Gospel Story Finder

Speaking under the influence of the Holy Ghost and within the limits of his or her responsibility, a person may be inspired to predict what will come to pass in the future. The one who holds the office of the prophet, seer, and revelator prophesies for the Church, as when Joseph Smith prophesied concerning the Civil War (see D&C 87) and foretold that the Saints would become a mighty people in the Rocky Mountains. Prophecy is part of the calling of a patriarch. Each of us is also privileged occasionally to receive prophetic revelation illuminating future events in our lives, like a Church calling we are to receive. To cite another example, after our fifth child was born, my wife and I did not have any more children. After more than 10 years we concluded that our family would not be any larger, which grieved us. Then one day, while my wife was in the temple, the Spirit whispered to her that she would have another child. That prophetic revelation was fulfilled about a year and a half later with the birth of our sixth child, for whom we had waited 13 years.

Gus German is only 17 years old, but he cannot remember a time when he wasn’t visiting Church members with his father. In Delaware, members are spread out in different directions and in many cases they’re miles away from one another. With that in mind, members try to check up on each other. Of course, Gus didn’t become a home teacher until age 12, when he received the Aaronic Priesthood and was assigned by his bishop to be his father’s companion. But he’d already learned a lot about caring for people and about preparing and presenting meaningful lessons, so he stepped right into his home teaching role.
“Scripture stories were my staple home teaching lessons,” says Gus, a priest who grew up in the Wilmington (Delaware) West Ward. “I’d studied them in story books from the time I was five, so I knew those stories cold. Some people wonder who Nebuchadnezzar is. I know who he is.”
Over the years, Gus and his father regularly visited Sister Joyce Miller, at the time a less-active member of the Church who was battling cancer.
“The thing I remember most about Gus as a young boy was that whenever I asked him to say a prayer, he would stand up and do it,” Sister Miller says. “A lot of young boys and girls roll their eyes when you ask them to do something like praying. Not Gus.”
Now the young man who stopped by was a deacon with a priesthood responsibility. “I wasn’t active when they first started visiting me,” Sister Miller continues, “but their visits meant everything. I wanted to come back to church, but I was smoking and didn’t want to go because I was afraid people would smell the smoke on me.”
“All I knew is we always went to Sister Miller’s house and had fun when we home-taught her. I didn’t think any different of her when I found out she smoked because we were already really good friends,” says Gus. “I was pretty impressed and proud of her when she did stop smoking because I have heard how tough it is to quit.”
When she did stop smoking, Sister Miller began going to church again. “I was so glad because I liked seeing her. I would be able to see a smile on her face and be able to tell she really liked being at church,” Gus adds.
When Gus turned 16 and got his driver’s license, he was able to see that smile more and more. As her condition worsened, Sister Miller was unable to drive. Gus happily volunteered to pick her up and take her to church. “Sometimes she couldn’t stay past the sacrament in sacrament meeting so I would take her home.” Now, other ward members pick up Sister Miller when she’s able to go to church. And when she wasn’t, guess who went to her house to take her the sacrament.
“Sometimes I went with my dad, and sometimes I went with the Young Men president or one of the guys from my quorum,” explains Gus. “It’s something I did that helped her out. I liked doing it.”
Something else he did to help her out: Gus and his dad took Sister Miller to receive her patriarchal blessing.
“When we went for my blessing, Jack (Gus’s dad) took us in his car, the hot rod (a Chevy Nova). We laughed all the way down there. Gus was in the backseat laughing, and my face hurt from laughing,” Sister Miller remembers. “When I had my blessing, Jack and Gus were as quiet as church mice. After all that laughing we did on our way down, it was pretty quiet on the trip back. That is very memorable. We always have a good time, the three of us.”
Last September, Gus left Delaware to attend BYU. He saw Sister Miller at Christmas when he went home, and he still stays in touch, even though she’s living at one end of the country and he’s 3,000 miles away. She misses his visits, but is happy Gus is going to college. In Gus’s place as Jack German’s home-teaching companion is Lance, Gus’s 12-year-old brother.
As for Gus, some things never change. No sooner had he settled in his new ward in Provo than he was called to be a home teacher.

I was playing the piano after Church when my five-year-old cousin walked up beside me and asked, “What are you playing?” I replied, “The piano.” He said, “No. What song?” I told him it was “A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief.” Seeing that the title didn’t really mean anything to him, I tried to clarify by saying, “It’s a hymn.” I finished playing the song and turned to a different one, to which he asked, “Is this one a her?”
—Natausha B., Texas

After President Hardy died we had a memorial service for him. I’ll never forget the native who was up speaking, saying what a calamity it was to the mission to lose this great New Zealand missionary who could do so much for them as one of the Authorities of the Church.

He was talking along that line, and all of a sudden he stopped and he looked around at me and said, “Wait a minute. There’s nothing to worry about, not a thing to worry about. When President Cowley gets home he’ll fill the first vacancy in the Council of the Twelve Apostles, and we’ll still have a representative among the Authorities of the Church.” Then he went on talking about President Hardy. When I arrived home the following September I filled the first vacancy in the Quorum of the Twelve. Did that just happen by chance? Oh, I might have thought so if it had been one of you … that had prophesied that, but not from the blood of Israel. Oh no, I could not deny, I could not doubt it.

