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LDS Juan, Cebu City (2026)

11/04/2026

This is me on April 2, 2005, inside the Conference Center of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Salt Lake City, Utah during the General Priesthood Session. The meeting had not yet begun, but I was already filled with excitement, joy, and overwhelming gratitude. It was my first time attending General Conference—something I had long dreamed of since becoming a member of the Church. My heart was full of happiness, and I could hardly believe I was finally inside that sacred place.

This experience is especially memorable because, at first, I did not even have a ticket and thought I would not be able to enter. I had seen others during earlier sessions holding signs asking for extra tickets, so I humbly did the same. I wrote on a piece of bond paper, “Need 1 ticket,” and stood there, hoping and quietly asking those who passed by—but with no success. For a moment, I felt discouraged, but deep inside, I truly desired to be in the Conference Center and attend that sacred meeting.

I then offered a silent and sincere prayer, asking the Lord to provide a way for me to attend. After praying, I tried again, holding on to faith. Not long after, a middle-aged man approached me and kindly asked, “Do you need a ticket?” I told him I was from the Philippines and would be going home in three weeks, and that I just wanted to attend the priesthood meeting before I returned home. Without hesitation, and with a generous heart, he said, “You can have mine.”

At that moment, I felt the Lord’s love in a very personal way. My heart was filled with gratitude. I may not remember his name, but I will never forget his kindness and the role he played in answering my prayer. It was a tender mercy—simple, yet powerful.

To my surprise, the seat he gave me was not just any seat—it was an excellent one, very close to the pulpit. I could clearly see the leaders of the Church, and it felt so real to see them up close. Being that near made the experience even more sacred and meaningful. I felt like I was not just attending, but truly part of something holy.

During that priesthood session, President Gordon B. Hinckley, then President of the Church, gave a powerful concluding talk about gambling. He taught that gambling brings destruction to individuals, families, and society. It harms individuals by encouraging addiction, financial loss, and poor decision-making. It weakens families by creating conflict, poverty, and broken trust. It also damages society by promoting the false idea of “getting something for nothing,” and it is contrary to the gospel principles of honest labor and self-reliance.

As he spoke, I felt the Spirit strongly confirm the truth of his words. His message was clear, direct, and filled with authority. It deeply touched my heart. At that very moment, I made a personal and sacred commitment to the Lord that I would never engage in gambling. It was not just a decision—it was a covenant in my heart.

After the session, another unforgettable moment unfolded. As thousands of priesthood holders exited the Conference Center and walked through Temple Square, a protester stood on a high wall shouting negative things about the Church, even claiming that we had just listened to a false prophet.

But instead of anger or confrontation, something beautiful and inspiring happened. One priesthood holder began to sing, “We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet.” One by one, voices joined in. Soon, thousands of priesthood holders were singing together—strong, united, and full of faith. The sound grew louder and more powerful, filled with conviction and testimony. The protester’s voice faded away, completely overcome by the faith of the priesthood holders.

That moment touched me deeply. It taught me a powerful lesson—that true discipleship is shown not through contention, but through faith, unity, and love. Instead of fighting back, we bore testimony through a hymn. It was one of the most powerful displays of collective faith I have ever witnessed.

As I walked away from that experience, I felt a deep sense of peace and belonging. I felt honored to hold the priesthood and to be a member of the Lord’s Church. My heart was full.

Looking back, I realize that this experience was not just about attending a meeting—it was about witnessing the hand of the Lord in my life, feeling His love, and strengthening my testimony. From the quiet miracle of a granted ticket, to the living voice of a prophet, to the united hymn of thousands of priesthood holders, every moment testified that God is aware, God guides, and God sustains His people.

I left that sacred place with a heart full of gratitude I could not fully express—feeling more anchored in faith, more committed to my covenants, and more certain that Jesus Christ truly leads His Church today.

This experience is one I will never forget for the rest of my life. It will always remain one of the most sacred blessings I have received from the Lord.

