Gospel Story Finder

Crocodiles, sharks, and sea snakes are strange things to mention as memories from childhood. But when Domingos Liao was growing up in Darwin, Australia, they were an everyday part of his life.
Domingos and his friends would ride their bikes to the mouth of Rapid Creek, where fresh water and sea water mix. They would wade across, dodging jellyfish adrift in the current, watching for sharks that wandered in from the sea, crocodiles buried in the mud, poisonous sea snakes, and stonefish with their venomous spikes. Despite the perils, they crossed the river again and again, lured by what they knew was on the other side.
“It was a land of promise,” Domingos remembers. “We could catch buckets of fish. The beaches were untouched and clean. There were green fields where nobody had been before.”
Today a bridge crosses the river. The open spaces have become a park, crisscrossed with jogging paths and frequented by university students. Still, Domingos likes to visit the river, to remember and to think.
His young life is full of memories. They begin on the island of Timor, several hundred miles north of Australia. His Chinese parents were working in the Portuguese colony there (Domingos is a Portuguese name) when it was invaded by Indonesia. The men fled to Portugal. Women and children escaped to Darwin. “My mother, myself, and some other relatives came on one of two boats that got away,” Domingos explains. “We were lucky to survive.”
Domingos’s father later joined them in Darwin. Thanks to hard work, the family prospered. Two more boys were born. Domingos learned English. He discovered sports—cricket, karate, tennis, soccer, handball, volleyball. He excelled in school, in music, and in art. He worked in his uncle’s restaurant.
One day his aunt, a newly baptized Latter-day Saint, introduced his family to the missionaries. Soon the Liaos joined the Church. “We were active for about a year,” Domingos says. “Then my parents stopped going. I kept on for a while; then I started to play cricket on Sundays. But my conscience kept nagging me that I should be in church.”
It was at this time that Domingos’s grandfather, who lived in Melbourne, suffered a stroke. He wasn’t expected to live. Domingos, 16, felt compelled to pray. “I told Heavenly Father if he would give Grandfather a chance, I would devote my life to the Church. But I didn’t just wait for him to recover. When we returned home, I returned to church. I’ve been taught that if you say something, you should do it.”
Grandpa did get better. And by the time he did, Domingos was going to church, not just to keep a promise, but because he truly believed it was the right thing to do.
By the time Domingos turned 18, his church activity began to irritate his father.
“Dad thought seminary was getting in the way of my schoolwork, so he banned me from getting up early to go. I wanted to honor him, so I quit going. But I still did seminary at home. Then he didn’t want that either, so I put that away.
“Then he’d find me reading my scriptures and think I hadn’t done my homework, even though my grades were good. One time he grabbed my scriptures and threw them in the rubbish bin. I had spent the last two years reading them and marking them, and they are really precious to me. The next morning I was able to get them back, but I had to give them to the branch president for safekeeping.”
It wasn’t long before Domingos’s father banned him from everything related to church activity—scripture study, Mutual activities, home teaching, and, finally, Sunday meetings.
“Even though I was 18 and legally my own person, my first reaction was to obey. Really. You want to obey your father because he is your father. But I knew I couldn’t break my promise to Heavenly Father by not attending church.
“Dad said if I went that Sunday, not to worry about coming back. So I packed my bags. My prayers were very sincere that night. The next morning, when he saw me dressed up, he was furious.”
Domingos left, but his parents came to the chapel and found him. They reached an agreement that he could attend every other Sunday. “I wasn’t happy with it, but it was better than nothing,” he says.
Then the next time he got ready for church, his father again told him if he went, never to return. “The second time was just as bad, probably worse. I’d been waiting to receive my patriarchal blessing, and the patriarch, who can only come about once a year, had come from far away. I got there for the appointment, but my father came at the same time. I had to go home and missed my blessing.”
The third time that his father confronted him in a similar way, Domingos left home and moved in with his grandmother. “Eventually my mum came and said my father was all right and he wouldn’t get angry again. So I came back.”
But in the meantime, he’d developed a desire to serve a full-time mission. “I prayed, and the answer was very certain that I should go when I turned 19. From then on my mind was made up—I just needed to prepare.”
If he would complete his first year of study, the University of the Northern Territory would agree to give him two years off to serve. But he’d have to carry an even harder class load for a few months before he left. “My coordinator actually encouraged me and said the mission would be a good experience,” Domingos says. He continued something he’d done since high school—telling fellow students about the steps of repentance and the plan of salvation.
He intensified his scripture study, memorizing many passages. “The scriptures brought me peace,” he says. “They reminded me of the things I should be doing.”
He joined the full-time missionaries when they gave discussions. He often bore his testimony. He kept a journal, writing in it every day. His Church leaders interviewed him, found him worthy, and sent in his missionary application.
Then one day, this time when he returned from church, his father kicked him out for the fourth time. “It was pretty final,” Domingos says. “He was not pleased with my plans for a mission and said if I went I wouldn’t be his son anymore.”
His branch president, Michael Kuhn, invited Domingos to live in his home until the mission call arrived.
Finished with his schoolwork, Domingos filled his days with prayer, with uplifting music, with Church activities, missionary work, and study of the scriptures. Sometimes he would read the scriptures all day long.
And then the letter came: “You are called to labor in the Hong Kong Mission.” Domingos returned home for a short time to try to make peace with his family before he left. “Mainly because they knew they could not change my mind, they yielded,” he says. Before he left, the family went out to dinner together and took lots of farewell photos.
Letters written from the Missionary Training Center and from the mission field reflect the joy that quickly followed:
—“At the airport I was able to meet one of the missionaries who taught me, Elder (Hoyt) Skabelund, and his wife and baby and parents. I am slowly learning Cantonese. The people in the MTC are wonderful.”
—“I’ve received two letters from my mother. Everything is going well at home. They are being blessed greatly and they know it! My family and relatives are now happy that I am serving a mission. Surely God is a God of miracles!”
—“I have done my first street display, talking to everyone who goes by. I have taught the six discussions in Cantonese.”
—“Now I have been transferred to Macau, a Portuguese colony neighbouring the coast of China. I am pretty lucky because not many missionaries get to serve here. We are teaching an investigator, and he will be baptized. I know that God called me here to do a special work.”
—“Every inconvenience was worth overcoming to read the Book of Mormon. Every insult was worth swallowing to keep the Sabbath holy. Every moment was worth waiting for to kneel in private prayer, every pain worth enduring to attend church. Every blow was worth taking, every torment worth suffering, every tear worth shedding to come on this mission.”
Today in Macau, Elder Liao looks out the window of his missionary apartment and sees a promised land.
“When I decided to go on a mission,” he says, “I knew there would be strong currents against me. I didn’t really know the dangers lurking in the water, what might try to sting me or to swallow me up. I was only thinking about making it. Now here I am, and I know that it’s worth it.”
And he’s eager to build a bridge to help others, including his family, to cross over to the other side.