Latter-day Saints know that revelation and prophecy have foretold the spread of the gospel throughout the world in the latter days. Few realize, though, how clearly this has been manifest in Korea. Not a single Korean national was a member of the Church until 1951, but today, little more than a generation later, South Korea has fourteen stakes and a temple.
Much of this growth must be attributed to the work and influence of modern-day pioneer Kim Ho Jik.
Born 16 April 1905 in the province of Pyeongan Buk-Do (now part of North Korea), Kim Ho Jik moved south as a teenager to attend school in Suwon, a farm town south of Seoul. He graduated from Suwon Advanced Agricultural and Forestry School in 1924, then earned a bachelor’s degree in biology from Tohoku University in Japan, graduating in 1930. His comparatively advanced education allowed him to rise quickly to positions of influence. After his return to Korea, he became president of Sukmyeong Women’s University. Then, in 1946, he was appointed director of the Suwon Agricultural Experimentation Station.
Kim Yeon Jun, a former colleague and now president of Hanyang University in Seoul, remembers that “the thing he [Kim Ho Jik] seemed most concerned about was finding ways to improve the quality of life for Koreans.” Kim ho Jik focused his research on ways to improve nutrition in the Korean diet.
But he longed to learn more about the latest theories and discoveries in agriculture. American scientists who worked with him at the experimentation station encouraged this desire, pointing out that Korea desperately needed well-educated leaders in science and education. Syngman Rhee, president of South Korea, wanted to send him to America to learn more efficient ways of feeding their country’s malnourished population. So Kim Ho Jik made plans to enroll at Cornell University in New York, which had one of the world’s top graduate study programs in nutrition.
A yearning for education was not the only passion that filled his heart as he journeyed to the United States in 1949. Since his youth he had been interested in religion and had investigated several churches. None had satisfied his spiritual hunger. As a boy, he had looked into different religious movements. He also studied in a Buddhist monastery. In 1925, he joined a Protestant church and became an elder in that organization.
Han In Sang, an early Latter-day Saint convert in Korea and now director of the regional Presiding bishopric Office in Seoul, recalls: “Dr. Kim had great faith in orthodox Christian concepts, such as Jesus Christ as the Savior, but he had some dissatisfaction with other aspects of the Protestant churches—the theological confusion and the false doctrines, like predestination.” The sudden death of his third son in 1935 had deepened Kim Ho Jik’s longing for spiritual satisfaction.
Long before he came to America, he believed in the Spirit of God and sought its guidance. His faith served him well just before he left his homeland, when he felt compelled to sell his beautiful home, his cars, and his other possessions. He gave the cash raised from these sales to his wife and children to live on. To critics of this apparently purposeless act, Kim Ho Jik replied only that the Spirit had instructed him to do so.
A few months after he arrived in America, the reason became clear. War broke out with the North Korean invasion of June 1950. Bombs destroyed his former home, and the South Korean government confiscated all automobiles for use by the military. But Kim Ho Jik’s family remained financially secure in his absence.
Kim Ho Jik hoped the Spirit would help him find the “true church” in America. While he completed a doctoral degree at Cornell, he attended meetings of various churches in and around Ithaca, New York. But the answer he was seeking lay at his very doorstep.
The Korean educator shared an office with Oliver Wayman, a doctoral candidate in physiology. Like his office companion, Oliver Wayman was older than most of the other graduate students. He also happened to be a Latter-day Saint.
The two men became good friends. Their wide-ranging discussions, however, did not include religion—until one day shortly before Brother Wayman was to leave Cornell, when his Korean friend asked if he had any literature about his church.
“I have never seen you smoke or drink,” Kim Ho Jik told Brother Wayman. “I have never heard you use vulgar language or profane the name of God. You work harder and longer hours than any of the others, but I have never seen you here on Sunday. You are different in so many ways. I wonder if you would tell me why you live as you do?”
Brother Wayman gave him a copy of The Articles of Faith by Elder James E. Talmage. Kim Ho Jik read the book within a week. “He told me it was the best book on the gospel he had ever read and that he believed it thoroughly,” Brother Wayman recalls. Given a copy of the Book of Mormon, the Korean read it quickly and reported to his American friend that he believed it to be the word of God. It was, he said, more complete and easier to understand than the Bible.
Though Kim Ho Jik responded favorably to Latter-day Saint doctrine, he still believed his Protestant church could reform itself from within by incorporating some of the teachings of the Church. He began to attend the local branch, but also continued to attend his Protestant meetings.
On Brother Wayman’s last day at Cornell, he was saying good-bye to friends when Kim Ho Jik approached him. Brother Wayman felt impelled to ask the Korean why he had decided to leave his homeland and family to study in the United States. The Korean scholar responded that he needed the new knowledge in nutrition available at Cornell for the benefit of his people.
Then, Brother Wayman recalls:
“I bore my testimony … and told him that it was my opinion that the Lord had moved upon him to come to America … in order that he might receive the gospel and take it back to his people in preparation for a great missionary work to be done there. … I informed him … that if he refused to do the work the Lord had for him … another would be raised up in his place.”
Brother Wayman never saw Kim ho Jik again, but he left New York “sure that the Spirit which touched me when I bore my testimony to him touched him at the same time. I could see a change in his expression.”
Kim Ho Jik’s outlook had indeed changed. He continued to study the gospel avidly, but now with an eye toward baptism. Don C. and General Wood, Seneca District missionaries who taught him, recall, “As soon as we would begin any type of review with Brother Kim, he would hold up his hands and say emphatically, ‘No, no, I have already accepted that. Let us go on.’”
His was particularly receptive to a discussion of the Word of Wisdom. As Elder Wood finished reading the eighty-ninth section of the Doctrine and Covenants, tears flowed down Brother Kim’s cheeks.
“Oh,” he sobbed, “if only I had known all of this when I came here. My government wanted me to find ways to feed our people properly, and without sufficient grazing lands for cattle, we did not know how to do this. My whole time studying in America has been to find ways to feed our people through the grains the Lord has always intended for us to use.” Brother Kim accepted the Lord’s health code wholeheartedly.

Many years ago I was with my companion at the missionary training center when I heard the voice of a child say, “Grandma, are those real missionaries?” I turned to see a young girl holding her grandmother’s hand and pointing at me and my companion. I smiled, extended my hand, looked her square in the eye, and said, “Hello, I am Elder Richardson, and we are real missionaries.” Her face beamed as she looked at me, thrilled that she was in the company of genuine missionaries.
I walked away from that experience with renewed dedication. I wanted to be the type of missionary that the Savior, my family, and this young girl expected me to be. For the next two years, I worked hard to look like, think like, act like, and especially to teach like a real missionary.
Upon my return home, it became increasingly apparent that even though I had left my mission, my mission didn’t leave me. In fact, even after all these years, I still feel that my mission was the best two years for my life. One unexpected carryover from my mission was that young girl’s voice. Only now I was hearing in my mind, “Grandma, is that a real priesthood holder?” “Grandma, is that a real husband or a real father?” or “Grandma, is that a real member of the Church?”

