weekly, using my love for writing to help bring light and hope to others.
I believe that I may have been able to go on a full-time teaching mission. However, I know that when I received my assignment to serve as a service missionary, it was much less about my mental health and far more about where the Lord needed me the most. I think I would have missed the deeply personal experiences that I’ve had on my service mission.

María stood in the slow-moving line at the carnícería (meat shop). She already had the fresh-baked loaves of bread from the panadería (bakery) in her shopping bag. She smiled as she heard a woman nearby talking about her.
“There aren’t very many young girls who can select meat for their family,” the woman was telling her companion. “But have you noticed how carefully María watches the butcher to make sure he cuts the meat just so!”
I enjoy shopping for Mamá, María thought to herself as she left the marketplace and hurried home with the meat and bread.
When María arrived home, Mamá was in the kitchen preparing and cooking soup for dinner that evening.
“Whew! It’s just ten o’clock and already it’s a hot day!” Papá exclaimed as he came in for a cool drink of water. Soon Papá, Mamá, and María were talking about María’s school, the hot weather, and other things. María loved Saturdays. It was good to be together as a family!
A loud clapping at their front gate announced company. María went to the window and called, “What do you want?”
Two blond young men neatly dressed in suits, white shirts, and ties stood at the gate. They said they wished to speak with her father.
“Papá,” María called. Papá and Mamá joined her at the window. Mamá explained that these young men had called yesterday and she had asked them to come back when Papá would be home.
“Come in, come in!” Papá called, opening the door to welcome the young men.
They asked Papá for permission to offer a prayer. He agreed, and tears came to María’s eyes as she listened, for their words were the same ones she used when she talked to Heavenly Father in her heart! She didn’t know people dared to pray like that out loud.
The visitors called themselves elders, and they told about a young man who had talked with God the Father and His Son Jesus Christ and afterward had organized a church. María’s heart pounded furiously as the elders said that they knew these things were true and that there was a living prophet on the earth today who was president of the church that the young man, Joseph Smith, had organized.
The family looked forward to each visit of the elders. María enjoyed going to Primary, and she was especially happy when her entire family attended Sunday School and other church meetings together. Now they had family prayer each morning and night, and María said her own prayers out loud. The elders taught them about temples, where they could be sealed together as a family forever!
On the day of their baptism María watched her father and then her mother go under the water in their beautiful white clothes. Then it was María’s turn. An elder took her by the hand, raised his other hand, and said a short prayer.
As María walked out of the water, she felt a warm glow of happiness. Now she was truly a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She could hardly wait to share the gospel with all of her friends.

One day after class, I met with a young brother, a member of the Church who was less active. I asked him why he was no longer coming to Church; he said that because in the Church not everyone is treated equally. Asking why he thought that, he told me that while he had attended institute classes throughout the year, he never received his certificate. I asked him if that was really what weakened his faith.
As I was thinking about what I could tell him regarding his situation, the Spirit prompted me to tell him about two older, remarkable, and courageous sisters: my mother, Hélène Kapinga, (62) and Sister Charlotte Nsamba (56). I told my friend that these women had set wise goals to better learn the gospel by joining with us every year at institute class. (In 2017, it was their fourth year attending institute!)
As I taught this young brother, I compared these two women to the strong women in the Book of Mormon who taught their children to fight against the enemies of their freedom, religion, families, and country. I gave this brother a reference from the Book of Alma, an epistle sent by Helaman to inform Moroni what the two thousand young men had told him about the source of their courage to fight against the Lamanites. These young men always knew that if they trusted in God they would be sustained in all things; and they had been taught by their mothers that if they did not doubt, God would deliver them. “We do not doubt our mothers knew it” (Alma 56:48). Even nowadays our mothers know the importance of the institute.
I also told this young brother that one day I asked my mother what she feels at the end of each year of institute when she does not receive a certificate: “Mom, don’t you feel bad when they don’t award you a certificate?” I told my young friend that I was surprised by her answer when she said, “My son, know that what I receive in these institute of religion classes is more important to me than the certificate.” And then she added, “Some young people come to institute just to get a certificate, but they forget what is important. I would rather lack a certificate than the knowledge of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ.” I thanked my mother for her inspired words.
I explained to the young brother that—like the two thousand young warriors told Helaman I have no doubt my mother, Hélène, and Sister Charlotte both know the importance of institute.
Today, my older brother and I are both serving in the mission field. I am serving in the Kinshasa Democratic Republic of the Congo Mission, while my brother is serving in the Mbuji-Mayi Democratic Republic of the Congo Mission.
I testify to you that institute is an inspired program—and has changed my life. I testify to you that because of institute I had the desire to serve a full-time mission, and today I have the courage to defend the truth wherever I find myself. I am not afraid to testify of the Book of Mormon to anyone because I am well prepared; and he who is “prepared . . . shall not fear” (Doctrine and Covenants 38:30).
I know that I am well equipped with knowledge of the truthfulness of the gospel of Jesus Christ acquired in institute. Today I am a missionary, authorized to preach the gospel to the world, and an official representative of Jesus Christ and of his Church because I made institute a priority in my life before going on mission.

