Gospel Story Finder

Tommy Cross, 14, of the First Ward, talked about a temple trip to Dallas, Texas. “At first we all thought we’d remember going to Six Flags and that the baptisms for the dead were something we’d do just to keep the leaders happy. But when we got back and talked about it, we’d forgotten about the amusement park. Everybody remembered the temple and what went on inside the temple. It was more important. You felt better there.”

Sometimes Charlie played army guys nicely with our big brother, Sean. But sometimes he kicked them all over the room. Sometimes Charlie sat beside me, coloring carefully in the lines of his coloring book. But sometimes he scribbled all over his page. And mine!
One thing was certain: our three-year-old brother, Charlie, was a mystery. None of us knew how to help him.
The solution to helping Charlie came unexpectedly. As our family stood watching a fireworks display one evening, Mom started thinking about how Charlie was sort of like a firecracker. When Sean or I did something to hurt Charlie’s feelings, he would “explode.” And he wouldn’t quit until we made him feel loved again.
The next day, when Charlie was taking his afternoon nap, Mom called Sean and me to a secret meeting. She asked Sean how Charlie had acted that morning.
“He stomped on my clay creations and ruined them!” Sean said.
“How about you, Paige?” Mom asked me.
I frowned. “Charlie spilled water all over the picture I was painting.”
“Do you remember the fort you made yesterday?” Mom asked.
“Yeah,” Sean said. “It was the best fort ever!”
“We used all the blankets and chairs in the whole house,” I added.
“Did you let Charlie play with you?” Mom asked.
Sean and I looked at each other and then at the floor. We hadn’t let Charlie play.
“Would you like to see a miracle happen when Charlie wakes up?” Mom asked. “Let’s think of nice things we can do for Charlie to show how much we love him.”
When Charlie woke up a little bit later and wandered out of his room, we were ready.
“Hey, Charlie,” I said as I hugged him. “Would you like me to read you some stories?”
“Sure!” Charlie said. He cuddled up with me on the sofa, and we looked at pictures while I read him a stack of his favorite books.
Then Sean came in, grinning. “Charlie, would you like to play a game of army guys with me?”
“OK!” Charlie shouted as he scrambled off the sofa.
Later, while Mom cooked Charlie’s favorite dinner, Dad was Charlie’s “horsie” and then his “bucking bronco.” Charlie giggled and squealed, and Sean and I laughed too. It was fun to watch Charlie having such a good time.
After dinner, Dad stood Charlie on a chair, and we all sat around him. We took turns telling Charlie all the things we loved about him. Charlie smiled and smiled. He was so happy.
The most wonderful thing of all was that every one of us felt the same.
After that night, Sean and I tried a lot harder to invite Charlie to play with us. Sometimes Charlie messed things up, but he also sometimes made the games more fun.
Now when Sean and I forget to be kind and Firecracker Charlie starts to come back, we know that we can change things with one little word: love.

He was taught well by his parents, but as a teenage farm boy he desired his own personal witness of the reality of God and his work.
“One day in my youth I was hunting cattle. While climbing a steep hill, I stopped to let my horse rest, and there, once again, an intense desire came over me to receive a manifestation of the truth of the Restored Gospel. I dismounted, threw my reins over my horse’s head, and there under a serviceberry bush I prayed that God would declare to me the truth of his revelation to Joseph Smith. I am sure that I prayed fervently and sincerely and with as much faith as a young boy could muster.
“At the conclusion of the prayer, I arose from my knees, threw the reins over my faithful pony’s head, and got into the saddle. As I started along the trail again, I remember saying to myself: ‘No spiritual manifestation has come to me. If I am true to myself, I must say I am just the same “old boy” that I was before I prayed.’”
He had learned a great lesson. A young Latter-day Saint does not get conviction merely by asking the Lord, but by combining that asking with work, service, sacrifice, and obedience to God’s commandments.

