Finding Truth in the Book of Mormon
It opens hearts and alters lives for those who listen to the Spirit as they read.
For 166 years, the Book of Mormon
has been changing the lives of those it touches. It was responsible for
bringing many early leaders and stalwart members into the Church as
they discovered that through a latter-day prophet God had spoken again
to his children on the earth. Today, it is an instrument for introducing
thousands of souls each year to the gospel as they find truths for our
times within its pages. No one who reads with a humble heart, seeking
truth, can fail to be touched by this sacred gift from our Father.
The book not only testifies of the Lord Jesus Christ and the blessings available through his atonement but also shows us the way to become one with him.
Many are the stories of
blessings poured out upon those who have sought him and his truths in
the Book of Mormon. Following are a few accounts of such experiences.
An Invitation to Live
My family
didn’t attend church when I was growing up, and I can remember
wondering if God actually existed. The first time I ever thought about
an afterlife was when my grandfather died. I remember thinking that
perhaps I would see him again someday, but the minister I asked about
this explained to me that when we got to heaven we wouldn’t know anyone.
After listening to more doctrine about heaven that conflicted with what
my heart told me, I decided that the preacher had to be wrong. With
this decision began my intense interest in different beliefs and
religions.
In college I studied religion in
earnest, taking every course that was available—Hinduism, Judaism,
Catholicism, and numerous classes in Protestantism. These classes often
left me with more questions than answers. I visited many different
churches and worship services, too, but did not find one that felt
permanently right.
By the time I graduated from
college with a degree in social work and psychology, I was married, with
two children. I grew used to working long hours, and sometimes
weekends, in my job as a therapist. Then I was diagnosed with a very
serious illness and underwent six major surgeries in as many years. The
last one came after my husband had lost his job, leaving us with no
medical insurance, and after we had lost our house to Hurricane Hugo in
September 1989.
There seemed no end to the mounting
hospital and doctor bills. I lived with chronic pain day after day—pain
that made it hurt even to breathe. I sometimes fell into deep
depressions that seemed to engulf me.
In August 1990 we took a job
transfer back home, to Alabama. I had hoped that things would start
getting better. Instead, in October I was told that I needed yet another
operation. With no medical insurance, I didn’t see how we could handle
any more medical bills. I decided it would perhaps be better to end my
own life. I planned how and when I would do it, and determined to spend
as much time with my children before then as possible. Each night I
would stand by their beds and watch them sleep.
One Friday in November, I was in a
tremendous amount of pain. For the first time in months, I got on my
knees and prayed. I asked Heavenly Father to help me cope, to send me
hope, and to forgive me for what I planned to do.
The next afternoon there was a
knock at my door. It was two young men in white shirts and ties—the same
young men I had seen and spoken to in the grocery store a few days
earlier. They told me they were missionaries for The Church of Jesus
Christ of Latter-day Saints. Despite the warning one of my college
professors had given in class—“never let the Mormon missionaries in”—I decided to listen to them.
Actually, I was more interested in
analyzing them than in listening to them. I kept looking for what I
thought of as “cult tendencies,” but they seemed relatively normal. I
invited them back, and they gave me a copy of the Book of Mormon. It was
the first time I had ever seen one. I thumbed through it and laid it on
top of the television set. As soon as they left, I tossed it into the
wastebasket.
I stepped back and looked at the book. It seemed a shame to throw away something with “Another Testament of Jesus Christ” written across the front of it. I retrieved it and put it on my bookshelf.
The next week they returned to
teach me the first discussion. Speaking of the Book of Mormon, they told
me, “We know this book is true.” I told them it was impossible to
“know” anything like that; they simply believed it was true. They
insisted that they “knew.” I found their certainty somewhat amusing.
Just before they left, they asked
me to pray and ask Heavenly Father if the Book of Mormon is true. I
asked them if they would baptize a person who had planned one’s own
death. They told me they would teach the person about God’s plan of life
and salvation; then that individual wouldn’t want to die and could
become ready for baptism.
I found their answer intriguing. And I realized that while they were in
my home, I wasn’t in pain and I wasn’t depressed. I felt good.
I began to read the Book of Mormon
and found it much more interesting than I had anticipated. In one
college class on ancient Central American history, I had learned about
different peoples there. The Book of Mormon explained who they were.
Maybe it could be true, I reasoned. As the missionaries taught
me over the next few weeks, I went on reading day and night. But I was
afraid to pray—afraid to learn that the book was true.
Finally, a month after the
missionaries started teaching me, I bent down on my knees and asked
Heavenly Father if The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and
the Book of Mormon were true. That night I had a dream. In it I was
walking in a meadow. I was in the presence of someone I could not see,
someone who told me, “Listen to them. What they say to you is true.” I
sat up in bed. I knew immediately that everything the missionaries had
taught me was true. I knew it.
I was baptized seven weeks after I had been given that copy of the Book of Mormon.
In January I received my
patriarchal blessing. Among other things, I was blessed with physical
strength. In February my doctor told me that my disease had gone into
remission. Could this be the physical strength I was promised? I believe
it was—or at least one manifestation of it.
I have no way of knowing how long I
will be in remission, but I have come to enjoy and appreciate the life I
have. The knowledge I have gained has shown me just how precious that
gift is.