Illustrations by Bradley H. Clark
One of the most challenging experiences of my life happened shortly after the passing of our 10-year-old daughter from brain cancer. The saying “You can’t take it with you” came with clarity as we looked around her room one Saturday afternoon.
Clarissa was gone, but her room still held the identifiable remnants of her earthly stay. We now had the daunting task of deciding what to do with her personal belongings. I knew that parting with a single item would not be easy, especially for my wife.
Dealing with the whirlwind of details associated with hospitals, chemotherapy, and radiation had left us little time to clean and organize.
Memories came as we packed up items she’d arranged on her headboard or bookshelf. They all held heartfelt meaning—from her favorite blanket, book, or necklace to her stuffed animals, schoolbooks, and football. My wife sobbed as we asked what to do with each item.
We gathered many of Clarissa’s books and took them to her elementary school for other children to enjoy. We gave her dresser to a neighbor. Some of her clothes went to cousins. Focusing on others helped make the difficult situation of parting with her things a little easier.
Several weeks later, as Christmas approached, my two teenage daughters asked their mother if they could use some of Clarissa’s clothes to make a special Christmas gift. They selected each article of clothing for its intrinsic family memory and carefully cut squares to represent precious moments in her life.
A few days before Christmas, they and their Young Women leader, who had helped them come up with the idea, showed me a quilt they were making. I looked in astonishment at each square of fabric, which represented an event in Clarissa’s life: a square from her football uniform, a square from the shirt we bought her on a family trip, a square from the pajama pants she wore at the hospital. Each piece, so precious and beautiful, reminded me of our time with her. I told my daughters it was perfect. I knew their mother would love it.
That Christmas morning I saw a gift given from the heart. I will always remember my wife’s expression when she opened her gift and saw what her daughters had made for her. Each night since then she has wrapped her Christmas quilt around her, recalling memories and dreaming of the day our family will be united again—thanks to the Atonement and Resurrection of Jesus Christ.

“Take that!” Josh growled, jabbing the controller with his thumb and slamming a bad guy to the ground. Josh loved video games.
“Better get out of your school clothes,” Dad called. “We’re due at the priesthood preview in an hour. Your mother went to get Grandpa—they’ll meet us there.”
Josh switched off the game without the usual grumbling. “Great!”
He was clipping on his Sunday tie when Dad laid a large hand on his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re so excited about receiving the priesthood.”
“Who wouldn’t be?” Josh exclaimed. “Sister Burke says that priesthood is the power Jesus used to make the world. When I get part of that power, nobody had better mess with me!”
Dad cleared his throat. “Josh—”
“My friend Devin’s a deacon already,” Josh interrupted. “He says that I’ll have more power than the president of the United States, and he can launch missiles and order whole armies around.”
Dad sighed. “Josh, the power is the Lord’s. He’s given the priesthood to us so that we can serve others. We don’t use it to hurt people.”
“Not even bad guys?”
“Which of us is perfect?” Dad replied. “Let’s go sit at the kitchen table—I’d like you to read something in the Doctrine and Covenants.”
At the table, Dad pointed to a passage and Josh read it aloud, sounding out some of the harder words. “No power or influence can or ought to be maintained by virtue of the priesthood, only by persuasion, by long-suffering, by gentleness and meekness, and by love un-un—”
“Unfeigned,” Dad said. “It means genuine, not faked.”
“What good’s power if you have to be wimpy and weak to use it?”
“It doesn’t say wimpy and weak. It says gentle and meek.”
“Same thing.”
“Josh, will you come downstairs with me, please?”
Dad put the bracelet back into his wallet, and Josh followed him upstairs to the living room. Taking a picture of the Savior from the wall, Dad said, “On my last day of school, I hobbled into Brother Jones’s room and told him that I hoped to be as strong someday as he was. He smiled and handed me a graduation gift. ‘Thank you,’ he said, ‘but here’s a better example to follow.’ I unwrapped this picture. Since then I’ve studied the life of the Savior and done my best to follow his example.”
Dad handed the picture to Josh and got his Bible. “When Jesus was arrested, one of his disciples tried to defend him with a sword. Jesus said, ‘Thinkest thou that I cannot now pray to my Father, and he shall presently give me more than twelve legions of angels?’”*
Josh whistled. “Twelve legions! That’s a lot!”
“According to the Bible Dictionary, each Roman legion had some six thousand foot soldiers plus cavalry. If angel legions are about the same size, that would be more than seventy-two thousand angels.”
“Wow!” Josh exclaimed. “They could wipe out an army!”
Dad’s voice grew very serious. “Josh, he didn’t call for those legions. He let himself be whipped and spat upon and mocked and crucified. Instead of conquering men, he conquered death itself, even for those who had hurt him.”
“Wow!” Josh said again, softly this time.
Dad reached out and touched the picture. “The best power of all is the power to help and heal. Jesus has that power, and he’s willing to share it with those who love him and follow him. I think you’re one of those.”
Josh looked him in the eye. “I’ll try to be.”
“Good!” Dad said. “So will I. And now we’d better be on our way to the priesthood preview.”

