Gospel Story Finder

As many of you know, our family experienced a tender separation three months ago when our daughter Wendy departed from this mortal life. In the final days of her battle with cancer, I was blessed with the opportunity to have our farewell daddy-daughter conversation.
I held her hands and told her how much I loved her and how grateful I was to be her father. I said: “You married in the temple and faithfully honored your covenants. You and your husband welcomed seven children into your home and raised them to be devout disciples of Jesus Christ, valiant Church members, and contributing citizens. And they have chosen spouses of that same caliber. Your daddy is very, very proud of you. You have brought me much joy!”
She quietly responded, “Thank you, Daddy.”
It was a tender, tearful moment for us. During her 67 years, we worked together, sang together, and often skied together. But that evening, we talked of things that matter most, such as covenants, ordinances, obedience, faith, family, fidelity, love, and eternal life.
We miss our daughter greatly. However, because of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ, we do not worry about her. As we continue to honor our covenants with God, we live in anticipation of our being with her again. Meanwhile, we’re serving the Lord here and she is serving Him there—in paradise.1

Photograph courtesy of Quinn A.
Ultimate (also known as Ultimate Frisbee™) is a fast-paced sport that combines the running of soccer, the aerial passing of football, and the vertical leaps of basketball. The game is played by millions in the United States alone, with competitions held around the country.
However, don’t expect the number-one nationally ranked high school team to attend any competition held on Sunday.
Three years ago, Lone Peak High School in Utah started an Ultimate team. “Every single person on the team said we were not going to play on Sundays,” explains Quinn A., a recent graduate who’s played on the team since the first year.
Skipping Sunday competitions (and there are a lot of them) hasn’t limited the team’s success. Not only are they ranked number one, but they’re also respected throughout the sport. For example, at a major national Ultimate competition—the Chicago Invite—judges allowed Lone Peak Ultimate to play all their games on Saturday even though the event took place on Saturday and Sunday.
They also have a reputation for being one of the friendliest teams around no matter where they go. “We always come out with friends,” Quinn says. “Every single game.”
Quinn is now helping to coach the team while he prepares to serve a full-time mission.

September Roses, by Jeanette Winter. Based on a true story, this book tells about two sisters stranded in New York in the aftermath of September 11. The women, who are flying with thousands of roses for a flower show, land right after the Twin Towers are hit. A stranger offers them a place to stay. Wanting to repay this kindness, they take their flowers to Union Square and arrange them in the shape of the fallen towers.

Several years ago, Wayne Lewis, of Washington, USA, published his life story. He gave copies to all of his children and grandchildren. “This was not done for the benefit of anyone but my family, to encourage them to write about their life experiences,” he says. Not long afterward, Wayne suffered one stroke, then another. “After the strokes, my counselor discovered that writing stories about my life was actually helping diminish the stresses brought on by brain injury, so I have continued writing about my life.” Now 88 years old, Wayne adds, “I would encourage everyone to write their life story. Act now, and use any format you think will be read by those you love.”

My husband and I were living in a second-story apartment with our small son and daughter. We looked forward to Christmas that year with our two children. Our son was growing fast, and as any normal toddler, he liked to move a lot. He often ran around the apartment just for fun. We enjoyed his antics, but our neighbor downstairs was rather impatient. He often turned up his music in retaliation and came upstairs to complain to us.
It was a frustrating situation for us. What is a little boy supposed to do all day if he is not able to move freely? It broke my heart to keep him quiet when he was so full of gleeful energy. We met with our apartment manager and our neighbor to try to resolve the conflict. As we talked I noticed that our neighbor was especially defensive in his words and attitude. During the discussion, the Savior’s words from Matthew 5:44 came to my mind: “Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you.” I did not necessarily consider him an enemy, but we certainly didn’t see eye to eye.
He was in the military, and his wife had not been able to join him yet, so he was alone in a strange town. And when he came home from work, he had to deal with this noise above his apartment. I began to see how difficult it might be for him, but I still did not have a fair solution. I started to pray for him, and my heart was touched to be a little more sympathetic.
We welcomed my husband’s parents to spend the holidays with us that year. On Christmas Eve we were enjoying each other’s company and the special spirit of the season. Soon we heard and felt the vibration of loud music coming from the apartment below. It seemed very loud this time, but I remember feeling sorry for him rather than impatient. Thinking about the verse in Matthew 5, I made up a plate of homemade Christmas cookies for our neighbor.
My husband and I went down to deliver them. When our neighbor opened the door, he scowled at us and said, “WHAT?” I could tell he was expecting an unpleasant confrontation. Instead, we ignored the loud music and wished him a heartfelt merry Christmas. We smiled, and I could see his face soften as he accepted the cookies. He smiled back and thanked us, wishing us a merry Christmas also. It wasn’t long before the music was turned down.
We saw our neighbor outside a few days later, and he thanked us again for the cookies. He was smiling at us again, and we found it easy to smile back at him. We asked him if he had a church to go to, because he was new in town. He said he hadn’t found one yet, so we invited him to our church, and he accepted our invitation. He began visiting with the missionaries and soon wanted to be baptized. He and our son had their picture taken together on the day of his baptism.
I don’t remember any more problems with loud music, but I do recall the special blessings of following the scriptures in our lives. It still warms my heart to remember how the simple gift of Christmas cookies quickly changed an unpleasant relationship into a wonderful friendship.

