Gospel Story Finder

“Tomorrow is very special,” Diego’s teacher said. “We’re going to have Show and Tell!”
Diego smiled. He loved Show and Tell! He couldn’t wait to show his friends something special.
After school, Diego told Mama the great news.
“What should I take?” he asked.
“Something special to you,” Mama said.
“I can bring Lobo!”
“I don’t think we can take a dog to school,” Mama said. “But there are other special treasures you can share.”
Soon Diego’s treasure hunt began! He found a stuffed monkey. Should he take him? But Diego kept looking.
He looked behind the kitchen chairs. He looked on the bookshelf. He wouldn’t stop until he found something just right.
Then he looked by his bed. He found the perfect thing!
Diego ran to show Mama. He held his treasure tight.
“Mama!” he said. “Look! I found the best thing.”
He held up a small picture for Mama to see. It was a picture of Jesus as a little boy. Diego felt good when he looked at the picture. He wanted his friends at school to feel good too.
“That is a special thing for Show and Tell,” Mama said. “What will you tell your class about Jesus?”
“That everyone can be happy,” he said. “Because Jesus loves everyone!”

Years ago, while at the beach with my family, I noticed signs and flags warning us of a strong current flowing away from the shore into deep, turbulent water. Invisible to my untrained eyes but easily detected by lifeguards on a nearby watchtower, the powerful current posed a danger to all who left the safety of the shore and entered the water. I remember rationalizing, “I’m a strong swimmer. Swimming will be great exercise. I’ll be safe in the shallow water.”

Ignoring the warnings and feeling confident in my own judgment, I entered the water to enjoy a “refreshing” swim. After a few minutes I looked up to locate my family on the nearby beach, but the beach was no longer nearby! The deceptive current I had been warned of had captured me and was quickly pulling me away from my family.

Confidently at first and then desperately, I tried to swim toward shore, but the unforgiving current dragged me farther and farther into deeper, rougher water. I became exhausted and began choking on inhaled water. Drowning became a real possibility. My energy gone, I frantically and finally called out for help.

Miraculously, it seemed, a lifeguard was immediately at my side. I wasn’t aware that he had watched me go into the water. He knew the current would capture me, and he knew where it would take me. Avoiding the current, he swam around and just beyond where I was struggling; then he patiently waited for me to call for help. Too weak to swim to shore alone, I was and still am grateful for his rescue. Without his help I never could have made it back to my family.

That day I made a poor choice that produced potentially serious consequences for me and for my family. As we now consider together the gift of choice, I pray that the Holy Ghost will help each of us individually evaluate the choices we are making.

We had Mrs. Jacobson over for Christmas dinner last year. I now have someone to visit with when I feel depressed, like the other day when I went out with Dave and I spilled spaghetti all over and felt like climbing under the table. I told Mrs. Jacobson about that, and she told me about how once when she was dating her husband, he came to visit her one evening. She thought he was coming a half hour later than he did. He came to the door while she was in her room. Mrs. Jacobson’s sister invited him in to sit down and started to go up the stairs to announce that he was there. Mrs. Jacobson came out of her bedroom door, intending to go downstairs and borrow a necklace. She started singing a song and was halfway down the stairs when she saw the young man grinning up at her. I guess everybody does things like that sometimes.

My brother Henry and I were taking care of our neighbors’ pet chinchilla while they were away on vacation. We liked to feed him raisins and banana chips. One day while we were feeding him, he got out of his cage. We were having a hard time finding him. My brother finally found him under the couch, but every time we tried to grab him he ran away and hid again. I said a prayer and asked Heavenly Father to help us catch the chinchilla. We worked together and finally caught him. I am grateful that I can ask Heavenly Father for help when I need it.Emmett Lytle, age 5, with help from his mom, Middlebury, Connecticut

“Every time I start reading the scriptures, I fall asleep!” one missionary told his mission president. “It’s like the scriptures are a sleeping pill!”
His president responded, “Do you ever take notes when you read?”
“No,” said the missionary.
“It’s easy to fall asleep or let your mind drift when you are only reading,” the president said, “but it is impossible when you add writing!”
The advice this mission president gave his struggling missionary made a big difference. So if you’re looking for a new way to strengthen your scripture study, give it a try. As you write about what you’re reading, you’ll likely find yourself more engaged and learning better, too.