I saw his wagon coming across the flats, wheels churning up the dust, wagon top flapping in the wind. I slid off Red’s back and broke into a run for the cabin.
“Look, Ma!” I hollered. “The Bible man is coming!”
Ma came to the door. Shading her eyes against the sun with a flour-covered hand, she watched the dust cloud slowly moving our way. “If he stops here, help unhitch and feed his horses,” she said. “I’ll get the biscuits into the oven.”
I tied Red to the corral poles and sat on the fence to wait. I knew he’d stop. Anybody who knew about Ma’s biscuits wouldn’t pass on by. And the Bible peddler knew about them, sure enough. He’d stuffed down plenty of them every time he’d stopped by our cabin.
The peddler would likely be hauling the same wooden box filled with hymnbooks and Bibles. And he’d talk about how he was saving “lost sheep” by selling his books to folks.
He usually teased me about my red hair matching perfectly with my horse, Red. I didn’t much look forward to his teasing.
When the peddler drove into the yard, I hopped off the fence to help him unhitch.
“See you still got that red colt,” he said, first thing.
I nodded. “I ride him now.”
“Want to sell him?” he asked, all the while rubbing his thick mustache.
My head jerked up. “I won’t sell him for any price! He’s the best thing I ever had!”
He chuckled and slapped the flank of the nearest unhitched horse. I led his team to the corral and tossed them some loose hay. I gave Red some too. Then I sprinted for the cabin. Even though I dreaded the peddler’s teasing, I didn’t want to miss out on anything.
He was eating Ma’s biscuits like he’d never get another chance. Ma had set out fresh buttermilk for him too. I slid onto a stool, hoping she’d set some out for me. But she paid me no mind at all, and I saw why. She was holding one of his books and sliding her fingers over its pages edged with gold. “How much?” she asked.
I missed what he told her, his mouth being so full of biscuit. But Ma heard. She just sort of smiled, put the book down ever so gently on the table, and shook her head.
The Bible man glanced at me. “I’d take that red colt out yonder for it,” he told Ma. “This here is the finest Bible made. I’d throw in the latest hymnbook to boot.” He might have winked at Ma, but I didn’t see it.
I came off the stool, my eyes wide. “You can’t do that, Ma! Red’s my own!” I gave the peddler a dirty look. “Red’s worth more’n any old book; you know he is.”
The peddler gulped down the last of the buttermilk and rose from the table. “I’ll come by next year,” he said. He looked at me. “Maybe by then Ben can figure out a way for you to have that Bible, him being the man here now.”
I looked at Ma. What looked to be a tear slid down her cheek. I’d not seen Ma shed tears since Pa died, and it choked me. I knew she really wanted that Bible, and I wished that I could figure out a way. But I sure couldn’t part with Red to get it for her.
I was still choked some when I went to lead the peddler’s team outside and hitched them up again to the wagon. I held the team while the Bible man put an armload of books back into the wooden box at the end of the wagon bed and climbed up onto the wagon seat. I wasn’t sorry to see him go.
I watched him going toward the knoll that marked one edge of our homestead, his wagon wheels making dust again. He hadn’t teased me at all about my red hair, and I puzzled over it.
Right in the middle of my puzzling, Ma came running out of the cabin, hollering, “He forgot the Bible!” Her face was full of worry. “He’ll think I kept it on purpose!”
My mouth dropped open. Nobody could think that about Ma. “I’ll catch up to him,” I promised her.
I ran to untie Red, and sidled him over to the fence so that I could climb onto his back. Then I took off after the Bible man. Halfway to the knoll I slowed, thinking. What if I don’t catch up? Will he remember leaving the Bible behind? Ma would have plenty of pleasure from that book by the time he comes again.
I let Red plod slowly along in the dusty road, and the peddler’s wagon went out of sight behind the knoll. I reined Red in and sat awhile. Then I started feeling uncomfortable.
I had never done anything deceitful like I was doing now. It bothered me some that I had told Ma that I’d catch up to the peddler, and I wasn’t even trying. I kicked Red and sent him toward the knoll at a good lope.
At the top of the knoll I stopped and stared. The wagon was bouncing and rattling off through the sagebrush, the team looked to be on a dead run, and the peddler was pulling hard on the reins.
Runaway!
The clatter of the bouncing wagon was something fierce. It swerved through a boulder patch, hit a big rock, and bounced high in the air. The wooden box came flying out, sending books sailing. I closed my eyes for an instant and prayed that the Bible man wouldn’t go sailing off too. When I looked again, I saw that the wagon had slowed some and the peddler had the team circling.
I rode Red down through the brush to help look for the scattered books. Nobody will miss a gold-leaf Bible in all this mess, I decided. And with such excitement, even Ma wouldn’t hold me to remembering why I’d set out after the Bible man.
I slid off Red’s back, righted the wooden box, and gathered the books and loose pages the best that I could. It was a while before the peddler had the horses calmed enough to drive them to where I was. Then he just looked at the jumbled books and rubbed his mustache.
After a while he said, “An old sage hen and her young’uns flew up right under the horses’ noses. Scared them clean out of their wits for a spell.”
He picked up one of the books. “Not worth much now,” he said.
“There’s one book not hurt at all,” I heard myself say. “You left the gold-edged Bible back at the cabin. Ma sent me to tell you.”
I could have kicked myself for saying it. I looked away, chewing my lip, knowing that Ma’s only chance to read that Bible was gone.
“A good, biscuit-bakin’ woman like your Ma should have a Bible,” he said. “Now, I could be takin’ Red there as payment for it.”
My chin dropped, and my heart plumb sank inside me. I figured I’d best get Red out of the Bible man’s sight. When the peddler stooped to load the wooden box, I started scrambling onto Red’s back.
Then I heard him laugh.
“I meant her to have that Bible—to even up some for all those good biscuits that she’s fed me. You tell her so, Ben.”
He climbed up onto the wagon, grinning at me, and I knew then that he’d been teasing me all along. That was why he hadn’t mentioned my red hair. He had sparked more fire out of me over Red than he ever could have about my hair.
As the Bible man turned his team toward the road, I waved. “I’ll tell her!” I yelled.
And I was kind of sorry to see him go.

