Gospel Story Finder

With it comes the right and the authority to govern in the Church of Christ. I recall the experiences I had long ago when I was a member of the Council of the Twelve. I attended a stake conference where the president was a man of wealth and affluence. He was very successful by the standards of the world. He lived in a magnificent home. He met me at the airport in a beautiful car. We had lunch at a first-class restaurant. And yet he was humble in his office, anxious to learn, and ever willing to do the right thing in administering the affairs of his stake.
I subsequently went to another conference. The president met me in a car that had seen many seasons. We stopped at a fast-food place for a bite to eat. His home was extremely modest—neat and clean and quiet but not richly furnished. He was a carpenter by trade. He had none of the fancy things of the world. He, too, was a wonderful stake president doing his duty in a remarkable way. He was excellent in every respect.
Such is the wonder of this priesthood. Wealth is not a factor. Education is not a factor. The honors of men are not a factor. The controlling factor is acceptability unto the Lord.
All of the Authorities who are here tonight could testify that in the reorganization of stakes they have had remarkable and inspiring experiences. I recall being assigned to reorganize a stake about 40 years ago. The president had suddenly died. The Brethren asked me to go down and speak at the funeral and reorganize the stake. I had never done this before. I was new as a General Authority. I was to be all alone.
When I arrived, I was taken to another town, where I participated in the funeral service. I asked all of the stake officers and the bishops to remain after the service and announced that a reorganization of the stake would take place the next evening.
I asked the mission president to sit with me as I interviewed the brethren, none of whom I knew. We interviewed late into the evening. I soon discovered there were problems in the stake. There were divisive feelings. When we were all through, I said to the mission president, “I am not satisfied. Are there not others?” He said, “I know of only one man whom we have not interviewed. He moved here rather recently on a transfer in his company. He is the second counselor in a bishopric. I do not know him well. He resides in another city.”
I said, “Let’s go see him.” We drove and went to the hotel where I would be staying for the night. Here I was, having interviewed all of these brethren and having not found one that I considered worthy to preside and having scheduled the reorganization for the next evening.
We arrived late at the hotel. I called the man; a sleepy voice answered the phone. I said that I wished to see him that evening. I apologized for calling him so late. He said, “I’ve just gone to bed, but I’ll put on my clothes and come.”
He came to the hotel. The conversation that followed was most interesting. He was a graduate of BYU in petroleum geology. He worked for a big oil company. He had served elsewhere in positions of responsibility in the Church. He knew the program of the Church. He had served a mission. He knew the gospel. He was mature in the Church. And the territory for which he was responsible as an employee of the oil company was exactly the same as the territory of the stake. I told him we would telephone him in the morning and excused him.
The mission president went on his way, and I went to bed.
At about three o’clock the next morning I awoke. Doubts began to flood my mind. This man was almost a total stranger to the people of the stake. I got out of bed and got on my knees and pleaded with the Lord for direction. I did not hear a voice, but I had a very distinct impression that said, “I told you who should be stake president. Why do you continue to ask?”
Ashamed of myself for troubling the Lord again, I went to bed and fell asleep. I phoned the man early the next morning and issued to him a call to serve as president of the stake. I asked him to select counselors.
That evening when people gathered for the meeting, there was much speculation as to who would be the stake president, but no one even thought of this man. When I announced his name, people looked at one another for a clue to discovering who he was. I had him come to the stand. I announced his counselors and had them come to the stand.
Even though they did not know him, the people sustained him. Things began to happen in that stake. The people had known for a long time that they needed a stake center, but they had been uncertain and argumentative as to where it should go. He went to work and within 18 months had a beautiful new stake center ready for dedication. He unified the stake. He traveled up and down, meeting the people and extending his love to them. That stake, which had grown tired, came to life and literally bubbled with new enthusiasm. It stands as a shining star in the large constellation of stakes in this Church.
Brethren, I can testify to you that revelation from the Lord is made manifest in the naming of a stake president. I once spoke in this meeting on bishops, and tonight I wish to say a few words about stake presidents.

It was the day of my first race and I had come early to register and stretch out. I planned to run the 5K alone because I wasn’t very fast.
Then I saw the first counselor in the bishopric of my college ward, an experienced runner, among the gathering crowd. Just as he recognized me, the officials called all runners to the starting line. He asked if I was running with anyone. I said I wasn’t and admitted that, although I had been training for two months, all I hoped for was to finish the race. He offered to run with me and I accepted. I was delighted to have some company.
The gun sounded and we started off slowly. He was by my side the entire time. We talked about future races, the upcoming term in school, and his past races. He told me how he had used the “Boy Scout pace” to finish his first few races. He would run 50 steps, then walk 25 steps, until he could run the entire distance. It sounded strange to me, but since he was a much more experienced runner, I agreed as I got tired to finish the race this way.
As we rounded the final corner it was obvious that we were the last two runners. I sprinted to the finish line. But my running companion must have sensed my fear of being the last runner because he stayed behind. When we met after the race, he smiled and congratulated me on a good run.
I was touched that he was willing to take last place, so I wouldn’t have to. My ward leader taught me a lot about humility, service, and the pure love of Christ during that short race. Moroni’s words now have greater meaning for me when I read, “And charity suffereth long, and is kind, and envieth not, and is not puffed up, seeketh not her own. … Wherefore … if ye have not charity, ye are nothing, for charity never faileth” (Moro. 7:45–46).