Out on the field, Richard makes the game look simple. He feints, counterfeints, and passes. He sees an opening and sprints for it, waving his hand to let fellow players know he’s in the clear. On defense he shouts instructions and directs traffic as though he’s been playing all his life—which is just about the truth. His expertise, along with his scholarship in school, have qualified him for two trips abroad with soccer teams—one to Glenrothes, Scotland, another to Den Haag, Holland. While there, Richard lived with families and attended school, as well as playing exhibition soccer.
Of course, there have been embarrassing times, too. Like slipping and falling in the mud, or getting clobbered with a lopsided score, or losing every game during the season when Dad was the head coach. But some of that has to be expected.
How Richard plays in a particular match is determined by two things: which position he’s playing (he plays three), and which team he’s playing for at the time (he plays on four). On the ward team the ages vary significantly. So do the skill levels. But there, playing is mostly for fun. On the all-star team or in league competition, games are closely contested, and each move makes a difference.
Richard and John will talk for hours about their favorite sport. John plays forward, an offensive position that puts him on the front line of attack. Richard usually plays halfback, the midfield position, which challenges him by requiring both offensive and defensive skills. However, Richard has also played forward, as well as fullback (the last defender between the ball and the goalie).
They disagree about which is the ideal position to play. John says forwards have the most enjoyable job on the field because they go where they want. “It’s kind of like playing hide-and-seek with the defense,” he says. But he also notes that forwards often take the blame for missed goals. Richard counters that halfbacks have the fun of playing at both ends of the field, which, though it demands endurance, allows them power to control the tempo of the game.
John says fullbacks get the most rest, that their main task is to steal the ball and relay it to the opposite end of the field. Richard notes, however, that the defense is often outnumbered, and the fullback’s role is vital in preventing goals. Both agree, however, that the goalie may have the roughest assignment. He’s expected to analyze each shot-on-goal correctly and position himself properly to block or deflect it, often diving face down on the turf in the effort.
The two young men also discuss dreams, like playing on a professional or Olympic team, or even more immediate wishes, like attending a soccer clinic at BYU.
At a home evening recently, Richard brought out a scrapbook he keeps; it’s full of his souvenirs. He passed it around the family circle, describing photos he took himself and clippings from newspapers. The rest of the family joined in with other stories, laughter, and warmth. It was clear that they were all involved in learning lessons through their Church activity and through sports. They were learning about brotherhood by working together; they were learning to plan their time to be able to do things they enjoy and still meet school, Church, and household responsibilities; they were learning about family love, caring, and sharing; and they were learning about fixing goals for themselves. It was clear that they’re involved with soccer—and with each other—for more than just the kicks.

