Gospel Story Finder

We moved to a new state and city four months before Christmas. There are ten in my family, five of us teenagers, and this was our first move. We were having a hard time adjusting.
My mother announced that we would be doing a family project of helping a nonmember family in our neighborhood. We didn’t know them very well, but the service project helped us take the focus away from our own lonely feelings.
After Christmas, the mother of that family of five told my mother that her husband was out of work and she was supporting the family on a part-time job. It turned out to be one of the best Christmases they’d ever had.
—Adrienne Pippin, 15Portland, Oregon

My parents had nine children—eight sons and a daughter. The only girl died as a small child in World War II during the battle of Okinawa. Following the war, my father established a successful automotive repair shop in Nago, located in the northern part of the main island of Okinawa. In 1954, when my youngest brother was 2 and my oldest brother was 17, our father died, and my mother became a widow at the age of 40. Mother could not accept Father’s death. Sometimes, in her sorrow, she wanted to follow after him, but she had eight boys she could not leave behind.
Up until that time, my mother, Haru, had relied upon our father to be the breadwinner; but having lost him, she was now forced to work. She tried to forget her sorrow by working and then coming home and caring for her children. She struggled to raise her eight rowdy boys alone. When I was old enough to understand, I realized I never knew when my mother got up or when she went to sleep.
Ten years after the death of my father, as if guided by the Spirit, Mother left Nago amid the opposition of friends and relatives and moved to Naha, the capital of Okinawa. A few years later, about 1967, the missionaries knocked on our door. At that time our house was isolated and surrounded by sugarcane fields and a graveyard. The road to the house was in poor condition, and few people ever called on us. The missionaries were Elder Jackson and Elder Fuchigami, a second-generation Japanese-American from Hawaii. The missionaries asked, “May we speak with you about God?” Mother had been concerned about her sons’ education and thought we might learn something good from the missionaries, so she invited the elders in and said, “Please teach my children about God.”
Mother found peace as she learned about the gospel. She was impressed that the missionaries paid their own way and that Elder Jackson was serving a mission, even though he had lost his parents in an automobile accident when he was younger and had struggled along with an older sister. As she listened to the missionaries, Mother shed tears for the first time since my father’s death. She felt the Lord’s love and the Spirit through the discussions. She knew that this was the church our family had been searching for.
To set an example for her sons, Mother was baptized first. She was touched by the missionaries’ message and by their loving, kind behavior. She began to think that the greatest education she could give her children would be for us to learn the gospel and become missionaries. Mother always told the missionaries, “There are eight boys in our family. Please come to our house and teach the gospel to them. When they are all converted, there will be eight more priesthood holders at church. And they may be missionaries in the future.”
Most of my brothers and I were influenced by our mother and joined the Church one after another. As we attended church, our lives changed through the gospel and the help extended to us from the brothers and sisters at church. We became better sons and brothers. We started helping one another more and found life to be enjoyable. Four of us later preached the gospel as missionaries in various parts of Japan. When one of my older brothers, who had moved away from Okinawa, saw the fine stature of one of his younger brothers who was serving a mission, he said, “I can’t believe this is my younger brother who used to be so wild.” Then of his own initiative, he sought out the Church and was soon baptized and confirmed.
Before another of my older brothers was baptized at the age of 27, he had no idea how to live. He was troubled and would drink and party. He caused his family and the people around him much grief. When this brother learned about the purpose of life through the gospel, he was baptized and confirmed and eventually married a wonderful woman in the Church. He found joy in life and began feeling a purpose in being alive. He shared the gospel with friends and was a good influence to many. My brothers who were on missions could hardly believe it when they heard that this brother had joined the Church.
As missionaries, my brothers and I received assistance from our mission presidents and companions as well as Church members and the Lord. We worked hard, and with the help of the Spirit, we were able to baptize and confirm many people. Among those converted, one is now serving as a stake president, some are high councilors, and some are bishops. Those families have been sealed in the temple, and their children are now serving as missionaries. Through the service we were able to give, gospel seeds have been planted all around Japan and are starting to bloom. Mother’s dream to have her children be missionaries came true.
Through serving in callings, my brothers and I have grown spiritually. Each brother who has joined the Church has been sealed in the temple and is now raising a happy family. Mother was sealed in the Laie Hawaii Temple to our father and sister and those of us who have been converted. She was able to realize the fulness of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ as she received the blessings of the temple. She later visited relatives, diligently seeking for information that would help her with her family history work. My mother has served in the Relief Society and Young Women programs and as a seminary teacher.
The Kina family now includes daughters-in-law, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren: a total of 66 family members. Of these, 51 are members of the Church and 10 are returned missionaries. Grandchildren and great-grandchildren will continue going out on missions as they become of age. We feel that it is the duty of those who have received the blessings of the gospel to do so.
Kina family members have served or are serving in the following callings: two in the stake presidency (or district presidency), three as high councilors, seven in bishoprics (or branch presidencies), four as high priests group leaders, eight in elders quorum presidencies, six as mission leaders, and seven in Relief Society presidencies. We feel blessed that we have had these opportunities to serve others.
Mother received a strong testimony as she watched her children’s lives change for the better through the gospel of Jesus Christ. She had a desire to share the gospel with those she loved. She introduced friends and relatives to the missionaries and often held family meetings at home. Through this she was instrumental in bringing many into the Church, including 50 of her relatives.
Mother, now 90, once bore the following testimony: “As a mother, I would gladly sacrifice myself so that my children could return to their Heavenly Father. How can one leave any child he or she loves so much and still go to Heavenly Father? My most important mission here upon the earth as a mother is to return the children I received from Heavenly Father back to Him.”
We sons are now of the age that we have children and grandchildren and can understand and appreciate our mother’s testimony.
The gospel is true, and truth changes people. Through the gospel we have come to know God’s love and mercy. We have made many friends with the wonderful brothers and sisters in the Church and are grateful for the changes we have experienced through their examples. We will go forward as instruments in God’s hand here in Okinawa and preach the restored gospel, build churches and temples, and help to establish Zion.