Two weeks ago Elder Dallin H. Oaks, Elder Robert K. Dellenbach, and I attended a regional conference in Holland. While meeting with the Saints, I recalled the miracle of the potatoes which took place in that nation in November of 1947.
In the first week of November 1947, ten huge trucks moved across Holland. They headed east and contained a costly cargo—seventy-five tons of potatoes, a gift from the Dutch Church members to the Saints in Germany.
Many months earlier, in the spring of 1947, the members within the Netherlands Mission were asked to begin a welfare project of their own, now that they had received much needed welfare supplies from the members in America. The proposal was welcomed with enthusiasm. The priesthood went to work, and within a short time every quorum had found a suitable piece of land for the project. The recommended crop: potatoes. At the various branches of the Church there was singing, speaking, and praying, at the end of which the potatoes were entrusted to the soil. Soon there came news of good prospects for the harvest, and cautious estimates were made as to how large the yield would be.
During the time the potatoes were growing, Walter Stover, president of the East German Mission, visited the Netherlands Mission in Holland. During his visit, with tears in his eyes, he told of the hunger of the Church members in Germany. They were in worse condition than the Saints in the Netherlands. Supplies had not yet reached the Saints in Germany as quickly as they had the Saints in Holland.
When Cornelius Zappey, the Netherlands Mission president, heard the condition of the German Saints, he couldn’t help but have compassion toward them, knowing how they had suffered. The thought came; the action followed: “Let’s give our potatoes to the members of the Church in Germany.” I’m sure he worried, for the German armies and the Dutch armies had been in conflict with each other. The Dutch had been starving. Would they respond? A Dutch widow who had received a sack of the potatoes heard that the bulk of the potatoes was to be given to the members in Germany, and she stepped forward and said, “My potatoes must be with them.” And this hungry widow returned her sack of potatoes.
What are the words of the Lord pertaining to such an act? “Verily I say unto you, That this poor widow hath cast more in, than all they which have cast into the treasury. … She of her want did cast in all that she had.”

Sid told me of an experience he had on his mission. It was evening, and he and his companion were just about to return to their apartment. They decided to visit one more family. The father let them in. Elder Going and his companion testified of the Savior. The family accepted a Book of Mormon. The father read all night. In the next week and a half he read the entire Book of Mormon, the Doctrine and Covenants, and the Pearl of Great Price. A few weeks later the family was baptized.

Jenny had been having a wonderful time, but now her cousins were going to play hide-and-seek, and they said that she couldn’t play with them.
“You’re too little,” Jason said. “You might get lost.”
“Yeah,” Lee agreed before he threw a ball into the air and Jason caught it. “My dad said that this mountain country is so big that a kid could get lost and might never be found.”
That did sound scary. “But somebody would find me,” Jenny insisted.
“Might not up here,” Lee said. “Nobody lives in this forest except animals.”
Jenny said stoutly, “I’m five years old, and that’s old enough not to get lost.”
But her cousins ran off without her.
Jenny walked to the picnic table and watched her mother and her aunts unpack food while the men started a fire. She heard Jason call, “I’ll be it! Don’t anybody get far from camp.”
Jason began to count. Jenny saw Ryan and Becca and the other cousins running to hide. She thought, I’ll hide too. They won’t know, so I’ll be the last one caught. Then they’ll let me play.
Jenny ran up a slope where tiny wild-flowers blossomed. Wood chips and brown pine needles muffled her footsteps. She saw a big tree to hide behind, but Stacy was already there.
Jenny ran on until she tripped over a rock and went rolling. She was afraid that she had made too much noise, so she listened, but nobody called her. She got up and looked around. I know, she thought. There are bushes in that little gully. I’ll hide over there.
When she reached the gully, Jenny saw the biggest tree that she had ever seen up ahead, so she climbed another slope and ran behind the tree. She leaned against it to catch her breath. Has Jason already called, “Ready or not, you shall be caught!” she wondered.
She waited for what seemed like a long time, but she never heard Jason. Jenny didn’t hear her other cousins, either. Everyone else has been found, she decided. Now I’ll run in and surprise them.
Laughing, Jenny ran toward where she thought the camp was. But she couldn’t see the big tree where Stacy had hidden. She couldn’t see anyone else, either.
Jenny stopped running. Her heart was pounding, partly because she had run so fast and partly because she was becoming frightened. She began to run in another direction. But soon she stopped again. Nothing looked familiar, yet everything looked the same. All the trees, all the bushes, all the green slopes looked just like all the other trees and bushes and slopes.
Jenny took a deep breath. I’m lost, she thought. I’m really lost. She started to cry, then stopped. Maybe her cousins were playing a trick on her because she had joined the game without their permission. They were probably hiding right now, watching her. They must be waiting for her to cry. Then they would all jump out and run in a circle around her.
But soon Jenny knew that her cousins weren’t hiding. She knew that she could not find the camp. She didn’t know which way to go. There were so many trees in the forest, and the forest was so very quiet!
Jenny started to cry again. She ran very fast. Twice she stumbled and fell. When she tripped again, Jenny didn’t get up. She turned over to lie on her back. She looked up.
Tops of towering spruce trees were far, far above her. The sky was a deep blue. Fluffy white clouds looked so close that Jenny thought that maybe they would drift right down to touch her. Then something soft did touch Jenny’s hand.
Slowly she turned her head. A wee brown chipmunk watched her, its black eyes like bright, tiny beads. As Jenny watched, the chipmunk skittered right up her arm. She hardly felt its little feet.
Jenny stayed very still. She thought, I’m not alone. There are friends in the forest. And my very special Friend is here.
How could she have forgotten that Heavenly Father would watch over her? She folded her arms, and the wee chipmunk ran away so fast that she saw only its bushy tail.
Jenny closed her eyes. She asked her Heavenly Father to please keep her safe until her daddy could find her.
Jenny started to stand up; then she stopped and listened. A voice seemed to come from somewhere, maybe from inside her head. She shut her eyes. What was she supposed to remember? Then it came to her. Daddy had given a lesson in family home evening about what children should do when they are lost.
“If you ever get lost,” he had told Jenny and her brothers, “don’t get so frightened that you just run and run. You would probably just get more lost than ever. Instead, stand very still. Look all around you. Find a tree that you think looks like the friendliest tree in the forest. Go to that tree and hug it. Stay right there. Hug your friendly tree and wait.”
Now Jenny looked around. Finally she saw a tree that looked about as big around as her father, but much taller. She ran to it. Her arms would not reach all the way around, but she put her cheek against the tree’s rough bark and hugged it as tightly as she could. “Heavenly Father,” she whispered, “help Daddy find me by my tree before it gets dark.”
Then Jenny began to call. “Daddy, I’m here!” She waited. Then she called again.
The sun went down, and Jenny began to shiver with cold. She was afraid of the dark too. She wanted to cry, but she hugged her tree instead. The tree stood straight and still as if to keep her safe. Jenny called again. “Daddy! I’m over here!” She waited a few moments and called again. And again.
Suddenly Jenny stood straighter. Had she heard something? Was that her father’s voice calling from far away?
“Jenny? Can you hear me? Jenny, where are you?”
“Over here, Daddy!” Jenny called as loudly as she could. “Over here, by my tree!”
A few moments later her father came running. He picked Jenny up and held her very tightly. Jenny cried, then laughed. Then Jenny hugged her father even more tightly than she had hugged her tree.