One day when I was in the fifth grade, my teacher called my name. “Sheldon,” she said, “could you please come out into the hall with me?”
Everyone looked at me as I nervously followed her out of the classroom. My mind was racing as I tried to figure out what I might have done wrong. I couldn’t think of anything, but I was sure that having a teacher call you out into the hallway was rarely a good thing.
My teacher, Mrs. Ruth Rampton, explained that she was going to teach a lesson that afternoon on trees. “I need a book to teach this lesson,” she explained, “and I’ve left it home. Could you please go and get it for me?” I sighed a sigh of relief. She then described the book to me, handed me the key to her home, and said, “This will let you in the front door. I left the book in either the kitchen or the living room. After you find it, be sure to lock the door behind you.”
As I walked the quarter mile to Mrs. Rampton’s home, I held the key in my hand. It represented a great trust my teacher had placed in me. She had chosen me as someone she could depend upon. That trust she placed in me felt good. I decided that I liked being trusted.
Being trusted makes us feel happy, but we must earn that trust. It is very special. My brother Bill was six years older than I was. He was my ideal, I wanted to be just like him. I would follow him and his friends around and, although I am sure he sometimes thought of me as a little pest, he was good to me and allowed me to tag along.
When Bill was in high school, he had saved enough money to buy himself a car. I remember well the day he drove his very first car home. It was his pride and joy, and he spent many hours shining it up. One day as we were coming home, he stopped at the bottom of the lane that led to our barn and asked me if I would like to drive his car up the lane, which was permissible in those days on a farm. Of course I would! I couldn’t believe that he would trust me to drive his new car—I knew how much it meant to him.
I ran around and jumped into the driver’s seat. He showed me where the key was, how to shift gears, and where the gas pedal was. My foot just barely reached the pedal. I knew everything I needed to know to start the car, and off we went. It was great! It was only when we reached the top of the hill that I realized he hadn’t shown me how to stop the car, and we ran right into the side of the barn. I felt so bad! I was sure that Bill would never trust me to drive his car again. However, a few days later he asked me again if I wanted to drive his car up the lane—but this time he showed me where the brake was! I was so grateful that he understood that running into the barn had just been an accident and that it hadn’t destroyed his trust in me.
Growing up for me was much different than it is for many of you. Oh, I had good parents as you have, who taught me and set a good example for me. I went to Primary as you do. I learned the Articles of Faith, we sang many of the same Primary songs you sing, and I learned about Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ, just as you do today. But in many ways my life was different from yours. I lived in a small town in Utah where my pioneer grandparents had settled many years before. I always lived in the same home. All my friends—everyone I knew—were members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. My world was very small, and my life was very simple: no television, no video games; I had never even heard of a computer!
Today you Primary children live in over 160 countries throughout the world. Some of your families are newly converted to the Church. Some of you move often and have lived in many homes. Some of you are the only members of the Church in your neighborhood or even in your school. You have access to the entire world through the television and the Internet. It is a wonderful time to be alive! You have many more opportunities than I had as a child. Along with the opportunities come challenges. You have so many more choices than I ever had. There will be those who will tempt you to do things that you know aren’t right.
It is not only important to be trustworthy, but it is important to know whom you can trust. You will learn many things and will need to make choices that will sometimes be difficult. You need to place your trust in those who will lead you to do what is right:
You can trust in Heavenly Father. You are His children. He hears and answers your prayers. He loves you and will always be there for you.
You can trust Jesus Christ. His teachings tell us how we should live our lives so that we can return and live with Him again.
You can trust the Holy Ghost. If you listen to His promptings, He will lead you and guide you and help you make right choices.
You can trust your parents. They love you and want only the best for you.
You can trust our prophet. There is always safety in following the prophet.
You can put your trust in the scriptures. They are true and will give you direction in your life as you read them every day.
You can trust your teachers and leaders. They love you and are teaching you the things that Heavenly Father wants you to do.
We must always be trustworthy. We must learn whom we can trust to help us make right choices. Perhaps the most important thing of all is that we must let Heavenly Father know that He can trust us—that He can trust us to do the things that are right, that He can trust us to keep His commandments to be loving and kind and obedient and honest and to set a good example for all those around us. Heavenly Father wants us to be trustworthy, and when we are, we will receive the wonderful blessings of peace and joy and happiness that He has to share with all His children.

