Gospel Story Finder

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

They Care about Helping
Children from the Dartmouth Nova Scotia Stake got together to make warm, soft pillowcases for children in a local hospital. “It helped us think about how they feel,” said Ben S., age 11.
Using stencils, fabric pens, and sewing machines, everyone worked hard designing and decorating their gifts of love. “I feel happy that we are caring about others and not just about ourselves,” said Cora C., age 10.

Some of the sweetest memories of my childhood center in the occasional summer and fall days spent with my brothers at Uncle Zene’s farm in rural Virginia. There we hiked through woods with fragrant wildflowers. We marveled at flying squirrels, colorful birds, and even occasionally discovered a pheasant or a fox. Meandering streams invited us to catch sunfish, and a cool, pure spring satisfied our thirst. There were roasted hot dogs, potato salad, sweet pickles, and, of course, hot apple pie with homemade ice cream.
But the most treasured experience was the rope swing Uncle Zene had hung in a tall tree near a beautiful brook. Its long, gliding passes provided hours of pure joy. We would arch our backs and fling our legs and feet to see who could go the fastest and highest. It was sheer delight.
Once, to treat me to even more excitement, my brother Gerald put me on the wooden seat, then rotated the swing until the ropes were twisted in a double row of knots. With a mighty thrust he launched me into a spin of ever-increasing velocity. At first there was a feeling of exhilaration as I began to pick up speed. That short-lived pleasure was quickly replaced by increasing feelings of dizziness, nausea, and just plain terror. When the horrible experience was over, I couldn’t walk without falling. My head reeled, and I was certain that my stomach would never again be the same.

Today holds special meaning for me, and not because I am speaking at devotional. It is December 7. It is a “date that will live in infamy.”[3]
On this day, December 7, 1941, exactly 80 years ago, a dive bomber appeared out of the clouds above the island of Oahu. A swarm of 360 warplanes followed, descending on the US naval base at Pearl Harbor in a ferocious assault. The surprise attack struck a critical blow against the US Pacific fleet and drew the United States irrevocably into World War II.
Before December 7, the Navy and Army were severely undermanned. After that fateful day, “all recruit­ing records of the nation’s armed forces were shattered” as young men waited in long lines to sign up.[4]
My father, who had just turned 20 days before, was one of those young men. He and his two best friends, Phil Shumway and Grant Turley, signed up with the Army Military Air Corps to be fighter pilots.
Within a year, they would both be shot down. Grant was killed over Germany after becoming an ace pilot. Phil Shumway was shot down in the Philippine Sea but survived. He remained floating in a rubber raft without food or water for ten days before being rescued. He survived by observing seagulls land on his small rubber raft and snatching them as they landed.
Phil Shumway’s grit and determination to survive helped him through this terrible ordeal. Both Grant and Phil met their obstacles head on, no excuses, no shirking their responsibility, regardless of the sacrifice.
My father was also trained as a fighter pilot. He was shipped to North Africa and became a photo-reconnaissance pilot. He would fly a spy plane, taking pictures over enemy territory flying solo. My father had no escort and no weapons, just a camera.
After numerous missions flying over North Africa, Italy, and Austria, his plane was also shot down. My father fell in Northwest Italy, near the Leaning Tower of Pisa. He bailed out of his fiery plane, landing approximately 200 miles behind enemy lines.
Thankfully, the Italian partisan resistance forces saw his plane go down. They saw his parachute and ran to his rescue before the Germans could find him.
For the next three months, and with the help of his new-found friends, he and other Allied officers snuck past the Germans through high mountain passes and valleys to make it safely to Rome.
Sadly, many of those that helped my father and others like him eventually were captured, and many perished in concentration camps.
I was blessed to have a father that would tell me stories of real life heroes, not comic book heroes, but people who lived real lives, facing obstacles with steadfastness and determination.

Events of the next few days and nights, however, seemed to negate that prophecy. Storms struck again: “strong gale; great swell on the water; ship rolling very much; many of the passengers sick. … Things rolling about.” Outside the elements were at war, but within the Spirit was at work. After one preaching meeting where “Brother Finch gave a brief and lucid explanation of the first principles,” five converts were baptized. On April 1, the unfavorable winds continued, but at a testimony meeting, which many sailors attended, three more baptisms occurred, including the ship’s carpenter, the first crew member to convert. The next day found food rations reduced. But that evening three more sailors and one passenger were baptized at the testimony meeting.

How is someone baptized aboard a sailing vessel? Sometimes large barrels filled with salt water or a platform improvised by the side of the ship were used. On the International, according to one who was baptized there, the ordinance was performed on deck “in a large round vat holding probably 2,000 gallons of water.” Why the vat was on board we can only surmise. But filled with sea water it served well as a convenient font.