It was the morning of the examination, and I prepared my backpack hurriedly. No, I wasn’t forgetting anything—not my schoolbooks, my glasses, or my trusty Book of Mormon. I had everything—including anxiety, which worsened as soon as I saw the university buildings.
It was still early; the professor hadn’t arrived, but other students were waiting with me. Everyone else was talking, but I sat in silence, close to panic. I couldn’t back out now. This test was too important for me and for my family. I had to show my relatives that, even though I had many Church commitments, I hadn’t neglected my studies. I had to pass this oral exam—but anxiety was shutting down my ability to smile and to remember what I had studied.
I looked out the window. The sky over my beautiful city of Naples, Italy, was incredibly blue, and my thoughts immediately turned to God. For several minutes I looked into the immensity of the heavens and spoke with my Heavenly Father. Peace came over me. I felt an assurance that God was with me.
While the other students continued to talk among themselves, I took my Book of Mormon from my backpack and began to read. I lost track of those around me as I was comforted by what I read in the scriptures. All of a sudden, a thought shook me: “It’s useless for you to stay here. You can’t answer the professor’s questions. Get out of here. Take the exam next month.” I made the mistake of listening, and again I felt very alone and very close to panic. The words penetrated into me, and I was about to shut my Book of Mormon and leave, believing I couldn’t succeed.
Then I remembered my prayer to Heavenly Father earlier, along with the peace I’d felt. With all the strength I had, I cried out in my heart, “God is with me.”
This time, joy overcame me, and I had no more fear. All my worries vanished in the warm light of heavenly reassurance.
Finally the professor arrived. When it was my turn to be questioned, I went into his office with a look that gave only a tiny indication of the peace I felt in my heart. And I came out of the office with a radiant smile. I had answered all the professor’s questions and scored the maximum possible!
Discouragement is one of Satan’s strongest weapons. He must have known that if he could hit his target this time, my family would have thought they had a reason to criticize the Church.
But with Heavenly Father’s help, I overcame doubt and discouragement. Now I know that if I do my part, Heavenly Father will help me. I need not fear. I cannot imagine a greater joy than knowing God is with me.

In school on Monday, Marcus slid his math assignment next to hers.
“Let me check my paper,” he said. “I want to make sure I have the same answers you do.”
Sarah handed him her paper, as she always did, but this time she saw Marcus scribbling out his answers and writing hers down. He wasn’t checking—he was cheating! Sarah knew it was wrong to let Marcus cheat, but she didn’t want to make him feel bad. Wasn’t being nice more important than being honest about one little math assignment? After all, she wasn’t cheating—he was.
A familiar, uneasy feeling crept into the pit of her stomach. Remembering how bad she had felt a few days ago, she yanked her paper away.
“What are you doing?” Marcus cried.
“I can’t let you cheat,” Sarah said. Even though Marcus gave her a dirty look, she didn’t give in to the temptation to let him copy her answers. She realized that she had made a right choice because she felt calm and happy inside. “That’s what the Holy Ghost feels like,” Sarah thought. Her quick decision hadn’t been easy, but she had done what was right.
After school, Mom drove Sarah to Megan’s soccer game. On the way there, Sarah told her about the experience she’d had.
“I’m proud of you, Sarah!” Mom said. “See? You’re learning from your mistakes.”
“I guess so,” Sarah agreed. “Now I know what the Holy Ghost feels like, but I’m still confused about something else.”
“What’s that?”
“I wonder why I think about disobeying lately. I never wanted to touch your book until Megan told me to, and I never wanted to let anyone cheat until today. I almost let Marcus copy my paper, even though I knew I shouldn’t.” Mom was quiet, so Sarah continued. “That isn’t all. Sometimes I’m mean to Spencer. Sometimes swear words pop into my head, and I want to say them. I want to be good, but I keep being tempted!”
“That’s what happens when you join a team,” Mom said. “The opposing team gets mad.”
“What?”
“Think of watching soccer,” Mom said. “It’s obvious that you’re loyal to Megan’s team, because you cheer for them. The other team might not like it, but you’re on the sidelines. You can’t help them to win or lose as much as if you jogged onto the field and started playing.”
“What do you mean, Mom?”
“When you were baptized, you chose sides,” Mom said. “You know that baptism shows Heavenly Father your love and commitment to obey. Don’t forget that it proves to Satan whose side you’re on, too. He’ll tempt you to change your mind.”
“I went to church every week before I was baptized,” Sarah protested. “Didn’t my going to Primary upset Satan just as much then?”
Mom pulled into the parking lot and turned off the engine. “You were on the Lord’s side, but you were cheering from the sidelines. Now you’re in the game. Being righteous will take more effort than it has before. And it will take more courage, and it will definitely take more repentance.”
Sarah thought about that. “I guess watching a game is much easier than playing it.” No wonder the gift of the Holy Ghost hadn’t taken away all of her problems. The Spirit could help her see when Satan was tempting her, but the temptations wouldn’t just disappear. “Is that what ‘opposition in all things’ (2 Ne. 2:11) means?” she wondered. She had read in the Book of Mormon that without agency to choose between good and evil, no one could become more like Heavenly Father.
“Even if it’s harder, it’s more worth it to play than to just watch,” Sarah decided aloud.
“Especially when you win,” Mom added with a smile.
Sarah got out of the car and walked toward the field. She silently promised herself that she would really, really try to follow the Holy Ghost, no matter how much she was tempted. She had chosen the Lord’s side. As long as she did her best to be worthy, the Spirit would bless her with the courage to keep choosing the right.