14/03/2026

Were you a seminary student in 1986 or 1987?
Do you remember an activity called Super Saturday?

Thinking back, I remember Super Saturday as a once-a-month seminary stake activity filled with learning, fun games, and of course the exciting Scripture Chase 📖.

In those days, we studied from printed scriptures only — the Bible and the Triple Combination: the Book of Mormon, Doctrine and Covenants, and Pearl of Great Price — long before scriptures were easily available online or on cellphones. That year, seminary focused on the Book of Mormon, so most of our study and practice centered on it.

Recently, while visiting our old house, I came across something that instantly brought me back to those seminary days: two old trophies 🏆🏆 tucked away and not even displayed — dusty, quiet, and almost forgotten.

The moment I saw them, my mind went back to 1987 — my only year in seminary.

Before that time, I was less active in the Church. I was a senior high school student when I was invited to a youth activity. Part of that activity was the seminary program called Super Saturday, and one of its highlights was Scripture Chase.

The mechanics were simple but exciting: a question would be asked, and you had to locate the correct scripture, chapter, and verse as fast as you could. The moment you found it, you had to shout “Contact!” Whoever shouted first earned the chance to pass off or recite the scripture, with additional points for reciting it word for word.

It was intense.
It was fast.
And it was a lot of fun.

That activity sparked my interest, and before long, I enrolled in seminary. It would be my only year, since I was close to graduating from high school. My goal at the time was simple: I wanted to see how well I could do in Scripture Chase.

I had a friend from Naga City named Romeo, the first person I met when I first entered the Church. He quickly became my friend and was already a Scripture Chase champion in Naga City.

One time he even sent me a photo of himself holding his trophies, with several young women standing beside him in the picture.. With a smile, he said:
"If you’re good in Scripture Chase, you will be popular with the young women. Many might even have a crush on you." 😄

It was clearly a joke, but the invitation was real — he was encouraging me to join the challenge.

So I took it seriously.
I attended seminary faithfully.
I practiced Scripture Chase diligently.

And I began studying the Book of Mormon with real focus.
Before long, I found myself enjoying it more and more. For the first time, I read the Book of Mormon from cover to cover. Then I went back and studied it again, more carefully, chapter by chapter.

What began as a simple desire to impress the young women slowly turned into something far more meaningful — a personal discovery that the Book of Mormon is true.

I grew to love Scripture Chase. I eventually won first place in our Kawit Ward, and later became the fastest competitor in the Las Piñas Stake.

The excitement of racing to find the correct scripture, the cheers from friends, and the thrill of shouting “Contact!” made every round unforgettable.

Because of my performance in the stake, I was chosen to represent Las Piñas Stake in the Regional Scripture Chase Festival. The event was held at the Manila Institute of Religion, with participants from Makati, Pasig, Quezon City, Manila, Parañaque, and more.

The atmosphere was electric — intense, competitive, and exciting all at once.

The scriptures used during the event were brand new and sealed. After each question, the scriptures were rotated, so no one could rely on familiar pages. Everyone had to depend entirely on their knowledge and quick thinking.

Seeing the confidence of competitors from other stakes made me feel nervous, but it also made the experience even more thrilling.
The set of questions was very difficult. They were not just about finding a verse quickly. They required you to think, analyze, and connect ideas from the scriptures.

One moment stands out clearly. It was a visual question. The moderator placed a blank sheet on the overhead projector and said, “Start.”

We all stared at the screen, but all we could see was nothing — completely blank.

For a moment, everyone looked confused.

Then suddenly my mind cleared. The words “not seen” popped into my mind, and I immediately thought of faith.

Without hesitation, I shouted “Contact!”

The scripture was Alma 32:21:
"Faith is not to have a perfect knowledge of things; therefore if ye have faith ye hope for things which are not seen, which are true."

The thrill of that moment — racing against time, seeing everyone else tense, and finding the verse — was unforgettable.

It was intense, exhilarating, and the cheers from friends made it even sweeter.