When the area conference plans were announced for Asia in 1975, I became a little concerned and felt that someone should go along as a physician to the General Authorities, their wives, and other members of the group. There were quite a few people traveling together, and it seemed appropriate to have medical help available if needed. A recommendation was made and accepted to have a physician accompany those traveling to the various area conferences. In 1976, I was asked to go to Europe in this capacity.
From the very start of our journey, I was moved by President Kimball and Sister Kimball’s concern for the others traveling with them. When my wife and I boarded the airplane in Salt Lake City we took seats to the side and in back of President Kimball. A few minutes after the plane took off and the seat belt sign was turned off, President Kimball turned around and said to us, “Are you comfortable?” I was there to serve him and the others traveling with him, and yet he showed this concern for us. Throughout the entire trip, this great, kind, friendly man was always interested in the welfare of the people around him. We felt so comfortable traveling with him because of his warmth and graciousness.
After the first area conference in Paris, we traveled to Helsinki, Finland. President Kimball had been actively working now for three days. He was up early every morning, worked a very heavy schedule throughout the day, and then went to bed late at night. His responsibilities were greater than anyone else’s.
His job included not only presiding and conducting, but he spoke for long periods of time using a translator. He had held an exhausting press conference and had interviewed and set apart many local Church authorities. We boarded an airplane late in the evening for Helsinki. It was necessary to change planes in Copenhagen, and as we walked through the hallways of the airport, President Kimball carried a travel bag with his suits in it. I had a free hand and walked up and said, “President Kimball, let me carry that.” He turned and said, “No, thank you, I have to have a reason for being here.” He was almost serious in humbly expressing his desire to carry his own weight; he didn’t want to be a burden on anyone. I was impressed with that same beautiful attitude during the entire trip.
In Dortmund, Germany, during the last area conference on this trip, we stayed in an older, beautiful hotel. The manager was an austere, tall, straight, gray haired Prussian gentleman. He looked as if he could have been an officer in the army. On the second day after arriving at the hotel, the manager commented, speaking of President Kimball, “Every time that man walks through this lobby, I feel goose bumps all over me.” He felt the spirit that radiates from President Kimball. After making that remark, he was introduced to the prophet. President Kimball spoke with him briefly and gave him a family home evening manual. Arrangements were made for him to receive the missionary discussions.
The hotel manager was vividly influenced by that very brief contact with the living prophet. On the day we left, we boarded a bus in front of the hotel and drove around the block, passing the hotel again because of the one-way streets. As we passed the hotel, this handsome, stately gentleman was standing outside on the sidewalk waving good bye to President Kimball with his white handkerchief. It was significant that the hotel manager could feel the Spirit of the Lord just by watching our prophet walk through the hotel lobby. You know, President Kimball looks like any one of the rest of us. Some may not think that there is anything unusual about his appearance—but there is an unusual spirit that he carries with him.
After the Dortmund conference, while most of the group returned to the United States, President Kimball, President Tanner, and their wives, and a few others traveled to Bern, Switzerland. Here the two members of the First Presidency were busy for an additional day and a half in the Swiss Temple. They had been traveling now for 14 days while participating in the five area conferences. They had been going unceasingly when we boarded a bus at Bern to go to Zurich where we were to catch our flight to New York and then on to Salt Lake. I saw President Kimball’s exceptional enthusiasm in action again.
There had been 14 days of going, going, going, and in the 30 hours ahead, there would be no opportunity for the prophet to go to bed or really relax. On the bus, most of us leaned back in our seats and began to nap. I was seated behind President Kimball and expected that he would use the next hour for some well-deserved rest. We had not quite reached the autobahn when President Kimball stood up and made his way up the aisle to a jump seat next to the bus driver. As I sat in my seat feeling almost exhausted, our prophet, who had reason to be more tired than anyone else, couldn’t rest because there was a person on that bus who hadn’t been taught the gospel of Jesus Christ.
As I watched what happened, I had a feeling of guilt—I had been content to sit back and relax, but the prophet, realizing the transcending importance of missionary work, didn’t let weariness dampen his burning desire to share the gospel with others.
I wondered how he was going to talk with the bus driver who seemed to speak little English. President Kimball doesn’t speak German. Initially, there was some difficulty as they tried to speak to one another. After only a few minutes, however, the two of them were obviously quite able to understand each other. Now my worry was transferred from how they would communicate with each other to whether the bus driver, while glancing frequently at President Kimball, would be able to keep the bus on the road. It was clear that he understood and was interested in President Kimball’s sincere message. Their conversation continued until we reached the outskirts of Zurich when President Kimball returned to his seat.
When the bus pulled up at the Zurich airport, President Gary E. O’Brian, president of the Zurich Switzerland Mission, was waiting on the curb. President Kimball went to the door of the bus as it opened. He asked President O’Brian to step on the bus, and while shaking hands with him, said, “President O’Brian, this is Mr. _____. Will you promise me you will teach him the gospel?” President O’Brian said, “Yes, President.” And then President Kimball said, “Mr. _____, this is one of our mission presidents. Will you let him teach you the gospel of Jesus Christ?” The bus driver nodded his head and said he would.
This experience really taught me the importance of sharing the gospel. Our prophet is in close communication with our Heavenly Father and sees beyond the veil much more clearly than I do. He puts this degree of urgency on missionary work. Even when he has every reason to be tired, when sitting back and resting would seem to be a valid excuse for passing up a missionary opportunity, President Kimball continues to be a vigorous missionary. How can you or I do less than share the gospel with our families, our neighbors, our friends, and everyone else we meet?

I walked to school one day, my first day in fourth grade and at a new school. I was scared but got to my classroom OK. At recess, I was all alone. I saw Erin* all alone, too. She didn’t have any friends, and other kids made fun of her because she had lived in three foster homes.
I went over and said hi. She started crying. I asked what was wrong. She said that nobody had been that nice to her. It made me feel really warm inside to know that I had made someone feel better.

When I was a young boy, one of our neighbors had a herd of dairy cows. One of his cows died, leaving a newborn calf, which he gave to me. I took care of the calf, fed it, and raised it. The day my dad took it to the stockyards to be sold was a day of mixed emotions for me: I had grown attached to my calf, and yet I was looking forward to receiving the rewards of my labor. My only request was that the money I received from selling the calf be in silver dollars. I remember Dad coming home that night and dropping 20 silver dollars into my hands. Money was hard to come by, and I thought I had all the money in the world. I counted, admired, and polished each coin carefully. When Sunday came, I reluctantly put two shiny coins into my pocket to pay my tithing. As hard as it was to surrender my precious silver dollars to the bishop, I still remember now how good I felt being obedient to the Lord.
On the way home from church, my mother told me how proud she was of me. Then she said, “Your grandfather always told us children that if we would faithfully pay an honest tithing, the Lord would bless us and it would be the best investment that we could ever make.”