During the early months of the COVID-19 pandemic, Brother Wisan from Thailand felt prompted to share his feelings and impressions of what he was learning in his study of the Book of Mormon on his social media account. In one of his particularly personal posts, he shared a story of two Book of Mormon missionaries, Alma and Amulek.

His brother, Winai, although set in his religious beliefs, was touched by the post and responded, unexpectedly asking, “Can I get that book in Thai?”

Wisan wisely arranged for a copy of the Book of Mormon to be delivered by two sister missionaries, who began teaching his brother.

Wisan joined in virtual lessons, during which he shared his feelings about the Book of Mormon. Winai learned to pray and study with a truth-seeking spirit, to accept and embrace the truth. Within months, Winai was baptized!

Wisan later said, “We have a responsibility to be an instrument in the hands of God, and we must be always ready for Him to do His work in His way through us.” Their family miracle came because Wisan simply shared the gospel in a normal and natural way.

Suppose you are a good singer who really likes to perform. In addition, you dearly love soccer, and this year your team has a good chance of winning the league championship. The trouble is that you have to choose between them. Would it be a hard decision?
“Yes! It was hard!” declared Burke Simmons (10) and Blake Simmons (8), brothers who gave up playing championship soccer in order to join the world-famous Honolulu Boy Choir. Both were auditioned and interviewed by the choir director, Dr. Roy Hallman, before being offered places in the choir. Blake was enthusiastic about joining the choir, but Burke hesitated. He was not sure that he could make friends in such a large group of boys. But when he learned that there were at least ten other boys in the choir who were Latter-day Saints, he put his fears aside, and both brothers became members. Within two months they were singing solo parts and had learned not to be nervous when in the spotlight.
Right from the first it was hard. They had to practice, practice, practice—after school every Monday and Wednesday and on Saturdays. From the beginning they learned that unexcused absences were not permitted and that tardiness had a high price. If a boy is even one minute late for a performance, he is not allowed to sing in that concert. Now the brothers are in the habit of being on time for everything—church, school, and concerts.
Is all the hard work worth it? “Yes!” Burke and Blake both agree. They think that the best part about being in the choir is taking trips and learning about the culture and customs of other countries, although performing is fun too.
Whether at home or traveling, the Boy Choir members are required to obey strict rules of behavior. This applies especially to performances, where absolutely no fidgeting is permitted. Now sitting still in sacrament meeting is easy for Blake and Burke.
Another Boy Choir rule: no bad words are allowed—ever! Blake and Burke like that rule.

Following completion of the second project, Bishop Abdul Rollings-Kamara of Peckham Ward, received an email from the volunteers programmes manager of Thames Reach. She informed him that the volunteers had been nominated for a Volunteer Hero Award and had won. This was in recognition of the work they had undertaken. This certainly came as a surprise to everyone. A certificate of achievement was subsequently awarded, along with a gift voucher. These were presented by Bill Tidnam, chief executive officer of Thames Reach, on 24 October 2020.
Through their service, the volunteers have exemplified the Rise and Reach motto to ‘go and do’, by going out and doing good for their community. Although their service was unconditional, they received a wonderful and unexpected award.
Bishop Rollings-Kamara used the voucher to purchase foodstuff which he donated to Pecan Foodbank. Pecan is a charitable organisation that is based in Peckham, Southwark, South London. They work to support the community practically and emotionally by offering a range of interventions, including, careers service, women’s service, family works (which works to support parents into employment) and the foodbank.