By God’s grace — not to brag — I won first place.

The year before, I had only been watching the event, but that day, somehow, I became the regional winner.

It was an unforgettable experience, and even now it still makes me smile whenever I remember it.

But the greatest lesson I learned was this:
I did not impress any young women — but at least I impressed myself! 😄
So much for my friend’s promise that Scripture Chase would make me popular with the young women.

But something far better happened.

As I studied the Book of Mormon, searching for verses and learning its teachings, I began to feel something deeper.
What started as a fun challenge slowly turned into a personal spiritual experience. Little by little, I gained a testimony that the Book of Mormon is true.

That one year of seminary became part of the foundation that later helped me prepare for two years of missionary service in the Philippines Cebu Mission.

Looking back now, I realize how much things have changed in my life.

Scripture Chase was exciting.
But living the scriptures is far more important.

Winning a competition was a wonderful experience.
But gaining a testimony is a far greater victory.

The testimony I began gaining in 1987 is something I am still striving to nurture and live today.

The trophies remind me of a happy moment from the past — but the greatest blessing from that experience was discovering for myself that the Book of Mormon is true.

Trophies gather dust.
Competitions end.
But the testimony I gained in seminary lasts forever. ✨

21/02/2026

Bogo, Cebu — 1992 🤍🌴

Back in 1992, I was a young missionary assigned in Bogo, Cebu. The people we visited—especially those living in the remote areas—had so little, yet they gave so much. Every time we came, they welcomed us with open hearts and shared almost everything they had, without hesitation.

In this photo, I’m enjoying a freshly opened young coconut, tasting the soft malagihay — the delicate coconut jelly inside. Those young coconuts were naturally sweet and incredibly refreshing… but what made them unforgettable was the love behind every offering. After hours of walking under the burning sun — and Bogo sun is no joke — that cool coconut juice became more than a drink. It brought comfort, gave us strength, and showed their thoughtfulness. Every sip felt like a blessing after the midday heat.

They didn’t offer us water—not because they didn’t want to, but because they simply had very little. The water they used was carried from far away and stored in small containers where algae sometimes formed. With care, they would tell us it might make us sick or cause stomach problems. I could feel that they wanted to give more, but their situation would not allow it. That was their reality, yet even with so little, their kindness and generosity were still overflowing.

Bogo taught me something I will carry forever: true wealth is not measured by what you own, but by what you are willing to give. The people there were as warm as the sun that shone over their fields, yet as gentle and refreshing as the coconuts they lovingly opened for two young missionaries.

Even today, when I see a young coconut, I don’t just remember the taste — I remember the hearts that shared it. ✨

25/01/2026

I went into this 5-day fast after researching the benefits of prolonged fasting. I didn’t fully know what to expect. 🤔

Watching Eric Eruption Tai share his experience became a turning point for me. He said that hunger would fade and calm would come. I was curious if that was really true.

Surprisingly, it was. ✨

From the second day onward, I never experienced the habit-driven hunger, nor any dizziness, confusion, weakness, or pain. Instead, calm came. There was a feeling of lightness—clarity and quiet. My body seemed to slow down, and my mind became still. 🕊️

During the fast, I did not isolate myself or withdraw from daily life. I continued my regular routine—work, family time, church attendance, running, biking, chasing the sunrise, and going to the gym.

Throughout the fast, I drank only water with a pinch of salt.