When I helped my older brother, Tahoe, with his Eagle Scout project, I learned important lessons about service. Along with many other people, I helped Tahoe with various acts of service at a local elementary school. Some people helped paint over some old benches, others helped repaint some poles, and some helped build a garden shade. I helped sand and paint two rows of poles. The job took some time and was tiresome, but when we were done, I saw the positive effect it had on the school and how filled with joy the principal was when she saw the improvements. The experience reminded me that we, as members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, are constantly being reminded to live more like Christ and to serve as He did. I saw that even though I was tired, I was happy with what I had done and was glad that I could help with the work.
Diego J., California, USA

In reading that letter I began to discover the delights and blessings of being the child of missionary parents. When I served a mission in my youth, I understood on some level that my family loved the letters I wrote them. But at that somewhat selfish age, I didn’t appreciate how eager my family was for my success or how much prayer and worry they invested in my mission.
Now the tables were turned. I was pleasantly surprised to find myself rifling through the mail each day for missionary news, devouring every line. I soon noticed that our family prayers took on a new urgency. Our children no longer prayed the generic, “Please bless the missionaries.” They prayed the specific, “Please bless Grandma and Grandpa on their mission.”

I was baptized into the Church as a teenager but stopped attending not long afterward. Three years in the army did nothing to restore my spiritual health. Yet soon after I was discharged, the gentle but insistent urging of the Spirit of the Lord directed me to return to activity in my home ward. I dutifully obeyed.
Although I was rough around the edges, the elders quorum welcomed me without question and put me to work as a home teaching companion to Burniss Skinner, second counselor in the bishopric. Under Brother Skinner’s loving tutelage, I felt my testimony begin to take root.
Some of our assigned families struggled with tight finances, young children, chronic illness, loneliness, and Church activity. Others exemplified the peace of gospel living. Among these families, Hazel and John Peterson were particularly special. Their son Mike had been a high school friend and one of the young men most instrumental in my conversion. As a young investigator, I had taken the missionary discussions in their home; now I was returning as their home teacher.
In each home we visited, Brother Skinner pleasantly and patiently ministered from the abundance of his heart. His words and gestures of comfort, blessing, care, and counsel have remained in my heart as lessons of the Savior’s love. Home teaching with Brother Skinner was not a burden but the greatest privilege and honor.
Within a year I had advanced in the priesthood, was sealed in the temple to my dear wife, and moved away from Brother Skinner and our home teaching families. After finishing college and law school, I spent 20 years in the military, moving my family to live in four countries on three continents. But I never forgot Brother Skinner, and while serving in various wards and branches, I tried to emulate his compassion and commitment.

From South America we received word of a woman who, when approached by missionaries to accept baptism, said, “You don’t want me. I am nothing.” But the missionaries persisted. She accepted the gospel, and it brought hope and love to her life; it brought learning and growth and progress. In time she became a Relief Society president, and through her devoted concern she could give that same hope and love to others.

