Gospel Story Finder

Personal revelation is the profound blessing received following baptism when we are “sanctified by the reception of the Holy Ghost.” I can remember a special spiritual revelation when I was 15 years old. My precious brother was seeking guidance from the Lord as to how to respond to our dear father, who did not want my brother to serve a mission. I prayed with sincere intent too and received personal revelation of the truthfulness of the gospel.

Personal revelation is based on spiritual truths received from the Holy Ghost. The Holy Ghost is the revealer and testifier of all truth, especially that of the Savior. Without the Holy Ghost, we could not really know that Jesus is the Christ. His seminal role is to bear witness of the Father and the Son and Their titles and Their glory.
The Holy Ghost can influence everyone in a powerful way. This influence will not be constant unless one is baptized and receives the gift of the Holy Ghost. The Holy Ghost serves also as a cleansing agent in the process of repentance and forgiveness.
The Spirit communicates in marvelous ways. The Lord used this beautiful description:
“I will tell you in your mind and in your heart, by the Holy Ghost, which shall come upon you and which shall dwell in your heart.
“Now, behold, this is the spirit of revelation.”
Although its impact can be incredibly powerful, it most often comes quietly as a still, small voice. The scriptures include many examples of how the Spirit influences our minds, including speaking peace to our minds, occupying our minds, enlightening our minds, and even sending a voice to our minds.
Some principles that prepare us to receive revelation include:
Praying for spiritual guidance. Reverently and humbly we need to seek and ask and be patient and submissive.
Preparing for inspiration. This requires that we be in harmony with the Lord’s teachings and in compliance with His commandments.
Partaking of the sacrament worthily. When we do this, we witness and covenant with God that we take upon ourselves the name of His holy Son and that we remember Him and keep His commandments.
These principles prepare us to receive, recognize, and follow the prompting and guidance of the Holy Ghost. This includes the “peaceable things … which bringeth joy [and] … life eternal.”
Our spiritual preparation is greatly enhanced when we regularly study the scriptures and truths of the gospel and ponder in our minds the guidance we seek. But remember to be patient and trust in the Lord’s timing. Guidance is given by an omniscient Lord when He “deliberately chooses to school us.”
The Holy Ghost will also provide revelation in our callings and assignments. In my experience, significant spiritual guidance most often comes when we are trying to bless others in fulfilling our responsibilities.
I can remember as a young bishop receiving a desperate call from a married couple a short time before I was to catch an airplane for a business engagement. I pled with the Lord before their arrival to know how I could bless them. It was revealed to me the nature of the problem and the response I should give. That revelatory guidance allowed me to fulfill the sacred responsibilities of my calling as bishop despite very limited availability of time. Bishops all over the world also share these same kinds of experiences with me. As a stake president, I not only received important revelation but also received personal correction that was necessary to accomplish the Lord’s purposes.
I assure you that revelatory guidance can be received by each of us as we humbly labor in the Lord’s vineyard. Most of our guidance comes from the Holy Ghost. Sometimes and for some purposes, it comes directly from the Lord. I personally testify that this is true. Guidance for the Church, as a whole, comes to the President and prophet of the Church.
We, as modern Apostles, have had the privilege of working and traveling with our current prophet, President Nelson. I paraphrase what Wilford Woodruff said about the Prophet Joseph Smith; it is equally true of President Nelson. I have seen “the workings of the Spirit of God with him, and the revelations of Jesus Christ unto him and the fulfillment of those revelations.”
My humble plea today is that each of us will seek continuing revelation to guide our lives and follow the Spirit as we worship God the Father in the name of our Savior, Jesus Christ, of whom I bear witness in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Six months later, I was at school, sitting at lunch with a group of friends. All of a sudden there was commotion in a corner of the lunchroom. I looked over and saw that a boy was bending over and flapping his arms. Everyone who was watching was in shock, standing around just watching the uncomfortable scene. I got the impression that this boy could be choking. I jumped up from my table, ran over to the boy, and made the choking sign as a question to him. He nodded his head. I quickly got behind him and started doing the Heimlich maneuver. The food came up, and he started breathing again. The lunchroom erupted in applause, but I knew that it wasn’t me. I knew the Spirit prompted me to do what I did.
I am so grateful for what I learned from the experience during the summer so that I was prepared when the situation in the lunchroom happened. It added to my testimony that the Lord allows everyone opportunities to have experiences so they can then use them to help others.