One night at the very peak of her anxiety, this young mother rose from her bed, went into the other room, and talked to her Father in Heaven. She had remembered an incident in her own childhood. A great and noble woman had prayed in behalf of her afflicted husband and requested that, if the Lord were willing, she be allowed to carry her husband’s infirmities so that his service to the Lord would not be restricted. This sister, almost immediately, became stone deaf and remained so throughout her life, while her husband, miraculously healed, became a spiritual giant, a man of God, and a powerful leader in building the kingdom of God in that area. With the memory of this incident in her heart, this faithful mother supplicated the Father in her son’s behalf, asking if she might take her son’s infirmities upon herself. Of this incident she concluded, “I returned to my bed and went to sleep.”

For example, some time ago a stake Relief Society president serving on a steering committee for a bishops’ storehouse reported to us that the welfare recipients were wasting food because the labels on the products did not have sufficient directions. She cited the pancake mix as a case in point. We, therefore, arranged to have the mix tested, and the pancakes were found to be hard and tasteless. On a second try, the tester followed the directions on the label of a similar commercial preparation calling for the addition of milk and eggs. This test resulted in fluffy, delicious pancakes.
We recommended that instructions and simple recipes be added to the labels of all storehouse products. We are informed that the new labeling will soon be completed. This action will benefit all welfare recipients.

When John Taylor was called to serve a mission in England with Wilford Woodruff, he was very poor. He arrived in New York with only one cent left.
Parley Pratt, who wanted to publish information about the Church, asked John if he had any money.
John: I have plenty of money.
Parley: I need funds for publishing. Could you give me two or three hundred dollars?
John: Well, Brother Parley, you are welcome to anything I have, if it will be of service to you.
Parley: I thought you said you had plenty of money!
John: I have clothes to wear, and you give me food and a place to stay. With a penny over, I owe nothing. Is that not plenty?
Some of the brethren preparing to go to England had a meeting and decided that they should help John pay for his passage to England.
John: No! If you have any extra money, give it to Parley to help support his family and publish his pamphlets.
Brother: But how will you get to England without money?
John wasn’t worried. As he started on his journey, he never asked for money. But people followed the promptings of the Holy Ghost and donated enough to pay not only for his passage to England, but also for another elder. John had known that the Lord would take care of him.

In 2002 a consortium of companies including General Motors, EDS, Unigraphics, and SUN made a software donation to BYU that amounted to over $300 million (Partners for the Advancement of Computer-Aided Design/Manufacturing/Engineering Education [PACE]). This donation was provided, we were told, to acknowledge the accomplishments of the students and faculty and to help them with their academic programs. We scheduled a time for the presentation that allowed us to focus on this generous gift. I am grateful to all of those students who came and supported us in such grand fashion. The PACE group was all abuzz about their visit and the celebration. Everything about that day was perfect.