A few weeks after my daughter’s death, the realization and magnitude of what had happened started to creep in. It was like heavy, thick black smoke seeping in at first, followed by all-consuming billows until I was surrounded by complete darkness. Grief in its rawest has its own dimension of blackness.
Natalie had died on Thanksgiving Day. It was now Christmas. The holidays only magnified my loss. The agony lingered throughout the day and tormented me throughout the night. It was relentless. The tears poured endlessly for days. Minutes passed like hours. Hours passed like days. Days passed like years.
As a divorced woman, I did not have a husband who could go out and earn a living. If I could have, I would have curled up in a ball, locked myself in a closet, and remained there forever. But I didn’t have that luxury. I had to somehow gather the strength to function. I had to find a job. I was working when Thanksgiving Day happened, but somehow in all the chaos, I had forgotten about my job. I could have gone back to it, but my Natalie loved to hang out there, and the thought of going back without her was unbearable.
By the first week of January, I had gotten a low-paying job. I tried to act like I was normal. My body kept going, but I felt like my soul had died. No one knew I was a hollow shell of a being just going through the motions. It was only during the drive to and from work that I was able to break down emotionally. This was my new normal.
I started going to my new ward a little at a time. I just knew if someone asked me how I was doing, I would fall to pieces. I desperately wanted to go to church, but I didn’t want to talk to anyone, much less make eye contact. I wished with all my heart that I could be invisible. More than anything, I just wanted to rip this all-consuming pain out of my chest!
I have no idea what the sisters in Relief Society thought of me, and at the time I didn’t much care. I was too busy just trying to breathe! I’m sure I gave off the impression that I wanted to be left alone, for none of them bothered me. They did, however, occasionally give me a warm smile that I found a little comforting—just the exact small dose to keep me from running out the nearest exit, which was a constant thought.
Time is a healer. It doesn’t erase events, but it allows gaping wounds to slowly close.
That fateful Thanksgiving Day was in 2011, and it took me a few years to realize just how much I was helped by my brothers and sisters in the Church. I felt like I was carried off the battlefield after having been critically wounded. I was nursed back to health and cared for until I could stand on my own.
Countless blessings have come my way, in a variety of ways. My testimony has grown to near full maturity. I know now what it feels like to be held in the loving arms of our Savior.
So to answer my friend’s question, “How did the Church help you through this ordeal?” I say, “They didn’t help me. They saved me.”

As soon as we accept the Lord’s invitation “Walk with me,” the nature of our priesthood service changes. It becomes all at once higher and nobler but also more achievable, because we know that we are not alone. I felt this most powerfully when President Thomas S. Monson laid his hands on my head nine years ago and blessed me as I began my service in my current calling. In that blessing, he recited these words of the Savior: “And whoso receiveth you, there I will be also, for I will go before your face. I will be on your right hand and on your left, and my Spirit shall be in your hearts, and mine angels round about you, to bear you up” (D&C 84:88).
I have relied upon that promise many times, and I have seen it fulfilled in many ways throughout my 72 years of priesthood service. It happened when I was a new Aaronic Priesthood holder with an assignment to pass the sacrament. Terrified that I would make a mistake, I went outside the chapel before the meeting started and prayed in desperation that God would help me. An answer came. I felt that the Lord was with me. I felt His confidence in me, and so I felt confidence in my part in His work.
It happened again while I was serving as a bishop. I received a phone call from a woman who had made a serious mistake and now faced a difficult, life-changing decision. As I visited with her, I felt I knew the answer to her problem, but I also felt strongly that I should not give her that answer—she needed to obtain it for herself. My words to her were “I believe God will tell you what to do if you would ask Him.” She later reported that she did ask Him and He did tell her.
On another occasion a phone call came when I was a bishop—this time from the police. I was told that a drunk driver had crashed his car through the glass into the lobby of a bank. When the bewildered driver saw the security guard with his weapon brandished, he cried, “Don’t shoot! I’m a Mormon!”
The inebriated driver was discovered to be a member of my ward, baptized only recently. As I waited to speak to him in the bishop’s office, I planned what I would say to make him feel remorseful for the way he had broken his covenants and embarrassed the Church. But as I sat looking at him, I heard a voice in my mind say, just as clearly as if someone were speaking to me, “I’m going to let you see him as I see him.” And then, for a brief moment, his whole appearance changed to me. I saw not a dazed young man but a bright, noble son of God. I suddenly felt the Lord’s love for him. That vision changed our conversation. It also changed me.
I learned important lessons from these experiences walking with the Lord in doing His work. I would like to share with you three of them. The first is that God notices and will support even the newest and youngest deacon. You need never feel that you are too small or too insignificant for Him to take notice of you and the service you are giving in His name.
The second lesson is that the Lord’s work is not just to solve problems; it is to build people. So as you walk with Him in priesthood service, you may find that sometimes what seems like the most efficient solution is not the Lord’s preferred solution because it does not allow people to grow. If you listen, He will teach you His ways. Remember that God’s work and glory is not simply to run an effective organization; it is “to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man” (Moses 1:39). This is, after all, why He gives His priesthood authority to flawed mortals like you and me and invites us to participate in His work. Our progress is His work!
Now the third lesson: Walking with the Savior in priesthood service will change the way you look at others. He will teach you to see them through His eyes, which means seeing past an outward appearance and into the heart (see 1 Samuel 16:7). This is how the Savior was able to see Simon not as an impulsive fisherman but as Peter, the rock-solid future leader of His Church (see Luke 5:1–11). This is how He was able to see Zacchaeus not as the corrupt tax collector others saw but as an honest, upright son of Abraham (see Luke 19:1–9). If you walk with the Savior long enough, you will learn to see everyone as a child of God with limitless potential, regardless of what his or her past may have been. And if you continue walking with the Savior, you will develop another gift He has—the ability to help people see that potential in themselves and so repent.
My dear brethren of the priesthood, in many ways, we are like the two disciples who walked the road to Emmaus on that first Easter Sunday. It was Resurrection morning, but they were not yet sure there was a resurrection or what resurrection even meant. They had “trusted that [Jesus of Nazareth] should have redeemed Israel,” but they were “slow of heart to believe” everything the scriptures taught about resurrection. As they walked along and tried to reason it out together, “Jesus himself drew near, and went with them. But their eyes were holden that they should not know him.” (See Luke 24:13–32.)
I testify that when we walk the path of priesthood service, the Savior Jesus Christ goes with us, for it is His path, His way. His light goes before us, and His angels are round about us. We may lack a full understanding of what the priesthood is or how to exercise it as He does. But if we pay close attention to those moments when our hearts “burn within us” (Luke 24:32), our eyes can be opened and we will see His hand in our lives and in our service. I testify that we come to know Him best by working with Him and serving Him in the great work of bringing salvation to God’s children. “For how knoweth a man the master whom he has not served, and who is a stranger unto him, and is far from the thoughts and intents of his heart?” (Mosiah 5:13). Jesus Christ is our Master. This is His Church. It is His priesthood which we hold. May we each choose to walk with Him and to recognize how He walks with us.
I give you my solemn witness that Jesus is the Christ, our resurrected Lord. I bear you my testimony that the priesthood He has trusted us with is the power to speak and to act in His name. We are children of a loving Heavenly Father who answers our prayers and sends the Holy Ghost to strengthen us in every priesthood responsibility we are blessed to receive. Joseph Smith saw the Father and the Son. He received the keys of the priesthood, which have been passed on to President Thomas S. Monson, who exercises them today. I so testify in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