Not all battles are waged on foreign soil. Nor do the participants always bear arms, throw grenades, or drop bombs. I witnessed such a conflict on the fourth floor of a California hospital. There were no shrill sounds of mortar fire to be heard, no fields of men or equipment to be seen. Yet a life or death struggle was in progress. Happy, handsome Paul Van Dusen, age fifteen, had just lost the first fight with the feared enemy called cancer.

Paul loved life. He excelled in sports. He and his parents hoped, then prayed that the doctors” fears would not be confirmed—that his precious right leg would not be amputated. Devastated, they accepted the sad news. To save his life, he must lose his leg.

The surgery completed, Paul rested.

Entering the room after Paul’s surgery, I was attracted immediately by his cheerful smile. He radiated a spirit of hope and goodness.

The crisp, white sheet lay noticeably flat where once there had been a leg. Flowers from friends surrounded his bedside. Parents, grateful for his life, stood close by.

Paul invited me to read the get well cards he had received. One carried the message: “We love you, Paul. We’re praying for you.” It was signed by members of his Sunday School class. From his classmates at school, “May you get well soon. We think you’re great.” Still another from home teachers had the inscription, “May god bless you. Tomorrow we’ll visit you again.”

What did the Carpenter from Nazareth say of such people? “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.” (Matt. 25:40.)

The spirit of prayer came easily that day. A perfect peace filled the room. Smiles of confidence crept across lips moist with tears. From distant Capernaum we seemed to hear the echo, “Be not afraid, only believe.” Then Paul said, “I’ll be all right.”

We beheld a faith-filled heart and a countenance that reflected gratitude. Faith in whom? Gratitude for what?

Jesus of Nazareth,
Savior and King!
Triumphant over death,
Life thou didst bring,
Leaving thy Father’s throne,
On earth to live,
Thy work to do alone,
Thy life to give.
(Hymns, number 86.)

Can any good thing come out of Nazareth?
From Nazareth came example.
From Nazareth came sight.
From Nazareth came strength.
From Nazareth came life.
From Nazareth faith.
From Nazareth came peace.
From Nazareth came courage.
From Nazareth came Christ.
To him Nathanael declared, “Thou art the Son of God; thou art the King of Israel.” (John 1:49.) I testify that he is Lord of Lords, King of Kings, precious Savior, dear Redeemer. Jesus Christ of Nazareth. There is no other name under heaven given among men whereby we can be saved.

May we live his teachings, may we emulate his example, may we follow in his footsteps to life eternal.

Of those who died outside the faith, none was more famous than John Farnham Boynton. Once a faithful apostle, John choose a different road. In 1837 he lashed out against Joseph Smith, calling him a fallen prophet. By 1838, he had turned his energy to the study of science, and had become known as a pioneer in the field of popular science. He invented a fluid and light apparatus for the rapid generation of carbonic acid gas that could be carried by one man to extinguish small fires. He also invented a soda fountain, a method for extracting gold from ore by a vacuum process, various electrical appliances, the process for converting cast iron into malleable steel, and a method for coloring buttons and glassware. Over thirty patents are credited to John Boynton and at least three partnerships, the manufacturing of coarse salt, tar roofing and wall plaster. As he neared the end of his life John’s interest turned to collecting and compiling historic records of the Boynton family. He was President of the Boynton Association with over 600 members organized for the purpose of gathering, collecting and preserving family history.