In the Book of Mormon, the Liahona provides Lehi and his family with a clear vision of the Lord’s path. In similar fashion, a group of young single adults from Utah helped Dr. Robert Christiansen, M.D., an LDS ophthalmologist from Salt Lake City, Utah, and his family give vision spiritually and physically in South America.
The Liahona Eye Care Mission, a privately operated group, consisted of 23 young single adults and the eight members of the Christiansen family. They offered “helping hands” in differing service projects during an August 2005 trip to Brazil and Argentina. The Christiansen family has invited single adults on various service trips to South and Central America for the past four years.
On one leg of their service trip, in El Dorado, Argentina, the group provided free eye exams and glasses. The Argentina trip was organized with the help of local members who rallied local news outlets and community leaders to publicize the service project.
Because of the widespread announcements of the free eye exams, it is estimated that more than 1,300 people benefited from the service provided by the Liahona group during their brief visit to Argentina.
In Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, the group assisted in the renovation of an old playground at a small preschool. Local Church members helped organize the day of service. The local members proved invaluable as they helped bridge the language gap. Side by side, the members of the group meticulously painted the faded yellow playground equipment, walls, and playhouse a bright blue and white.
Some members of the community watched curiously. Many hearts and doors were opened to the missionaries because of the display of service that transformed the public preschool.
Shannon Christiansen, who led the group with her husband, Robert, said of the experience, “What touched my heart was realizing that we were with our brothers and sisters, and we could all feel the love of being part of God’s eternal family.”