Recently, I visited the mother of a large family, whom I have known and admired for many years. I have watched her children grow and develop. Education, missions, temple marriages were all part of their program. I asked her what was the secret of her success. Modestly, she told me that success had not yet been achieved, that life was a continual series of tests and challenges. But she did indicate that keeping close family ties had been very important in their lives.

She said, “We have recognized that each family member needs to be treated with dignity and respect. Though the capabilities and talents of each are different, each needs to know he or she is a child of God, loved by Him. We hold regular family conferences (even after the children are married). We feel since the Church has general conference for the edification and instruction of the saints, we need to have family conferences for the same purpose. The have truly strengthened the love in our family.”

As a mission president, Christopher focused on strengthening families by setting goals to help couples get their marriages legally recognized. Florence focused on connecting with children, especially those who lived in poverty. “The Spirit said, ‘Tell them the story of your life,’” she recalled. “I told them that I grew up in similar circumstances. I told them that I was able to overcome my shyness,” she said. “The Lord heard my prayers. . . . He understood my struggles and my search for a bright and happy future [and] crowned my efforts with blessings too many for me to express.”

When I was a little older, I went with my dad on a business trip for his manufacturing company. We were to meet with a purchasing (buying) agent from a large company. My dad had always wanted to do business with them, but he had never been offered the opportunity.
When we met with the agent, he told us that we could have the project they were offering—if we increased the price and secretly sent him the extra money. My father said that we would call him later with our decision, and we left.
“What do you think we should do?” Dad asked me. He pointed out how much this project could benefit our company. He said that we could give more people jobs and accomplish much good.
Then he taught me something I have never forgotten. He said that if we were to be dishonest in even this one business dealing, we could seriously damage a reputation for honesty that took years to build. He turned the offer down. I am happy that he showed the courage to be honest at all times, even when the temptation was great.

I close by reading a simple yet profound letter that reflects our love for our prophet and his leadership:
“Dear President Monson,
“Five years ago, President Hinckley was sustained as prophet, seer and revelator. For me that was an extraordinary occasion which had to do with your calling for the sustaining vote of the Church.
“On that particular morning, I needed to haul hay for my livestock. I was enjoying conference on my truck radio. I had picked up the hay, backed into the barn and was throwing down hay bales from the back of the truck. When you called for the brethren of the priesthood, ‘wherever you are,’ to prepare to sustain the prophet, I wondered if you meant me. I wondered if the Lord would be offended because I was sweaty and covered with dust. But I took you at your word and climbed down from the truck.
“I shall never forget standing alone in the barn, hat in hand, with sweat running down my face, with arm to the square to sustain President Hinckley. Tears mixed with sweat as I sat for several minutes contemplating this sacred occasion.”
He continued:
“In our lives, we place ourselves at particular places when events of large consequence occur. That has happened to me, but none more spiritual or tender or memorable than that morning in the barn with only cows and a roan horse looking on.
“Sincerely,
“Clark Cederlof”

Elisa M., 15, who lives in Germany, will never forget the first time she met a refugee family. Her family decided to participate in a community Patenschaft, a mentoring program where they would befriend a family that had had to move from Syria because of the war. The two families met in a park to get acquainted.
“I was nervous,” Elisa says. “I didn’t know what to expect.” The Syrian family had three children, ages 7, 4, and 2, and a baby on the way. “My parents and their parents talked a little, but the children were kind of shy. They didn’t speak. They were just observing.”
Then her brothers, Alexander, 12, and Joseph, 6, started kicking a soccer ball. That broke the ice. Soon the seven-year-old and the four-year-old started kicking the ball too. “We just had to show them where to start,” Alexander explains, “and Fußball [soccer] is a ‘language’ that we have in common.”
The families became friends. “We have helped them to better understand German, and to get settled in their apartment,” Elisa says.
Assisting others comes naturally to Elisa, who has already helped to make school kits for refugee children. “This summer at youth conference we sewed cloth bags and then filled them with pencils and other supplies they would need for the first day of classes.” Helping also comes naturally to Alexander, who recently became a deacon. “Holding the priesthood means we should always pitch in,” he says.
Elisa and Alexander agree that actually meeting refugees increased their compassion for them. “Getting to know them makes you want to help them even more,” Elisa says. “They’re always thankful and have a smile on their face. Their example teaches me to be more grateful.”
“We keep finding out they’re like us,” Alexander says. “They joke, sing, laugh, and eat. And they know more about enduring tough things in life than we do, because they had to flee from war. By being friends with them, we’re doing what the Savior would do. He cares about everyone, and we should too.”