I think of two missionaries who came to my grandfather in the 1920s in Kitchener, Ontario. There were no LDS people in the city. They’d been discouraged, and as they passed his door, they heard a song playing that had been played at their farewell. They approached the door to listen, and he saw them. They introduced the gospel to his heart. He joined the Church, and so all of my life I’ve been blessed to know that the gospel is true and that we have a prophet who guides and directs us.

In September 1875 Daniel left for Mexico with his son Wiley, James Z. Stewart, Helaman Pratt, Robert H. Smith, Ammon M. Tenney, and Anthony W. Ivins. The group went on horseback and took with them two thousand copies of their publication, “Choice Selections from the Book of Mormon.”
After several frustrating experiences dealing with local officials, they received permission in Chihuahua to hold a public meeting, and on 8 April 1876 they preached to a group of approximately five hundred persons at the first Church meeting in the interior of Mexico. After some other attempts to preach the gospel, they returned to the United States, arriving in Salt Lake City on 5 July 1876. Daniel served a second mission to Mexico in 1876–1877, again with Brother Trejo, Brother Pratt, and Brother Stewart. Also serving were Louis Garff and George Terry. Five converts were baptized.

Simón’s handsome quick-tempered father died when the boy was only six and his mother three years later. The happy early childhood of the Bolívar children was abruptly ended. They were taken into the homes of different relatives. Uncle Palacios became responsible for Simón, and the easy outdoor life he had known was replaced by the severity of Uncle Palacios’ cold and formal home in Caracas. Monks were hired to teach the lonely and homesick boy. Uncle Palacios worried about his unhappy nephew and the monks worried about Uncle Palacios, after he once interrupted their unimaginative teaching about the stars to observe, “The stars in the heavens are there for all to see. One is not forced to observe them by gazing through any one particular window.”
Soon afterward a new tutor was engaged for Simón, a tall, loosely built young man of twenty-three. His name was Rodriguez Carreno and, fired with the revolutionary ideas of freedom, he threw away the dull books the monks had used, exchanging them for long walks, exercise, and philosophical talks. These exciting subjects were to influence Simón and make it possible for him to eventually become a great statesman, soldier, and liberator of the five countries he would later help to free and govern.
Rodriquez taught Simón the history of their country and spoke bitterly about the Spaniards who were rulers there and in much of the rest of South America. It was Rodriguez who also told Simón that these rulers considered the native Venezuelans to be inferior because their Spanish blood had been mixed through intermarriage with people from France or the West Indies (Creoles). Rodriguez’ remarks were shocking to the proud young man, and the tutor’s dream of freedom from Spain became a hope for Simón too.