It was just past noon when we returned from a spectacular tour of the Acropolis and Mars’ hill where Paul preached to the Athenians. The young people had assisted their not-so-young associates along the rugged terrain among the ancient ruins, not only giving their physical strength, but sharing their excitement and wonder as well. When we returned to the hotel, we were stunned by the news that Greece was at war with Turkey. Cyprus had been invaded by Turkish troops. All of the Greek men between the ages of 18 and 45 were to be mobilized within the next few hours. Suddenly the streets were filled with people. Young men carried small tote bags; neighbors gathered for brief farewells; a woman stood in her doorway weeping as she saw the men leave. She told us her children were too young to go, but she had five brothers who would have to fight.
This was not just a disruption of the afternoon-scheduled tour to Corinth. This was not just the temporary inconvenience of having no other bus at our disposal. Greece was at war! Greece’s borders were sealed. Her harbors were closed. Her airports were shut off. No commercial transportation was allowed in or out of the country. With the shortage of help in the hotel, we were informed that we would receive no further clean linen, there would be no room service, and the waiters from the dining room were gone. Making our own beds would be no problem. Hanging our towels to dry was no inconvenience. But what kind of chaos would the dining room be in without anyone there to help?
Dinner time arrived, and we walked into the dining room. To our delight there seemed to be plenty of help. John seated me at our table, and Jerome filled our water glasses. Carolyn was serving the rolls to other hotel guests, while Virnell followed up with butter. Bonnie was laughing and joking with some of the tourists as she and Diane served them cool beverages. Shelly was clearing dirty dishes from the tables and refilling glasses with ice. Melvin did anything that might have been overlooked—clearing tables, bringing a salad where one was forgotten, or resetting tables for the next group. They had not been asked; they had volunteered. For the duration of our stay in Athens, their service made the dinner hour something to look forward to.

It is difficult to turn to God when we make mistakes. One of the most touching and valuable lessons regarding turning to God after making poor decisions came from a young woman who became pregnant out of wedlock at a very young age. I worked in adoptions in LDS Family Services for years and could relate other such experiences. I served as her priesthood leader. At such a tender age, she was required to make the difficult decision of what to do with and for her unborn child. After much thought and prayer and counseling with others, she came to the conclusion that she would do what she believed was in the best interest of her child. She placed it with a young couple that could not have children of their own. After struggling with this heart wrenching decision, she went through the challenging experience of repentance. Perhaps her greatest challenge was to forgive herself.

One of the last times I spoke with her as a Church leader, I asked her, "How do you feel about the Savior?" I will never forget what she said: "I love the Savior very much. I know He lives and loves me and that He has forgiven me of my mistakes and sins." Words cannot express what she said, how she said it and how I felt that day, but I remember thinking that such a young girl would not generally have such an abiding testimony of the Savior. This kind of a testimony was more often found in older more experienced members of the Church.

It was another reminder that God is most generous, and He will bless us without measure as we turn our lives and hearts to him. Even when we make serious mistakes and have difficult problems, He is saying to us, "I'm sorry that you made a wrong choice or that you had to suffer such difficulty, but if you will turn your heart to me, I will make the blessing that comes out of it even greater than the disappointment and challenges that you faced going through it." Truly, we can have confidence that "All things work together to them that walk uprightly."

As Heber grew older, his persistence and fortitude were put to good use in business ventures. Offered an appointment to the United States Naval Academy, he opted to stay near his mother and to become a businessman instead.7 After finishing his schooling at age 16, Heber got a job as a bank clerk and learned bookkeeping. His honesty, ability to work hard, and great desire to learn soon opened up many opportunities. By the time he was 20 years old, he had been made the assistant cashier of Zion’s Savings Bank and Trust Company, and he had purchased an insurance agency.8

May I share with you a flash of insight given me by the Spirit twenty years ago in which I learned about this university’s major role in building the kingdom. It concerns you, the students. The Bateman family had just returned to Provo from the East Coast following my appointment as dean of the School of Management. We had been away for four years with a multinational corporation and had enjoyed ourselves immensely. Although we knew the decision to return to Brigham Young University was correct because prayers had been answered, I was still struggling emotionally with the new assignment.

In September 1975 we attended the first multistake fireside of the school year, similar to the one held last Sunday evening. We were sitting high up in the Marriott Center near portal C. As the speaker began his sermon for the evening, I looked out across a congregation that must have totaled 18,000, including all of the missionaries from the MTC. They were easy to spot because they were allowed to take off their suit coats! Approximately 2,500 white-shirted missionaries filled the section under portal M, and it was a sea of white. I looked at them and realized that within weeks they would be scattered to the four corners of the globe. It was exciting to contemplate the people they would serve, the change that would occur in the missionaries as they matured spiritually, and the miracles that would bring new members into the Church.