What started as an Eagle project for Chris Austin of Idaho Falls, Idaho, has become a regular summer activity. As an excellent swimmer, Chris offered to help teach handicapped children at a local development center. He worked weekly at the center, in addition to planning and conducting a water fun day at a nearby lakefront. Awards for competition were given to every person that participated.
The children especially liked Chris, and when the service project was completed, Chris decided to continue his work as a counselor and swimming instructor at the center.

I stood with my face pressed against the window, trying to see the shed next to our house. For three days, the whirling, howling wind had threatened to blow our house down. We were in the middle of a big blizzard. My family was living in Wisdom, Montana, where Dad was working on a large cattle ranch. He said I was his best cowhand, aside from Mom, of course.
“Danny, it’s time to go feed the cows,” Mom called as she walked into the room carrying my two-year-old sister Brenda. My other sister, June, trailed behind.
We bundled up in our coats, hats, and gloves, and climbed into the red pickup. “We should have a truck with four-wheel-drive in these conditions,” Dad said, shaking his head. Mom looked at Dad with concern. But she knew that the cattle must be fed, even in a fierce storm like this.
The raging wind yanked the truck from side to side as we drove to the haystack. A frozen snowdrift completely covered the fence. It was frozen so hard that the cows could walk right over it and eat the hay.
When Dad opened the truck door and jumped out, a cold blast of wind made us huddle in our coats. It took Dad a long time to dig the tractor out of the snow and load it with hay. It took even longer to move the hay to where the cows could eat it. The wind kept blowing it away.
Finally the cattle were fed, and we headed for home. The wind had picked up speed and was blowing snow from the open fields all around us, surrounding us with white. Snow had also blown across the road, creating huge snowdrifts. Dad had to speed up before each snowdrift. Without a running start, the truck couldn’t make it through them. It seemed like it took forever just to go a short distance.
About the time Mom said we were a mile from home, we hit a drift that stopped us in our tracks. Dad and Mom worked for some time to dig us out, but we stayed stuck. They climbed back into the truck and Dad thought for a moment.
“Danny,” he said, “you and I will walk to the house and come back for Mom and the girls on the snowmobiles.”
“Good idea, Dad!” I exclaimed. Excitement welled up inside me. I loved riding the snowmobiles! I slid out of the truck and walked in Dad’s footprints through the snowdrifts toward home. Even though the wind threatened to knock me down, and the snow blowing against my face felt like bundles of knives skinning me, I still felt like I was having a great adventure with Dad.
Anticipation kept my feet going until we arrived at the shed with the snowmobiles. I looked up at Dad. “Can I ride up over the hill?” I asked. “I’ll stay alongside the road and then go on down to the truck.”
“No, Son. Please stay on the road,” Dad said without hesitation. He turned and looked right at me. “Blizzards are very dangerous, Danny. You need to stay on the road and go straight to the truck. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Dad.”
He started a snowmobile for me. “Can I go now?” I asked.
“OK, but remember to stay on the road. It will guide you back to the truck.”
I climbed on the snowmobile and headed out. “I’ll go over the hill. It will be faster. I can beat Dad back to the truck,” I thought once I was out of Dad’s sight. I quickly turned and drove up the hill. The wind swirled around me and I was having trouble seeing very far ahead. But I was having fun. Surely I could beat Dad to the truck.
I rode and rode in what I thought was the right direction. No truck. I rode further. Still no truck. Fear started to creep up inside me. “I should be to the truck by now.” I came to a large ravine, stopped, and looked around, trying to recognize my surroundings.
“Where am I?” This wasn’t fun anymore. My glorious adventure was gone, and I was freezing! The wind yanked at me. It was so loud I couldn’t think.
I was lost and plain scared. “What can I do?” I remembered Dad’s words and how I had disobeyed him. I closed my eyes tight, trying to hold back the tears. Suddenly I realized I could die in this blizzard!
“Oh please, someone help me.” My words were scattered by the wind just as the hay had been.
Then I felt a warm, tingling feeling spread over me like a blanket. I knew what I needed to do. I quickly climbed off the snowmobile and knelt beside it to offer a simple prayer. “Heavenly Father,” I said, “I’m lost. I’m sorry I disobeyed Dad. Please help me get home.”
As soon as I finished my prayer, a feeling inside me said, “Look up.” I looked up and saw the power lines. This was the way home and an answer to my prayer!
I hopped back on my snowmobile and carefully followed the power lines back to the house. Leaving my snowmobile running, I ran inside to see if Dad had made it back with Mom and the girls. No one was there. I turned and ran back outside, jumped on the snowmobile, and started for the truck, this time following the road. But I only made it a few yards when the snowmobile ran out of gas. I was so cold! I ran back inside and curled up in a sleeping bag to warm up.
Moments later, Dad, Mom, and my sisters arrived home on the other snowmobile.
“Danny!” Mom exclaimed as she rushed in, pulled me to her, and held me tight. “What happened? Why didn’t you make it to the truck?”
I looked up into her eyes and told the truth: I had disobeyed Dad and gotten lost. “Mom, I know Heavenly Father loves me because I made it home safe again. He answered my prayer today.”