Tien was the only one in his group that spoke Siamese, the Thai language. He was able to communicate their desire to seek freedom in Thailand. They were put into a refugee camp but eventually lost track of each other. Tien spent a total of two years in three different refugee camps. He volunteered to work in the kitchen, where he could get enough to eat and also receive extra water for showers. While carrying out his kitchen duties, he noticed that whenever he offered coffee or tea to certain young ladies, they always politely refused. He was very curious about this practice, so one day he asked if something was wrong with his drinks. They explained that they were Mormons and did not drink coffee or tea for religious reasons.
Missionaries were not allowed to give formal lessons in the camps. They were there to teach the refugees how to speak English and otherwise prepare for life once they left the refugee camp. But from their mealtime discussions, the missionaries left Tien with an interest in the gospel and a card with a Utah address saying to get in touch when he left the camp.
One day a U.N. official came to visit the camp and said there were too many unattached children in camp under the age of 18. He said if there were any who would like to go to America, applications were being taken. Tien, who was willing to go anywhere, quickly applied. He was asked if he had a preference of a place to live in America. He showed the missionary card with a Utah address and said he heard the place on the card was nice. His papers went first to New York and then to Utah, where a sponsor was located. After arriving, he found a home with foster parents, Gary C. and Shawna Smith and later with Macoy and Marjorie McMurray. Tien was baptized after missionaries in Salt Lake completed the work begun in the refugee camp through the Spirit and the unselfish Christian service of the missionaries.
Tien is now a senior at Olympus High School in Salt Lake City. His parents are still in Laos, unable to join him in America. He plans to serve a mission as soon as he graduates in June. He feels that his finding a life-saving gas can along the Mekong River and then finding the missionaries in the refugee camp are more than mere coincidence. His visa does not allow him to travel out of this country, so he hopes to do missionary work among Vietnamese people living in America.

“You want to work, and you don’t want me to pay you?” Residents of quiet neighborhoods in Fairfield County, Connecticut, can’t believe their ears.
It’s all part of a very special scavenger hunt held by the youth in the New Haven Connecticut Stake. They’ve had many similar activities, but none have been as much fun as scavenging for service projects.
On a Saturday afternoon in late autumn, 200 youth gathered for the activity before the stake dance that evening. Each service the youth performed for residents in various neighborhoods was worth a certain number of points, and the team that earned the most points in the allotted time would win an enviable prize.
They realized that scavenging for service projects isn’t like asking for a pink stocking with a hole in the toe, or a green birthday candle. “Everyone gets something out of this,” said Scott Halverson, a priest in the Trumbull First Ward. Service makes you feel good.”
The youth crowded into their advisers’ cars and drove to their assigned neighborhoods. They were a little apprehensive at first, wondering how people would react.
“Everyone was amazed,” said Curry Andrews, a priest from the Newtown Ward. “One guy took about ten minutes just deciding what he wanted us to do.” And the neighbors were even more surprised when they saw that youth enjoyed what they were doing.
Dave Blanchard, a teacher from the Trumbull First Ward, walked a huge dog. “The dog was giving the owner a lot of trouble, so we offered to take him for a walk,” Dave said. “The dog sure was hard to control. He would turn around and snap at me and all of a sudden he would run off. I could hardly hold on to the leash. It got to be funny.”
Jeff Blanchard, Dave’s older brother, carried items from a tag (yard) sale back into a man’s garage and stacked the boxes against the wall. “The guy asked for my phone number so he could call me anytime he wanted me to do some work for him,” said Jeff.
Becky Rupart’s team found themselves in a very well-to-do neighborhood. “It was a little bit scary, but that made it more fun,” said the Laurel from the Southington Ward. “We were surprised to discover rich people can be just as friendly as anyone else.”
Many people wanted to pay the youth, but naturally, they refused. “Although one man gave us a six pack of soda pop,” said Nancy Busby, a Laurel in the Trumbull Third Ward.
New Englanders are traditionally reserved and not accustomed to being open with strangers. Many New Englanders live a fast-paced life and are less involved with their neighbors. “I was kind of surprised this worked here where people keep to themselves,” said Leslie. “It’s fun to loosen people up,” Jeff added, “although one guy thought it was a trick. I guess it’s hard to trust a group of teenage boys.”
The diversity in people’s reactions amazed the youth. “It was really weird,” said Jeff. “You’d offer to do anything for a guy and he would tell you to go away because you were a stranger. I guess our experience going door-to-door is kind of like missionary work.”
And they found plenty of missionary opportunities along the way. Before they had even arrived at their assigned neighborhood, Leslie Randall’s team saw a man on his lawn. They got out of the car and showed him the list so he could choose which service he wanted. “He asked us to tell him about the Church,” Leslie said. They told him about Joseph Smith, and he responded, “I’ve heard that story before, but I’ve never heard it so well said.”
“It’s fun to give the people a good impression of the Church,” said Becky. “Maybe if the people meet the missionaries someday, they will remember us.” Some of the boys even left pamphlets with people in hopes that it would lead to something later.
“We are like the missionaries who represent the Church when they bring the gospel,” said Jeff. “We represent the Church when we bring service.”
Along with the missionary work, the youth enjoyed just being with each other. “Working together was the most fun,” said Leslie Randall. “At one house, two of us washed dishes in the kitchen, while two dusted the living room and one changed a diaper in the baby’s room. All the time we were singing a song.”
Diaper changing was the most notorious assignment of the day. In one group, all five teammates, girls and boys, pitched in together to complete the odious task. But in another group, Joanna McLay, as the only girl among four boys, found she was the one selected whenever her team encountered a diaper to change.
The competitors learned that they had to work quickly and efficiently. “The boys on my team practically grabbed the rake out of one guy’s hand, while I introduced the group and told him why we were there,” said Bret Smith, a Young Men’s adviser. The teams generally split into two groups, two people taking one house and the other two going across the street.
“We washed two cars at one house in record time,” said Curry Andrews.
When the time was finally up and the scores were tallied, Curry’s all-boys’ team found itself in second place, defeated by an all-girls’ team. “I don’t believe they beat us,” Curry said. “How could anyone work faster than we did?”
Next time Curry wants girls on his team. “Girls are allowed to go inside a house because people trust them,” he said.
Kelly Corkrin, a member of the winning team, won’t disagree. She found everyone her team met had a little something for them to do. “It made me feel good that the people trusted us and let us into their homes,” she said. “Nowadays, I’m not sure I would do that. I guess they were impressed that we weren’t just hanging out, wasting time.”
There were no hard feelings between the two top teams, however. Both first- and second-place winners received the coveted prizes: water squirting toys. As the winners loaded their weapons, everyone else ran to arm themselves with the same old tools they’d been using all day: water buckets and empty soap bottles. The activity ended with a splash.