Then PACE decided to make a similar donation to BYU—Idaho. This donation was somewhat smaller and amounted to about $60 million in software. Unlike BYU, BYU—Idaho had scheduled their announcement to coincide with their weekly devotional. Just prior to the time of the devotional, President Bednar had a reception for the PACE team. During that time he talked about BYU—Idaho, their unique approach to sports, and the devotional that they held regularly. He explained that it was a custom at BYU—Idaho for all of the students to hold up their scriptures at the beginning of the devotional. Then he presented a copy of the scriptures to the PACE team leader so that he wouldn’t be embarrassed when the students all had their scriptures in their hands and raised them high. During the devotional President Bednar called upon the team leader to say a few words, which he gave most appropriately.

Last year this same PACE team leader asked me to attend an annual conference in New York. There I made a presentation to the other deans in attendance concerning what BYU had done with our PACE gift. After I finished, the PACE team leader related to the entire group of deans that he had a copy of the scriptures that he had received from BYU—Idaho. He told them how he valued these and recounted his wonderful experience there. Remembering who we are can have a lasting effect for good.

On one occasion, I was to interview a man on behalf of the First Presidency for the restoration of his priesthood and temple blessings.

After his marriage in the holy temple, and after having three wonderful children, the man was unfaithful to his wife and his sacred covenants. A single woman became pregnant and wanted an abortion.

The husband’s saintly wife pleaded with the woman to have the baby and promised that she would raise the child, once he was born, with her own children.

The single woman thoughtfully agreed not to end the pregnancy.

It had now been 10 years. The humble sister sitting in front of me loved the boy as her own and told me of her husband’s efforts to make amends and to love and care for her and the family. The father wept as she spoke.

How could this noble woman of God take a child as her own who could be a daily reminder of the unfaithfulness of her husband? How? Because she found strength through Jesus Christ and she believed in the sacredness of life, the holiness of life. She knew the unborn child was a child of God, innocent and pure.

I was born in Cambodia, where most people are Buddhists. After the Khmer Rouge regime killed so many people, many of the survivors didn’t understand why, if there was a God, He would let this happen to our people. At 14 years old, I wondered the same thing.
After the regime ended, several religions began taking hold in Cambodia. I was confused because the churches taught so many different things. My family remained Buddhists, but I wanted answers to the questions of my soul: where did we come from, why are we here, and where are we going after this life?
One day as I returned from school, my aunt told me that two young men wearing white shirts and ties had come to her home talking about Jesus Christ. She was surprised because they spoke good Cambodian. I wanted to learn about Christ. I wanted to know who created us. I wondered, “Who is God? Is it Buddha, Jesus Christ, or some other god?”
My aunt and I accepted the missionaries. During the first discussion, we felt the Spirit telling us that what they said was true. They gave us a Book of Mormon and promised that if we read it, pondered it, and asked God with a sincere heart, having faith in Him, He would manifest the truth unto us. It made a lot of sense to me. I accepted the gospel, along with my aunt and her children. About a month later, we were all baptized and confirmed.

While preaching the gospel in Ohio, Lorenzo had a dream one night in which he saw an angry mob attacking him in a schoolhouse. He awoke frightened and prayed for the Lord to protect him as he preached the gospel.
Later that same day, two well-dressed men came to Lorenzo and asked him to come to a schoolhouse where a crowd was waiting to hear him preach. Remembering the dream, Lorenzo refused to come. The men tried harder and harder to get him to come, but Lorenzo would not. The men finally left, shouting angry words at him. Lorenzo soon found out that they weren’t really wanting to hear him preach. Instead, they and a group of other men were waiting to attack Lorenzo at the schoolhouse.

A few years later, when I was director of budget at another Air Force Base, Colonel Rothman, the Deputy Commander, called me into his office one day to discuss budget matters. In military style, I formally reported to his office with a salute. "Captain Russell, reporting as ordered sir. "He invited me to be seated. "Captain, may I get you a cup of coffee?" "No, thank you, Sir" I replied. "How about a cup of tea?" "No, Sir, I don't drink tea." "Well, Captain, it's only ten in the morning and I am not going to offer you a beer!" I smiled and said, "No, Sir, I don't drink beer either." Colonel Rothman was wearing these funny-looking half-frame reading glasses. He tipped his head down, looked above his lenses, and in an artificially gruff voice said, "Are you a Mormon?" I swallowed hard and said, "Yes, sir." He broke into a smile, stood up, stretched forth his hand to shake mine and said, "Good for you, Captain. I have never met a Mormon that wasn't a fine officer."