A number of families in the Richards Bay Ward, Durban South Africa Stake, are enjoying the fruits—or vegetables—of a year-old garden-plot program that began with the help of the full-time missionaries and the Church Welfare Department.
Many of the Church members in the townships surrounding the Richards Bay meetinghouse struggle financially because of high unemployment rates or low wages.
Elder Jack Davidson, a senior missionary serving in the area in 2006, saw a great opportunity in an unused portion of the Church property surrounding the Esikhawini meetinghouse and the excellent gardening skills of a few of the members. Vegetables could be grown year-round, and surplus produce could be readily sold to members of the community.
The Church had purchased property on which three small temporary Church buildings (a chapel and two sets of small classrooms) were built to serve the members’ needs at the time. These buildings, lawns, flowers, and parking occupied only about one-third of the property. The rest, about 45 meters wide by 80 meters long, was in tall, rough grass and weeds. This property was to be used for more permanent buildings as warranted in the future. A security fence surrounds the property.
It took almost six months for Elder Davidson to accumulate the resources to buy the tools, irrigation supplies, and other equipment and to build a secure building to house tools and supplies. The funds came from LDS Humanitarian Services and generous donations from family and friends.
The secure storage building was essential not only for security but for effective use of the site by members. Only a few members in Esikhawini have cars. If they were to try to garden without this building, they would have to carry heavy tools to and from their homes. Anything left on the site could be stolen. Also, some of the new gardeners would not be able to afford tools. With the building in place, members can check the hand and power tools in and out. Part of the overall ward gardening plan is for members and missionaries to take items from this set of tools and equipment to other townships in the ward to help members set up gardens. All the tools and power equipment are portable in a pickup truck.
Beginning in March 2006, more than a dozen full-time missionaries in the Richards Bay Zone of the South Africa Durban Mission set to work to help create the family garden plots and secure building and composting facilities.
Richards Bay Ward bishop Ted Baldwin laid the blocks for the secure building, and others helped as needed with this and the cement work.
Elder Davidson and the rest of the elders focused primarily on clearing the land so the plots could be laid out, the cultivating could get underway in earnest, the irrigation system could be installed, and the gravel could be cleaned out. Youth often turned out to help and to learn to use the equipment. The plots were to be 6 meters by 10 meters with one-meter paths all around.
As each plot was finished and ready for planting, families from the Esikhawini township were ready to take over and plant winter vegetables. Some of the families had already raised seedlings at home in anticipation of the gardens.
The number of individual plots had finally reached the set goal of 30 in early June. Throughout the process, the community took notice of the activities. On most days a few people would stop and ask the members or missionaries questions. Several of these conversations led to missionary lessons.

An example would be these next words that were spoken recently by the husband of just a little over one year of Jennifer Cracroft Lewis. Her funeral was held here in Provo several months ago. Though grieving over his wife of such a short season, Brother Lewis spoke at the funeral with composure as well as courage:
I have a testimony of this gospel. I know that the ordinances in the temple that I have partaken of with Jennifer are eternal. This gospel is so great that I will be with her again and I will hold her flesh again as she is resurrected. I have a testimony of this Church, and Jennifer has a testimony of this Church which she bore with me, that Jesus is the Christ. . . . He was resurrected as we will be.
He continued, saying,
One of our favorite songs, which we will now sing as a congregation, was “Called to Serve.” I believe, as the scriptures have pointed out, that Jennifer, one of the best missionaries I ever had a chance to witness, is called to further service. She has been called home to preach the gospel to those who have not yet received it. I ask that this song be sung with meaning.
Then, as invited, we all sang “Called to Serve.” Weeping and singing were several of Jennifer’s missionary companions and her mission president and his wife. I always love to hear that song sung, but I’ve never heard it sung like that before! Not far from here, on a new headstone, are these words: “Jennifer Cracroft Lewis, September 13, 1968–January 26, 1994, Called to Serve.”
This is emblematic of the strength I see and feel in so many of you. God’s work here does proceed—here and on the other side of the veil, where those like Jennifer continue to “build up” the kingdom.

The heat rose in dizzy waves before us as we sped along the freeway. “It must be very hot outside,” I thought as the air conditioner hissed away in our station wagon. I had heard how difficult it was for the first settlers to even enter the St. George Valley in southern Utah, let alone survive there. This was almost impossible to comprehend as we drove easily along through rocky volcanic barriers on a ribbon of asphalt.
We rapidly ascended into the Virgin River Valley, and the little community of St. George stood out against the scorching sandstone cliffs.
A barrage of bright signs beckoned us with “Enter,” “Vacancy,” “Color TV,” “Sauna,” “Pool.” When I rolled down the window, a blast of hot air reminded me that I would soon be refreshed by a swim in the blue waters of a motel pool.
The heat from the hot pavement penetrated the soles of my gym shoes as we walked the few blocks from our motel to the old St. George Tabernacle.
Hewn from native red-orange sandstone, the thick rock walls showed countless small markings from the pioneer stonecutters’ hand-held instruments. Directly under the stately spire was a tablet with the inscription “Commenced 1863—Completed 1871.”
While my little sisters played under a shade tree on the Tabernacle grounds, I walked around the building for closer inspection. The doors were locked, but by shading my eyes, I could just make out through the old window panes the beautiful circular wooden staircases.
My mother pointed out some of the old buildings surrounding the tabernacle and told us that these were at one time part of the old Dixie Academy—later Dixie Junior College. The new Dixie College campus is now located clear across town.
As I peered into one of the old vacant classrooms where biology had once been taught, I could hear my young sister Terressa protesting crossly, “I’m tired and bored, and I don’t want to see any more old buildings.”
A morning of tennis and sight-seeing left me weary. I lay by the pool, and the perspiration trickled freely. It was then I realized I was more than just a sun-warmed visitor. I felt at home here, as if somehow I belonged. My passing feet had disturbed shadows in the sand—reminders of a life-style long since gone. And yet it was as if I had discovered a golden chain in those sands—a chain of people linked together by time and love—my family.

I had dreamt of serving in Italy. Missions are about serving people, not about serving in areas. But I prayed that I would serve in Italy, specifically the city of Gaeta, where my father’s ancestors had lived since the 10th century.
After serving in Rome and Sicily, I received the glad news that I was being transferred to the area that included Gaeta. Before that transfer in early 2023, my companion and great friend Elder Jack Beck gave me a gift I will never forget. Elder Beck is a talented artist. From a small picture I had of my father, Elder Beck drew a beautiful portrait of him.
I looked at that portrait every day during personal study. It gave me strength to share the gospel.
As soon as I was assigned to Gaeta, I sought out my relatives. When I showed my father’s older brother the portrait, he wept. He hadn’t seen his brother for years and had no pictures of him.
I taught my uncle that one day he would see his brother again—not in a portrait but in person. I taught him that through the gospel, he could live with his brother again in love and peace with the Savior.
I saw great miracles in Gaeta as I shared with family members the good news that because Jesus Christ overcame death, loss of loved ones is only temporary (see Mosiah 16:8). I testify that through His atoning sacrifice, the Savior has made it possible for our families to be gathered eternally.

My father, Evan Stevenson, was called to serve in California and Arizona in 1947. Death Valley in California was one of his areas. Within days of his arrival to his mission, his mission president announced that, from that time forward, all ­missionaries would proselyte without purse or scrip. This meant that they moved out of their apartments and sent virtually everything home. They could spend no money. They were instructed to receive meals and lodging from the people they were teaching. At the end of two or three days, they were to find new investigators or contacts both to teach and from whom they might receive meals and lodging. Can you even imagine this? Again, we express our gratitude for the faith and consecration of missionaries who preceded us.