Then a flash of inspiration opened my mind as to the purpose of Brigham Young University. I realized that 27,000 students were being prepared to enter the world. Every year approximately 6,000 would leave Provo, scattering across North America with some going on to Europe, others to Asia, some to Africa, and a number to South America. Some might even go Down Under. If the university performed its roles well, deepening spiritual roots and providing a first-class education, in the course of time strong Church families would grow up in hundreds and thousands of communities all over the world. These BYU families would be waiting when later missionaries arrived. My earlier experiences in London, Boston, Colorado Springs, High Wycombe, Lancaster, Bedminster, Accra, and Lagos had pointed to the importance of just one or two strong families to form a core around which the Lord could build a branch, then a district, and finally a stake. The BYU families would be good neighbors; have strong relationships with business associates; and, if well-trained, be leaders in their communities. These strong families by example and invitation would open doors for missionaries to enter.

I then knew why we had returned to Brigham Young University. It provided a satisfying feeling on the journey home that evening. Students leaving the university with a first-rate education combined with spiritual strength based on faith in Christ and his restored gospel have a tremendous advantage in the world. They know who they are. They need not be afraid. Faculty members should know that their teaching and research are building something of great worth. Brigham Young University is a major contributor to the central mission of Christ’s kingdom on earth.

I remember the Sunday when I first learned about President Hinckley’s challenge to read the Book of Mormon by the end of the year. Two weeks before, as part of a challenge from my Young Women president, I had finished reading the Book of Mormon in 65 days—the approximate time it took Joseph Smith to translate it. It averaged out to be about nine pages per day, and I had struggled to finish it in time. Now here I was sitting in sacrament meeting, listening to a letter asking me to read it again.
I started to think: “I’m going to be so busy this year in school; I’m not going to have time to read more than one page a day. President Hinckley just wanted us to read it this year, and I already did that. I’m sure he would understand.” By the time the sacrament was over, I had rationalized my way out of the challenge.
It was fast and testimony meeting that Sunday, and many people talked about the blessings that come from scripture reading. “I’ll still read my scriptures regularly,” I thought to myself.
The next person to get up was a friend of mine. I listened complacently until he mentioned the Book of Mormon challenge.
“It’s going to be hard,” he said. “But the prophet asked us to do it, and whatever the prophet says, goes.”
Whatever the prophet says, goes. That statement hit me hard. What had I been thinking? It wasn’t just anyone who had asked us to read the Book of Mormon; it was a prophet, the Lord’s messenger. If an angel appeared to me, I would listen. This wasn’t any different. I was going to obey President Hinckley, no matter what it took.
I finished reading the Book of Mormon, and I know I made the right decision. I don’t have any spectacular stories to tell about reading it, but I know that the experience as a whole strengthened my testimony. I was really busy that year, and having a goal motivated me to read my scriptures every day.
“Whatever the prophet says, goes” has sort of become a motto for me. When I am tempted with things such as immodesty or inappropriate movies, I think back to that memorable fast and testimony meeting.
I’m glad I was paying attention that day. I’m also glad that my friend got up and bore his testimony and that the Spirit carried his words into my heart.

President Tandiman, a retired government official, was working in a law office in 1970 when he met Latter-day Saint attorneys applying for government recognition of the Church. At their invitation, he accepted the missionary discussions. He was affected by the conduct of the missionaries and their teachings and the fellowshipping he received. “These made a deep impression upon me, an impression that stayed with me and helped me remain active in those early years of my membership,” he says. President Tandiman’s wife and six children also accepted the gospel, and he baptized them. His daughter is now married and has a daughter of her own. Four sons have served missions in Indonesia, and a fifth son is looking forward to a mission call.

One year after his baptism, Brother Tandiman was called as president of the Djakarta Branch, then later as the West Java District president.