These experiences and many others manifested to me that Latter-day Saints, with their standards, maintain a separate identity when we are out in the world. I have consistently found that the Word of Wisdom is a behavioral emblem, an identifying mark, that facilitates our being identified as people with very high standards. The Word of Wisdom is a badge of separateness that sets us apart from the world.

Last October, I was assigned, along with President M. Russell Ballard and Elder Jeffrey R. Holland, to visit the United Kingdom, where all three of us served as young missionaries. We had the privilege of teaching and testifying, as well as reliving early Church history in the British Isles, where my great-great-grandfather Heber C. Kimball and his associates were the first missionaries.
President Russell M. Nelson, teasing us about this assignment, noted that it was unusual to assign three Apostles to visit the area where they had served as missionaries in their youth. He acknowledged that all desire to be assigned to visit their original mission. With a big smile on his face, he succinctly explained the precedent that if there is another set of three Apostles who served in the same mission over 60 years ago, then they also may receive a similar assignment.
In preparation for that assignment, I reread the Life of Heber C. Kimball, written by his grandson Orson F. Whitney, who later was called to the apostleship. This volume was given to me by my precious mother when I was almost seven years old. We were preparing to attend the dedication of the This Is the Place Monument on July 24, 1947, by President George Albert Smith. She wanted me to know more about my ancestor Heber C. Kimball.
This book contains a profound statement attributed to President Kimball that has significance for our day. Before sharing the statement, let me provide a little background.
While the Prophet Joseph Smith was incarcerated in Liberty Jail, Apostles Brigham Young and Heber C. Kimball had the responsibility, under terribly adverse circumstances, of overseeing the evacuation of the Saints from Missouri. The evacuation was required in large part because of the extermination order issued by Governor Lilburn W. Boggs.
Almost 30 years later Heber C. Kimball, then in the First Presidency, reflecting on this history with a new generation, taught, “Let me say to you, that many of you will see the time when you will have all the trouble, trial and persecution that you can stand, and plenty of opportunities to show that you are true to God and His work.”
Heber continued: “To meet the difficulties that are coming, it will be necessary for you to have a knowledge of the truth of this work for yourselves. The difficulties will be of such a character that the man or woman who does not possess this personal knowledge or witness will fall. If you have not got the testimony, live right and call upon the Lord and cease not [until] you [attain] it. If you do not you will not stand. … The time will come when no man nor woman will be able to endure on borrowed light. Each will have to be guided by the light within himself. … If you don’t have it you will not stand; therefore seek for the testimony of Jesus and cleave to it, that when the trying time comes you may not stumble and fall.”
We each need a personal testimony of God’s work and the seminal role of Jesus Christ. The 76th section of the Doctrine and Covenants refers to the three degrees of glory and compares the celestial glory to the sun. It then compares the terrestrial kingdom to the moon.
It is interesting that the sun has its own light, but the moon is reflected light or “borrowed light.” Speaking of the terrestrial kingdom, verse 79 states, “These are they who are not valiant in the testimony of Jesus.” We cannot obtain the celestial kingdom and live with God the Father on borrowed light; we need our own testimony of Jesus Christ and His gospel.
We live in a world where iniquity abounds and hearts turn from God because of the precepts of men. One of the most compelling examples in the scriptures of Heber C. Kimball’s concerns about seeking a testimony of God’s work and Jesus Christ is set forth in Alma’s counsel to his three sons—Helaman, Shiblon, and Corianton. Two of his sons had been true to God and His work. But one son had made some bad decisions. To me the greatest significance of Alma’s counsel is that he was imparting it as a father for the benefit of his own children.
Alma’s first concern, like Heber C. Kimball’s, was that each have a testimony of Jesus Christ and be true to God and His work.
In Alma’s remarkable teaching to his son Helaman, he makes a profound promise that those who “put their trust in God shall be supported in their trials, and their troubles, and their afflictions, and shall be lifted up at the last day.”
While Alma had received a manifestation where he saw an angel, this is rare. Impressions made by the Holy Ghost are more typical. These impressions can be equally as important as angelic manifestations. President Joseph Fielding Smith taught: “Impressions on the soul that come from the Holy Ghost are far more significant than a vision. When Spirit speaks to spirit, the imprint upon the soul is far more difficult to erase.”
This leads us to Alma’s counsel to his second son, Shiblon. Shiblon was righteous, like his brother Helaman. The counsel I want to emphasize is Alma 38:12, which reads in part, “See that ye bridle all your passions, that ye may be filled with love.”