In 1872 he visited with Brigham Young in Utah. As he mingled with his former friends he was warmly greeted and referred to as “Brother John.” Elder Erastus Snow, whom he had ordained a teacher, told him he had taught the same gospel ever since his ordination. John said, “Stick to it, for it is good” (Forace Green, Testimonies of Our Leaders.[16] John, however, did not stick to it. He died at his home on 20 October 1890 at age 79 outside the faith. He once had the “pearl of great price” but not at the end. He failed to endure.

Let us not be ashamed of the gospel. I want to say that you never have to apologize in business or in industry for what the standards of the Church are. I know. I have been through it. I spent twenty years in the livestock business, and there were national conventions, business conventions, and local conventions where the first item of business was the cocktail hour, designated on the schedule as the “reception” or the “social hour.” These conventions were held in hotels or public meeting places, and there was a great deal of pressure to participate in the social drinking. But you do not need to participate; and I testify that when you withstand these pressures, people admire you for having the strength to live up to your principles. You know, as I know, that we do not need such stimulants, and you can refuse them as I refused them. And people will tell you as they told me, “I respect you for it, and I wish I could do the same.”

Last year I found myself late at night on an airplane bulging with passengers going north from Mexico City to Culiacan. The seats in the plane were close together, and every seat was taken, mostly by the gracious people of Mexico. Everywhere inside the plane there were packages and carry-on luggage of all sizes.
A young woman came down the aisle with four small children, the oldest of which appeared to be about four and the youngest a newborn. She was also trying to manage a diaper bag, a stroller, and some bags. The children were tired, crying, and fussing. As she found her seat in the airplane, the passengers around her, both men and women, literally sprang to her aid. Soon the children were being lovingly and tenderly comforted and cared for by the passengers. They were passed from one passenger to another all over the airplane.
The result was an airplane full of baby-sitters. The children settled down in the caring arms of those who cradled them and, before long, went to sleep. Most remarkable was that a few men who were obviously fathers and grandfathers tenderly cradled and caressed the newborn child without any false, macho pride. The mother was freed from the care of her children for most of the flight.
The only thing I felt bad about was that no one passed the baby to me! I relearned that appreciation for and thoughtfulness and kindness to little children are an expression of the Savior’s love for them.

I am a 24-year-old young man who has gained a strong testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ by following the prophetic admonition to hold family home evening. Although I am the only member of the Church in my family, after I was baptized, I realized that family home evening could strengthen us, and I decided to introduce it at home.
The whole family now knows that Mondays are special days when we gather as a family to learn gospel truths. Sometimes we resolve problems in the family or discuss challenges, needs, or interests of individual family members. I have learned how to really commune with my Heavenly Father and to counsel with my family members in love. As a result, we have been more united, which is a great blessing.
In addition, family home evening has laid a strong foundation for my family in the gospel of Jesus Christ, and they are now investigating the Church. In fact, the full-time missionaries join us for family home evening once in a while.
I know that when I get married, my family will be blessed through family home evening, but I am also grateful that I’ve been able to make family home evening an important part of my life now. I know that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is true and that the family home evening program is inspired of God.
Lebani Butawo, Zimbabwe

When I was a boy, childhood diseases appeared regularly in every community. When someone had chicken pox or measles or mumps, the health officer would visit the home and place a quarantine sign on the porch or in the window to warn everyone to stay away. In a large family like ours, those diseases would visit by relay, one child getting it from another, so the sign might stay up for weeks.
We could not blockade ourselves inside our homes or stay hidden away to avoid those terrible contagions. We had to go to school, to employment, to church—to life!
Two of my sisters were stricken with very severe cases of measles. At first they seemed to recover. A few weeks later, Mother glanced out of the window and saw Adele, the younger of the two, leaning against a swing. She was faint and weak with a fever. It was rheumatic fever! It came as a complication from measles. The other sister also had the fever.
There was little that could be done. In spite of all of the prayers of my parents, Adele died. She was eight years old.
While Nona, two years older, recovered, she had fragile health for most of her life.
Nona recovered from measles and rheumatic fever. She lived long enough to benefit from open-heart surgery and enjoyed years of much improved health. Others spoke of her newly acquired energy. She said, “I have a Cadillac engine in a Model T frame.”
As an innocent child, my sister Adele’s life was cruelly interrupted by disease and suffering. She and all the others so taken continue the work of the Lord beyond the veil. She will not be denied anything essential for her eternal progression.