For years William R. Wagstaff, who served in the North Central States Mission from 1928 to 1930, felt disappointed he had not baptized more people. In the summer of 1929 he and his companion visited a farm family about 180 miles west of Winnipeg.
“Brother Wagstaff remembered giving a copy of the Book of Mormon to the mother and discussing the gospel with her during numerous visits through that and the following summer.
“He recalled that during each visit ‘she’d take off her apron and we’d sit down and discuss the gospel. She’d read and have lots of questions.’
“But at the close of his mission, she still had not been baptized, and he lost touch with her.”
Brother Wagstaff went home, married, and raised a family. Then in October 1969 he and his wife attended his missionary reunion. “A lady approached him and asked, ‘Aren’t you Elder Wagstaff?’
“… She introduced herself as the woman he had taught on the farm outside Winnipeg. In her hand was a worn copy of the Book of Mormon—the one he had given her 40 years earlier.
“‘She showed me the book,’ he related. ‘I turned over the front and there was my name and address.’
“She then told Brother Wagstaff about 60 members of her family were members of the Church, including a branch president.”

“I really appreciate your agreeing to do this,” Jenkins said as he led Kyle down the long hallway of the research and development section of Megatech.
“I couldn’t believe what they told me on the phone,” Kyle said.
“It is a pretty remarkable breakthrough, isn’t it? You know, out of 500 randomly selected calls, we had 86 percent willing to participate in our consumer-testing phase. Eighty-six percent—that’s unbelievable. I don’t mind telling you we’re very excited about the possibilities of VI-CAM.”
“Can you tell me again what VI-CAM stands for?”
“Sure, it took me a week to get it right. It stands for Viewer-Interactive Computer-Activated Movies.”
“How does it work?” Kyle asked.
“It’s really quite simple. Have you ever had the experience of coming out of a movie and liking everything about it except for a few parts.”
“Yeah, that happens a lot.”
“I’m sure you’re aware how much computers have improved over the past few years. We can process information faster and store and recall it much easier. So what we do in VI-CAM is take a character in a movie and more or less reduplicate him or her into computer memory. We do that with each character in the movie. With a few additional computer graphics breakthroughs, the system we’ve developed lets you take those characters and actually program the movie you want to see.”
Jenkins led him into a small room with a large-screen TV. “There are refreshments in the refrigerator. Take all the time you want. I’ll set it up to get you started. First thing we do is have you watch the uncut Hollywood version of the movie and then Lorie, the main character in the movie, will come on screen and ask you how you’d like to edit it. You can see it in as many versions as you want and stay as long as you want. We’re open 24 hours a day. Have fun.” And with that Jenkins left.
Kyle watched the Hollywood version first. It was a PG movie called Party SchoolUSA.
After it was over the actress Lorie Summers came on the screen. “Kyle, you still there?”
Kyle didn’t answer.
She smiled. “Kyle, you awake, or what?”
“Sorry. I guess I’m just not in the practice of talking to a TV.”
“I understand. Well, how did you like the movie?”
“It was okay,” he said politely.
“Just okay?”
“There were some things I didn’t care for.”
“No problem. We can change it anyway you want. Did you keep notes while you watched?”
“Yeah.”
“Great. How about if we go through what you wrote down?”
Kyle glanced at his notes. “All the parents and the teachers in the movie seem so messed up. It’s like you’re trying to say adults are no help at all to teenagers.”
“That’s right, Kyle. Adults are incompetent and stupid.”
“I don’t agree with that. My parents aren’t.”
“Do you agree with everything your parents say?”
“No, but even when we disagree, I respect what they tell me.”
“Why?”
“Because they’ve been through it all once before.”
“Adults don’t know what it’s like now for kids growing up,” she said.
“Oh, maybe not the exact things, but a lot of things are the same.”
“So you want the adults to be more … ?”
“Like real adults.”
She smiled faintly. “Well, you’re shooting down about half the plot, but we can fix it up the way you want. Anything else?”
“I really like you in the movie, Lorie, but I was wondering if you could, you know, not swear so much.”
“That’s the way people talk these days.”
“I know, but it still bothers me.”
“All right. We’ll cut out the swearing. What else?”
He cleared his throat. “Well, there’s that one scene where you don’t have, uh, a lot of clothes on.”
“Yeah, so?”
“I didn’t feel comfortable watching that.”
“Kyle, let me ask you a question. Are you normal?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Just wondering. Don’t you like the way I look?”
“Yes, but …”
“But what?”
“Why have that in the movie? It’s got nothing to do with the plot. It’s just thrown in there for no reason at all.”
“It sells tickets.”
“Maybe so, but why did you agree to be shown that way?”
“I’m not ashamed of my body, Kyle.”
“I’m not ashamed of mine either, but I don’t go around showing it to anyone who has the price of a movie ticket.”
“Kyle, let me tell you something. We’ve run this for 100 people today, and you’re only the fifth one who’s requested us to cut that scene. There’s someone a few booths down from you making similar changes, but yours is definitely a minority viewpoint.”