Early in our married life my young family and I were laboring through graduate school at a university in New England. [My wife] Pat was the Relief Society president in our ward, and I was serving in our stake presidency. I was going to school full-time and teaching half-time. We had two small children then, with little money and lots of pressures. In fact, our life was about like yours.

One evening I came home from long hours at school, feeling the proverbial weight of the world on my shoulders. Everything seemed to be especially demanding and discouraging and dark. I wondered if the dawn would ever come. Then, as I walked into our small student apartment, there was an unusual silence in the room.

“What’s the trouble?” I asked.

“Matthew has something he wants to tell you,” Pat said.

“Matt, what do you have to tell me?” He was quietly playing with his toys in the corner of the room, trying very hard not to hear me. “Matt,” I said a little louder, “do you have something to tell me?”

He stopped playing, but for a moment didn’t look up. Then these two enormous, tear-filled brown eyes turned toward me, and with the pain only a five-year-old can know, he said, “I didn’t mind Mommy tonight, and I spoke back to her.” With that he burst into tears, and his entire little body shook with grief. A childish indiscretion had been noted, a painful confession had been offered, the growth of a five-year-old was continuing, and loving reconciliation could have been wonderfully underway.

Everything might have been just terrific—except for me. I am ashamed beyond expression to tell you how I then acted. I lost my temper. It wasn’t that I lost it with Matt—it was with a hundred and one other things on my mind; but he didn’t know that, and I wasn’t disciplined enough to admit it. He got the whole load of bricks.

I told him how disappointed I was and how much more I thought I could have expected from him. … Then I did what I had never done before in his life—I told him that he was to go straight to bed and that I would not be in to say his prayers with him or to tell him a bedtime story. Muffling his sobs, he obediently went to his bedside, where he knelt—alone—to say his prayers. Then he stained his little pillow with tears his father should have been wiping away.

If you think the silence upon my arrival was heavy, you should have felt it now. Pat did not say a word. She didn’t have to. I felt terrible!

Later, as we knelt by our own bed, my feeble prayer asking for blessings upon my family fell back on my ears with a horrible, hollow ring. I wanted to get up off my knees right then and go to Matt and ask his forgiveness, but he was long since peacefully asleep.

My relief was not so soon coming; but finally I fell asleep and began to dream, which I seldom do. I dreamed Matt and I were packing two cars for a move. For some reason his mother and baby sister were not present. As we finished I turned to him and said, “OK, Matt, you drive one car and I’ll drive the other.”

This five-year-old very obediently crawled up on the seat and tried to grasp the massive steering wheel. I walked over to the other car and started the motor. As I began to pull away, I looked to see how my son was doing. He was trying—oh, how he was trying. He tried to reach the pedals, but he couldn’t. He was also turning knobs and pushing buttons, trying to start the motor. He could scarcely be seen over the dashboard, but there staring out at me again were those same immense, tear-filled, beautiful brown eyes. As I pulled away, he cried out, “Daddy, don’t leave me. I don’t know how to do it. I am too little.” And I drove away.

A short time later in my dream, I realized in one stark, horrifying moment what I had done. I slammed my car to a stop, threw open the door, and started to run as fast as I could. I left car, keys, belongings, and all—and I ran. The pavement was so hot it burned my feet, and tears blinded my straining effort to see this child somewhere on the horizon. I kept running, praying, pleading to be forgiven and to find my boy safe and secure.

As I rounded a curve nearly ready to drop from physical and emotional exhaustion, I saw the unfamiliar car I had left Matt to drive. It was pulled carefully off to the side of the road, and he was laughing and playing nearby. An older man was with him, playing and responding to his games. Matt saw me and cried out something like, “Hi, Dad. Come over. We’re having fun.” Obviously he had already forgiven and forgotten my terrible transgression against him.

But I dreaded the older man’s gaze, which followed my every move. I tried to say “Thank you,” but his eyes were filled with sorrow and disappointment. I muttered an awkward apology, and the stranger said simply, “You should not have left him alone to do this difficult thing. It would not have been asked of you.”