Happy music played as Jaechan and Mom got up from their seats in the school gym. Bunches of bright balloons floated along the walls as the other kids and their parents talked excitedly.
Tomorrow was the first day of school, and in South Korea new students always went to a special program to celebrate the start of school. As he listened to the songs and speakers, Jaechan felt excited. He couldn’t wait to start learning!
After the program, Mom and Jaechan walked down the school halls. When they got to his classroom, Jaechan met his teacher. She seemed really nice.
Later Mom and Jaechan walked outside into the warm spring sunshine. Even the sun and the sky seemed happy for school to start.
The next morning, Mom walked Jaechan to the school gate. She hugged him tight. “I love you,” she said. “Have a good first day.”
“I will,” Jaechan said. “I love you too!” He waved goodbye and turned to walk to his classroom, just like they had practiced.
As Jaechan walked down the hall, he started to worry. Is this the right way? Jaechan stopped and looked around. He turned and walked down a different hall. Soon everything felt all mixed up.
Jaechan took a deep breath. He knew he had been in this hallway yesterday. He kept walking and went through a big set of doors.
But Jaechan didn’t see his classroom, with desks and friends and his nice teacher. He saw the gym. And now there were no people or balloons. It was just a big empty room.
Tears filled Jaechan’s eyes. He tried not to panic, but he was scared. He didn’t know how to find his classroom. He knelt to pray. “Heavenly Father, I’m lost. Please help Mom to come find me and help me get to my class.”
Jaechan stood up. He took a few more deep breaths. Then he waited.
A few minutes later, Mom came around the corner. “Jaechan!” She ran to him and held him close. “What happened?”
Jaechan burst into tears. He was so relieved to see Mom. “I couldn’t find my classroom,” he said. “So I prayed that you would come find me.”
Mom wiped the tears from his cheeks. “I’m glad you said a prayer,” she said. “I was on my way home. Then I had a feeling that I should turn around and make sure you found your classroom. When you weren’t there, I looked all over. Then I found you!”
Jaechan held Mom’s hand as they walked down the right hallway. Jaechan had stopped crying. He knew Heavenly Father had answered his prayer, and everything was OK. When they got to the classroom, he heard the other kids inside laughing and having fun.
“Jaechan! We are so happy to see you,” Jaechan’s teacher said as he walked in.
“Thanks,” Jaechan said with a small bow. He gave Mom one more hug. It was going to be a good first day of school after all.

Photograph courtesy of Dane W.
In high school, I struggled with a lot of anxiety and depression, so I ended up dropping out. For about five years, I distanced myself from the Church and from family. About that time, I also started using drugs and alcohol to cope with how alone I felt.
It was a pretty dark time.
At one point, my mom learned about BYU–Pathway Worldwide and started encouraging me to join. An education was something I had always wanted, but my previous experiences with school had crushed my confidence.
I dismissed my mom’s offer at first, but within that week, I looked up BYU–Pathway online. It seemed like a pretty good fit for me. Despite my doubts, I decided to go for it. At the same time, I started working to align my life with the gospel again.
When I first started my courses, I felt awkward and out of place. I hadn’t been active in the Church for years, but the people in my classes were from all walks of life and showed me I didn’t need to be perfect to be there.
Soon I began to feel more of the Spirit and like things were heading in the right direction. Before, I had felt like I was failing at everything in life. But for the first time in a long time, I felt like I was progressing both academically and spiritually.
Feeling the Spirit through my education helped me get back in tune with my testimony and brought clarity to my mind. Because I knew Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ were with me, I had the confidence to do things I didn’t think I could do before when I was surrounded by darkness. After everything I had been through, I’d never felt that getting an education was within my reach—BYU–Pathway changed that for me and helped me have faith in myself and in Jesus Christ again.
Dane W., Utah, USA

Janet and Pete had grown up next door to each other, had been great friends, and had eventually begun dating. Now that Pete had been back from his mission for several months, we were expecting to see an engagement ring soon. When I heard they had split up, I was shocked. They had a great deal in common and had always seemed so happy around one another. They had been so sure.
“We had an argument,” Jan explained, “and he won’t apologize. We haven’t spoken for weeks.” Then she added, “I’m certainly not going to apologize. It’s not my fault. He’s the one who said some mean things.”
“Had you ever argued before?” I asked.
“No, never. That’s just the problem. I have no idea how to handle this. Guess it’s over.” When I asked her what they had argued about, she couldn’t remember, but she could remember clearly the harsh words that had been exchanged. In fact, she had memorized them. Anger had made each of them stubborn, and Pete and Jan were both certain each was the injured party and the victim of injustice.
I remembered hearing once about the “temporary apology,” and I suggested it to her.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“Even if you don’t think you’re the one at fault …”
“I know I’m not!”
“Even if you know you’re not at fault, apologize for what you are sorry about. You could tell Pete you’re sorry you haven’t been on good terms. Then at least the ice will be broken.”
“He’s the one who should do that,” she said. But I could tell she was thinking about it.
When I talked to Janet again, she said she had tried the “temporary apology” and that she and Pete had started speaking again. “In fact, Pete told me he was really sorry and had been wanting to apologize for quite a while but just didn’t know how. He said he was glad I had had the courage. Thanks for the tip on the ‘temporary apology,’” Janet said. “It did take some pride-swallowing, but it was worth it. I can’t believe we almost broke up over such a stupid word exchange.”

Let me share a personal experience that strengthened my testimony of learning by faith in my studies through the spirit. A little over 25 years ago I was enrolled in an intern doctoral program with BYU [in] Provo, and as I was preparing for the comprehensive written and oral examinations, which were to be held over a two-day period, I was very nervous. I certainly needed the help of the Lord and the Spirit to help me study all of the materials that we had covered over the course of the previous two years. I remember arising early many mornings to study with one of my classmates, Paul Freebairn. At that time I was also serving as a campus bishop and did not have that much time to devote to my studies. I remember making a promise with the Lord that if I did my best to magnify my calling as a bishop, then He would bless me with the Spirit so that I might be able to study, concentrate and pass the comprehensive exams. On the morning of the first day of exams, we were given 10 essay questions and we were to answer eight of them during the first four hours. As I read through them, I recognized that I had studied the materials that could answer seven of them. Now, when it came to the eighth question, I was not very confident about it but I managed to answer it partially. We were given another 10 questions in the afternoon and almost the same thing happened where I could answer at least eight of the questions. As a result, I successfully passed the exam and received a doctoral degree in educational administration.