While the International sped west toward port, the Mormon ranks continued to grow as predicted in Captain Brown’s dream. Just before the April 6 festival, the captain’s cook was baptized. On April 8 President Arthur’s sixteen-year-old daughter, Mary Ann, and a Negro crewman were baptized. The second mate, three sailors, and Christopher Arthur, Jr., were baptized the next day. As the International slipped between Cuba and Florida a week later the first mate joined the Church, as did three sailors and one emigrant the next day. Even 110° heat on April 17 did not squelch the Spirit, for the Saints held “first-rate meetings during the whole day; in the evening the ship’s carpenter, captain’s cook, and two sailors bore testimony to the truth of the work.”

Captain Brown’s spirit was troubled as the conversions continued. Some of his feelings were revealed when he gave landing instructions on April 18 and confessed his attraction to Mormonism: “He had crossed the seas many times,” one diarist reported in quoting him, “but never felt so happy with any people as he had with the Latter-day Saints.” He added that “his pride prevented him from immediately becoming a saint but he felt he soon should join us and come to Great Salt Lake City.” Following his remarks two more passengers were baptized. At testimony meeting the next evening six sailors bore testimony and afterwards one sailor was baptized.

The report credited the workings of the Spirit coupled with the Saints exemplary conduct for the remarkable number of conversions made on the high seas. He proudly wrote:

“I am glad to inform you, that we have baptized all on board except three persons [the steward and his wife, both staunch Catholics, and the third mate, ‘a very wicked fellow’—. We can number the captain, first and second mates, with eighteen of the crew, most of whom intend going right through to the valley. … The carpenter and eight of the seamen are Swedish, German, and Dutch. There are two negroes. … The others baptized were friends of the brethren. The number baptized in all is forty-eight, since we left our native shores.”

During this holiday season, I’m reminded of a story about my grandma that my mom has shared with us many times.
It was Christmas Eve, and my mom was about 12 years old. She and her mom and sisters were traveling across town to visit family, and it was raining hard outside. Grandma had a tradition of making plates upon plates of Christmas goodies for family friends and loved ones. The car was full, traffic was crazy, and everyone was trying to rush home for the holidays or get their last-minute shopping done.
In the middle of it all was a homeless man with a shopping cart full of cans. He started to cross the street at a red light, and all of a sudden the whole cart fell over. Cans were everywhere! It seemed as though the chaos of Christmas went silent. My mom wondered why no one was helping. An outburst of horns began to honk, as if to tell the man to get out of the way.
To my mom’s surprise, her mom got out of the car and quickly began helping the man pick up his cans. Then other people followed. It was pouring rain, and my grandma was wet when she returned to the car. As they sat in the backed-up traffic, my aunts, mom, and grandma all had a wonderful idea to rush out of the car and give the man a plate of Christmas goodies. In that moment, as my grandma gave the man the Christmas gift, my mom’s heart was touched with the reminder of the true meaning of Christmas.

We learn much of parenting from our own parents. My love for my father deepened profoundly when he was kind, patient, and understanding. When I damaged the family car, he was gentle and forgiving. But his sons could expect strong discipline if there was any shading of the truth or continued breaking of the rules, particularly showing disrespect for our mother. My father has been gone for almost half a century, but I still sorely miss being able to go to him for wise and loving counsel. I admit I questioned his counsel at times, but I could never question his love for me. I never wanted to disappoint him.

It is the story of Isaac and Rebecca. This is not the biblical account, however. It is about our daughter Rebecca and her suitor Isaac. Our Rebecca was not persuaded to marry her Isaac nearly as easily as was the Old Testament Rebekah. Nor was she readily willing to give up her lifestyle and immediately leave her family to be part of another’s life.

Our Becky was 21. She had signed up to do a summer internship through Brigham Young University in Mozambique, Africa. She wasn’t sure if she should serve a mission, but she had at least started the paperwork by getting dental and doctor appointments. She was also thinking about applying for a master’s program in her field. In short, she was trying to decide what to do with the next phase of her life. We all wondered which would win out of the three Ms—Mozambique, mission, or master’s.

Meanwhile, Isaac came along in pursuit and soon offered a choice of a fourth M—marriage. He was headed for medical school in a few months, and he did not want to go without Becky. He later told us that he had his own three Ms that he hoped she would choose—marriage, medical school, and eventually motherhood. “If she did not,” he said, “I knew I would be the fourth M—miserable.”

Becky was a woman of the 21st century. The world and its many glamorous opportunities were available to her, and it was hard for her to set aside some of her dreams. What finally won her over were Isaac’s intrinsic goodness and his kindness to her. He did the romantic things too, like sending beautiful bouquets of flowers, taking her on nice dates, and so on.