With that, the dream ended, and I shot upright in bed. My pillow was now soaked with perspiration and tears. I threw off the covers and ran to the little metal camp cot that was my son’s bed. There on my knees and through my tears, I cradled him in my arms and spoke to him while he slept. I told him that every dad makes mistakes but that they don’t mean to. I told him it wasn’t his fault I had had a bad day. I told him that when boys are 5 or 15, dads sometimes forget and think they are 50. I told him that I wanted him to be a small boy for a long, long time, because all too soon he would grow up and be a man and wouldn’t be playing on the floor with his toys when I came home. I told him that I loved him and his mother and his sister more than anything in the world and that whatever challenges we had in life, we would face them together. I told him that never again would I withhold my affection or my forgiveness from him, and never, I prayed, would he withhold them from me. I told him I was honored to be his father and that I would try with all my heart to be worthy of such a great responsibility.

Let me illustrate. President Heber J. Grant was told by his doctor that he needed to take up a sport which would put him out of doors and give him fresh air and exercise. The doctor even suggested the game of golf. President Grant took some lessons, felt he was in a condition to play a round of golf, and invited some friends to be with him.

On the first tee his friends insisted that he go first. He put the little white ball up on the little wooden tee and practiced a couple of swings, then stood up. He was really going to show them what he could do. With a mighty swing he missed the ball. He stepped back again and took a couple more practice swings. This time he was really going to hit it. The problem is that the harder you try to hit it, the more you tend to bend your elbows instead of leaving them out straight. If you bend your elbows, the club head comes toward you instead of toward the ball.

For the second time the club head missed the ball. This time President Grant was embarrassed and turned a little bit red. He stepped back for more practice swings. This time he was going to knock it a countrymile, but the wind from the club head just caused the ball to roll off the tee a little bit. He was frustrated. He turned to his friends and said, “I never swear, but there are moments, and where I spit, the grass will never grow again.”

We have sitting behind me here today, President Kimball. He is a great example of one whose body is renewed through keeping these covenants. I don’t know how many of you know of his condition when they found that he had cancer of the throat and they had to remove most of his vocal organs, and it was impossible for him to speak.
I remember attending a general conference when I was president of the stake up in Canada and meeting President Kimball with two or three others. He said, (whispering) “Hello, I can’t speak to you.” In other words, “Hello, President Tanner, I can’t speak to you.” He could not speak at all so that you could hear him any more than just a bare whisper. They didn’t know whether he’d ever be able to speak again, but he was blessed by the priesthood, and he was able to speak. Then later on, just a few years ago, they found that he had what they thought to be further cancerous growth in his organs, and they wanted to operate. But he called the priesthood to pray over him, to bless him, anoint him, and to administer to him. Now notice that it was the priesthood whom he called. It wasn’t because it was President Lee and Eldon Tanner; it was because of the priesthood we held. He was given a blessing, and it wasn’t necessary for him to have that operation.
Then later on he had a heart condition, and I think President Kimball won’t object to me telling just a little of the details. He was so seriously ill that he felt that something had to be done. Dr. Russell Nelson (noted Utah heart surgeon) was his doctor. He told him that his chances were about fifty-fifty. But if he didn’t have the operation, he couldn’t expect to live many months, but if he did, there was greater hope. We discussed it in President Lee’s office for some time. Finally, President Kimball said, “I think I should be operated on.” I said, “President Kimball, you’ve made the right decision, I’m sure.”
Then he asked to be administered to by President Lee and myself. We administered to him and Dr. Nelson said, “To be operating on the President of the Council of the Twelve, an apostle of God, is a great, great responsibility, the greatest I’ve ever had.” And he said, “President Kimball is going to have a double operation.” At that time he was the only one in history I believe who had undergone, or was going to undergo, a double heart operation at that age. And Doctor Nelson said, “I’d like to have a blessing by the priesthood that I might be guided and directed and do the things that will help to save his life.”
Now, brethren, does the priesthood mean anything to you? It doesn’t mean anything to you unless you live worthy of it. So whether you are a boy twelve years of age, or whether you are seventy years of age, wherever you are, live worthy of the priesthood. Honor that priesthood. Thank the Lord that you are a bearer of the priesthood, and pray night and morning, every day, with a determination that you will do those things which the Lord would have you do. And I want to assure you that you will be happier, you will be more successful, you will be more loved and respected, and the Lord will be pleased with you if you do that which he has asked you to do.
Let us do those things which will make us happy and successful and will prepare ourselves to go back into his presence, I humbly pray in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