One summer my family went on a vacation to southern China, where we rode all-terrain vehicles (ATVs) through a rainforest. When we arrived at the ATV camp, we were surprised when guides gave us full-body protective suits with massive helmets and goggles. It seemed a bit much for amateur riders on such a hot, humid day, but we wore the gear anyway.
After receiving riding instructions, we took off and eventually reached the summit of our journey. There we stopped to drink water and wipe the sweat from our faces.
Our guide then explained that going down would be trickier. We would need to stay close together and form an ATV train, with each ATV touching the vehicle in front and behind to stabilize the group.
As we began to descend, we called to one another to coordinate our descent. We slowly separated, however, leaving a gap between my vehicle and the ATV ridden by my dad and little sister, Vivi. Suddenly Vivi and my dad were thrown off their vehicle! My dad jumped on top of Vivi just in time to protect her from the ATV rolling over her.
We were incredibly relieved when we saw my dad and Vivi stand up and brush the dirt off their pants. Thanks to the protective gear they wore, my dad sustained only minor injuries. Vivi was terrified but uninjured. When we regrouped, the guide reminded us in a firm voice that we had to keep our ATVs connected if we didn’t want to tumble down the hill again.

Two or three weeks ago this great teacher gave me motivation to try even harder to follow his example. Each Thursday morning after the Twelve have met for two hours, we are joined by the First Presidency to take care of our joint business. When President Kimball comes into the room on the fourth floor of the temple, one by one we go by and shake his hand.
President Kimball, now worn from long years of service, has a difficult time seeing, hearing, and speaking, so when it was my turn, I said, “President Kimball, I am Marvin Ashton.” He took my hand, paused, and then finally said softly, “Marv Ashton, I love you.” That is all he said to me. What else do I need? I can now go into the world and accomplish all of my assignments more effectively when I realize President Kimball trusts me and loves me.
When I am asked, “What does President Kimball say when he is with you and the others in the temple?” I say, “That is not too important. The thing that is important is that he is there. Despite pain, discomfort, and a tired, worn body, he is there. From him we learn what enduring and persistence are all about.

Two weeks after the Teton Dam broke, Deron, Kristin, Karen, and Michael Tinsley and Ryan, Kristen, and Russell Ridges baked banana bread and sold it, to raise money for the Idaho flood fund.
Before they went out to sell their bread, everyone met together to gain a little confidence. Five-year-old Russell knew just what to say if he was turned down at someone’s door. “I’ll just say, ‘Maybe you haven’t had time to read the paper lately. In Idaho some people’s houses washed right away, and they couldn’t ever find them again.’”
After the first day, however, no one was bashful about selling, for almost all the neighbors were glad to buy their bread. Some people phoned in orders, and others sent over bananas to help the children make more bread. By the end of the week $80.76 had been earned.
The boys and girls were all glad that they could do something for others. And they felt sure that if their homes were ever destroyed, someone would as gladly help them too.

I can’t remember the exact day I decided to quit BYU. But I do remember definitely deciding to quit. I was in the testing center and had just been handed a departmental test that didn’t resemble in the least the class notes I had spent the previous three days studying. I entered the main room, took my usual seat by the western wall—I call it the wailing wall—and began.
Four hours later I looked down at my half-empty answer sheet and, with a sigh, began randomly filling in the leftover circles.
I then joined the rest of the outpatients in the recovery room, where the computer printout of my mistakes diagnosed my condition as being far from healthy.
Once outside the testing center and in my car, I realized I was not having fun. School and learning were not turning out to be the soul-exhilarating, mind-stimulating, and heart-vibrating experience I was promised in my freshman orientation pamphlets.
“It’s not worth it!” I told my wife that night. “I’m just sick of all of it. I’m quitting.” I thought my wife would be thrilled at the announcement and release me with a vote of thanks. After all, life would be easier for her without having to pay my tuition and books.
Instead, Debi asked, “Did you attend the devotional this week?” I hadn’t because I had spent the time studying for the test I had just bombed. Debi continued, “President Jeffrey Holland gave a whole talk on enduring and not giving up.”
“Great,” I thought. “That’s all I need right now.” But as it turned out, that was all I needed. We got a tape of the talk, and I listened to President Holland’s words:
My concern this morning is that you face some delays and disappointments at this formative time in your life and feel that no one else in the history of mankind has ever had your problems or faced those difficulties. And when some of those challenges come, you will have the temptation common to us all to say, “This task is too hard. The burden is too heavy. The path is too long.” And so you decide to quit, simply to give up. [My how well President Holland understood.] It is simply a truism that nothing very valuable can come without significant sacrifice and effort and patience on our part. … My plea is to stick with it, to persevere, to hang in and hang on, … I am asking you this morning not to give up “for ye are laying the foundation of a great work.” That “great work” is you.
President Holland then went on to tell about how our forefathers persevered, about Brigham Young, who on July 28, 1847, planted his cane in the Salt Lake soil and declared, “Here [we will build] the Temple of our God.” President Holland then told of the 40 years it took to complete that project. I had no idea that the foundation alone took over 9,000 man-days of labor to finish, only to be filled entirely back in when Johnston’s army came. After that threat was over, the Saints had to begin digging all over again.
The task of precisely cutting the granite stones out of the mountain and hauling them one at a time to Salt Lake was so arduous that it took three more years just to finish the first layer of stones around the foundation. When Brigham Young died in 1877, the temple stood only 20 feet high. More work was followed by more government persecution and intervention until finally, on April 6, 1893, the temple of God was complete. It was a grand, awe-inspiring structure. President Holland concluded by saying, “Know ye not that ye are the Temple of God?” (“However Long and Hard the Road,” BYU devotional talk delivered 18 Jan. 1983).
That was the perspective I needed. “Dear President Holland,” I wrote in a thank-you note, “You’ll never know what your talk did for me. Yesterday I felt like my foundation had been filled in and forgotten. Today, I started digging it out again. I will see you at graduation.”
I recount this experience because, as you enter a world of stress, I foresee times of discouragement—times when you also might find yourself tempted to say, “It’s not worth it. I quit!” That’s when I hope you will remember President Holland’s words: “Nothing valuable can come without sacrifice, effort, and patience.” And most certainly, education is valuable.