By the third day, my wife noticed that I wasn’t struggling. When she heard that hunger truly does fade, she decided to join me in her own 2-day fast. 🤝

During those days, I noticed something else. Fast music—and even the news—began to disturb the calm I felt. All I wanted was to listen to the uplifting music of the Tabernacle Choir 🎶 and the inspiring voice of President Dieter F. Uchtdorf. My spirit seemed to crave only what was uplifting, gentle, and reverent. 💖

During this fast, I came to a realization that there are two kinds of hunger:
Physical hunger – the body’s true need for nourishment 🍎🥗.
Conditioned or habitual hunger – a response of the brain shaped by routine, timing, emotions, and habit. 🧠

What faded for me was the habitual hunger. With purpose and intention, the body learned to be still and to follow the will rather than demand it. 🙏

From my own experience, I’ve learned that purposeful fasting can quiet the body, refresh and heal it, and illuminate the spirit. It creates room for calm, reflection, and reverence.
This fast has left a quiet but deep mark on me—both physically and spiritually. 🌿

For those asking, I lost 4.3 kg (about 9.5 lbs) over the five days. ⚖️

And after breaking the fast and enjoying our first meal this Sunday, right after church, all I can say is this:

Food is life—and truly a blessing. 🍽️🙏

23/01/2026

Salt, Water, and Fasting – A Personal Reflection

Three days ago, I began a 120-hour fast. Today, as I reach around my 75-hour mark, I am sustaining myself with water.

One of the biggest challenges in fasting isn’t hunger—it’s dehydration. When the body isn’t taking in food, it also loses electrolytes. Simple guidance from studies and medical advice suggests that adding a small pinch of salt to water helps the body retain fluids, maintain balance, and prevent weakness or dizziness. It doesn’t break the fast—it helps sustain it.

As I add salt to my water today, I’m reminded of the Savior’s words:

“Ye are the salt of the earth.” (Matthew 5:13)

Salt is small—almost invisible once dissolved in water. Yet without it, the body struggles. With it, the water becomes sustaining.

That’s how discipleship often feels. We may not be loud or noticeable. Our efforts may seem small or unseen. But a pinch of faith, obedience, or kindness can strengthen others more than we realize.

This fast is reminding me that God often uses simple things to preserve life and refine the soul. Even something as small as salt has a purpose.

Small, unseen, but powerful—like salt, like our efforts in God’s hands.

22/01/2026

Bogo, Cebu: Training While Still Learning

This photo was taken in Bogo, Cebu, early 1992. That is me—Elder Chan—and my companion, Elder Smith from Pleasant Grove, Utah.

I saw this photo again on January 1st of this year. My wife and I didn’t have any activities that day, so while resting, I asked her to unpack our old mission photos. As we looked through them and reminisced about mission life, I came across this picture. I paused, smiled, and found myself telling her the story behind it—a story I had forgotten was once so heavy.

When this photo was taken, I had been in the mission field for barely three months. I was serving in Bogo with a stake missionary as my companion. I could not speak Cebuano—I barely understood it. Teaching in Cebuano felt impossible. Most people in Bogo at that time did not speak Tagalog, so even my Tagalog was almost useless. I was waiting for my next companion, hoping he would be the one to train me and help me learn the language.

Then one evening, without prior notice, the Assistants arrived—with my new companion, Elder Smith, straight from the Missionary Training Center in Utah. Along with him came the calling that made my stomach drop:

“Elder Chan, you will train him. And you are called as the new District Leader.”

I remember feeling confused, shocked, and physically sick.
Almost nasuka ako.

Train a foreigner? In Cebuano? When I could barely teach myself?

And it wasn’t just the fear of training. I was now called as District Leader, overseeing six missionaries—most of them seasoned, experienced, fluent in Cebuano, and far longer in the mission than I was. I was a newbie. No experience. No language. No confidence.

Inside, another fear crept in:
What if they don’t respect me?
What if they laugh at my leadership, mock me, or report me to the Mission President?

I honestly felt like the weakest link in the district.

In the early 1990s, all missionaries assigned to the Philippines were trained in Tagalog at the MTC—even those sent to Cebu. Elder Smith could barely understand Tagalog—and my Tagalog didn’t help much anyway—because most of the people we taught spoke Cebuano.

Bogo was far north of Cebu. At that time, Tagalog was rarely spoken there. Still, despite the language barrier, the people of Bogo were among the kindest and sweetest I have ever known.