Every time I remember this experience I know that it was certainly through the power of the Holy Ghost that I was taught and that things were brought to my remembrance by that same power.

In October 2004 the Young Women and Young Men organizations in our stake had an event called “Modesty in Dress,” based on the pamphlet For the Strength of Youth. It consisted of a fashion show divided into three parts: casual wear, sportswear, and formal wear. We asked each of the young men and young women to select three changes of clothing, and we helped them choose which clothes were suitable. We invited their leaders and parents to this activity. We emphasized scriptural verses about the body being a temple (see 1 Cor. 6:19–20) and the counsel of our prophet, President Gordon B. Hinckley. The activity had a positive effect; the young people in our stake are more concerned now about grooming and dressing in an appropriate way.
Teresa de Jesús Contreras de Ramírez, Mexico

President Nelson: When my grandfather A. C. Nelson was a young husband and father, just 27 years old, his father died. About three months later, his deceased father, my great-grandfather, came to visit him. The date of that visit was the night of April 6, 1891. Grandfather Nelson was so impressed by his father’s visit that he wrote the experience in his journal for his family and friends.
“I was in bed when Father entered the room,” Grandfather Nelson wrote. “He came and sat on the side of the bed. He said, ‘Well, my son, as I had a few spare minutes, I received permission to come and see you for a few minutes. I am feeling well, my son, and have had very much to do since I died.’”
When Grandfather Nelson asked him what he had been doing, his father answered that he had been busy teaching the gospel of Jesus Christ in the spirit world.
“You cannot imagine, my son, how many spirits there are in the spirit world who have not yet received the gospel,” he said. “But many are receiving it, and a great work is being accomplished. Many are anxiously looking forth to their friends who are still living to administer for them in the temples.”
Grandfather Nelson told his father, “We intend to go to the temple and get sealed to you, Father, as soon as we can.”
My great-grandfather responded: “That, my son, is partly what I came to see you about. We will yet make a family and live throughout eternity.”
Then Grandfather Nelson asked, “Father, is the gospel as taught by this Church true?”
His father pointed to a picture of the First Presidency hanging on the wall of the bedroom.
“My son, just as sure as you see that picture, just as sure is the gospel true. The gospel of Jesus Christ has within it the power of saving every man and woman who will obey it, and in no other way can they ever obtain salvation in the kingdom of God. My son, always cling to the gospel. Be humble, be prayerful, be submissive to the priesthood, be true, be faithful to the covenants you have made with God. Never do anything that would displease God. Oh, what a blessing is the gospel. My son, be a good boy.”
A. C. Nelson, grandfather of President Russell M. Nelson.
Illustrations by Bjorn Thorkelson
Sister Nelson: I just love all those B’s. “Be humble, be prayerful, be submissive to the priesthood, be true, be faithful to the covenants you have made with God. … Be a good boy.” Six B’s brought to you by your departed great-grandfather. He certainly sounds a lot like President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008) with his six B’s.1
President Nelson: He does, doesn’t he? It’s so precious to me that my grandfather would leave that record for us. We learned that his father’s children were subsequently sealed to him. So the reason for his visit was accomplished.
President Nelson: A name of great significance in the scriptures explains why the family is so important. That name is Elijah. EL-I-JAH in Hebrew literally means “Jehovah is my God.”2 Think of it! Embedded in Elijah’s name are the Hebrew terms for both the Father and the Son.
Sister Nelson: Elijah was the last prophet to hold the sealing power of the Melchizedek Priesthood before the time of Jesus Christ. Elijah’s mission was to turn the hearts of the children to the fathers, and the hearts of the fathers to the children, so they could be sealed, or else “the whole earth would be utterly wasted at his coming” (Joseph Smith—History 1:39; emphasis added). That’s pretty strong language.
President Nelson: I like to think about the spirit of Elijah as “a manifestation of the Holy Ghost bearing witness of the divine nature of the family.”3 According to the Bible Dictionary, “The power of Elijah is the sealing power of the priesthood by which things bound or loosed on earth are bound or loosed in heaven” (“Elijah”).
Sister Nelson: So when we say that the spirit of Elijah is moving upon people to encourage them to seek after their kindred dead, we’re really saying that the Holy Ghost is prompting us to do those things that will allow families to be sealed eternally.
President Nelson: It’s wonderful to turn the hearts of the children to their fathers by telling important family history stories in ways that are accessible and memorable. Perhaps having family history documents, stories, photos, and memorabilia always before our eyes can strengthen our testimonies (see Mosiah 1:5). As we place them on our walls, our tables, our computers, our iPads, and even our cell phones, maybe we will be prompted to make better choices and draw closer to the Lord and to our families.
If we leave it at that level, however, we really haven’t done enough. As Church members, our interest in family history work has been motivated by instruction from the Lord that our ancestors cannot be made perfect without us and that we cannot be made perfect without them (see D&C 128:15). That means we are to be linked together by the sacred sealing ordinances of the temple. We are to be strong links in the chain from our ancestors to our posterity. If our collections of stories and photos should ever become an end point in themselves—if we know who our ancestors are and know marvelous things about them, but we leave them stranded on the other side without their ordinances—such diversion will not be of any help to our ancestors who remain confined in spirit prison.
Sister Nelson: Preserving ancestral stories is important, but it should never be at the expense of completing our ancestors’ ordinance work. We need to make time for our ancestors’ ordinance-qualifying information.
President Nelson: And that means sacrificing time we normally spend on other activities. We need to be spending more time in the temple and in doing family history research, which includes indexing.
Sister Nelson: Sacrifice does indeed bring forth the blessings of heaven.4 I have been blessed to find many ancestors who I feel confident were ready to make covenants with God and to receive their essential ordinances. Over time, I realized that if I was working on an overwhelming project and I was out of time, energy, and ideas, if I would make a sacrifice of time by finding the ordinance-qualifying information for some ancestors or by going to the temple to be proxy for them, the heavens opened and the energy and ideas started flowing. Somehow I had enough time to meet my deadline. It was totally impossible, but it would happen every time. Temple and family history work bring me a joy that is truly not of this world.
President Nelson: If I were a missionary today, my two best friends in the ward or branch where I served would be the ward mission leader and the ward temple and family history consultant.
People have an inborn desire to know something about their ancestors. That becomes a natural opportunity for our missionaries. As missionaries learn to love the people they teach, they will naturally ask about their families. “Are your parents living? Are your grandparents living? Do you know your four grandparents?” Conversations flow easily when those who are drawn to speak with the missionaries are invited to talk about the people they love.
At that point it can be natural for the missionaries, including member missionaries, to ask, “Do you know any of your great-grandparents? Do you know their names?” The probability is that investigators will not know the names of all eight of their great-grandparents.
Then the missionaries can make this suggestion: “I have a friend at our church who can help. If we could find the names of some or maybe even all of your great-grandparents, would it be worth a couple of hours of your time to find out who your great-grandparents are?” That friend at church, of course, is the ward temple and family history consultant.
Sister Nelson: I think it can be comforting for missionaries to know that they are never alone when they are finding and teaching those who are receptive to the truths of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. President George Q. Cannon (1827–1901), who served as a counselor to four Presidents of the Church, taught that in these latter days, those who are joining the Church are joining precisely because their ancestors have been praying for one of their posterity to join the Church so that they, the ancestors, can receive their essential ordinances by proxy.5
President Nelson: Exaltation is a family affair. Only through the saving ordinances of the gospel of Jesus Christ can families be exalted. The ultimate end for which we strive is that we become happy as a family—endowed, sealed, and prepared for eternal life in the presence of God.
Sister Nelson: Each Church class we attend, each time we serve, each covenant we make with God, each priesthood ordinance we receive, everything we do in the Church leads us to the holy temple, the house of the Lord. There is so much power available for a couple and for their children through the sealing ordinance when they keep their covenants.
President Nelson: Every day we choose where we want to live eternally by how we think, feel, speak, and act. Our Heavenly Father has declared that His work and His glory is to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of His children (see Moses 1:39). But He wants us to choose to return to Him. He will not force us in any way. The precision with which we keep our covenants shows Him just how much we want to return to live with Him. Each day brings us closer to or farther from our glorious possibility of eternal life. We each need to keep our covenants, repent daily, and seek to be more like our Savior. Then and only then can families be together forever.
Sister Nelson: It is my testimony that however fabulous your life is right now, or however discouraging and heartbreaking it may be, your involvement in temple and family history work will make it better. What do you need in your life right now? More love? More joy? More self-mastery? More peace? More meaningful moments? More of a feeling that you’re making a difference? More fun? More answers to your soul-searching questions? More heart-to-heart connections with others? More understanding of what you are reading in the scriptures? More ability to love and to forgive? More ability to pray with power? More inspiration and creative ideas for your work and other projects? More time for what really matters?
I entreat you to make a sacrifice of time to the Lord by increasing the time you spend doing temple and family history work, and then watch what happens. It is my testimony that when we show the Lord we are serious about helping our ancestors, the heavens will open and we will receive all that we need.
President Nelson: We can be inspired all day long about temple and family history experiences others have had. But we must do something to actually experience the joy ourselves. I would like to extend a challenge to each one of us so that the wonderful feeling of this work can continue and even increase. I invite you to prayerfully consider what kind of sacrifice—preferably a sacrifice of time—you can make in order to do more temple and family history work this year.
We are engaged in the work of Almighty God. He lives. Jesus is the Christ. This is His Church. We are His covenant children. He can count on us.