As I look back over my life I can see the guiding hand of the Lord in many things. Let me relate just one such instance. Sister Cullimore and I have lived most of our married life in the missions of the Church. At one time, when we lived in Oklahoma City, we were concerned that our teenage children were not able to have proper association with other children of their age who were members of the Church. Their association was almost entirely with nonmembers, and although they were wonderful young people we worried about them being able to marry in the temple without proper association with members of the Church. Our concern was so great we were considering leaving my employment and moving to an area where they would have this association.
About this time Elder Joseph F. Merrill of the Council of the Twelve was traveling through the mission with the mission president, and he stayed overnight with us. Sister Cullimore poured her heart out to Brother Merrill about our concern over the children. Elder Merrill said, “Don’t be concerned about it; this is where the Lord wants you. I promise you that if you teach your children the gospel, see to it that they attend their meetings in the Church, set a proper example for them in your home, and then when they are ready, see that they attend a Church school, they will marry in the temple.”
I had already made some rather serious commitments in reference to a change in employment that would have necessitated a move from the area. The next morning, after the conversation with Elder Merrill, I coincidently met a real estate dealer who told me of a building available that would be suitable for a furniture business. (I had previously asked him to watch for such a building for me.) In three days I had signed the lease on the building and given notice to my employer that I was leaving. Within thirty days our business was opened.
The Lord blessed us abundantly in the business. We saw the Church grow in the area. Our children have each married in the temple and are all active and involved in the Church.

When I was a child growing up and learning about life, I did not have the security of my father and mother telling me who I was, how I could find lasting happiness, and what would happen to me if I were to die. My parents did not have the gospel of Jesus Christ, so my childhood was very uncertain in many ways and I was often full of fear.
But in all the memories of my childhood, there is at least one of peace and joy. This memory is of Christmas. Christmastime was celebrated in the traditions and customs of my home country of Germany, and it was specifically for the children.
Four Sundays before Christmas Day, preparations for something holy and beautiful could be felt in our home. A little wreath with four candles on it was placed on the family table.
On the first Sunday, the first candle was lit. As a family we sat around the table, singing Christmas songs and preparing little gifts that each of us would give to each member of the family.
On the fourth Sunday, the last candle was lit, and expectations for the coming joyous events grew intense.
A Christmas tree did not appear in our home until 24 December. On that day, we children had to stay outside, go on errands, and play by ourselves. I still remember how time seemed not to pass at all.
We children were taught that the Christmas tree and all of its glory and beauty, along with presents and food and cookies, came from the little Christ child.
This lack of logic did not bother us children. We believed that there was a Christ-child person of a supernatural existence who cared for us in such a way that once a year He would come in person to fulfill all of our hopes and dreams.
In preparation, we cleaned the rooms where we slept. We put on our best clothes. We had our gifts ready to give. When the sun started to set on that special day, we were invited to get ready to enter the living room.
As was the custom, the doors to the living room had been locked because we children were not to go into that room. It became a place of great mystery. Once in a while we heard some rustling of papers, and once in a while the more courageous of us tried to peek in the keyhole—only to learn that the key was in it from the inside and the door was locked.
When Mother finally decided that we were clean, orderly, dressed, our hair groomed, and had our rooms in order, we were asked to listen carefully. Suddenly we heard a little bell ringing, and our hearts beat close to explosion. This was it! This was the moment when the doors were unlocked and we were allowed to go into the living room. And there it was—a Christmas tree standing from the floor to the ceiling! We became aware of its beautiful, fresh-cut smell and that it was glowing with candles. Our father, who happened to be already inside the room when we walked in, was watching it carefully so that nothing caught on fire.
The Christmas tree had many decorations that we as children would see only at Christmastime. In the center of the tree was a wax sculpture of a little Christ child surrounded by glowing angels of gold paper and silk.
Our family gathered around the tree and sang four or five Christmas songs. Then we children were invited to find our own corner of presents, which had been covered by a blanket.
This Christmas Eve tradition developed in us powerful feelings of holiness, joy, love, gratitude, and security. These feelings, radiating from the symbols of the little wax figure of the Christ child, which we saw only at Christmastime, had a great influence on all of us.