I’ll be honest—another fear crossed my mind. Elder Smith was about 6’5”, straight from Utah—big, strong, and confident. I remember thinking,

"This guy could easily beat me up… bugbugin ako kung gusto niya." 😅

And here I was—a skinny Filipino elder who couldn’t even speak Cebuano—assigned to be his trainer and district leader.

Inside, I kept asking myself:
"What am I supposed to do with this calling?"

But one thing was clear:
The Lord had called me. I was his trainer. And I was the district leader.

So I did the first thing I could think of—I helped him unpack… and asked him for a necktie. 😉 He smiled and handed it to me. That is the tie I am wearing in this photo.

Every day, we had companionship study. We opened our missionary guide and lesson manuals again and again until they became thick—full of markings, lines, and notes. Our studies were powerful. We talked about doctrine, obedience, faith, and how to teach by the Spirit.

Inside our apartment, the lessons felt clear.
Outside, in the streets, reality hit us hard.

Families we visited would kindly tell us:

"Please come back when you can speak Cebuano."

That became my turning point.

I remembered something from my youth. In my fourth year of high school, we were required to memorize Rizal’s Mi Último Adiós—fourteen stanzas in Spanish. Even today, I can still recite a few lines.

I told myself:
"If I could memorize that, then I have no excuse. I will be useless as a missionary if I cannot teach in Cebuano."

I obtained a Cebuano version of our missionary lessons and began memorizing them—line by line, phrase by phrase. Introductions. Questions. Testimonies. Not perfectly, but faithfully. I compared each line with the English manual, checking which English words corresponded to each Cebuano word.

Elder Smith and I practiced Cebuano with children on the streets, asking them to correct our grammar and pronunciation. We involved a local stake missionary to help translate during lessons. Slowly, teaching became clearer—not because our language was perfect, but because our intent was sincere.

Little by little, the Lord magnified our efforts.

Our daily schedule was demanding:

Out by 9:30 AM

Home at 12:30 PM for lunch

Out again at 2:30 PM

Home by 9:00 PM

It was exhausting—but time moved so fast.

At the same time, I was leading the district. Every Tuesday, I woke up at 4:00 AM to study—preparing lessons, reviewing scriptures, memorizing teaching points—so I could lead district meetings with confidence despite my fears.

By the grace of God, I earned their trust and respect. Our district became one filled with unity, laughter, hard work, and success.

That season of my mission—training a new missionary, learning a language, teaching the gospel, and leading experienced missionaries—was the hardest part of my mission in Cebu. But it became the most rewarding.

After four months, I was transferred to Tagbilaran, Bohol, where I was called as a Zone Leader. This time, I was different—not because I was perfect, but because I had already seen how the Lord strengthens those He calls.

Elder Smith was called to be a trainer, and eventually became an Assistant to the Mission President. After I was released as Zone Leader, I went on to train three more American missionaries while serving again as District Leader. Training was still challenging—but never as hard as the first time. The hardship of Bogo had prepared me.

I served in Bogo for seven months. It remains one of my favorite areas. And yes—Elder Smith never beat me up—but I beat him many times in basketball, and he owed me a lot of ice cream. 🍦😄

Looking back now, I see that the Lord did not wait for me to be ready. He called me—and then made me ready.

Bogo taught me that the gospel is not taught by perfect language, but by obedient hearts.

And the Lord called it good.

19/01/2026

TURNING OFF IS TURNING ON

Yesterday, I had the sacred privilege of attending the dedication of the Alabang Philippines Temple. Our stake center became an extension of the temple itself—accessible only to those with temple recommends. Even the timing reminded us of reverence and order. Though the dedication began at 8:00 AM, the gates and doors closed at 7:30. Once inside, there was no rushing, no distractions—only preparation.

Just before the dedicatory service began, the conducting authority kindly invited everyone to turn off all electronic devices. Not silence. Not airplane mode. Turn off.

I did. And I asked my wife and children to do the same.