But those things would not have won her over on their own. What was most winning to her was how he continually put her feelings and her needs above his own. He did little thoughtful things, the kind that one friend would do for another. For example, when he learned that her watch was too big for her wrist, he removed a couple of links from it and made it perfect for her. Another time she found her car spotless and sparkling inside and out because he had washed it, a deed unsolicited by her. Another time she found a little list he had made of ways to improve himself; many of his goals were service oriented. These kindnesses promised an enduring friendship; they expressed qualities of character that would last even when physical beauties eventually faded.

Becky realized that he had the qualities that would endure through good and bad times, the very qualities she would seek out in a good friend. So she did marry Isaac. And now she reflects that she was right about his great strengths being a wonderful asset to their relationship. She feels she is married to her best friend. And this is what marriage should be.

I told those stories up in Wyoming some years ago. The stake president said that reminded him of when he was the bishop of a ward. One of the men living in his community called him up and said, “Bishop, do you think I am a good enough man to be a member of your church?” He said, “I just realized that we had never invited him to be a member of the Church. So I made arrangements to baptize him Friday night. Then I called up a woman in the community and told her that this man was going to join the Church and wouldn’t she like to come along also? She said, ‘Bishop, I have wondered how long I would have to live in your community before you would invite me to join your church.’”

As a young man having just finished my first year of college and needing to earn money for a desired mission, I spent the summer working at the new Jackson Lake Lodge in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. Many college-age youths came to work in that pristine, beautiful area.
One such person was Jill, a young woman from San Francisco, California. Feeling that a young woman from a big city might be a little bit naive about her new environment, I and a few friends felt it our obligation to teach her about the ways of the real West. We decided to take her on a “snipe hunt.” For those of you who may not be familiar with a snipe hunt, it is a practical joke, as there is no such thing as a snipe, at least not in the western United States. The tools necessary for a snipe hunt are a stick and a cloth bag. The “hunter” is told to go through the brush, beating the bushes with a stick while calling the snipe in a high-pitched, ridiculous voice. The nonexistent snipes are thus to be driven into the cloth bag.
We gave Jill her cloth bag and a stick and an area to hunt across the hill. The plan was to return to our starting point in about 15 minutes, at which time we would supposedly count our snipes.
When she did not return at the appointed time, we gloated and took delight in the seriousness with which she took her hunt. After about 30 minutes, we felt it was time to rescue her, explain the joke, have a good laugh, and all go to dinner. However, it became apparent that she had taken her snipe hunt more seriously than we had expected—she was not to be found in her assigned area. After searching rather extensively and still finding no evidence of her, we began moving into the woods, calling for her at the top of our voices, but to no avail.
Hoping she might have gone back to her dormitory, we returned and asked some young women to search for her there, but this also was to no avail. It was now turning dark, and our concern heightened. We enlisted all the young men we could from the boys’ dormitory, and with flashlights continued the search deep into the woods. Well into the darkness of night—frightened, concerned, and hoarse from calling—we decided it was now time to report our ridiculous deed to the park rangers. While we were standing in front of the dorms, trying to determine which brave soul would have the privilege of reporting her disappearance, Jill suddenly appeared—not from her dormitory, but rather from that of a friend, with whom she had enjoyed dinner (which we incidentally missed) and a comfortable evening with her friends. Her first words to us as she approached said it all: “How do you fellows like hunting snipe hunters?” Well, so much for big city naïveté, and so much for the ways of the real West. The joke was on us, and I have never had a desire for any more snipe hunting.