Kyle paused. “Who’s the other one making those kinds of changes?”
“A girl your age from Idaho. She’s in town for a few days. She’s staying with her aunt.”
“From Idaho, huh?”
“Yeah, she’s in Booth 27.”
“How far is that from here?”
Lorie paused. “Straight down the hall for 10 booths.”
“Do you mind if I go down there, and she and I talk to you from the same booth?”
“How do you know she’ll want to meet you?”
“Just a guess.”
“I don’t understand that at all.”
As Kyle walked down the hallway he glanced into each booth to see what others were watching. For some the changes in the movie had turned it into pornography. For others a simple teenage flick had become a horror movie with axes dripping blood. Kyle focused his attention on those who were watching. One man looked like he’d been there for days. His movie had degenerated to the extreme in degradation and horror.
Kyle reached Booth 27 and knocked. A girl his age opened the door. She looked like an outdoorsy kind of person with long dark brown hair and a nice smile.
“Hi, Kyle,” she said. “Lorie told me you were coming. I’m Susan Blair.”
They both stepped inside.
“Are you LDS?” he asked.
“Yeah, sure am.”
“I thought you might be. I am too.”
They sat down together on the couch in front of the TV console. Lorie came on the screen again. “Well, I see you two have met each other. Susan, I haven’t heard all your suggestions yet, have I?”
“Not yet. One thing is that I’m not happy with the way you portray people. In movies like this you always have the science nerd who can’t do anything right when it comes to talking to girls, the athlete who treats everybody like they were the scum of the earth, and the girl who goes through the movie mostly just smiling and looking dumb but beautiful.”
“So?” Lorie said.
“So some people who like science are fun to be with,” Kyle said.
“Yeah, and some athletes are friendly to everybody,” Susan said.
“And some beautiful girls have terrific minds too.”
“Are you two trying to ruin a perfectly good movie?” Lorie said.
“No, not really.”
“All right,” Lorie said. “I’ll see what we can do. Anything else?”
“I don’t like the way the movie ended,” Susan said.
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Well,” Susan said, “for someone who believes in chastity, it’s just not the best ending.”
Lorie was getting red in the face. “They like each other so what they do is okay, all right?”
“It’s not all right unless they’re married,” Kyle said.
“We want it out of the movie,” Susan said.
“You’ve got adults sympathetic to kids, you’ve got a girl who wants to improve her mind, you’ve got everybody fully dressed the entire time, you’ve got athletes who aren’t jerks, and nerds who aren’t nerds, and the two main characters believe in—what did you call it, chastity? What on earth do you call that anyway?”
“We call that life,” Susan said.
The screen went blank.
A minute later the door opened and in walked Lorie Summers.
“She’s not real,” Kyle whispered.
“She looks real,” Susan said.
“I read about it in Omni Magazine. It’s a hologram. It’s done with lasers. Watch my hand. I’ll pass it right through her body.” He moved his hand through the air and touched her on the arm, which was very much real. He gasped.
“What’s wrong?” Susan asked.
“I have no idea how they do that,” he whispered back.
Lorie smiled.
“Are you real?” Kyle asked.
“I’ve been wondering the same thing about you two.
“You are real, aren’t you. You’re a famous movie star,” Kyle said. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve been interested in this project since it began. Sometimes I come here just to watch what’s going on. There’s a monitor in the control booth where I can see what everyone is watching. The one difference between this and a regular movie is that with VI-CAM what a person sees is exactly what he or she chooses to see. And so it’s a way to find out what monsters lurk in people’s minds. There’s a man in one of the booths—you may have seen him on your way here—he’s been here ten days. He’s living on whatever he can get from the candy machine. Each time he changes the movie it becomes more and more warped. It’s kind of scary.” She paused. “Which brings me to you two. Why are you so different?”
“Well, it’s kind of a long story,” Kyle said.
“No it isn’t,” Susan interrupted. “I don’t know about the others who objected to the same scenes we did, but the reason we’re different is that we’re Mormons who try to live the way we’ve been taught.”
“Yeah, that’s it,” Kyle said.
Lorie sat down. “I’ve got a confession to make. Even though I play a teenager in the movie, I’m actually older than that. I guess I used to believe what I was saying to you through the VI-CAM system. But time has a way of changing things. I’ve been wondering about things for a long time. Now I have a two-year-old daughter and I look at the world through different eyes. Sometimes it really scares me to realize she’s going to grow up in this world. You two seem a little strange to me, but I think you know how to avoid the bad things in the world today. That’s why I wanted to talk to you. How have you managed to escape?”
“Well, that’s kind of hard to explain,” Kyle said.
“Why is it so hard?” Susan said. “I think it’s simple. You escape evil by making good choices.”
A few minutes later the three of them walked down the long corridor together, talking about important things.