As the flight attendants began their usual safety instructions, I checked to make sure my son, Max, was secured in his infant carrier in the seat next to me on the airplane.
I reflected on the day Max was born a few months prior. When I held him for the first time in the hospital, I was determined to do everything in my power to keep him safe, teach him how to find happiness, and provide everything he would need to successfully navigate this life.
I’m sure most fathers experience these feelings. Mine were particularly poignant as I looked into his eyes and remembered the struggle of infertility that preceded his birth, with the physical, emotional, and spiritual toll that it took on me and my wife.
The flight attendants had just explained the way to use the overhead oxygen masks during an emergency, and when one of them reached our row, she had a look of absolute seriousness. She pointed right at me. “If the masks come down, you put yours on first before helping him,” she said, pointing at Max. For some reason, the emphasis with which she said the word first struck me like lightning.
Looking out the airplane window, I imagined the scene—oxygen masks deploying, doubting that I would feel comfortable wasting any time to help Max. Then the thought came to me of the words Jesus Christ spoke to Peter, whose only desire in that moment was to serve and protect the Savior: “When thou art converted, strengthen thy brethren” (Luke 22:32).
And it hit me: the best way I can help Max is to first help myself. I realized that if I needed to secure my own oxygen mask, it would only take a few seconds, but then I could fully and properly help Max. I thought for the remainder of the flight about the small and simple things—much more eternally important than oxygen masks—that I can do first that would put me in the best position to then help Max, to first become converted and to then strengthen others.
These following things only take a few minutes of my time but have made a major difference in strengthening me:
Kneeling in prayer helps me gain the proper focus to have an honest discussion with Father in Heaven.
Using a notebook or computer document to write down thoughts and insights has created a richer scripture study experience for me.
Pausing to ask, “What does that really mean?” or “What does that mean for me?” while worshipping in the temple or reviewing general conference talks has helped me receive important insight and understanding.
Writing down how I saw the Lord’s hand in my life at the end of each day has helped me see His influence more easily and feel closer to Him.1