Mrs. Bowman shook the box and placed it on her desk. “All right, boys and girls,” she said smiling. “We’ll start with Natalie. Remember, pull only one name out of the box, and be sure not to let anyone know whose name you have!” She laughed and nodded toward Natalie Johnson.
Roger sat with his chin in his hand, watching. As his classmates unfolded their slips of paper and read the names they had drawn, they giggled, covered their mouths with their hands, and took their seats once again. It was fun for them, but Roger felt his stomach churning and turned his head to look out at the gray afternoon.
Snow hung on the pine trees like huge wedges of whipped cream, and the afternoon sky was filled with white dots hurtling toward the ground. Roger wished he could give snow as a gift this year since there was so much of it. And it didn’t cost a cent.
“Roger? … Roger!” Mrs. Bowman was saying. “Time to pick a name.”
Roger turned his head and, unfortunately, in doing so his hand bumped his loose-leaf notebook and sent it clattering to the floor. As he bent to pick it up, he heard quiet snickering throughout the classroom. He knew his face was going red again, so he stood quickly and shrugged, trying to force a smile.
The front of the room looked a mile away and he felt sure everyone was staring at him. How he wished he could disappear.
There was only one slip of paper left. He unfolded it and saw that Marsha Gray’s name was written on it. Roger glanced at her, which was a mistake.
Ned looked quickly to where Roger glanced, then pointed a finger and shouted, “Roger got Marsha’s name!”
Roger hurried back to his seat.
“That’s enough!” Mrs. Bowman called. “Now clear your desks. The dismissal bell will be ringing very shortly. Have a nice weekend, and remember, there’s a limit of one dollar on your gifts.”
“Oh, boy!” Clancey Jones muttered. “What can you get for a dollar?”
Roger put Marsha’s name in his pocket and wished he had a dollar. The dismissal bell rang and everyone began getting ready to go outdoors in the snow. Roger pulled on his brother’s old boots, stuffed the tattered bottoms of his jeans into the tops, and slipped into his frayed jacket. He zipped it up, then pulled on his gloves.
Once outside, he felt free and comfortable again. The snow fell clean and fresh on his face and hair, and he stood for a minute, breathing deeply. Then someone clapped him on the back and he turned. “See you in Primary, Roger!” Carl waved as he raced toward a parked car.
“OK,” Roger called and waved. Then he cut across the school yard and into the woods. He felt at home with the familiar path that led down a slope, across the stream, and up through the meadow. A squirrel clung to the side of a tree and watched silently as Roger passed. At the stream, Roger knelt and watched the rushing water slip by snow-covered rocks, bubbling and gurgling its way toward the river. The snap of a twig made him look upstream to where a deer tiptoed toward the sparkling water. He watched quietly as the deer lowered its head and drank, then Roger smiled as it turned and sprinted into the woods, leaving only tracks in the snow. Roger glanced back at his footprints and smiled to see the man-size tracks his oversize boots left behind.
“Mom?” he called as he stepped into the warm, yeasty-smelling kitchen. “I’m home!”
“Shh …” she cautioned. “Your father’s asleep.” She rumpled Roger’s hair and smiled at him warmly. “How was school?” she asked.
He shrugged. “We picked names for the Christmas gift exchange, and I got Marsha Gray’s.”
His mother ran her hand over her long brown hair. “Oh, Roger, we don’t have money for gifts this year. Your brother’s been working hard, but we’re barely able to make ends meet, what with all the medical expenses for your dad.” She took Roger’s face between her hands and looked deeply into his eyes before she said, “Maybe we can think of something to do.”
Roger looked at the floor and nodded, “I understand, Mom. I thought I’d make her something on my own. I wasn’t going to ask for money.”
“I wish I had it to give you, Roger,” she said, shaking her head. “Oh, did you find a home for Mandy’s kitten? Or should I get your brother to do it?”
Roger sat down and pulled off his boots. “Not yet, Mom, but I’ll take care of it. I promise.” Mandy only had one fluffy kitten, and it seemed rather special to Roger. He hated to give it away.
The weekend was full of chores—chopping wood, feeding the goats, shoveling paths in the snow, and playing in the barn with the kitten.
Sunday morning Roger went to church with his mother and brother. Then later that afternoon he talked with his dad about making a gift. But nothing seemed right. As he was heading for his room upstairs to think, his mother called after him.
“The kitty, Roger. Did you talk to anyone at Primary?”
Suddenly Roger had an idea! He wondered why he hadn’t thought of it before! “Yes, Mom,” he smiled down through the railing. “I have—I mean, tomorrow I will.”
“That’s a good boy. I know it won’t be easy for you, but—”
“It’s OK, Mom, honest,” he replied with a grin.
The following morning he ran in easy strides along the path toward school. Today he had a smile on his face. In the classroom, gaily-wrapped presents were stacked beneath the tiny tree.
The morning passed quickly and as the noon bell rang, Roger hurried to Mrs. Bowman’s desk. “I have to go home for a minute,” he said.
“But you’ll barely have time,” she replied quietly.
“I have to get my gift,” he explained.
She glanced around the room, then, with a smile, nodded. “All right,” she said, “but hurry. We’re having the gift exchange right after lunch.”
Roger raced along the path and burst into the barn. In a corner he knelt beside Mandy and put her kitten into a box. “Sorry, Mandy,” he whispered patting the mother cat. Then he hurried back to school. As he placed the unwrapped box under the tree, Ned looked at Marsha’s name printed across the top and pointed to the holes poked in the sides.
“That’s your gift!” Ned called to Marsha. “Red-faced Roger didn’t even wrap it.”
Marsha’s mouth turned down and she lowered her head in embarrassment.
Roger felt his face turn red and his stomach churn. He looked away. Maybe my gift isn’t such a good idea after all, he worried. Suddenly from out of the box there came meowing noises. Mrs. Bowman looked toward it then looked back at Roger.
“Is that what I think it is?” she asked with a smile.
Roger slumped further into his chair and his face had an even redder glow. “Yes, ma’am,” he whispered.
Mrs. Bowman closed her book. “Well, we’d better have the gift exchange now,” she said. “I think you should be first, Marsha.”
As Marsha lifted the lid of the box, Roger looked out the window, wishing the day were over. Then he heard a loud “Oh!” He turned to see Marsha smiling as she lifted the kitten from the box. The whole class crowded around her desk to get a closer look.
“Do you have more kittens?” Ned asked.
“No, Mandy only had one,” Roger replied.
Roger glanced at Marsha. Her face and eyes sparkled with surprise and pleasure as she cuddled the soft kitten in her arms. Then she turned to Roger and said quietly but warmly, “Thank you.”
Roger grinned with relief. He knew his face was red again, but for once, he really didn’t mind.