My father’s name is Jean de Dieu Nsanzurwimimo. He was born in Rwanda’s Western Province. He married my mom, Emmeline Mukamusonera, in 1981, after they met in Kigali, Rwanda’s capital city.
My parents came from very different backgrounds; my father was a member of Rwanda’s majority ruling Hutu tribe, and my mother is from the Tutsi tribe. In Rwanda when they were growing up, there was an extended civil war and a long-simmering conflict between the two tribes. This animosity led extremist groups of Hutus to promote the ideology that all the Tutsi people living in Rwanda should be killed.
I was born in 1994, just four months before a series of events led to a catastrophic genocide of Rwanda’s Tutsi population, led by Hutu extremists who took over the government. During a 100-­day period from April 7 until mid-­July, nearly one million Rwandans were brutally killed, including as many as 70% of the Tutsi population.
Even before the 1994 Tutsi genocide, many leaders of the Hutu tribe taught that a Hutu man married to a Tutsi woman should be required to kill her and all her family to show his allegiance to his tribe. Because of those teachings, and to better protect his family, my father moved his wife and children to a small village near Cyangugu, in the far southwestern corner of Rwanda. Even in that small village, the majority of Hutu villagers spurned and rejected my mother because she was a Tutsi. But my father continued to protect us. In 1993, when the tension and genocide ideology increased, she was pregnant with me and caring for my three older sisters. Because it was known that she was a Tutsi, our family didn’t have many friends and it was dangerous every time she had to fetch water or go to the market. It was a very difficult time for her, but always my father was on her side, protecting her and taking care of his family.
During this time, there were constant meetings in the community where the locals were given machetes and guns and trained on how to kill the Tutsis. Every week they had a community meeting. In March 1994, my father attended a town meeting where it was announced that Hutu men married to a Tutsi woman would be required to kill her and all their children. It was a hard time for them. Some of the men and some of the women who were Hutus did kill their children.
In a meeting in early April, my father was ordered to kill my mother and his four daughters. When he came home from the meeting around 6:00 p.m., it was very dark because there were no street lights at the time. He immediately took us to a small island located in the southern part of Lac Kivu, a large lake dividing Rwanda and Congo. He told my mom that the villagers had determined that we were supposed to die, so we should hide in that place; he was going back home to find a safe place for us. He told her that if she saw any boats, she should ask them if they would carry us over to Congo, where we would be safe from the Rwandan genocide. She was able to find someone willing to take us across to Congo, where we spent the next five months, until peace was restored in Rwanda and it was safe to return.
All the while in Congo, and after we came home, we didn’t know what had happened to my father. When we came back we didn’t see anything; they didn’t allow us to enter the house where we had lived, and we were told everything that belonged to my father had been sold. It was a very hard time for my mom. We didn’t have a house to stay in. We didn’t have anything to eat. We went to the Seventh-­Day Adventist chapel, where we slept for a whole week. After that my mother carried all of us to town where she learned we could get small help from the new government.
In 2003, nine years after the violence ended, the government created a reconciliation program called “Gacaca” to help resolve the hard feelings from the killings. As part of the process, people who had killed others during the genocide confessed and asked for forgiveness. Through gacaca, we came to know that my father’s family members, after they looked everywhere for us and could not find us, had killed him. My mother and my eldest sister attended the hearing where my father’s family asked for our forgiveness, and they forgave them. They told my mother that they had thrown his body into the river after killing him, so we were never able to locate his body. Because I was so young at the time he saved us, I have no recollections of my father; I don’t know his face.