Thinking back, I can see that
Heavenly Father answered my prayer for hope. I found it through the
gospel, and through the book I tried to throw away. My entire life has
been changed as a result. I do not know how others may view my
conversion experience, but to me it was a miracle.—Name Withheld
Starting My Own Flood of Books
The message from our prophets has
been consistent: we must make the scriptures part of our daily lives,
and particularly the Book of Mormon, drawing strength from its teachings
and sharing them with others. President Ezra Taft Benson spoke of
flooding the earth with this great book (see Ensign, Nov. 1988, pp. 4–6).
This image settled on my mind
because I drew nourishment daily from the pages of the Book of Mormon.
But how could I as an individual be a significant part of such a flood?
Then one night as I was pondering
this problem I realized that I could give every individual on my street
the opportunity to receive a copy of the Book of Mormon.
But there was a problem—they knew
me. They knew about my dog that barked too often—and too early in the
morning. They knew that my yard was not the garden spot of the
neighborhood. They knew my shortcomings as a neighbor; they would
probably turn me away.
I determined to have faith and go
ahead anyway. I would offer them the book—even if they might throw it
away, or let it collect dust on their shelves for years. Yet I found
myself thinking negatively; I had almost convinced myself that nothing
could come of my efforts.
Then I remembered that I knew my
neighbors at least as well as they knew me. A few had told questionable
jokes at the last community development meeting, and a few had drunk too
much at the last neighborhood barbecue. Some seemed to have little
purpose in their lives. I wondered what I would have been like if I
weren’t a member of the Church, or if I’d never heard of the Book of
Mormon. Clearly, this book could help those who would give it a chance.
So I contacted everyone on my
street and offered them a copy of the Book of Mormon—and they all
thanked me! It went so well that I went to the next street, completed my
subdivision, and then went on to the next subdivision. When I was
through, I had visited 104 houses and placed forty books.
It started to become easier to offer copies of the Book of Mormon to acquaintances.
In time I had given all
seventy-five employees at my work copies of the Book of Mormon.
Twenty-three of them took the missionary discussions. Seven were later
baptized, and four children belonging to my coworkers also joined the
Church. One man took two discussions but then lost interest in
investigating the Church. Seven months later, after he had moved on to a
job at another company, he called to tell me that he had been reading
the Book of Mormon and had realized that he was feeling the calm,
peaceful touch of the Spirit, just as I had described it. He, too, soon
finished the discussions and was baptized.
I love the Book of Mormon. I think
of it as the Lord’s calling card, and I have been amazed at how easy it
is to start a spiritual flood with it on a personal scale. When we do
the work of the Lord, we have his help.—Howard J. McOmber II, Redmond, Washington
Tithing My Time for the Book of Mormon
President Ezra Taft Benson said to
read the Book of Mormon every day, and I meant to, but every day was
such a scramble. When I first began pondering in earnest how to deal
with this problem, I had three children, a three-year-old daughter and
one-year-old twin sons. While they were awake, I rushed around trying to
manage the daily activities that keep a housewife and mother
busy—cleaning, laundry, meals, and so forth.
Day after day, week after week, the
scriptures were squeezed from my day’s routine by other urgent duties,
and because of my own procrastination. Surely the Lord could see, I told
myself, that I did not have time to read in the scriptures.
This thinking reminded me of
excuses I had heard for why some people did not pay tithing. My husband
had often told me of his mission experiences with the principle of the
tithe. He had worked with destitute families, many of them facing
tremendous financial difficulties. He had promised them that if they
would pay tithing their financial needs would be met. Repeatedly and
miraculously, this promise had been fulfilled.
I wondered if the same principle
could work with time. If I gave the Lord his portion first, so to speak,
by making scripture study a high priority, would he bless me with the
time I needed to care for my family, my home, and myself? I decided to
test this idea. I began getting up earlier, making time for reading from
the Book of Mormon before my children awakened. I tried to read for
fifteen minutes to half an hour each morning. If I could not complete
that goal for some reason, I would commit to drop whatever I was doing
later in the day while my children napped, so that I could study the
scriptures.
For a week I read without missing a
day, and the results were incredible. I was able to exercise, keep up
with my housework, cook, do laundry, care for the children, and still
have an hour or two to practice my talents or pursue my interests. I was
doing nothing different other than reading from the Book of Mormon each
day. It seemed, though, that each day had become several hours longer.
Perhaps I had more energy, or perhaps I had become better organized, but
whatever the case was, I was able to accomplish more in the same amount
of time.
The gift of more time was not the
only blessing that came from reading the Book of Mormon. My reading has
brought the Spirit into my life in greater abundance. This has been the
greatest reward received from following the Lord’s counsel through his
prophet. I have more patience with my children, more understanding and
compassion for others, and more love for my husband. I feel at peace,
and I am aware of an abundance of blessings in my life. I have a greater
awareness of my priorities and a great satisfaction with what I am
achieving.
Studying the Book of Mormon each
day has brought me happiness in many ways. I cannot imagine trying to
manage my life now without daily scripture study.—Diana Hoffman, Cupertino, California
Illustrated by Keith Larson
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