I remember once in 1957, while I was acting as a new president of a branch in Argentina, I decided to interview the members with respect to the importance of paying tithing. I found myself talking with one good brother of the branch whose name was Jose, who had difficulty paying his tithing. I asked him bluntly, “Brother Jose, why don’t you pay your tithing?” I’m sure Jose didn’t expect me to be so direct.
After a moment of silence he responded: “As you know, President, I have two children. The wage of a laborer is very low. This month I have to buy my children shoes to go to school; and, mathematically, I just don’t have enough money.”
In an instant response, I said, “Jose, I promise you that if you pay your tithing faithfully, your children will have their shoes to go to school, and you will be able to pay for all the needs of your home. I don’t know how he will do it, but the Lord always keeps his promises. Besides that,” I added, “If you still find that you don’t have enough money, I will give you back what you paid in tithing from my own pocket.”
On the way home, I wondered if what I had done was the right thing. Here I was, recently married, just getting started in my career, and faced with my own economic problems. I began to worry about my own shoes, let alone those of Jose’s family! Even though when I got home my dear wife wholeheartedly supported me and reassured me that everything would be all right, I must say that that night nobody prayed harder for Brother Jose’s economic welfare than I did.
One month later, I once again sat down with Jose. Though the tears in his eyes almost made it impossible for him to speak, he said: “President, it is incredible. I paid my tithing; I was able to meet all of my obligations, and I even purchased the new shoes for my children, all without an increase in my wage. I know that the Lord keeps his promises!”
Jose remains to this day a faithful tithe payer.

Several years ago, Sister Pearson and I were called to preside over the Washington Tacoma Mission. The call was a complete surprise. With some trepidation I met with the chairman and the CEO of the company where I was employed and informed them of my mission call. They were visibly upset with my decision to leave the firm. “When did you make this decision, and why didn’t you discuss it with us earlier?” they demanded.

In a moment of clarity, a profound answer came into my mind. I said, “I made this decision as a 19-year-old boy, when I made sacred covenants with God in the temple to follow the Savior. I’ve built my entire life on those covenants, and I fully intend to keep them now.”