Moving can be a scary thing, especially when you go from sixth grade in an elementary school to sixth grade in a middle school, as I did.
My mom took me to school on my first day to get me enrolled. After a quick tour of the school with the school counselor, we were taken to my classroom. My teacher wasn’t there when we arrived, so the counselor said he would find her and let her know I was new in the class. Then he left us with a class full of kids busy with schoolwork.
I was becoming nervous when one boy turned around and said, “Are you new?”
I said, “Yes.”
He stood up, walked over, stuck out his hand, and said, “Hi, I’m Chase.”
“I’m Zack,” I said, shaking his hand. To my surprise, several other boys lined up with outstretched hands and introduced themselves. I didn’t dare look at my mom because I thought she might be crying because these boys made me feel so welcome. I felt good the rest of the day because a group of boys noticed someone who needed a handshake.
After school, my mom asked me how it felt to have a welcome like that. “It felt good!” I said. She told me that if I ever noticed a new person, I would know what to do to make them feel good, too.

A while ago I was walking through a beautiful garden with my wife and daughter. I marveled at the glory and beauty of God’s creation. And then I noticed, among all the glorious blooms, the tiniest flower. I knew the name of this flower because since I was a child I have had a tender connection to it. The flower is called forget-me-not.
I’m not exactly sure why this tiny flower has meant so much to me over the years. It does not attract immediate attention; it is easy to overlook among larger and more vibrant flowers; yet it is just as beautiful, with its rich color that mirrors that of the bluest skies.
As a child, when I would look at the little forget-me-nots, I sometimes felt a little like that flower—small and insignificant. I wondered if I would be forgotten by my family or by my Heavenly Father.
Years later I can look back on that young boy with tenderness and compassion. And I do know now—I was never forgotten.

Like Ammon, eleven-year-old Katrina Dalton of Allen, Texas, has learned how to be a good example to those around her. One day while playing basketball at school, Katrina noticed that some of the kids in her class were saying mean things to a boy who is partially deaf. Katrina made sure that she was kind to him, and she became so concerned about him that she talked privately to the teacher to make her aware of the problem. The teacher was able to stop the bad behavior and later thanked Katrina.