While serving as the elders quorum president of his married student ward, Ron became acquainted with Jon Huntsman Sr., the ward’s high council adviser. Jon was immediately impressed with the way Ron ran the quorum.
“He had incredible leadership and organizational skills,” recalls Elder Huntsman, who served as an Area Seventy from 1996 to 2011. “I thought it unusual that a young man who was still in college could run a quorum in such a way.”
For several months, Jon watched Ron turn ideas into action as he completed priesthood duties. When a senior marketing position opened at Jon’s company—which would become Huntsman Chemical Corporation—he concluded that Ron had the skills he wanted and offered him the job. The position started the following week in Ohio, USA.
“I told Melanie, ‘I’m not going to drop out of school and move,’” Ron recalls. “I’ve worked my whole life to graduate from college, and I’m finally close to my goal.”
Melanie reminded Ron that finding a good job was why he was in school.
“What are you worried about?” she asked. “I know how to pack and move. I’ve been doing it my whole life. I’ll let you call your mother every night. Let’s go.”
Jon’s confidence in Ron proved well placed. Under Jon’s mentorship, Ron advanced quickly in the growing company, becoming its president and chief operating officer in 1986. He traveled extensively for the company—both domestically and internationally. Despite his busy schedule, Ron tried to be home on weekends. And when he traveled, he would occasionally take family members with him.
“When he was home, he really made the children feel special and loved,” Melanie says. He attended their activities and sporting events whenever possible. Jenessa MacPherson, one of the couple’s four daughters, says her father’s Sunday ecclesiastical duties often kept him from sitting with the family during Church meetings.
“We would fight over who got to sit by him at church because it was such a novel thing to have him there,” she says. “I remember putting my hand in his hand and thinking to myself, ‘If I could just learn to be like him, I’ll be on the right track and will be becoming more like the Savior.’ He was always my hero.”
The couple’s son, Christian, recalls fond memories of “father-son time.” Friends came and went because of the family’s frequent moves, he says, “but my father was always my best friend”—albeit a competitive one.
Whether shooting a basketball with Christian, playing a board game with his daughters, or fishing with family and friends, Ron loved to win.
“While we were growing up, he would never let anyone win,” Christian says. “We had to earn it, but it made us better. And the tradition continues with his loving grandchildren.”
Over the years, Ron’s family could not help but notice how ministering in Church leadership magnified his ability to show love and compassion, to express feelings of the Spirit, and to inspire others to do their best. After the birth of Ron and Melanie’s grandson Paxton, the family relied heavily on Ron’s spiritual strength and support.
Paxton, born with a rare genetic disorder, suffered from myriad health problems that tested the family physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Elder Rasband has called the journey that followed Paxton’s birth “a crucible for learning special lessons tied to the eternities.”4
During Paxton’s short three years on earth—when questions were many and answers were few—Elder Rasband stood as a spiritual pillar, leading his family in drawing upon the power of the Atonement of Jesus Christ.
With the announcement of his new calling, several family members and friends were not surprised. “Those of us who know him best,” Christian says, “raised our hands the highest when he was sustained as an Apostle.”
In 1996, at age 45, Ron was in the middle of a successful career when the call came to serve as mission president of the New York New York North Mission. Like the Apostles of old, he “straightway left [his] nets” (Matthew 4:20).
“Accepting the call took only a microsecond,” Elder Rasband says. He said to the Lord, “You want me to go serve; I’ll go serve.”
Ron took along a great lesson he had learned from his professional experience: “People are more important than anything else.”5 With that knowledge and his honed leadership skills, he was ready to begin full-time service in the Lord’s kingdom.
Ron and Melanie found missionary work in New York City both challenging and invigorating. Ron was quick to delegate responsibility to the missionaries—inspiring their loyalty, and teaching, building, and lifting them in the process.
In 2000, a short eight months after Ron and Melanie had completed their mission, Ron was called to the Seventy, where his preparation, experience, and many talents have blessed the Church. As a member of the Seventy, he served as a counselor in the Europe Central Area Presidency, helping to oversee the work in 39 nations. Though he left college more than 40 years ago, he remains a serious student, welcoming ongoing mentoring from his senior Brethren as he supervised the North America West, Northwest, and three Utah Areas; served as Executive Director of the Temple Department; and served in the Presidency of the Seventy, working closely with the Twelve.
Recently, Elder Rasband observed, “What a great honor and privilege it is for me to be the least among the Twelve and to learn from them in every way and in every occasion.”6
Mormon Preachers, First Missionaries in Denmark, by Arnold Friberg (based on a painting by Christen Dalsgaard, 1856); Dan Jones Awakens Wales, by Clark Kelley Price
Two paintings adorn the walls of Elder Rasband’s office. One is of Mormon missionaries teaching a family in Denmark in the 1850s. The second is of early missionary Dan Jones preaching from the perch of a well in the British Isles. The paintings remind Elder Rasband of his own ancestry.
“These early pioneers gave their all to the gospel of Jesus Christ and leave a legacy for their posterity to follow,” he has testified.7 What pushed Elder Rasband’s ancestors forward amidst adversity and persecution is what most qualifies him for his new calling: a knowledge and a sure witness of the Lord and His work.
“I have so very much to learn in my new calling,” he has said. “I feel very humble about that. But there’s one aspect of my calling I can do. I can bear testimony ‘of the name of Christ in all the world’ (D&C 107:23). He lives!”8
As a great-grandson of pioneers, he adds: “What they felt, I feel. What they knew, I know.”9
And what they hoped for in their posterity is embodied in the life, teachings, and service of Elder Ronald A. Rasband, who is following their example and honoring their legacy as he goes forward as one of the Lord’s special witnesses.