When I was 15 years old, I realized the significance of a testimony of the Book of Mormon, Joseph Smith, and the Savior and how it affects our choices.
My brother, Joe, was 20 years old. It was during the Korean conflict, and only one young man in each ward could go on a mission. The others had to be available to be drafted into the military. A young man in our ward had gone on a mission early in the year; my brother’s birthday was in September, so he didn’t think he would get the opportunity to serve a mission.
Our stake president called my brother in and told him that one of the wards had not used its allotment and he might be able to go. Missionaries were called at 20 years of age in those days, and my brother had just filled out his application to medical school. He was a good student. My father, who was not active in the Church, had made financial preparations to help him with medical school and was disappointed when he learned of the conversation with the stake president. My father counseled Joe not to go and suggested that he could do more good by going to medical school.
This was a big issue in our family. That night my brother and I talked about the choice. He was five years older, so it was mainly his thinking. As we reasoned it out, we concluded: If Jesus Christ was a great man but not divine, if Joseph Smith was a wonderful teacher but not a prophet, or if the Book of Mormon had wonderful counsel but was not the word of God, then Dad was right—it would be better to go to medical school. But if Jesus Christ is divine, if Joseph Smith is a prophet, and if the Book of Mormon is the word of God, then it would be more important to accept the call and proclaim the gospel.
That night, more than ever before, I wanted to know the answers to these questions. I had always believed in the divinity of Jesus Christ. I believed in Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon, but I wanted confirmation from the Lord. That night, as I prayed, the Spirit bore witness to my soul of the Savior and the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon and that Joseph Smith was a prophet. My brother received the same witness and made the choice to serve a mission. Incidentally, when my brother returned from his mission, he went to medical school. When I reached my 20th birthday, my father was happy to see me serve a mission.

Over the years, our Heavenly Father has continued to bless us in miraculous ways. In 1947 our daughter was called to serve a mission. Although we had very little money, and our family would greatly miss the income from her job, we agreed to support her. Never was our family so blessed as during our daughter’s mission. Occasionally someone would tell me that they wished their child could serve a mission, but that they didn’t have the money. I always told them that we didn’t have the money either, but that the Lord blessed us so that somehow we were able to support her each month.

The Vershinin family from Nizhniy Novgorod first visited the Stockholm Sweden Temple in 2000. After traveling to St. Petersburg, Sergey, Vera, and their daughter, Irina, joined a group of Russian Latter-day Saints from various cities and traveled by bus and ferry to reach the temple. At the temple, Irina participated in baptisms for the dead and was sealed to her parents. “The trip gave us testimonies and many blessings,” she recalled. “They were small testimonies received individually by each person. But as a whole they helped us and gave momentum for further spiritual growth.”12

There is a boy at school who found out I don’t swear. The day he found out, he made a game out of trying to get me to say bad words. But I didn’t swear the whole day at all. Today, it’s still kind of a game—and I’m winning! He’ll say something to try to get me to swear, but I’ll say something funny back and everybody will laugh. He’s not offended, and I’m not swearing. It works for everybody.
Eden S., age 11, New South Wales, Australia

Sharon Poche has found that deciding to be different makes it easier to live the gospel. She is committed to keeping the commandments, and her friends respect that choice. She chooses to keep herself out of situations that would make it difficult to live righteously.

“When you decide to play on that line, that really thin line, then it gets hard because you can fall over anytime,” she says of the line between good and evil.