Blair: I grew up in the Church and have a testimony. However, there is a part of my life that few people know. At age seven I often saw a pornographic poster on a teenage neighbor’s wall. It left an impression in my mind that I could not forget. Unworthy thoughts led me to develop an unworthy habit I felt I couldn’t break.
Ryan: When I was about 12 years old I went to a friend’s house and found him and a bunch of neighborhood boys gathered around the computer. I joked, “Hey, are you guys looking at pornography?”
They said, “How did you guess? Come check this out.”
That was the beginning of a problem in my life. I soon began using our family computer to find more and more images.
Rob: You usually don’t realize you have a problem until you are in so deep you can no longer see the light. That’s what happened with me. I was curious and justified my involvement with pornography by reminding myself that guys at school were involved with it too, and it didn’t seem like a big problem for them.
Pornography first appeals to curiosity. Somehow, just looking doesn’t seem all that dangerous. Every one of us has gone into a store just to look—not to buy. But this is a huge store, with almost unlimited merchandise. Once we are in the store, the invitations to satisfy our curiosity are endless. And so curiosity is never satisfied.
There are lots of things in life—like rattlesnakes or abandoned mine shafts or drugs—that we may be curious about. But knowing how dangerous they are, we walk away or leave the party or turn off the computer.
Actually, with pornography, there is no such thing as “just looking.” Looking is the problem. Viewing pornography triggers sexual feelings. We can easily get hooked on those pleasurable feelings, especially if they seem to relieve stress or anxiety—and we can start a cycle of addiction just as difficult to break as an addiction to drugs or alcohol.
Rob: Curiosity turned to interest, and interest developed into a strong habit. Soon I was addicted. I would get home from school, go straight to the computer, and be there for hours. My social life suffered. So did my schoolwork, family ties, and—most important—my spirituality.
At the very time I most needed the promptings of the Spirit in my life, I was less and less able to feel anything. Life became a constant struggle against depression.
My soul hungered, and the only thing I fed it offered no nourishment. I would get discouraged with myself, so I would delve into pornography to feel better. But the pornography would upset me even more.
Guilt, fear, and depression are common emotions for those involved with pornography—guilt, because they know what they are doing is wrong; fear, because they are terrified their secret will be found out; and depression, because they no longer feel the Spirit. Relationships with family, friends, Church leaders, and the Lord are damaged.
Blair: My self-confidence dwindled in church, school, and everywhere. Many times I felt very alone, awkward, and unworthy. If a girl liked me, I would think, “She wouldn’t like me if she really knew me.” I would shy away from being social.
Rob: Through all those years I attended church, but I was mentally inactive. I kept going to church so I wouldn’t upset my parents. But I knew the lifestyle I was caught up in was wrong. I noticed a change in my own countenance day by day, year by year. I became calloused and hardened. I found myself lying to my parents, my bishop, everyone around me. Inside I was going through personal turmoil and spiritual torment.
As these young men struggled with their addiction to pornography, each tried to overcome it on his own. But like a hiker trapped in a dangerous crevice, each needed help. Talking to the bishop became the key to changing the direction of their lives.
Blair: I prayed for strength to leave these temptations alone. I made a list of things such as prayer, scriptures, and clean thoughts that would help me draw close to God. But although I worked hard, it didn’t solve my problems.
The thought of confessing to the bishop made me cringe. I felt it would be better to tell the bishop about the problem when it was in the past. But I finally realized it wasn’t ever going to be in the past if I did not confess. If God already knew my struggles and I felt comfortable talking about them in prayer, why not talk face to face with God’s servant? Once I finally decided to confess, I felt a reassuring peace that it was the right thing to do.
If you are using pornography, you are not morally clean, even if you haven’t done anything else immoral. Rob talks about realizing he wasn’t worthy to go to the temple or on a mission.
Rob: I humbly bowed before the Lord in tears and pleaded for strength beyond my own. Night after night I prayed, and finally I knew I had to talk to my bishop about it. That was the hardest part—admitting to someone else that I had a problem. I kept thinking I could handle it myself and no one would ever have to know. I wanted it to be something just between God and me. But I finally matured to a point where I realized that was impossible. I approached my bishop and began a long and difficult repentance process.
Repentance may be difficult, but it is also comforting and filled with hope.
Speaking of those who struggle with pornography, one bishop says: “Help is available. The repentance process is just that—a process. It takes time to break negative patterns, and each small victory must be acknowledged, reinforced, and celebrated along the way. Sometimes those I have worked with still struggle, but at least they are not hiding anymore. They have begun to build a support system. They have realized they don’t have to face this challenge alone.”
A former bishop explains: “Besides my own family, I don’t think I loved anyone in my ward quite as much as I loved those who came to me with broken hearts, seeking forgiveness and peace. They cared more about what the Lord thought of them than what any person thought. I respected their courage and desire to make things right. I shed tears over them. I rejoiced when they were clean and whole again. And afterward I never looked at them as former sinners—only as beloved brothers and sisters.”
“Trust in the Lord,” counseled Elder Richard G. Scott of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. “He knows what He is doing. He already knows of your problems. And He is waiting for you to ask for help” (“Trust in the Lord,” Ensign, May 1989, 36).
I felt relief when I stopped pretending. Sharing the burden with my bishop and my family meant I no longer had to deal with this addiction alone. Now I hold on to this support system.
A problem that dominated my youth could not be overcome overnight. This road has been long and hard—and it continues. It isn’t enough anymore to look happy. I want to be happy. I am coming to know Christ and to understand the Atonement. The Savior gives me the strength I need so my self-confidence and self-respect grow each day.
I was honest with my bishop. And when my dad talked to me, I was honest with him too. We worked on the problem together. We decided not to have the Internet in our home for a while. That was a big help.
I’m turning 16 soon, and I’m glad I decided not to let pornography control my life. I feel better about myself, and I think about young women differently than I did before. With my bishop’s help, I’m preparing now for the temple, a mission, and a great marriage one day.
It took a lot of time and sincere effort to break bad habits. Eventually I was judged by my priesthood leader as worthy to serve a mission. The best feeling in the world was to go to the temple and know I am clean. The Spirit I wanted to feel during all those teenage years came flooding into my heart and life. I am so thankful for the Atonement of Jesus Christ.
The adversary still works on me, trying to get me to backslide. But I have learned to put on the armor of God every day. I know Jesus Christ loves me, and I love Him.