Bridle is an interesting word. When we ride a horse, we use the bridle to guide it. A good synonym might be to direct, control, or restrain. The Old Testament tells us we shouted for joy when we learned we would have physical bodies. The body is not evil—it is beautiful and essential—but some passions, if not used properly and appropriately bridled, can separate us from God and His work and adversely impact our testimony.
Let’s talk about two passions in particular—first, anger, and second, lust. It is interesting that both left unbridled or uncontrolled can cause great heartache, diminish the influence of the Spirit, and separate us from God and His work. The adversary takes every opportunity to fill our lives with images of violence and immorality.
In some families, it is not uncommon for an angry husband or wife to hit a spouse or a child. In July, I participated in a United Kingdom All-Party Parliamentary forum in London. Violence against women and youth was highlighted as a significant worldwide problem. In addition to violence, others have engaged in verbal abuse. The proclamation on the family tells us those “who abuse spouse or offspring … will one day stand accountable before God.”
President Nelson strongly emphasized this yesterday morning. Please make up your mind that regardless of whether your parents did or did not abuse you, you will not physically or verbally or emotionally abuse your spouse or children.
In our day one of the most significant challenges is contention and verbal abuse related to societal issues. In many cases anger and abusive language have replaced reason, discussion, and civility. Many have abandoned the admonition of the Savior’s senior Apostle, Peter, to seek Christlike qualities such as temperance, patience, godliness, brotherly kindness, and charity. They have also abandoned the Christlike quality of humility.
In addition to controlling anger and bridling other passions, we need to lead pure moral lives by controlling our thoughts, language, and actions. We need to avoid pornography, evaluate the appropriateness of what we are streaming in our homes, and avoid every form of sinful conduct.
This brings us to Alma’s counsel to his son Corianton. Unlike his brothers, Helaman and Shiblon, Corianton engaged in moral transgression.
Because Corianton had engaged in immorality, it was necessary for Alma to teach him about repentance. He had to teach him the seriousness of sin and then how to repent.
So Alma’s preventive counsel was to bridle passions, but his counsel for those who have transgressed was to repent. President Nelson gave members profound counsel on repentance at the April 2019 general conference. He made it clear that daily repentance is integral to our lives. “Repentance is not an event; it is a process. It is the key to happiness and peace of mind,” he taught. “Daily repentance is the pathway to purity, and purity brings power.” If Corianton had done what President Nelson counseled, he would have repented as soon as he had begun to entertain impure thoughts. Major transgressions would not have occurred.
The concluding counsel that Alma gave to his sons is some of the most important doctrine in all the scriptures. It relates to the Atonement wrought by Jesus Christ.
Alma testified that Christ would take away sin. Without the Savior’s Atonement, the eternal principle of justice would require punishment. Because of the Savior’s Atonement, mercy can prevail for those who have repented, and it can allow them to return to the presence of God. We would do well to ponder this wonderful doctrine.
None can return to God by his or her own good works alone; we all need the benefit of the Savior’s sacrifice. All have sinned, and it is only through the Atonement of Jesus Christ that we can obtain mercy and live with God.
Alma also gave wonderful counsel to Corianton for all of us who have gone through or will go through the repentance process, regardless of whether the sins are small or as severe as those committed by Corianton. Verse 29 of Alma 42 reads, “And now, my son, I desire that ye should let these things trouble you no more, and only let your sins trouble you, with that trouble which shall bring you down unto repentance.”
Corianton heeded Alma’s counsel and both repented and served honorably. Because of the Savior’s Atonement, healing is available to all.
In Alma’s day, in Heber’s day, and certainly in our day, we all need to seek our own testimony of Jesus Christ, bridle our passions, repent of our sins, and find peace through the Atonement of Jesus Christ and be true to God and His work.
In a recent talk and again this morning, President Russell M. Nelson said it this way: “I plead with you to take charge of your testimony of Jesus Christ. Work for it. Own it. Care for it. Nurture it so that it will grow. Then watch for miracles to happen in your life.”
I am grateful that we will now hear from President Nelson. I testify that President Nelson is the Lord’s prophet for our day. I love and treasure the marvelous inspiration and guidance we receive through him.
As an Apostle of the Lord Jesus Christ, I bear my sure witness of the Savior’s divinity and the reality of His Atonement in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Once at a Special Olympics baseball game, they adopted a team that was losing by an impossible margin. The team members had given up—until they found themselves with a real clown cheer-leading squad. “We’d find out the name of the guy up to bat and then we’d start yelling, ‘Come on, Charlie, you can do it. Come on, Fred!’ In that one inning they more than doubled their score. They still lost, because it was the last inning, but when they left there they were so excited that they were just in heaven.”