He has marked the path and made it available for our return to His presence, but an important question we might ask ourselves individually is, How willingly do we accept His interest in our well-being and happiness? This question is at the heart of the following allegory.
William loved all of his many sons and daughters. Each was very special to him. Although he wanted them to stay close to him, he allowed them to leave home for a time so they might answer for themselves who they were and what they were to be. He gave them instruction, blessings, and counsel. He pled with them to accept and keep the rules he had taught them so they might be rewarded for their willingness to learn, to understand, and to act appropriately. He invited them to call often, telling them he would always be there, excited to hear from them.
Having made careful and prudent investments in the past with his own time, intelligence, and resources, William had amassed wealth and influence he now sought to share. He busied himself with carpentry tools, plants, and flowers in preparation for his children’s return. He began to prepare a place for each of them more beautiful than they could imagine. Everything around William glowed with warmth, love, and sunshine, and he smiled as he considered each child’s return and pondered the joy and peace they would all share on his pleasant estate.
Finally the day came when the children began to return. First came Paul and Mary, then Kenneth and Sarah. William had never seen them so happy, and he wept as he took them into his arms and kissed them. Then, to their delight and joy, William gave them a glimpse of the great estate to which they were heirs and helped them realize that what lay before them was only a beginning, that its dimensions and beauty would increase according to their own vision and effort.
“But where are Charles and Thomas, Nancy and Clara?” asked William. The promise to them was the same. Did they not know they needed to follow his simple instructions and persevere?
“Father,” said Kenneth, “they understood in part but really couldn’t see. Some things blinded them. Thomas said he wanted to come, but he was a little too busy; he didn’t even have time for his children. Charles is building an estate; it has a modest beauty, and between that and a booming business, he has time for very little else. Nancy said she’s confused and disoriented and it’s not her fault, but she won’t be coming. Clara’s case is another matter. She said she had kept the rules long enough; she asked that we please leave her alone and said she just wants to be free.”
William sorrowed over these words, for the gift he had offered seemed as marvelous as all eternity. Said he: “How will they even begin to comprehend the blessings of this great gift I have prepared if they receive it not and reject me as the giver? What great joy will have slipped from me and from them!”

In a rush to catch a flight back home after a work trip to Chicago, Illinois, USA, I requested a rideshare service. My driver, Tracee, found out I was visiting from Utah, USA, and asked how Utah’s culture differs from Chicago’s. In an effort to describe the unique characteristics that define Utah in my mind, I almost used the word Mormon to describe the religious majority that lives there.
Before I could respond, I remembered President Russell M. Nelson’s invitation to use the full name of Christ’s restored Church.1 When I first heard that counsel from President Nelson, I’d thought, “The world practically speaks in abbreviations. How are we expected to say such a long name when people ask about our religion?”
However, I had determined I would follow the prophet by doing my best to use the full name of the Church.
With this in mind, I said: “Well, I’m not sure if you’re familiar, but a large percentage of the state is made up of members of the church I belong to, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Visitors to Utah are often shocked when they learn that many Utahns go to church every week, many restaurants are closed on Sundays, and ice cream shops seem to be far busier than bars.”
Tracee was delighted to meet a fellow Christian. She shared the story of how she became a Christian and even cried as she described sacred spiritual experiences she’d had.
When she asked what I thought of the state of the world today, “The Family: A Proclamation to the World” naturally came up as I commented on how far the world was straying from what’s really important. I mentioned that God knew these wicked times would come, so over 20 years ago, He directed His prophet to warn us through this special document.2
As I paraphrased the family proclamation, Tracee said: “Stop describing it. I want to hear it.” I read a few paragraphs using the Gospel Library app and offered to text her a link to the full document to read later. She gladly accepted, saying that everything went right along with what she already believed.
At one point, I mentioned that I’d visited my brother’s family in Chicago. Tracee asked if he and his wife were members of the Church as well. “Yes!” I said. “They go to a new church building downtown.” She immediately wanted to know where it was.
By the time we made it to the airport, Tracee and I had exchanged many shared beliefs and the Spirit in the car felt tangible. She thanked me for being the best ride of the day and praised me for having a heart to serve God.
When I used the full name of the Church—which contains Christ’s name—Tracee knew that I was a follower of Jesus Christ. We were able to connect through our shared beliefs about God, Jesus Christ, and the need to uphold strong values in a weakening world. I was even able to share some of the Church’s unique doctrine by referencing the restored Church and teaching briefly about living prophets and apostles. Using the full name of the Church helped me remember that, in the end, we are all children of God.