Sharon found the Church as a 14-year-old when her mom decided to be baptized. Reading the Book of Mormon took a lot of effort because Sharon, who is a member of the Nandi tribe, speaks Kalenjin as her native language. Despite difficulties, she began studying the Book of Mormon in English. “I had this feeling that this was a good thing, and I had a warm feeling, so I continued. I prayed until I knew it was true,” she says.

Sharon wanted to get baptized, but her father wouldn’t allow it. So for four years, Sharon attended church, seminary, and youth activities while she waited for the chance to join the Church.

When Sharon turned 18, she was baptized and confirmed. She went to college and studied psychology. She married Joseph Poche in February 2013. Shortly after, they traveled to the Johannesburg South Africa Temple to be sealed. She said that studying the gospel helps her focus on the important things in a world that could easily be distracting.

“I know what life is all about and why we’re here on the earth,” she says. “That knowledge helps me to focus on the things that are most important.”

His promise reminded me of another experience. I met 12-year-old Charlotte Hlimi near Carcassonne, France, in 1990 while serving as a mission president. The Hlimis were a faithful family living in an apartment with eight children. They had a picture of the Savior and of the prophet on the wall. In the interview for her patriarchal blessing, I asked Charlotte if she paid an honest tithe. She responded, “Yes, President Andersen. My mother has taught me that there are temporal blessings and spiritual blessings that come from paying our tithing. My mother taught me that if we always pay our tithing, we will want for nothing. And President Andersen, we want for nothing.”
In giving me permission to share her story, Charlotte, now 45 and sealed in the temple, commented: “My testimony of tithing was very real at the time, and it is even stronger now. I am deeply grateful for this commandment. As I live it I continue to be abundantly blessed.”

When Brother Maeser was going to Zion, he stopped in London, where he was called on a mission and told he wouldn’t be going on to Zion for a long period of time. That was a great disappointment to him. And there was a great test connected with it. He had been the headmaster of a school, a professor of great dignity. When he walked into a class, all of the students stood up out of respect to this distinguished scholar.
He felt because of his social position there were some things he couldn’t do. He wouldn’t carry packages in the street, for instance; that was below his station in life. He wouldn’t carry a suitcase; that was below his station in life. Wasn’t he Herr Dr. Professor, the headmaster, a man of great dignity? And his test came from two humble missionaries. They were going to leave London and go up north to do their missionary work.
The young elder said, “Brother Maeser, you take your suitcase and meet us at the station, and we will meet you there and go on the train.” Brother Maeser paced his room all day to think that they had told him to carry a suitcase through the streets. He worried about it, he talked to his wife about it, and she counseled him, and finally he said to himself and his wife, “The elders have told me to do it, and they are presiding over me, and I will do it.” And he took his suitcase and walked to the station.
Now that is just a little thing, but it was almost like Gethsemane for Dr. Maeser, to submit himself to the leadership of these young elders.

It was the morning before my son, Daniel, had his first day of kindergarten, and he had a few concerns about leaving home to attend school. I wanted to make sure that he felt prepared to meet the challenges in the “real world.” I told Daniel that I would miss him very much while he was away. I assured him that even though I couldn’t be with him at school, he would never need to feel afraid or lonely because his Father in Heaven would watch over him. I reminded him that he could pray anytime, anywhere and that God would always hear him.
As I spoke, Daniel, barely five years old, listened very intently. After some thought he responded, “Can He see me when I’m in my house?”
“Yes,” I assured him.
“Can He see me when I’m outside?” he asked.
“Yes, He can always see you,” I replied.
With a look of excitement, Daniel ran immediately to the backyard. I followed closely behind him. Daniel looked upward at the cloudless, blue sky and asked, “If I look up at the sky and smile, will He see me and will He smile back?”
Rendered speechless from the lump in my throat and the tug on my heartstrings, I nodded, “Yes!”
Still looking heavenward, this time with squinted, searching eyes and perfect, childlike faith, Daniel thoughtfully asked, “Can I see Him?”
“You might not be able to see Him,” I replied, “but you will know He is there because you will feel His smile in your heart.”
Daniel stood smiling as he gazed into the heavens. From the peaceful look on his angelic face, I knew he was experiencing that divine smile deep in his soul.