Trevor loved playing basketball with Dad after work. Dad would always shoot crazy shots—sometimes they even went in.
But tonight, Dad wasn’t ready to play yet. He was helping Mom finish setting the table and pouring drinks for Trevor and his brothers.
“Hey, Dad,” Trevor said. “Want to shoot some hoops?”
“Sure, Son,” Dad said. “But let’s eat dinner first.”
When the family sat down to dinner, Dad said the blessing on the food. Then he asked Trevor and his brothers what they did during the day. Trevor talked about playing on the monkey bars. His younger brothers played in the sandbox and drew pictures.
“What did you do to serve someone today?” Dad asked. He always asked that.
Trevor was ready to answer. “I helped Mom fold the laundry.”
“Good,” Dad said. “I’m proud of you.”
After dinner Trevor popped up from the table and pulled on Dad’s arm.
“Dad, can we go shoot hoops now?” Trevor asked.
“In just a few minutes, Trevor,” Dad said. “First we need to clean up. It wouldn’t be fair to make Mom do all the cooking and cleaning, would it?”
Trevor helped load the dishwasher. Then he grabbed a paper towel and wiped off the table.
“Now can we shoot hoops?” he asked.
“Yes,” Dad said. “Thanks for your help.”
After shooting the ball and playing a few games of H-O-R-S-E, Dad tossed the ball to Trevor.
“Let’s play again,” Trevor said.
“Sorry, buddy,” Dad said. “I have a meeting at church.”
“But we just started playing!” Trevor said. “Do you have to go?” Sometimes he couldn’t understand why Dad had to go to so many meetings.
“Sorry, but I really do,” Dad said. He gave Trevor a squeeze. “Help your mom while I’m gone. I’ll try to be home before you get in bed.”
When bedtime came, Dad still wasn’t home yet.
Trevor frowned. “Mom, why does Dad have so many meetings?” he asked.
“Let me ask you a question,” Mom said. “What does Dad ask you and your brothers every day at dinner?”
“I know, I know,” Trevor answered. “What did you do to serve someone today?”
“Service is very important to Dad,” Mom said. “He’s been called to serve in our ward, and he wants to do his best.”
Trevor thought about how Dad always encouraged him and his brothers to do their best.
“Do you know what else?” Mom asked. “Dad is always looking for ways to serve us.”
“He is?” Trevor asked.
“Just think about it,” Mom said. “After a long day at work, the first thing he did today was help set the table. Then after dinner, he let me rest while he cleaned up. Then he played basketball with you even though he only had a few minutes before his meeting.”
Trevor thought for a minute. He was glad Dad went outside and played with him instead of relaxing.
“I know it can be hard when Dad is so busy,” Mom said. “But he does his best to help everyone around him.”
Mom tucked Trevor into bed and left the room. A few minutes later, Trevor’s door creaked open.
“I hope I didn’t wake you,” Dad said. “I just wanted to say good night.”
Trevor stood up on his bed and gave Dad a big hug.
“Good night, Dad,” Trevor said. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” Dad said.
Trevor was glad Dad said it, but he already knew Dad loved him. Dad showed it every day.

Four-year-old Jayde Cluff’s sixty-cent donation to help victims of the 11 September 2001 terrorist attack touched hearts across the nation and inspired others to donate, too.
When Jayde, who was living in Utah, saw a news broadcast of the attack, she was very sad. Three days later, while walking to preschool, she gave her mother a handful of dimes and said, “Mommy, this can help the people who were hurt in those towers.” Her mother knew that Jayde had been saving her ten-cents-a-week allowance for a long time. “That’s the money you’ve been saving for your doll,” she reminded Jayde. “Send that money to New York,” Jayde said.
So the next day, Jayde and Mommy taped the six dimes to a letter to the New York City mayor, Mayor Rudolph Giuliani. Mommy wrote, “I know this contribution is only pennies, but we are a family of little means, and this is my daughter’s greatest treasure. Please send it where it can help someone.”
Word of Jayde’s sacrifice reached the manufacturer of the doll she wanted, and they sent her 17 dolls and clothing and other things for them in a box taller than she was. Moments after opening the box, Jayde drew out a particular doll and told her mother, “This is the doll, Mommy. This is the one I want to give to the little girl who lost her daddy,” referring to a firefighter’s little girl whom Jayde had seen on television. Jayde’s parents were able to locate the girl and send her the doll so that it arrived on her birthday.
A hotel worker heard about what Jayde was doing, and his heart was touched. He sent her another doll. A New York police officer sent her some police badges and another doll. More dolls came from other people whose hearts were touched. Altogether, she received 46 dolls and other toys and gifts!
Jayde gave all of the things to grieving families and to other needy children. Mommy talked to the families to learn which doll would be best for each child. If there was a boy in the family, a different toy was sent for him. Children who lived as far away as Washington and Arizona received dolls from Jayde. Some went to the local Toys for Tots organization.
And Jayde’s effort to be like Jesus Christ inspired her sisters, too. They have raised money by doing chores. Jayde’s sixty-cent donation came from her heart—and touched the hearts of many people all across the nation.