The LDS juniors and seniors at Marshfield High had a few suggestions on what it takes to make high school great. The freshmen and sophomores were eager to listen. So during a ward service project to help paint an elderly lady’s house (they were using green paint, not gold or purple), the young people got a chance to talk in between brush strokes.
The girls were using their cheerleading skills in painting the trim around the windows on the house. They were leading the others in songs and cheers as they worked. And if they were short a ladder to two, they would improvise a human pyramid to reach the topmost spots.
Butch Parker, a star football player and senior class president, agreed with Eva about the importance of grades. He’s going through the process of applying to colleges and is keenly aware of what they look for on transcripts. His advice: “Take good, hard classes. Colleges look at grades, but they also look at what kinds of classes you take. I can’t slack off. I’m still taking hard classes. I almost like taking classes with people I don’t know very well instead of my friends because I get a lot more done.”
This group of upperclassmen seem to have it made, but they now know that the years of sitting on the bench and hanging in there are paying off. When Butch’s family first moved to Coos Bay, Butch was afraid he wasn’t going to make any team. He kept trying until he made the starting lineups in both football and basketball.
Angie Miller is on the volleyball and softball teams. She can encourage the younger students to keep trying even though it can get discouraging. “When I started playing volleyball, I wasn’t very good. I sat on the bench a lot. Then things started clicking. I wouldn’t have the good friends I have now if I had quit. I used to be so shy. People in church helped me a lot. I’m not so self-conscious about what everyone thinks of me now.”
This new self-confidence has carried over into spreading the gospel among their friends. Eva explains how they have gone about it. “The number one thing you have to do is pray about it. I pray for the strength to be able to tell other people about the Church and be able to help my friends. I didn’t realize how I acted was an example to other people until last year when Sabrina and Naomi were baptized.”
Sabrina Echols, a senior who was introduced to the Church by her friends Darilyn and Eva, said, “Don’t be afraid to try out for something just because you might not make it. Don’t get discouraged. It’s better to try.” Sabrina knows what she says is true from personal experience. She tried out several times to be a cheerleader on the rally squad but didn’t make it. Then she tried out for school mascot and was successful. Now she wears the gold and purple that represent her school.
When Sabrina was a freshman, Eva gave her a Book of Mormon with her testimony written in the front. As Sabrina read, she and Eva would talk about it. But another friend saw her reading it and persuaded her not to finish her reading. It took two years of talking with her LDS friends and taking the missionary discussions before Sabrina was ready for baptism. She said, “I prayed one day and I got part of my answer. I felt I was doing the right thing. Everything seemed to be right. The more I prayed, the stronger I felt it was right.”
Sabrina’s baptism affected her life in many ways. “My dad was glad because he’s seen a big change in me.” When asked how she has changed, Sabrina is a little at a loss for words. Her friends chime in with a list. “She’s a lot happier, getting better grades, involved in a lot more things, more self-confident.” Then Sabrina added a few more. “I was kind of shy, but now I’m not as much. It has changed how I feel about my friends and my family, my brothers and sisters.”
Sabrina’s friends and family aren’t the only ones who have noticed a change for the better. Sabrina says that before she joined the Church, she barely made passing grades. She will be the first one of her brothers and sisters to finish high school and the first to go on to college. “My teachers and counselors have all seen this big change. They look back at records and say, ‘What happened? What did she do that is so different?’ I was nowhere, and now I set goals.”
Eva and Darilyn and Sabrina have introduced the gospel to some of their other friends. Naomi Diven is on the rally squad with them, and Quinn Rogers is a school mascot with Sabrina. Naomi was given a copy of a videotape, “Our Heavenly Father’s Plan.” She was intrigued by what she heard. For Naomi, her answer came quickly, “It was quite sudden. During the first discussion we all knew that I would be baptized.” Her decision was reinforced as she heard the missionary discussions several more times with their friend Quinn.
The freshmen in the Coos Bay Ward are quick to see the advantages of having older brothers and sisters and friends who are active and successful in high school. Sean Michael says, “We feel safer. They tell us what is going on. We’re in seminary and have longer hours. It’s kind of intense, but they help us.”
Michael Higgins says, “They give us rides. They put in a good word for us in a sense. We have more confidence. They tell us not to be scared and what to do if we’re late. They try to keep us in line so we won’t embarrass them, and they make sure we’re not having a horrible time in school.”
Christa says, “If you talk to them, they’ll say their freshman year was one of their best years. It’s a time you can really be yourself.”
For the bishop of the Coos Bay Ward, Giles Parker, it is particularly exciting to see the LDS students doing so well at school, because he is also the district school superintendent. He says that these students have proven to a large high school that even while in the minority, they can be “with it” and still keep Church standards.
Whenever the young people of Coos Bay see gold and purple together, they’ll remember their high school days. Because of the good ways they chose to live and the activities they became involved in, high school will remain with them as good memories.
1. Get involved. Join clubs, sports teams, musical groups, or student government. Take your friends along. If they don’t want to participate, go alone. You’ll meet new friends at these activities.
2. Don’t give up. If you are on a team or in a musical or dramatic group, keep practicing. You’ll improve.
3. Keep your grades up. Don’t postpone homework. Learn how to study effectively.
4. Take seminary and attend Church meetings.
5. Live gospel standards and set a good example.
6. Share the gospel with your friends.

“Are you ready to obey the commandment to pay tithing?” Mom asked.
A true story from the USA.
When Logan was five, he thought tithing was a terrible idea!
During home evening, Mom put 10 dollars on the table. “Let’s pretend you earn 10 dollars.”
Logan smiled. “OK!”
“Tithing is 10 percent. So you would give one dollar to the Lord’s Church.” Mom slid one dollar away from the pile.
Logan frowned. “Give away a dollar? But I want to keep all my money!”
“Maybe you’ll feel differently when you’re older,” Mom said. “Heavenly Father blesses us with everything. Paying tithing is one way we show God we love Him and are grateful for His blessings.”
When Logan was six, his Primary teachers taught him that tithing is used to build temples. Logan loved temples. So maybe paying tithing was a good idea for some people. But not for him.
When Logan was seven, he noticed that people smiled when they handed their tithing envelopes to the bishop. Could giving away your money really make you happy?
When he was eight, Mom asked him, “Logan, why did you choose to get baptized?”
That was an easy question! “To keep the commandments and follow Jesus Christ,” Logan said.
“So are you ready to obey the commandment to pay tithing?” Mom asked. “It’s up to you.”
Logan’s heart sank. That was not an easy question. He still didn’t want to give away his money. But he did want to keep the commandments. Logan thought of temples and the smiling people who paid tithing. Then he took a deep breath and said, “Yes.”
“That would be a good choice!” Mom said.
Logan felt a lot better. “I know keeping the commandments is more important than keeping all my money.”
On Sunday, when he handed his first tithing envelope to the bishop, Logan realized he was smiling. He felt happy! He still didn’t understand everything about tithing. But he loved God, and he knew God would bless him for obeying the commandments.