Almost forty years ago I received an invitation to meet with President J. Reuben Clark, Jr., a Counselor in the First Presidency of the Church, a statesman of towering stature, and a scholar of international renown. My profession then was in the field of printing and publishing. President Clark made me welcome in his office and then produced from his old rolltop desk a large sheaf of handwritten notes, many of them made when he was a law student long years before. He proceeded to outline for me his goal of producing a harmony of the Gospels. This goal was achieved with his monumental work Our Lord of the Gospels.
Recently I took down from my library shelf a personally inscribed, leather-bound copy of this classic treatment of the life of Jesus of Nazareth. As I perused the many pages, I paused at the section entitled “The Miracles of Jesus.” I remembered as though it were yesterday President Clark asking me to read to him several of these accounts while he sat back in his large leather chair and listened. This was a day in my life never to be forgotten.
President Clark asked me to read aloud the account found in Luke concerning the man filled with leprosy. I proceeded to read:
“And it came to pass, when he was in a certain city, behold a man full of leprosy: who seeing Jesus fell on his face, and besought him, saying, Lord, if thou wilt, thou canst make me clean.
“And he put forth his hand, and touched him, saying, I will: be thou clean. And immediately the leprosy departed from him” (Luke 5:12–13).
He asked that I continue reading from Luke concerning the man afflicted with palsy and the enterprising manner in which he was presented for the attention of the Lord:
“And, behold, men brought in a bed a man which was taken with a palsy: and they sought means to bring him in, and to lay him before him.
“And when they could not find by what way they might bring him in because of the multitude, they went upon the housetop, and let him down through the tiling with his couch into the midst before Jesus.
“And when he saw their faith, he said unto him, Man, thy sins are forgiven thee” (Luke 5:18–20).
There followed snide comments from the Pharisees concerning who had the right to forgive sins. Jesus silenced their bickering by saying: “Whether [it] is easier, to say, Thy sins be forgiven thee; or to say, Rise up and walk?
“But that ye may know that the Son of man hath power upon earth to forgive sins, (he said unto the sick of the palsy,) I say unto thee, Arise, and take up thy couch, and go into thine house.
“And immediately he rose up before them, and took up that whereon he lay, and departed to his own house, glorifying God” (Luke 5:23–25).
President Clark removed from his pocket a handkerchief and wiped the tears from his eyes. He commented, “As we grow older, tears come more frequently.” After a few words of goodbye, I departed from his office, leaving him alone with his thoughts and his tears.