As horrible as it sounds, some volleyball teams unfortunately play that way. But the Western Hills Eighth Ward (Kearns Utah Western Hills Stake) and Jordan First Ward (Salt Lake Jordan Stake) know better. They realize that having a good attitude, both on and off the court, is what sports—and sportsmanship—are really about.
For the second year running, the Western Hills and Jordan teams were about to face each other in the finals of a multistake volleyball tournament. Despite negative feelings that had developed between the two teams during the previous year’s tournament, the Western Hills team invited the Jordan girls to a joint practice to take place before the final match. Jordan’s coach, Kathy Holmes, said that at first she didn’t want her girls to lose their competitive edge, but after praying about it, she realized, “Heavenly Father would want us to get to know each other as friends and not as enemies. He wants us to have fun.”
The Jordan team responded enthusiastically to the invitation. “We were excited!” says Jordan First Ward’s Kim Lolani about the joint practice. “We wanted to get rid of any negativity.”
Her teammate Marie Aini explains, “When we practiced together we bonded and got to know each other. Last year we didn’t hit it off because we judged too quickly.”
The Western Hills young women said they enjoyed playing with the Jordan girls because their attitudes were positive. “I really liked playing with the Jordan team because they wouldn’t get mad at each other,” says Western Hills’ Jessica Ramirez. “Regardless of who won or lost, it wasn’t a big deal, because we had fun.”
Another Western Hills young woman, Martha Rojas, noticed the Jordan girls’ example of good sportsmanship. “Even though they lost sometimes, they were still really happy. They had fun the whole time. When we lost a game, we didn’t look as happy as the Jordan girls. I learned from them.”
The positive example the teams set for each other resonated with everyone. Jessica says, “A lot of the time there have been problems with other teams we’ve played, and people get angry with each other. Attitudes aren’t always great.” But when these two teams got together, they focused on the positive and fostered an environment of healthy and encouraging competition.
The girls learned that competition doesn’t have to be negative and that with good sportsmanship, competition can motivate them to play better. Sara Pena, the Western Hills coach, has noticed that healthy competition can bring out the best in the players. “Playing your best can help athletes grow in their own talent and achieve something,” she says. “Competition isn’t about seeing if you’re better than someone else. It’s about seeing where your diligence and strength will take you.”
The Jordan team agrees that attitude makes the difference between healthy and negative competitiveness. Marie says, “Together as a group, we decided that being too competitive isn’t fun.”
Kim agrees. “We shouldn’t take the game too seriously. We like to make each other laugh instead.”
The girls helped each other improve by teaching each other new skills. When Jael Blanco first started playing with the Western Hills team, she didn’t know how to play volleyball very well, but Coach Pena taught her the rules and encouraged her to keep trying. “Sometimes when I play a new sport, I feel like people care only about winning,” says Jael. “It’s not as much fun, because really I just want to learn. Sara taught me how to play volleyball, but she also taught me how to have fun with it.”
After the joint practice, the two teams faced each other in the championship match. Kathy says, “The Western Hills girls weren’t the enemy anymore. They were just people—friends—and it wasn’t intimidating. It was a completely different feeling playing that last game.”
The girls were cheering for their own teams, but the game wasn’t laced with tension like the previous year’s had been. The Jordan team won in a reversal from last year’s championship, but a more significant reversal took place. More than caring about which team won, this year the girls celebrated athletic skill and a good game.
After Jordan’s win, the Western Hills ward approached the Jordan ward and suggested a joint Mutual activity. The Western Hills ward is a Spanish-speaking ward, and many of the young women from Jordan have Polynesian heritage, so they decided to organize a cultural exchange night, where they could share aspects of their different cultures.
The Jordan First Ward hosted the activity, and each ward brought food from their cultures. Once the activity started, it was hard to tell which girl was in which ward. “We didn’t sit with our own wards. We all spread out and were meeting new people. I ended up hanging out with the Jordan girls at the cultural exchange night more than the girls from my own ward,” Martha says.
Jessica adds, “We mingled with everyone and also got along with all the leaders. Everyone was laughing and busy making new friends.”
These volleyball players know that attitude is integral in sportsmanship. Marie says, “Whatever attitude you choose to have before a game you take out with you onto the court.” She also says that it’s important to have a positive attitude not only with your own teammates but also with your opponents.
For these two volleyball teams, winning doesn’t depend on the score. These girls know that they score the most points when they step outside of themselves, make friends, and radiate a positive attitude.

After I came home from my mission, I suddenly had a new life to face. I had to find my way in school, navigate new friendships, attempt to date, and figure out new work schedules.
It was unfamiliar and uncomfortable.
I wanted to turn to the Lord for reassurance. I had a firm testimony that the Book of Mormon was the word of God, but I found myself feeling distant when I tried to read my scriptures. I felt like I was unable to access the peace and comfort I usually felt while reading the Book of Mormon.
I was facing a lot of big feelings, and when I tried to read my scriptures, I wanted big answers. But those answers just didn’t seem to be coming.
My feelings of discontent grew to the point where I struggled to open my scriptures at all.
As I pondered on the preservation of the Book of Mormon, I was struck by the marvelous truth that the wise purpose behind its writing includes me. Heavenly Father knew how much I would need the Book of Mormon in my life. In fact, He knew the challenges each of His children would face in mortality, and in a grand expression of love, He provided us with the scriptures to lead us, guide us, and comfort us.
So why was I not feeling comforted?
One week as I attended my church meetings, I prayed to learn something that would help me. The impression I received at church that day prepared me to hear Heavenly Father’s voice.
As I sat and listened, I was reminded of a truth I had forgotten. I wrote in my journal: “One way to work through frustration when you feel like you aren’t receiving answers is spiritual consistency. It is the daily moments of spiritual consistency that allow God to create patterns, point out subtle feelings, and convey simple but powerful, comforting truths. It’s the consistency that turns our heart to Him, that aligns our will with His.”
In that moment, I remembered the principle that Alma taught his son while instructing him to keep a record:
“Now ye may suppose that this is foolishness in me; but behold I say unto you, that by small and simple things are great things brought to pass; and small means in many instances doth confound the wise.
“And the Lord God doth work by means to bring about his great and eternal purposes; and by very small means the Lord doth confound the wise and bringeth about the salvation of many souls” (Alma 37:6–7).
These verses and the revelation I received in church that day helped me reframe my expectations for my scripture study. Instead of looking for big spiritual experiences when I somewhat sporadically read my scriptures, I began to focus on creating simple moments to connect with the Lord daily through scripture study.
By taking the pressure off, I felt a simple, sweet spirit begin to fill my life. It was small and subtle, but I was able to see that Heavenly Father truly can convey great, meaningful messages in small and simple ways. And being spiritually consistent in my scripture study helped me develop my ability to recognize those messages.