David M., 18, Western Kasai, Democratic Republic of the Congo
My mother was diagnosed with cancer two years ago. I didn’t like watching her in pain, and I wished that I could do something. And although my mother got better, it was a hard experience. Your mother is in a place where she won’t feel pain or suffering. It’s hard not to see her anymore, but you are never alone. She will always love you, and our Heavenly Father will always be there to lift you up when you are low. You will never be abandoned. Jesus Christ suffered the pains of the world; He knows how you feel and what you are going through. Do as I did in my time of trial: go to Him and He will make your burdens light.

Aunt Jennie sent me a scrapbook for my birthday. The cover is red with “My Book of Remembrance” written on the front in big blue letters. Inside, the pages are thick and gray.
I decided to put the supplies I needed to work on my scrapbook in a shoe box. I soon had the box filled with markers, crayons, stickers, scissors, glue, and tape.
Mom is going to help me fill my book with things about me. She said that when I have filled this book, she will buy me another one!
For the first page I glued a photo of me and signed my name below it. Then I wrote, “My eyes are green. My hair is brown. I am six years old.”
On the next page, I glued a special letter from Grandma. It is the first letter that I have ever received.
Last month I wrote my dad a poem for Father’s Day. Then I colored purple flowers all around it. Dad said it was OK to glue it in my book.
On another page, I drew pictures of my mom, dad, brother, cat, and me. I added a photo of the whole family and wrote, “We are a family.”
Mom helped me find a picture of the Portland Oregon Temple to glue in my book. I want everyone to know that we are a forever family.
I drew a picture of my house and my favorite climbing tree. I also wrote my address and phone number on the page.
If you read my book of remembrance, you will learn lots of things about me. You can fill a scrapbook with things about you, too. When people read it, they will learn about your history!

Some years ago I enjoyed a stake conference assignment as a junior companion to Elder LeGrand Richards, who had, under the influence of this directing Spirit, reorganized a stake presidency. We were driving home; he was very pensive. After a rather long period of silence, I asked him if there was something he would like to teach me. Quietly he said, “We have too many in the Church who deny the spirit of prophecy and of revelation.” That was it—he said no more about it. As I reminisced about the calling of the new stake president that day, it occurred to me then that this Church could not function for even one day without the spirit of prophecy and revelation.

As the Christmas season drew near, Nathan anxiously shared some news with his family at dinner one evening.
“Gard told me today that he has not had a Christmas tree since he was a boy.”
With that announcement, the family soon outlined a plan of action—Gard would have a Christmas tree!
On Saturday, Nathan’s family drove to the nearby forest for their traditional Christmas-tree hunt. In the past their goal had been to search until they found a perfect blue spruce for their home, but this year everyone felt more excitement than ever before at finding the right tree for Gard. A perfect little spruce caught Nathan’s eye, and everyone approved. They took the tree home to prepare for Gard’s Christmas surprise.
On Monday for family home evening, Mom helped Nathan, Angie, and Eric make ornaments out of felt, glitter, ribbon, buttons, and beads. Then they decorated the tree and loaded it into the back of their truck.
Nathan had never felt such excitement as they huddled together around the tree before knocking on Gard’s door. As soon as they heard the click of the latch, everyone started singing, “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.”
Gard’s eyes lit up with excitement, followed by a few tears of joy as he invited them in. He danced from one foot to the other as he helped Nathan and Dad place the tree in front of his window that faced the street. Gard was so excited about his Christmas tree that he left it standing and decorated until March! Nathan and his family felt a warm peace in their hearts as they observed the soft glow of Gard’s tree lights each evening throughout the winter.

Karl Frederick Rytting moved to Utah with his family in 1880. Thirteen years later he returned to Sweden as a missionary and met his old friend Joey, who was then Elder Hoagland.
Karl’s early studies with his grandfather served him well on his mission. On one occasion he was arrested and taken before an archbishop and 12 bishops of the state church. They questioned him until one of the bishops said it was useless to try to catch him, for it was “obvious that he had the Bible memorized.”