The warm December sun was about to set as Papá, ten-year-old Juan, and Juan’s burro, Paco, made their way down the winding Mexican road toward the hacienda. Juan was riding Paco, and Papá walked alongside.
As they came to a turn in the road, the burro stumbled a little but soon regained his footing. “Whoa,” said Papá, looking at Paco in surprise. “Our little friend has not lost his footing since he was a small colt.”
Juan brought Paco to a stop, and Papá stepped in front of them and looked into Paco’s big brown eyes. He looked at Paco’s nose and mouth. He stepped back and tugged at his shiny black mustache with his thumb and first finger. Then he looked up at Juan and gave him a funny little smile. Juan had seen his father make this funny little smile before—it meant that something was wrong!
“I do not wish to alarm you, my son—I know how much you love Paco. But I’m afraid that he is very ill.” Papá looked again at the burro, then back at Juan. “Climb down from his back. He does not need to carry a load when he is sick.”
Juan’s heart beat fast as he slid gently to the ground. Paco was not just another burro. Paco was a friend. Juan had raised him from a tiny, newborn colt, and they were inseparable. “How sick is he, Papá? Will he be all right?”
“We must lead him home slowly,” was all that Papá said.
Juan looked at Paco’s face. His nose was very dry, his eyes were very wet, and he drooled a little at the mouth. His head swayed back and forth a little, and he grunted softly. “It is true,” Juan said quietly to himself. “Paco is very ill.”
As soon as they reached the hacienda stable, Juan led Paco to his stall. The burro lay on his side on the straw with a little thud.
“Can we call the veterinarian from Santa Cruz?” Juan asked. Even before he asked, he knew what Papá’s answer would have to be.
“I wish we could, but we cannot afford to pay his fee.”
Papá and Juan entered the kitchen of the hacienda. Mamá was preparing Juan’s favorite food, tostadas. She was heating the corn tortillas while the refried beans simmered on the stove. The green tomato salsa was already on the table.
Juan did not feel hungry. He ate only one tostada instead of his usual four or five, then went to his room. He got into bed and closed his eyes but could not sleep. He was worried about poor Paco lying on the straw in the stable.
After a time, Mamá came to the door. Seeing Juan awake, she came in and sat on the edge of his bed. She stroked his hair as she had when he was little.
In past years, Juan had participated in the local Posada procession. Each night for nine nights, the children of the village and the hacienda reenacted the story of Mary and Joseph’s looking for a place to stay in Bethlehem and being turned away because the inns were all full. This year Juan and his eight-year-old sister, Rosita, had been assigned by the Posada officials to play the parts of Joseph and Mary, with Rosita riding Paco.
But then the missionaries had come to the hacienda and taught God’s plan to Juan’s family. Papá, Mamá, Juan, his twelve-year-old brother, José, and Rosita had listened carefully to Elder Mendoza and Elder Smith and had become baptized members of the Church. And though Juan was very happy to be a Latter-day Saint, he couldn’t help being a little sad when the officials said he could no longer be in the Posada. A Christmas party was planned at the LDS meetinghouse, and Juan and Rosita were invited to play the parts of Joseph and Mary—but the Christmas story was to be put on inside the building, and Paco was not allowed there.
“Are you sad because Paco can’t be in the Christmas play?” Mamá asked now.
“No, Mamá. That is a little thing. That he is so sick is a big thing. I just want Paco to get better. I love him very much. He is my friend.”
“I will pray for him tonight,” Mamá said.
As she left the room, José entered and got into bed. “I’m sorry that your burro is ill,” he said.
“I am, too, but Mamá reminded me of what I can do to help poor Paco. I will say a special prayer for him so that he will not suffer.”
“But, Juan, Paco is only an animal. Prayers such as that are for people.”
“No, José,” Juan said, “my Primary teacher, Sister Martinez, told us that Amulek, a great leader in the Book of Mormon, taught that we should pray for our animals.* Surely God does not want Paco to suffer. If I go to the stable and say a special prayer, he will recover or he will die in peace.”
With this, Juan arose from his bed and put on his best blue jeans, the white shirt he wore to church on Sundays, and his sandals.
José said, “Wait, Juan. I’ll go with you.” He got up and dressed and followed Juan out into the hall.
Rosita poked her head out of her bedroom. “What’s the matter?” she asked, rubbing her eyes.
“We’re going to the stable to say a special prayer for Paco,” Juan told her.
“May I go too?”
“Of course,” Juan said. “Paco will like that.”
Juan entered the stable first. He flipped on the light switch that lit a dim bulb hanging from a long cord, then knelt by the little burro’s head and gave Paco a pat on the neck. All three children folded their arms and bowed their heads. Juan prayed, “Father in heaven, we thank Thee that we have had Paco since he was small. He has given us much joy. Now he is very sick. If it be Thy will, bless him that he will grow strong and healthy again. But if Thou art in need of a fine burro, please take him in peace so that he will not suffer anymore. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Crying softly, no one spoke as they went back to bed, but all three children felt much better for having talked to Heavenly Father about Paco.
As the morning light came through the window and Juan awoke, his first thoughts were of Paco. A few minutes later he was hurrying through the stable doors. How delighted he was to see Paco standing! His hair was matted and dirty; he would not eat and would only drink water—but he was standing!
By Christmas Eve day, when the elders made a return visit to the hacienda, Paco was as well as ever and Juan and Rosita were taking turns riding him in the front yard.
That evening everyone went to the meetinghouse. Juan wore a bathrobe and a towel tied around his head to look like Joseph. Rosita braided her long hair and wore Mamá’s shawl when she played the part of Mary. After the acting out of the Christmas story, Elder Mendoza talked about the meaning of God’s gift of His Son to each of them. Then there was a wonderful party with many good things to eat, lots of colored balloons, and some special treats taken outside to the little brown burro named Paco.