Just as important as these “mighty miracles” are the smaller “private miracles” that teach each of us to have faith in the Lord. These come as we recognize and heed the promptings of the Spirit in our lives.
I am grateful for a teacher who encouraged his students to keep a journal of the whisperings or promptings of the Spirit in their lives. He directed us to note what we felt and what resulted. Little things became evident. One day I was frantically trying to complete some assignments and prepare for a trip. I had just been down to the laundry area of the dorm to move my clothes from the washer to the dryer. Unfortunately, all the dryers were in use, and they all had many minutes to go. I went back upstairs discouraged, knowing by the time those dryers finished, I had to be on the road. I had barely returned to my room when I felt prompted to go back downstairs and check the laundry again. Foolishness, I thought—I had just been there, and I didn’t have time. But because I was trying to listen, I went. Two of the dryers were empty—and I was able to meet all my commitments. Could the Lord possibly have been concerned about smoothing my way in such a small but, to me, important matter? I have learned since through many such experiences that the Lord will help us in every aspect of our lives when we are trying to serve Him and do His will. [5]

by Craig Manscill
During the spring, when much of the Northern Hemisphere is recovering from the grips of winter, the Southern Hemisphere, particularly the South Pacific, is soaking up the warm rays of the sun.

That’s when the youth in the Fiji Suva District retreat to their own secluded, tropical island for three glorious days in search of their destiny.

As the chartered boat, the Noolooloo, departed from the jetty, 57 youth and 16 leaders, one live pig (Friday’s dinner), and assorted camping gear were about to make history in the third annual youth conference. The sea cruise to Nukulau Island was only the beginning of a beautiful experience.

“Determine Your Destiny” was the theme for the conference. The theme song, “Morning of Your Life,” was taken from the October 1980 New Era. It was the objective of each youth to plan and set goals for his or her immediate future and distant tomorrows. “We are charting our own destiny,” said Elizabeth from Suva Sixth Branch, “rather than allowing fate or outside circumstances to dictate to us.”

Once camp was established, the Young Men president called a general assembly. Journals were handed out to each youth with instructions that while in search of their destiny, the recording of thoughts and goals would greatly increase the chances of successfully accomplishing those goals. One girl recorded in her journal, “I never thought three days could make the difference for me in sorting out my course toward my destiny.”

The following three days were filled with activities and seminars. Seminars were conducted in first aid, lifesaving and swimming, pioneering, tie-dyeing, and goal setting.

“Campfire is burning, campfire is burning,” was signal enough from the campfire mistress, Cheryl Bukarau, for all to gather on the beach for mimes, skits, singing, and stories. The charismatic mood of the South Pacific seemed to mesmerize everyone. The reflection of the tall palm trees, silhouetted by the fire, cast interesting shadows on the beach. The mood was amplified by the lapping of the waves on the shore as if it were the sound of Fijian drums in the distance.

The highlight of the conference was when the mission president, Wilford E. Smith, ferried across from the mainland to be guest of honor for dinner and to deliver the keynote address. President Smith encouraged all to consult with the Lord in prayer, refer to patriarchal blessings, and listen to the prophet’s counsel.

Saturday morning dawned clear and crisp as the fasting youth gathered for separate Young Men and Young Women meetings followed by a joint testimony meeting, where the testimonies of youth and leaders brought the youth conference to another spiritual high.

It was with regret that camp was broken. During the final moments a special ceremony, unseen by most, was held at the base of a large tree, where a time capsule was buried. The capsule held the history of the conference and the written goals of 57 youth and 16 leaders. One year later, the capsule will be opened for those who return to the next youth conference to evaluate how well they have shaped their own destiny.

A great example in my life of unselfish service is Sister Victoria Antonietti. Victoria was one of the Primary teachers in my branch while I was growing up in Argentina. Each Tuesday afternoon, when we gathered for Primary, she brought us a chocolate cake. Everyone loved the cake—well, everyone except me. I hated chocolate cake! And even though she would try to share the cake with me, I always turned down her offer.
One day after she had shared the chocolate cake with the rest of the children, I asked her, “Why don’t you bring a different flavor—like orange or vanilla?”
After laughing a little, she asked me, “Why don’t you try a little piece? This cake is made with a special ingredient, and I promise that if you try it, you will like it!”
I looked around, and to my surprise, everyone seemed to be enjoying the cake. I agreed to give it a try. Can you guess what happened? I liked it! That was the very first time I had enjoyed a chocolate cake.
It wasn’t until many years later that I found out what the secret ingredient was in Sister Antonietti’s chocolate cake. My children and I visited my mother each week. On one of these visits, Mom and I were enjoying a slice of chocolate cake, and I related to her how I came to like the cake for the very first time. Then she enlightened me with the rest of the story.
“You see, Cris,” my mom said, “Victoria and her family didn’t have a lot of resources, and each week she had to choose between paying for the bus to take her and her four children to Primary or buying the ingredients to make the chocolate cake for her Primary class. She always chose the chocolate cake over the bus, and she and her children walked more than two miles [3 km], each way, regardless of the weather.”
That day I had a better appreciation for her chocolate cake. More important, I learned that the secret ingredient in Victoria’s cake was the love she had for those she served and her unselfish sacrifice in our behalf.