Twenty years ago, 60 years after that brave woman left her home, my brother Nelson and I travelled back to Lithuania together. We were on a journey to discover our long-lost family connection. We found more than we expected.
I believe we were moved by the spirit of Elijah to begin that search. We hoped, at least, to find the records of our ancestors so that we could give them the opportunity of receiving the covenants of God in the Lord’s House.
We only had scraps and pieces of clues to help us begin the search. We had a picture of a cousin named Marcelle who was a child when my grandmother left the country. We also had two postcards sent by Marcelle to our family in Brazil. They had been sent without a return address, but they had a post-office stamp naming the city from which it had been mailed. One postcard was mailed in 1935, and the other in 1945. They had been mailed from two different cities.
We would only be able to look for our family in Lithuania for four days before having to return home. Time was short. On our first day, we asked our guide to take us to the city the more recent postcard had been mailed from. We figured we should start there. We hoped the people in the most recent place she had lived might remember her.
After a two-hour drive, we noticed a mistake. Our guide had not followed our instructions. He had taken us to the city where the first postcard had come from. Disappointed, we asked the guide to take us to a Catholic Church, hoping we could find some information about the whereabouts of our cousin Marcelle or her family.
I can still picture in my mind the small Catholic Church we were taken to. As we arrived, I saw a priest locking the gate leading to the entrance of the church. He appeared to just be leaving.
We parked our car quickly and hurried to stop the priest to ask him if he had ever heard of a Marcelle Aidukaitis. To our surprise, he told us that he had known a woman by that name. She was a nun who had passed away 10 years earlier. He did not know if this was the Marcelle we were looking for, but he said he knew where her family’s home was and would be willing to take us there.
The family we met was indeed the family we were looking for. We had found our family in Lithuania. We had found a needle in the haystack on our very first try. A real miracle.
I still think of how God guided us that day. First, contrary to our instructions, our guide took us to a different city than the one we were expecting to go to. Next, we arrived at the Catholic Church at the precise moment the priest who remembered Marcelle was leaving the premises. If we had been delayed by only 30 seconds on that two-hour drive, we would have missed the priest. If the priest had not needed to take the time to lock up, we would have missed him. If anything had gone differently, I have no idea if we would have been able to find our family during that trip—if ever.
But God knew our intent, and He guided us exactly to where we needed to be.
Three days later, we had a family reunion with the relatives we found in Lithuania. There were over 60 family members present. An incredible thing.

Matthew’s family went to New York City for spring break. He saw some really cool things—the Statue of Liberty, the Manhattan Temple, and a lot more. But he saw one thing that definitely wasn’t cool: a huge ad on a building with a really immodest picture on it.
Matthew turned his head away. But the picture stuck in his mind. He tried thinking about other things. But that just reminded him of what he was trying to forget!
As weeks passed, he got more and more frustrated. Then one night at dinner Mom said something that made things even worse.
“Matthew, I can’t believe you’re almost 12,” she said. “It’s time to have your bishop’s interview for the Aaronic Priesthood.”
Dad smiled at Matthew. “I’ll call and set it up.”
Matthew stopped eating. What if he wasn’t worthy to be a deacon because he couldn’t forget the bad picture? Mom and Dad kept smiling and talking. They didn’t seem to notice anything was wrong.
A few days later Matthew overheard Mom talking to Grandma on the phone. “Matthew seems to be worried about turning 12,” she said. “Maybe he’s worried about passing the sacrament.”
So Mom had noticed! Would he get in trouble if she knew what was really wrong?
After Mom said bye to Grandma, Matthew sat down on the couch. “I heard you talking about me seeming worried and stuff.” He took a deep breath. Then he blurted everything out. About how hard he’d tried to forget what he’d seen, but couldn’t.
“Maybe I’m not ready to be a deacon,” he said.
Mom put her arm around him. “First, you need to know that you didn’t sin by seeing that picture. It wasn’t your fault. Also, being worthy doesn’t mean being perfect.”
Part of Matthew’s worry disappeared, but not all. “So then why is it so hard to get that picture out of my head? Why does it make me feel so bad?”
“Well, it still hurt your spirit. And it might take a while for those thoughts to fade away,” Mom said. “But the great news is that Jesus Christ’s Atonement can help heal us from everything, even things that aren’t our fault. Do you remember the scripture you learned for the Primary program?”
“Yeah—Alma 7:11. It says that Jesus takes people’s pains and sicknesses.”
“That means He can help you feel better again,” Mom said. “You’ve felt a lot of pain lately, haven’t you?”
“Yeah,” Matthew said.
“Well, you can pray and ask for His help. And you can have faith that He wants to help you and can help you. You can’t do it by yourself.”
Matthew nodded. The whole time he’d been fighting bad thoughts, he hadn’t wanted to pray. He’d felt too embarrassed.
That night, he knelt and asked Heavenly Father to help him stop thinking about what he’d seen and to help him feel worthy to have the Aaronic Priesthood. Then he fell asleep faster than he had in a long time.
On Sunday, Matthew got dressed for his interview with the bishop. He felt happy and thankful for Jesus Christ’s Atonement. Now when the bishop asked if he was ready to receive the priesthood, he knew he could answer, “Yes!”