I will share one of these experiences from my second book of Exodus with you. Right before leaving on my mission during my second semester of college at BYU-Provo I took an education class. It had no grades, and I was given the opportunity to design my own assignments for learning. At first, I despised the class and attacked the teacher with the laws of Pharaoh that I had become accustomed to. I attacked him like the task master you see whipping the children of Israel in the classic Ten Commandments movie. I jeered that he was a lousy teacher because he wasn't communicating exactly what he expected out of us. I told him that without points, how could I be motivated to learn, let alone the hormone-ridden teenagers I was preparing to teach. No human could ever get through junior high, high school, or college on intrinsic motivation alone. I even exiled myself from the class to avoid being tormented by being freed. I sought to find solace back in Pharaoh's Egypt which I had adopted. Imagine the great Exodus scene in that same Ten Commandments movie as the children of Israel are fleeing through the parted Red Sea and me running back to Egypt as fast as I could.

Shortly after my self-imposed-exile return to Egypt I went to my instructor's office to drive my final, well-rehearsed Pharaoh's nail into his instructionally irrational coffin. He charitably listened and weathered my railings with a smile and said, "You have put great effort into proving my ideas wrong, and I respect and admire that level of effort, but have you given equal effort to proving that these ideas I'm sharing with you might work?" The Holy Ghost pricked my heart--I know it was more than my conscience. I took with me my golden calf for a few more semesters until I had a sincere change of heart. Even in courses that were run like my beloved Egypt I began designing my own assignments and seeing if instructors would accept them, and to my surprise when they were good they frequently did. I started refusing to treat each course I took as a stand-alone learning experience to pass through by merely meeting the criteria of the instructor but began to integrate my learning into much larger wholes. I even stopped saying that I had to do homework and replaced that phrase with "I am going to go learn some more." Guess what? Now, I am privileged to work at a divinely guided but humanly run university that occasionally feels like Egypt, and I get the opportunity to bring out of bondage those who want to learn intrinsically. What a journey! What has yours been like?

I’d like to see Geri again. I need to apologize.
Geri was one of the LDS students I used to hang around with at lunch time when I was a senior in high school. She and several of her friends would sit on the lawn behind the administration building where my buddies and I would often join them for some friendly banter.
Geri was almost always there, but it was almost as if she weren’t. She was so painfully shy, that even with conversation bouncing all around her, she wouldn’t join in. I never knew why, but Geri lived with her grandmother. There probably wasn’t much money to go around in her home because she didn’t have many clothes. Although what she wore was clean and neat, it was not the style of the day.
My personality was much the opposite of Geri’s. I was the group clown—seeking to milk laughter from every situation while masking my teenage insecurities in humor.
One day I noticed that Geri was wearing a rather heavy dose of perfume.
“Nice perfume, Geri,” I commented.
She smiled, clearly pleased at the compliment.
“Did you bathe in it?” I asked.
The moment those words left my lips, I wanted them back. I wanted that embarrassed, betrayed expression on Geri’s face to disappear. I longed to see the smile again. But the damage caused by that thoughtless comment was not so easily erased.
“Do you think it’s too strong?” she asked.
I mumbled and shrugged.
“Is it too strong?” she pressed.
“A little,” I conceded.
Geri looked away, and the incident was history. But the consequences of that event haunt me still. I was poorer that day because of my actions, and an innocent human being was hurt.
Life, for the most part, is made up of little things. Small acts of kindness or selfishness determine the depth of our commitment to the Savior and the quality of our lives. Some seemingly small acts can cause us considerable regret for a long time.
I have often wished during the years since that incident that I could find Geri and apologize for my thoughtlessness. I hope I would find that the years have been rich and full for her. I hope the light of the gospel has brightened her life and eased her burdens.

At one time no one could swim the English Channel. Then Captain Webb did it; and then in 1926 an automobile company offered a red Buick convertible and $2,500 cash to the first woman who would swim the English Channel. There was a 19-year-old American girl by the name of Gertrude Ederle who wanted an automobile. She could think of many things she could do if she had this red Buick convertible and $2,500 cash.
Gertrude Ederle wanted an automobile, so she decided to swim the English Channel. But partway across the Channel she gave out. She couldn’t go another stroke. But as she lay there in the water, this red Buick convertible passed in front of her imagination. This gave her a great new surge of power and enabled her to go on and become the first woman ever to swim the English Channel.

I am reminded of a story that involves a famous artist named Robert Henri. Like most aspiring art students in the 1800s Robert trained in Paris at the Academie Julien or the Ecole de Beaux Artes. Substitute yourself for Robert Henri in the following account—and see if it sounds familiar:
I once lived in the top of a house, in a little room in Paris. I was a student. My place was a romance. It was a mansard room with a little square window that looked out over housetops with pink chimneys. I could see the Institute, the Pantheon and the Tower of St. Jacques. The tiles on the floor were red, and some of them were broken and got out of place, but there was a little stove, a washbasin, a pitcher and piles of my drawings. My bed was a cot. It was a wonderful place. I cooked fine meals of macaroni and eggs on my little stove and ate with the window open. I kept my Camembert cheese out on the ledge. I studied and thought and made compositions, and wrote letters home full of hope of someday being an artist. It was wonderful.

But days came when hopes looked black and my art student's paradise was turned into a dirty little room with broken tiles. Ashes fell from the stove and it was all hopelessly poor. I was tired of camembert and eggs and macaroni and there wasn't a shade of significance in those delicate little chimneys, or the Pantheon, the Institute or even the Tower of St. Jacques...

Now, what had changed? Nothing and everything. Though the circumstances remained identical, his whole existence seemed precariously balanced on the caprice of mood. Seeing the beautiful and seeking the good are skills developed as we recognize that there will be occasional bleak periods that will test our resolve and endurance, but the quest to gain judgment and discretion regarding what we will allow into our lives begins now and lasts for as long as we are alive; so don't allow yourself to be easily derailed. If you make a mistake or two, its okay; just keep trying.