A few weeks later, as I was walking through the school library, my friend Brian asked me if I wanted to come to his baptism. Brian and I didn’t have any classes together that year, so it had been quite a while since I had seen or spoken with him. The previous year we had sat next to each other in a history class and had partnered up for a class project. Our project topic, randomly assigned by our teacher, was “Joseph Smith and the Mormons.” I remembered Brian had been quite interested in the topic as we did our research. However, he also liked to joke around, saying things like, “Remind me which wife number your mom is” and “There is going to be this fun party this weekend, but oh, wait—you’re Mormon, so you would be no fun to go with.” Thus, I initially dismissed his baptism invitation as another joke at the expense of my religion. He did not seem like the type ready to join a church with such “restrictive standards.”
But the next words out of his mouth stunned me as he described the whirlwind of the past few weeks of his life. He explained overhearing a fellow classmate and member of my ward invite someone to a question-and-answer activity at the Mormon church. When the person receiving the invitation declined, Brian asked our classmate if he could come along instead. Following the activity, he immediately began taking the missionary lessons. He read the Book of Mormon. He prayed about it. He knew it was true. He really was getting baptized, and if I wanted to, I was welcome to come. After all, he said, I was the one who introduced him to Joseph Smith and the Mormons.

Tiffany shares moving into an apartment with no one whom she knew. A week into school, her bishop called her to be a Relief Society president. “Needless to say I was terrified. However, something special happened during those first weeks that I’ll always remember. My roommate and I became good friends; however, I didn’t realize that until one Sunday night. I was worrying about who I was going to call into the Relief Society organization. I was sitting around the table when my roommate walked up to me and told me not to worry. She knew that I would be great at this calling and that I would touch someone’s life during my eight months as president. She lifted my spirits that night. She later left a note in my room telling me how much she appreciated me and how much faith she had in me. I know that if it hadn’t been for her last year, I would not have had my best year at school so far.”

Jon trudged through the back door. He dropped his backpack and slumped onto a chair.
“I’m not going to school anymore,” he said to Mom. “I don’t know all my ABCs. I don’t know all the numbers in the math book. I don’t know everything. It’s too hard.”
Mom sat down next to Jon and put her arm around him. “It sounds like you had a tough first day of school,” she said.
“I’m not going back,” Jon said, sniffling a little. “I am just going to stay home and help you take care of baby Ella.”
“You are a good helper,” Mom said as she reached down to pick up Ella, who had crawled over to them. “You are patient and gentle with your sister. You are good at helping wash the car. You can rinse the dishes and pick up your toys and tie your shoes. You can do hard things.”
“Those things aren’t hard to do,” Jon said.
“Do you remember when you were learning to tie your shoes?” Mom asked.
“Yes, that was hard,” Jon said. “The laces kept getting tangled in my fingers.”
“It was hard, but you just kept working at it and soon you could do it by yourself,” Mom said.
Jon shrugged. “Well, I wish I could be like Ella. She doesn’t have to do anything hard.”
“Ella is learning too,” Mom said. “Look how she likes to practice walking to you.”
Jon smiled as Ella toddled toward him and grabbed his fingers. “She’s a little wobbly,” he said.
Ella took two steps holding tightly to Jon’s hand. Then Jon wiggled his fingers out of her grip, and she sat down on the floor.
“When I let go she falls down,” Jon said.
“That’s right,” Mom said. “But she keeps getting back up. She wants to do hard things like you.”
“Did I have a hard time learning to walk?” Jon asked.
“Yes, but you didn’t give up,” Mom said. “You just kept trying, and now look at you—you can walk and run and skip and hop and climb trees.”
Jon hopped all the way around the kitchen table. Then he stopped, sat down, and put his face in his hands.
“But school is really hard,” he said. “Do you think I can learn all my letters and all my numbers and everything?”
“Yes!” Mom said. “School is a good place to learn. You’re not supposed to know everything already. By the end of the year I think you will be surprised at all the hard things you can do.”
“Really? You think I can do it?”
“What do you think?” Mom asked.
Jon grabbed his little sister’s hand and pulled her up to stand. “I think I can do hard things.”

“Once when I was a baby, I was very ill and my father was away from home. It was a Sunday evening, and our home teacher—called a block teacher then—came to our home before sacrament meeting. He had heard that I was ill, and he’d stopped to ask if there was anything that he could do. Mother said no, so he left. But after sacrament meeting he felt impressed to come back. This time Mother asked him to bless me, which he did, and in the blessing he promised that I would recover. That night Mother woke in the middle of the night and checked on me. When she did, she thought that I was dead, because my skin felt cold, but it was only because the fever had left me.”