Walter Spat, the first stake president in South America, for many years has owned a furniture factory in Sao Paulo, Brazil. The delicately hand-carved roses, figures, and designs in the beautiful woods make his furniture as lovely as I have ever seen. Every piece is exquisite. Every creation is a masterpiece. One day my Ruth and I were in the entrance of his factory when a beautiful, newly made piece of furniture was carried in from the factory for showing. The grain of the wood flowed beautifully, and the finish was perfection. But to President Spat the hardware did not seem up to standard. Without hesitation, he took a screwdriver and a pair of pliers and pulled off all the hardware. His only remark was, “That is not my work.” President Spat seems incapable of making a piece of furniture which is not as near perfect as it can be. His work reflects his honor and integrity.

When I was 12 years old, I took my new hatchet on a camping trip. I arrived after dark and volunteered to chop some firewood. I expected it to be easy since the hatchet’s blade was sharp and the handle was strong. But the hatchet didn’t work well at all. I had to chop hard and long to cut the logs. I finished the job feeling very frustrated.
Then I got closer to the campfire and saw the problem—I had left the hatchet cover on! In that moment, I learned that when things seem hard, it is important to look more carefully at what’s going on, instead of just getting frustrated.

They are the grandchildren and great-grandchildren of 95-year-old Arthur W. Andersen and his wife Clara, from Provo, Utah. They all began coming to the library in 1972 when Arthur’s oldest daughter, Lyona, had what she considered an inspired idea. For years Lyona had taken upon herself the responsibility for continuing genealogical research for the Andersen family. She had obtained funds from family members (all 15 of Arthur’s children) and had hired professional researchers to help her carry on the work.
One day the thought came to her, “Why not organize things so that all the young cousins in the area can join in and assist us in this important work?” She approached her researcher specializing in English records, Wilma Adkins, and asked if she would be willing to delegate work and supervise all the youth in doing research. Wilma willingly agreed, and since that time the Andersen family has held monthly workshops.
These workshops give many teenagers and adults in the family the opportunity to actually do firsthand research in the Salt Lake Genealogical Library. They have become familiar with how to operate the microfilm machines and how to track down the various microfilms they need. They have struggled over the elaborate and often foreign-looking handwriting contained in these records. And perhaps most important of all, they have felt the joy that comes from discovering a name that others have hunted for for hours, weeks, and sometimes even years.
Lyona recalls an incident with a young cousin, not yet in his teens, who was faithfully poring over census records for a name Wilma had given him. All of a sudden he jumped up and ran to Aunt Lyona, excitement mirrored in his face. “Come look,” he said. “Is this really the name I was looking for?” Lyona quickly conferred with Wilma. It was the very name Wilma had unsuccessfully been seeking for a long time.
Many hugs and congratulations followed, as Wilma and Lyona took special pains to praise and thank him for his unexpected discovery.
Other researchers in the library on these Saturdays, if they took the time to eavesdrop, would hear such boastful comments as, “Hey, Nina, just think! Because of me, John and Mary Stafford can get married in the temple and be sealed for all eternity! What if I hadn’t come today and had gone swimming instead?” Or, “Wilma told me I can read that awful handwriting as well as the people who work here!”
Since 1972, 70 members of the Andersen family have participated at one time or another in these genealogy workshops. Ages range from eight years to 95, the majority in their teens. The 95-year-old helper is Grandpa Andersen himself. Although he can’t actually search (because of failing eyesight), he often shows up, nonetheless, with his wife Clara. Their enthusiastic spirits and encouraging words make their presence as valuable as though they were doing the research themselves. Their grandchildren know how important they consider this work and how pleased they are with each person’s effort.
Through these Saturday workshops, the Andersen family has truly taken seriously the admonitions to do genealogical research. And they are busily engaged in turning “the heart of the fathers to the children, and the heart of the children to their fathers.” (Mal. 4:6.)