On a recent trip to Hermanus, South Africa, I learned the importance of agency. This small coastal town is about a 90-minute drive from Cape Town and is one of the many beautiful beach towns along the coast. The waves were rolling in as I headed down to the beach to surf with a friend.
Once we had off-loaded the surfboards, I stood in the warm white sand and stared at the beach, squinting at the sun in disbelief. The lifeguard had already put up the swimming zone flags, but they were less than 50 meters (165 feet) apart! The beach was several hundred meters long, and all the good waves were outside the swimming zone. How was anybody supposed to swim between those two red-and-yellow striped flags? Was he just being lazy because he didn’t want to watch all the way down the beach?
My friend and I are pretty good swimmers, so we decided to head out to the right of the flagged area. As I walked out through the white water, I could feel the strong pull of the water washing past my legs, but I could still stand against the current, so I kept going. When I was in deep enough, I got on my board and paddled out to the unbroken swells. The waves kept coming, and we surfed for a while, enjoying catching the waves and watching each other catch the waves.
I turned around to look at the beach and suddenly noticed that I was rapidly drifting away from where I had started—the flags were far away! What I didn’t know about and couldn’t see was a large sandbar on the ocean floor, and as the tide was coming in, the water was washing over the sides of the sandbar, creating a powerful wash on both sides of the flagged area. The lifeguard knew that; he had been sitting there the whole day watching the water, so he knew where it was safe to swim.
I turned my board around and began paddling back toward the swimming zone. I paddled my hardest, but there was no way I could swim against the strong current. I was drifting farther out to sea! Panicking, I got off my board and tried to walk. My feet just touched the ocean floor, and I felt my toes dragging in the sand beneath. I could not hold myself against the thousands of tons of water moving past me, so I had to get back on my board. I lay there, powerless and drifting. I waved to my friend to help, but he was caught by the same current.
“Would the lifeguard still rescue me, even though I had ignored his warning?” I wondered. I had made the decision to swim in the no-swim zone and now had to accept the consequence—loss of control. I was being pulled by forces much stronger than I was. My only hope was to catch a wave back to the beach before I was pulled into the sharp rocks at the end of the beach. Eventually, a wave came, and I managed to ride it back to shore as did my friend.
We sheepishly walked back to the swimming zone and enjoyed the rest of the day surfing between the flags. Each time one of us began drifting too close to the edge of the swimming zone, we would warn each other to come back.