That simple act felt symbolic. Turning off the phone meant turning off the noise—messages, notifications, obligations, and the constant pull of the world. It meant leaving connections behind so I could be fully present in the House of the Lord.

As my phone powered down, something else powered up.

My awareness.
My reverence.
My focus on heavenly things.

Inside the house of the Lord, what could possibly be more important than listening, feeling, and allowing the Spirit to teach? For a moment, there was nothing to capture, nothing to post, nothing to check—only something to receive.

Turning off reminded me that worship requires intention. That sacred moments deserve our full attention. That sometimes, to truly connect with heaven, we must disconnect from earth.

And maybe that’s the quiet invitation the temple gives us—not just to turn off our devices for an hour, but to turn down the world more often… so we can turn our hearts fully to the Lord.

16/01/2026

Am I Nothing?

There are days I quietly ask myself that question.

When I read Moses 1, I feel it deeply when Moses says, “Man is nothing.” On my own, I see it. I get tired. I fall short. I realize how limited I am without God.

So yes—without God, I am nothing.

But the same chapter reminds me of something that changes everything. The God who showed Moses worlds without number also declared that His work and His glory is centered on man. On us.

That truth becomes even more personal when I think about the blessings God has trusted me with—a family to love, covenants to keep, and the privilege of being a member of His true Church. Holding the priesthood does not make me greater than anyone else; it reminds me how dependent I am on Him. The power is never mine. It is always God’s.

God prepared the earth like a home made with love—formed, ordered, and filled with beauty—before placing man into it. We were not an afterthought. We were the purpose.

So when I ask, “Am I nothing?”
Faith answers softly:
Without God, yes. But through Him—through family, covenants, and His priesthood—I am trusted with everything that matters most.

— LDS Juan
📖 Moses 1:10, 39

Come Follow Me
January 5–11: “This Is My Work and My Glory”
Moses 1; Abraham 3

11/01/2026

While studying today for our Elders Quorum class lesson on the second Sunday, January 11, 2026, based on “Remembering the Sheep” by Elder Jackson of the Seventy, from the October 2025 General Conference, I found myself reflecting deeply on the parable of the lost sheep.

Not the LOSE sheep.
Not the weak sheep.
Not the inferior sheep.

The LOST SHEEP.

Sometimes from the pulpit we hear phrases like
“ANG WALA DITO TALO.”
For me, that can sound more judgmental than compassionate, because it compares the strength of those who are present with the perceived weakness of those who are absent.

But in the Savior’s parable, the sheep is never mocked, shamed, or declared a failure.
It is lost—and therefore loved.
The Shepherd does not say the sheep “loses.”
He leaves the ninety and nine and goes after it.

Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf reminded us that in a Church where free agency is honored, we must also honor the decisions of others. Faith is strongest when it is chosen, not pressured or shamed.

Article of Faith 11 teaches us:

We claim the privilege of worshiping Almighty God according to the dictates of our own conscience, and allow all men the same privilege—let them worship how, where, or what they may.

That includes:
-Those who attend less
-Those who step away
-Those who are struggling quietly

To remember the sheep is to miss them, not measure ourselves against them.
It is to love without comparison, invite without judgment, and minister the way Christ does—with patience, humility, and grace.

If the Savior were speaking today, would His words make the absent feel condemned—
or deeply remembered?

— LDS Juan

10/01/2026

Theme for My Year: TRUST THE PLANNER

Faith, for me, means trusting even when it costs something.
I may have sacrifices to make, but I have nothing to lose when I trust God.

This year, I choose obedience over excuses,
faithfulness over self-justification,
and surrender over control.

I will not counsel the Lord—I will follow Him.
I trust that the PLANNER knows the way,
and the BLESSER will provide in His time.

This is my theme.
This is my goal for the year.

I move forward—undaunted.

“Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.”
— Proverbs 3:5

“Seek not to counsel the Lord, but to take counsel from his hand.”
— Doctrine and Covenants 22:4

LDS Juan

11/04/2026

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21/02/2026

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