Faith in Sage’s future wasn’t easy. During those first terrible days, Michael and Denise faced the agonizing possibility that Sage would die. “We mourned for the Sage we had known,” they say, “and then we faced the challenge of accepting the new Sage. Spiritually and emotionally, we were healed as she was healed.”
The support from fellow Saints and neighbors was a vital part of that healing. Ruth DeBuck stayed with Denise those first few nights in the hospital. They lay on separate beds pulled together, their heads touching, holding hands.
“We talked through the night, working through the nightmare,” Ruth says. “We talked about what it would mean if Sage died, and what it would mean if she lived. All a mother feels and wants for her daughter had been suddenly ripped away, and Denise had to deal with that loss. Those first few days, we had to let the old dreams go, then dream new dreams.”
Ruth has seen those dreams blossom. “We see Sage some time in the future being married in the temple,” she says. “Some young man, kind and pure, who can see through the physical to her spiritual beauty, is with her. We see her with children of her own, living a life in the gospel, taking the joy offered, living beyong the burn.”

Often the Lord calls us to do difficult things that we may not be sure we want to do but that will bring great blessings. This is illustrated in the early life of President David O. McKay.

When [he] was eight years of age, his father [also named David] received a call to go on a mission. To accept such a call for two or three years away from home was no easy decision to make. Another baby was on its way, and plans had been made to enlarge the house and furnishings. The responsibilities of running the farm were too great to be left to his wife, so when David showed the letter calling him to a mission, he said: “Of course it is impossible for me to go.” Jennette read the letter, looked at her husband, and said decisively: “Of course you must accept; you need not worry about me. David O. and I will manage things nicely!”. . .
. . . In the absence of his father, the boy David quickly redirected his energies to chores and farm work. Circumstances thus helped to produce a maturity beyond his physical years. [Llewelyn R. McKay, Home Memories of President David O. McKay (Salt Lake City: Deseret Book, 1956), 5–6]

My wife and I came to better understand this truth through the loss of our beloved son Georg, who was 27 years of age when he died. When this occurred, I was serving as president of the newly created Austria Vienna South Mission, which included the countries of the former Yugoslavia. Following a zone conference in Zagreb, Croatia, Sister Wondra and I were given a message that we should call home. Soon our beloved daughter-in-law Regina was on the telephone, crying out in the anguish of her soul, “Papa, Georg is dead. Georg is dead!” Subsequent extensive investigations were unable to provide any reason for his death. Our son had never been seriously ill. His heart simply stood still, without any medical explanation.
Georg was such a special son, full of joy and life, full of love for us and for his own family, pure in heart and without guile. In 1989 he had been one of the first missionaries to be sent to East Germany during what was a great time for missionary work. He spoke often about the baptisms in which he and his companion participated but never about the number of baptisms—he felt these experiences were too sacred to be reduced to statistics. At the end of Georg’s first letter from his mission, he wrote: “Don’t miss me too much. Life has to go forward without me.” On the day of his death, he had read President Gordon B. Hinckley’s message “The Victory over Death” and had underlined, “How tragic, how poignant is the sorrow of those left behind. The grieving widow, the motherless child, the father bereft and alone—all of these can speak of the wounds of parting” (Liahona, April 1997, 3).
Our family has suffered from these wounds. We miss Georg so very much! But there is also a burning feeling in our souls that because we believe in the Atonement, in the death and Resurrection of Jesus Christ—because we believe in the message of Gethsemane, Golgotha, and the empty tomb—we can also trust, during the sorrowful moments in our lives, that God is a God of love, mercy, and compassion, even when we don’t understand what has happened or why. God accepted the sacrifice of His Son, Jesus Christ, who suffered all things “because of his loving kindness and his long-suffering towards the children of men” (1 Ne. 19:9).