At first, Bernard Lefrandt refused to listen to the two American missionaries who came to his home in The Hague, Netherlands, in 1950. It was an uncharacteristic response for a man whose hospitality was well-known throughout his native Indonesia. But Bernard—or Bert, as friends in several countries came to know him—believed he already had a God who had preserved his life innumerable times. Bert had been saved from the wild animals he hunted in island forests, from enemy soldiers when he was dropped behind enemy lines in World War II, and most recently from assassins’ bullets when he was blacklisted in Indonesia. Bert’s God had even spared the lives of his wife and children in a refugee camp. How, then, could he turn to a new one?
The missionaries first came to the Lefrandt’s home in the Netherlands at the end of 1950; the family had moved there in 1948. Nora, a deeply spiritual woman, felt impressed by their message of God’s goodness and a restored gospel. God’s mercy had helped Nora and her family through almost insurmountable difficulties. She accepted the Book of Mormon as well as the challenge to read it. But when Bert learned of the missionaries’ visit, he stubbornly refused to have anything to do with either the elders or the book Nora read so intently.
Were it only a matter of courage for him to face up to these Mormon messengers and their book, then no one came better equipped than Bernard Willem Lefrandt. A descendant of Dutch, Indonesian, and French ancestry, Bert was an expert at courageously confronting challenges in Indonesia. His immense physical strength earned Bert a reputation among the villagers of having almost supernatural power. He was unanimously declared throughout the islands the national champion of wild-pig catching, a sport he accomplished with his bare hands.
Neither could his hesitancy be attributed to ignorance. Bernard Lefrandt’s intelligence, education, and natural generosity gave him a fair-minded, loving attitude toward everyone. Bert worked as a customs officer for the Dutch government when he met and married his boss’s daughter—an intelligent Dutch-Indonesian school teacher named Nora. Eventually he went on to become a naval officer in the Royal Dutch Navy. Bert and Nora were both gifted linguists, speaking French, German, Dutch, and English, as well as several Indonesian island languages. Together, they raised their young children to believe in God’s goodness and in the value of Christian principles.
The major obstacle for Bert was the definite ideas he held about right and wrong religions. In Indonesia, he had felt uncomfortable with local superstitious beliefs and spiritualism. He searched for higher truths, and once considered becoming a Buddhist priest—a consideration he abandoned because it would mean leaving his wife and children. His wife’s strong beliefs in Jesus Christ became his own, and he learned the Bible well from constant study.
Nora finished the Book of Mormon on her own. At the close of another solitary lesson with the missionaries, she felt the Spirit so overwhelmingly that she wanted to be baptized. But she also wanted to wait for her husband, whom she had noticed reading the Book of Mormon when he thought she was asleep. Late at night, he would turn on the dim light and read until two or three in the morning, pretending to have slept well the next day. Nora patiently waited for him.
She had learned about waiting during World War II when she thought her husband had died. The same bravery that led Bert to earn decorations from the Allied High Command and from the Dutch government for valor in the face of grave danger also led him to be parachuted behind Japanese lines with the English. He had been borrowed by the British forces, and Nora knew nothing about his whereabouts. Left alone with two small children, she survived in a post-war refugee camp in Bombay, India, assuming she would never see her husband again after receiving no word from him for four years.
But one day in 1946 as she was teaching a class to some children, a man stood at the back of the room. It was Bert. On an assignment with the British, he had been stationed in Singapore, where he searched the lists of refugee camps in the country. After a joyful reunion with his family, Bert went on another assignment to Ceylon (Sri Lanka), this time with his family, before returning to Indonesia.
Bert continued to read the Book of Mormon in secret, and even started covertly listening from the next room to the missionary discussions. When he finally consented to talk to the elders in person, he became known as a “very hard” investigator, constantly demanding biblical proof of every doctrinal point and requiring a year of discussions.
Meanwhile, Nora and her daughter, Bertie, were baptized. Wanting to share her joy with those nearest her, Nora wrote to friends in New Guinea, telling them of her new Church. Only a few days later, she received a letter from them—the letters had crossed in the mail. Her friend told of a fisherman in New Guinea who had discovered a strange book in the sea, a Book of Mormon. Did the Lefrandts know anything about this book or about Joseph Smith? Surely, the book was a book of God, their friends wrote. They encouraged the Lefrandts to find out what they could about the Mormons.
Their appeal had a good effect upon Bert, who had learned to listen to friends. When he had returned to Indonesia from Singapore in 1946, he had returned to a country in political turmoil. Indonesian nationalists were fighting for independence from the Netherlands, a sentiment Bert understood and even sympathized with. But he was still a Dutch officer and had even received an assignment to hunt down and kill nationalist snipers. He hunted them down, then saved their lives by letting them work in his garden at home. When the nationalists took over, a former “gardener” for Bernard became a government official and relayed a message to the Lefrandts: Bert was on a list of people to be shot for his affiliation with the Dutch. Ten days later the Lefrandts and their three children were on a boat to the Netherlands.
It was there that Bert finally gave up his resistance to the higher truths of the gospel. One day during a discussion with the elders, Bert set his Bible on the table and rested his hand on it. “I don’t know what else to ask you,” he said. Within a year of Bert’s baptism in March 1952, he was called to be the president of The Hague Branch.
The tenacity and determination that took Bernard Lefrandt through jungles and enemy territory now found a purpose in the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. Bert and Nora became faithful servants and pioneers not only in the Netherlands, but in New Guinea, where Bert was later transferred by the Dutch government from 1954 to 1956. There the Lefrandts held Sunday School and sacrament meeting in their home for their family and the two other members stationed in New Guinea. Bert introduced the gospel to other naval officers and held monthly meetings with local priests and church ministers to teach them about the Restoration and the Book of Mormon.
Always mindful of God’s goodness to their family, Bert and Nora exemplified His love and generosity, earning a reputation of fairness, generosity, and open-mindedness wherever they went. Bert spoke enthusiastically about the gospel whenever the opportunity arose, and he left New Guinea having given away a large supply of Church books and pamphlets in an effort to build the kingdom.
The Lefrandts returned to the Netherlands in 1956, this time to Amsterdam, where Bert was again called to be a branch president. After they moved again to The Hague in 1960, Bert was called to be a counselor to the president of the first stake in Europe: The Hague Netherlands Stake. He brought to these callings an enthusiasm that his children—Frank Cornelius, Bertie Louise, Eric Gerard, and Robert—always sensed. “My parents were true builders, true pioneers,” recalls Bertie (Mrs. Jack P. Van Oudheusden), “Both of them were always working; you could just feel their love for the gospel.”
When Nora died in August 1971, people came by busloads to the funeral. Bernard’s funeral in January 1985 occurred in the midst of a blizzard so harsh that a burial was impossible that day. Still, many traveled through freezing temperatures to pay tribute to their friend.
In the Netherlands, as in the other countries through which Bernard Willem Lefrandt traveled and lived, many seeds that he planted have come to fruition, and honor his efforts as an international pioneer and servant of the Lord.