I’m so grateful for this opportunity to be in this great priesthood meeting, to have heard such wonderful teaching and testimony. It made me think of my own experience. Almost everything that I’ve been able to accomplish as a priesthood bearer is because individuals who knew me saw things in me that I couldn’t see.
As a young father I prayed to know what contributions my children might make in the Lord’s kingdom. For the boys, I knew they could have priesthood opportunities. For the girls, I knew they would give service representing the Lord. All would be doing His work. I knew each was an individual, and therefore the Lord would have given them specific gifts for each to use in His service.
Now, I cannot tell every father and every leader of youth the details of what is best for you to do. But I can promise you that you will bless them to help them recognize the spiritual gifts with which they were born. Every person is different and has a different contribution to make. No one is destined to fail. As you seek revelation to see gifts God sees in those you lead in the priesthood—particularly the young—you will be blessed to lift their sights to the service they can perform. With your guidance, those you lead will be able to see, want, and believe they can achieve their full potential for service in God’s kingdom.
With my own children, I prayed for revelation to know how I could help each of them individually prepare for specific opportunities to serve God. And then I tried to help them visualize, hope, and work for this future. I carved a board for each son with a quotation from scripture that described his special gifts and an image that represented this gift. Beneath the picture and the legend, I carved the dates of each boy’s baptism and ordination into priesthood offices, with his height marked at the date of each milestone.
I will describe the boards I carved for each son to help him see his spiritual gifts and what he might contribute in the Lord’s work. You can be inspired to recognize, as I did, specific gifts and unique opportunities for each of the youth you love and lead.
When my oldest son became a deacon and an Eagle Scout, a picture of an eagle came to my mind as I thought of him and his future. We were living in Idaho near the base of the South Teton mountain, where we hiked together and watched the eagles soar. That picture in my mind gave me the feeling of Isaiah’s words:
“He giveth power to the faint; and to them that have no might he increaseth strength.
“Even the youths shall faint and be weary, and the young men shall utterly fall:
“But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; they shall walk, and not faint.”
In fact, with that oldest son, we had stopped hiking below the peak of the South Teton because my son grew weary. He wanted to stop. He said, “Will I always be sorry that we didn’t make it to the top? Dad, you go on—I don’t want you to be disappointed.”
I replied, “I’ll never be disappointed, and you’ll never be sorry. We’ll always remember that we climbed here together.” At the top of his height board, I carved an eagle and the inscription “On Eagles’ Wings.”
Over the years, my son soared higher as a missionary than I had imagined in my fondest hopes. In the challenges of the mission field, some of what he faced seemed to be above his reach. For the boy you lift, it may be, as it was for my son, that the Lord lifted him higher in preaching the gospel in a difficult language than I had thought possible. If you will try with any young man to sense his priesthood possibilities, I promise you the Lord will tell you as much as you need. The boy may have potential even beyond what the Lord will reveal to you. Help him aim high.
The boy you are encouraging may seem too timid to be a powerful priesthood servant. Another one of my sons was so shy as a little boy that he wouldn’t walk into a store and talk to a clerk. He was too afraid. I worried as I prayed over his priesthood future. I thought of him in the mission field—that didn’t sound promising. I was led to a scripture in Proverbs: “The wicked flee when no man pursueth: but the righteous are bold as a lion.”
I carved “Bold as a Lion” on his board, beneath an image of a large lion’s head roaring. On his mission and in the years that followed, he fulfilled the hope in my carving. My once-shy son preached the gospel with great conviction and faced dangers with bravery. He was magnified in his responsibilities to represent the Lord.
That can happen for the young man you are leading. You need to build his faith that the Lord can transform him into a servant braver than the timid boy you now see.
We know the Lord makes His servants bold. The young boy Joseph who saw God the Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, in a grove of trees was transformed into a spiritual giant. Parley P. Pratt saw that when the Prophet Joseph Smith rebuked the vile guards who held them captive. Elder Pratt recorded:
“On a sudden he arose to his feet, and spoke in a voice of thunder, or as the roaring lion, uttering, as near as I can recollect, the following words:
“‘SILENCE, ye fiends of the infernal pit. In the name of Jesus Christ I rebuke you, and command you to be still; I will not live another minute and hear such language. Cease such talk, or you or I die THIS INSTANT!’”
Of that experience, Elder Pratt wrote, “Dignity and majesty have I seen but once, as it stood in chains, at midnight, in a dungeon in an obscure village of Missouri.”
The Lord will give His righteous servants opportunities to be bold as lions when they speak in His name and as witnesses in His priesthood.
Another son, even as a boy, had a large circle of friends who often sought his company. He forged bonds easily among people. As I prayed and tried to foresee his contribution in God’s kingdom, I felt that he would have the power to draw people together in love and unity.