Some years ago, I was traveling in the Democratic Republic of the Congo with other Church leaders. We had been driving in complete wilderness when we suddenly hit a big bump in the road. Our driver struggled to steady the truck, but it landed on its side.
After we pulled ourselves from the wrecked truck, we said a prayer of gratefulness that no one was seriously injured. Then we set out on foot to find help. We came to a small village and explained our predicament. The villagers told us that sometimes it was possible to make a call on a cell phone by climbing one of the tall anthills nearby.
We climbed one of the anthills, but there was no signal. We tried again with the same result. Finally, on the eighth or ninth anthill, we were able to detect a small signal by raising the cell phone high in the air. We were able to get help.

When Liphapang Monesa from Maseru, Lesotho joined the Church as a child, his choice to enter the waters of baptism came largely as a desire to follow the example of his parents. “I was only nine years old at the time, so I was following my parents more than a clear reliance on a new-found testimony,” he said.
As Brother Monesa became a teenager, he began to question many of the tenets of his faith. “The real question is not what made me join the Church, but what made me stay in the Church,” he said. The answer, largely, was a personal testimony borne of scripture study.
“Through seminary, the scriptures came alive for me and I eventually had a serious study of the Book of Mormon,” he said. As Brother Monesa found that “the word [was] good,” and that it began to “to enlarge [his] soul . . . and beginneth to be delicious to [him] (Alma 32:28), so his desire to share the gospel with others took root in his soul.
“My testimony of The Book of Mormon solidified my resolve to serve a mission,” he said.
He was called to serve in the Zimbabwe Harare Mission between 2005 and 2007.
The experience was a sort of fast-tracked course in life lessons.
“They say the growth you experience can only be apparent when you finally return home,” he said. “I believe this is very true. In the two years I spent on mission I believe I gained the experience of life it would take me a lot of years to have through other avenues of life.”
Serving his mission set the tone for his future in terms of leadership, hard work and ambition to succeed both spiritually and temporally.
“I learnt that leadership is not a question of a position, but the ability to influence others through integrity, consistency and a display of genuine care for other people,” said Brother Monesa. His ability to lead and support others has been amplified since his two years in the field. The growth he experienced was a game-changer, he said.
And perhaps most importantly, those two years of full-time service created a foundation for a commitment to the Lord for the rest of his life.
“My commitment to serve the Lord has been resolute since I served a mission,” he said. “I live by the code that as you take care of the Lord’s business, He takes care of yours. I have seen the Lord take care of my business for the past almost three decades and I have no doubt He will continue to do so as I keep my end of the promise,” he said.

A friend of mine from South Carolina has demonstrated that even multiple problems can be overcome when one is true to his faith in God.
Laurie Polk is a dwarf. From the time of his birth, life has been a challenge. When he became old enough to go to school, he pedaled himself on a tricycle in order to move about and keep up with the other children. When his short legs kept him from playing games and participating in athletics, he busied himself in preparing for a vocation in the business world. To obtain employment, he found it necessary to persist and to prove himself. When a job opportunity finally came to him, he found joy in life through his love for his work.
Then another challenge arose. Laurie Polk, already extremely limited in his physical mobility, lost the sight in one eye. Nearly complete loss of the use of his crippled, dwarfed legs followed shortly thereafter. Then, as if that were not enough of a trial for any man, the retina of Laurie’s other eye became detached and complete blindness encompassed him.
Where did Laurie Polk gain his strength to overcome such darkness and despair? Through the power of faith in God, Laurie Polk has learned the meaning of life. In his thirty-four inch frame, he possesses a strength not unlike the sons of Helaman, through which he not only overcomes the personal challenges he encounters—he actually finds joy in living. He knows he can solve any problem by putting his life in harmony with God and serving his fellowman. He says, “With the help of the Lord there are no problems, only challenges.” Laurie Polk is now a high priest group leader in the Charleston South Carolina Stake.