Being in the construction industry, I have seen firsthand how projects aren’t perfect. From time to time, schedules slip a little, budgets may be stretched, and coordination might be lacking. Through the power of humility, construction teams can find direction in the words of a prophet as they continue to choose to “do better” in their work.

Some time ago, I started challenging my project teams to quite simply, “do better.” It was meant to be a little satirical, even humorous, as we dealt with the constant challenges and complexities of our work. But over time, something interesting happened.

That phrase began to take on a life of its own. Consultants picked it up. Contractors repeated it, and before long, whenever an opportunity arose to improve coordination, communication, or execution, we found ourselves smiling and saying, “Okay, let’s do better.” What began as a challenge slowly became a shared mindset.

Without realizing it, we had created a positive affirmation that we were all saying. Those two words did not discourage or criticize. They became a reminder that improvement is always possible. They didn’t imply failure; they invited growth. They didn’t demand perfection; they encouraged progress. And that’s important, because both in construction and in life, we are constantly navigating complexity. There are distractions, setbacks, missed steps, and moments when progress slows. In those moments, a simple, repeated reminder like “do better” can recalibrate our focus and move us back onto the critical path.

Eventually, the phrase showed up everywhere. It found its way onto hard hat stickers, into email salutations, engraved on gifts, and can even be found hanging on the walls of contractor job offices. What started as a lighthearted comment became a visible reminder of who we wanted to be and how we wanted to work.

We planted a garden, weeded it, and irrigated it. Some of my choicest childhood experiences were irrigating with my father. Our turn began at 2:00 A.M., so Dad and I would pitch a tent in the yard and go to bed about 9:00 at night. We would set the alarm clock and get up at 2:00 and turn the water in. Then we would get up every half hour until 6:00 to change its flow. During all my growing-up years, Dad and I spent many nights irrigating side by side. It’s a great experience to be with your father like that.

When my grandmother was about 19 years old, she developed a disease that caused her to be very ill. She later said, “I couldn’t walk. My left foot was all out of shape after I had been in bed for several months. The bones were soft like a sponge, and when I touched my foot to the floor it felt like an electric shock.”12 While she was confined to bed and at the height of her suffering, she obtained and studied pamphlets from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She was converted and later baptized. Many times a particular challenge helps prepare us for something vitally important.