That led me to the account in the Doctrine and Covenants that describes the efforts of priesthood elders to build Zion in Missouri to the acclaim of angels who saw their efforts and their contributions. That required great sacrifice. The revelation in the Doctrine and Covenants says, “Nevertheless, ye are blessed, for the testimony which ye have borne is recorded in heaven for the angels to look upon; and they rejoice over you, and your sins are forgiven you.”
On my son’s height board, I carved “Angels Rejoice over You.”
This son’s great ability to gather and influence people extended well beyond his school years. With fellow priesthood holders, he organized stake activities that gave the youth in his area faith to endure and even triumph in difficult situations. As he built faith in these young men and women, he helped build outposts of Zion in the urban centers of America. In the carving, I had the angels blowing trumpets, which may not be exactly how they do it, but it was easier to carve a trumpet than a shout.
Angels rejoice as priesthood leaders across the world build Zion in their wards, stakes, and missions. And they will rejoice over the young men and women you help to build Zion wherever they are and in whatever circumstances they may be. Zion is the result of people bound by covenant and love. I invite you to help your youth to join.
For one of my sons, I was prompted to carve a sun—that is, the sun in the sky—and the words from the Savior’s Intercessory Prayer: “This Is Life Eternal.” Near the end of His mortal ministry, the Savior prayed to His Father:
“And this is life eternal, that they might know thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom thou hast sent.
“I have glorified thee on the earth: I have finished the work which thou gavest me to do.”
My son has given priesthood service across three continents but most importantly in his home and within his family. He has built his life around them. He works close to home, and he often returns to join his wife and younger children at the lunch hour. His family lives very near Sister Eyring and me. They care for our yard as though it were their own. This son is living not only to qualify for eternal life but also to live surrounded eternally by grateful family members whom he is gathering around him.
Life eternal is to live in unity, in families, with the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. Eternal life is only possible through the keys of the priesthood of God, which were restored through the Prophet Joseph Smith. Holding that eternal goal before the youth you lead is as great a gift as you could give them. You will do it primarily by example in your own family. Those you lead may not have a family in the Church, but I challenge you to help them feel and want the love of family on both sides of the veil.
The height boards I have described are only one way to help young people glimpse the grandeur God sees in them and their futures and the unique service He has prepared them to give. He will help you see how to do it for your children or for other youth you lead. But as you prayerfully seek to glimpse this future for yourself and to communicate it to the young person one on one, you will come to know that God loves each of His children as individuals and sees great and unique gifts in each of them.
As a father I was blessed to see great futures in God’s kingdom for my daughters as well as my sons. When I prayerfully sought guidance, I was shown a way to help my daughters recognize the trust God had placed in them as servants who could build His kingdom.
When my daughters were young, I saw that we could help others feel the love of those beyond the veil, throughout the generations. I knew that love comes from service and inspires hope of life eternal.
So we carved breadboards on which we placed a loaf of homemade bread and went together to deliver our offering to widows, widowers, and families. The legend I carved on each of those breadboards read, “J’aime et J’espere,” French for “I love and I hope.” The evidence of their unique spiritual gifts appeared not just on the boards I carved but more clearly as we distributed them to those who needed, in the midst of pain or loss, reassurance that the love of the Savior and His Atonement could produce a perfect brightness of hope. This is life eternal for my daughters and for each of us.
Now, you may be thinking, “Brother Eyring, are you saying that I have to learn how to carve?” The answer is no. I learned to carve only with the help of a kind and gifted mentor, then-Elder Boyd K. Packer. What little skill I achieved can be attributed to his great gift as a carver and his patience as a teacher. Only heaven can provide such a mentor as President Packer. But there are many ways you can shape children’s hearts without carving wooden boards or height boards for them.

A large framed picture of the Taipei Taiwan Temple hangs on an alcove wall inside Taiwanese Church member Chang Chih Hsun’s hydraulic-machine business. Symbolizing his new faith, the temple’s spires point heavenward. The picture replaces a shrine where employees once burned incense.
“Most business places in Taiwan have a shrine where employees worship a god of prosperity,” explains Brother Chang. “After I joined the Church, I hung a picture of the temple where the shrine used to be.”
His example is characteristic of the faith and courage Church members in Taiwan demonstrate as they strive to live the gospel. Brother Chang, who serves as stake mission president in the Taichung Taiwan Stake, recently offered a cash bonus to any of his employees who would give up smoking, as he did before his baptism in 1995. So far, no one has taken him up on the offer.
“Before my husband joined the Church, he did not know what love was,” says Brother Chang’s wife, Chang Wu Lan Hua, who was baptized 10 years before her husband. “Now he knows how to love me and the family.” The Changs were sealed in the Taipei Taiwan Temple in 1996.