There were only a few days left until the start of my freshman year of college, and getting my textbooks was definitely a priority. New textbooks can be expensive, so I found a book-exchange site where I could find students who were selling their used textbooks. It wasn’t long before I found a woman looking to sell her physical-science book, and soon I was on my way to her apartment to pick it up.
When I arrived, I noticed that the outside of the complex looked fairly dirty. There was trash littering the walkway, and to be honest I was a little hesitant to knock on her door alone.
But I did need that textbook.
So I knocked, and a woman carrying a screaming baby came to the door. Behind her, I could see that the apartment looked dark and cluttered. Clothes were piled on the couch, and many dirty dishes sat in the sink. I could feel a sense of uneasiness in the atmosphere and in the woman’s demeanor.
We had a short exchange. She gave me the book, I gave her the money, and that was that.
The woman closed the door, and instantly the Spirit impressed upon me that this woman needed my help. I felt like I should knock on her door again.
But the idea seemed so awkward. What was I going to do, just knock and say, “Hi, you look like you need help”?
No way.
I quickly dismissed the idea and got in my car. But when the uneasiness and the thought in my mind persisted, I was reminded that I was being prompted by the Spirit, as “all things which are good cometh of God” (Moroni 7:12). And this definitely wasn’t my own thought.
I had never felt such a clear and specific message from the Holy Ghost in my life.
The gift of discernment includes “perceiving … the source and meaning of spiritual manifestations.”1 But even though I knew this feeling of needing to help was from the Holy Ghost, I still hesitated.
I said a quick prayer and told Heavenly Father that I felt uncomfortable and was going to drive away, so if He wanted me to stay, He was going to have to stop me. As soon as I opened my eyes, I started my car and felt the prompting again, but even stronger—it felt like the Spirit was pulling me out of my car. I knew I needed to obey the prompting, however odd the situation seemed, so I turned off my car and made my way back to the woman’s apartment.
I frantically thought of what I would say when I knocked on her door again.
“Hi, can I help you?”
No.
“Hello, I want to serve you.”
No! I was panicking now, and I was out of ideas!
But I knocked anyway, and the woman came to the door looking frazzled with a confused expression on her face.
“Hi, I felt like I should come ask you if you need any help,” I said.
The woman gave me a terribly strange look and said, “Nope, I’m good.”
After that I frantically said, “OK, thanks. Bye!” before she shut the door.
Talk about awkward.
As I got in my car and drove away, I tried to reason why God would have sent me that prompting just to have the woman deny my offer to help. I was confused but mostly glad I had followed the prompting.
Suddenly I heard a text alert on my phone. I pulled into a parking lot and saw that the text was from the woman who had sold me the textbook. She was asking me to come back and help her out if I still had time and wasn’t too far away.
Amazing, right?
I drove back, knocked on the door, and asked her how I could help. I think we both recognized the awkwardness of the situation, but she asked if I could hold her baby so she could get some dishes done while her husband was at work. I gladly agreed, and for the next few hours, I rocked her baby while she told me about her life, with all the highs and lows.
I could tell from our conversation that she was going through a challenging time in her life and that she was glad to have someone to share her burdens with. After the laundry was folded and the dishes were washed, she took back her baby and thanked me, and we parted ways.
I never saw the woman again, but I don’t think I’ll ever forget hearing the voice of the Spirit like that or the realization that Heavenly Father truly is aware of each of His children.

“I have been inspired by the temple all my life,” says Caitlen Christensen, 16, of the Rockledge Ward in the Cocoa Florida Stake. “When I was younger the Salt Lake Temple was being updated. I was upset because I was unable to see it up close. All I wanted was to touch it. We asked a missionary there and got permission to get close enough to touch it. I had no idea why this was so important to me then; now I know. I know that Christ dwells in the temples and the action of me touching it gave me the feeling that I was touching Christ himself, like the woman who knew she would be healed if she just touched His robe.
“This picture I took was a big testimony builder for me. Every time I look at it, it reminds me of my purpose in life and that Christ knows and loves me. It also reminds me of my goal of an eternal marriage in the temple.”

What if we do not want to keep the commandments? Brother Elray Christiansen used to tell of a man who came over from Denmark who was skilled at amassing wealth. He gave up a rather substantial fortune to join the Church and come to Utah, but after he settled here he again had the ability to build up his resources. In the process he lost his testimony. As the brethren visited him, they would say, “You’re not doing right, you know,” but he would never listen.

One day two brethren were visiting and one of them said, “Now look, Lars, it’s not right what you do.” He paid no attention. The brother continued, “Look, Lars, you can’t take it with you, you know.”

That touched Lars, and he said, “What’s that you say?”

“I told you, you can’t take it with you.”

And Lars said, “Vell then, I vill not go.”

Brother Christiansen bore testimony that he has gone.

Recently we heard of the death of Nelson Rockefeller, who was one of the wealthiest men in the world, and my son asked me how much he had left. The standard answer, of course, is that he left it all, as all will do.

Even President David O. McKay went through this mental process as a teenage boy. He has told us about kneeling by a serviceberry bush as a boy in Huntsville to find out once and for all about the truth of the work. May I quote President McKay as he tells of that occasion:
“I knelt down and with all the fervor of my heart poured out my soul to God and asked him for a testimony of this gospel. I had in mind that there would be some manifestation; that I should receive some transformation that would leave me absolutely without doubt.
“I got up, mounted my horse, and as he started over the trail, I remember rather introspectively searching myself and involuntarily shaking my head, saying to myself, ‘No sir, there is no change; I am just the same boy I was before I knelt down.’ The anticipated manifestation had not come. …
“However, it did come, but not in the way I had anticipated. Even the manifestation of God’s power and the presence of his angels came; but when it did come, it was simply a confirmation, it was not a testimony.” (Treasures of Life, [Deseret Book Co., 1962], pp. 229–30.)