At first, Kendra was against Kevin’s interest in the Church. Now they look back and see how the Lord guided them both to the gospel.
Leslie Nilsson, photographer
Kevin:
I met Gregory while working at the Veterans Administration hospital. One day we were talking when someone came over and asked Gregory if he was a Mormon. From there, they began comparing the Bible and the Book of Mormon. Something struck me as they talked. It made me curious.
When I got home, I asked Kendra if she knew anything about the Mormons.
“You better not believe anything about that,” she told me.
I was still curious and excited to return to work the next day and learn more. As we talked, Gregory asked me if I believed that my spirit existed prior to this life. The question really penetrated me. I had never thought if it before.
“Well, if I have to guess, I would say yes,” I said.
“There’s so much more knowledge that Heavenly Father has in store for all His children,” Gregory told me.
I talked to Kendra about what I had learned, but she was against it. She told me that she and the kids would never step foot in “that” church. I became very defensive, which was weird. I was defending something that I knew nothing about.
One night I dropped Kendra off at a friend’s house, and I went to see my dad. He is a deacon in another church, so I was scared to ask him if he knew anything about the Church.
He said, “I heard something about their priesthood not being allowed to black people, but you’re a good man. Pray about it, and God will let you know.”
That night, I got on my knees to pray, but I couldn’t think of anything to say. Well, I’m on my knees, I thought. I’ve got to say something! So I just said, “Dear Heavenly Father, I love you.”
I was restless that night. I tossed and turned. I desired something—it was almost like I had a craving. I woke up that morning and hoped Gregory wouldn’t say anything more about the Church. I was confused about all that was going on. I also didn’t want this to cause me to lose my marriage. But certain things would spark my interest, and I’d ask Gregory questions. Little by little, I learned more about the Church.
Kendra and I continued to argue. During one argument, I felt a prompting to not say anything. I went into the bathroom and fell to my knees.
I told Heavenly Father that I would do anything if He would let me know the path He wanted me to take. When I thought about baptism, I felt this rush, like the wind, come over me. It was the Holy Ghost telling me, “This is what you must do.”
I was ready to be baptized. The next morning, I went to work and shared my experience with Gregory. I said, “I’m ready, man.”
He arranged for me to meet with the missionaries. They taught me the lessons, and it went well and really fast! I never questioned anything. I knew that the Prophet Joseph Smith saw what he saw. I had a testimony. But this just drove Kendra further and further away.
Kendra:
I was so mentally, physically, and spiritually exhausted. I actually moved to Florida for a few months. One day I just cried out to God, “I’m tired of the arguing. Please help me figure out if this Church is right.”
As I prayed, peace came to me. Once I came back to North Carolina, I didn’t have all the negative energy I had before. I used to leave the room when the missionaries came, but after this experience, I started interacting with them and cooking dinner for them. But I still wasn’t ready to go to church with Kevin.
I started searching for another church that my children would be interested in, but no matter how good a church was, my daughter, Aryanna, would say, “I want to go to church with Daddy!” We eventually agreed to go one Sunday to Kevin’s church, and the next Sunday we’d find another church.
Later on, a friend I made in the ward texted me and asked if I wanted to sing in the choir for a stake conference. Why does she want me to sing? I thought. I’m not a member. I kept battling it, but finally I said, “Sure, I’ll do it.”
It wasn’t like singing in other churches where there’s a band, it’s loud, and it feels like you’re at a concert. We sang “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing.” The words of the hymn and the sweet sound of the music really touched me.
Kevin:
A few months later, we were sitting in fast and testimony meeting, and Kendra said to me, “I think you should go up and share your testimony about prayer because of what it did for Dad.”
Kendra’s stepdad had just had a massive heart attack. We called on the ward to pray for him and our family during that time. Thankfully, he pulled through.
“I think you should do it,” I said. She got up and bore her testimony. It was so amazing. After this, things just started to unfold for her.
Kendra:
At the beginning of 2018, I kept hearing the name “President Monson.” At this time, I didn’t know this was the prophet. One night the missionaries came over and asked how I was doing.
“I’m doing fine,” I said, “but a person’s name keeps coming to my head, and I don’t know who it is.”
“What’s the name?” They asked.
“President Monson.”
“Kendra, that’s not just any name,” they said. “That’s the name of the prophet who just passed away. You should look at some talks he gave and see what the Lord wants you to learn from him.” I looked at some of his messages, and they were really touching and helped me. From there, it just seemed that the gospel kept coming back to me.
When we would go out to eat before, I would usually order a sweet tea, but Kevin would say, “You don’t need a sweet tea; get something else.”
One day I went to a fast food restaurant for my lunch break and ordered a sweet tea. A few minutes later, an employee said, “At the very moment you ordered a sweet tea, the machine broke.”
She said it would take about an hour to fix the machine. I only had 30 minutes for lunch. I just ordered a soda instead. At that point I laughed and said, “All right, I get it now!”
I wanted to join the Church, but I also didn’t want to make my mom mad. My mom played a big role in my decisions while I was growing up. She was a minister, so I constantly listened to her instead of going to church and learning for myself.
I was a little hesitant when we set a date for my baptism. The missionaries came over, and we talked about it.
Finally, I asked my daughter, Aryanna, “Do you want to be baptized?”
She said, “Mom, I’m ready whenever you are.”
She told me that when she went to church, all the girls ran and greeted her. They took her to Primary classes and were always friendly. They wanted her to be part of things. She became really good friends with one of the girls. That’s what she enjoyed about it.
At Aryanna’s baptism, she cried tears of joy. When I saw her, I thought, I’m where I need to be.
Kevin:
I know Heavenly Father brought the gospel to our family because He loves and cares about us so much.

I remember fondly our entire family’s great joy when two of our children received their calls to serve as full-time missionaries. Excitement and anticipation filled our hearts as they each opened their special letter from the prophet of God. Our daughter Jenessa was called to the Michigan Detroit Mission, and our son, Christian, was called to the Russia Moscow South Mission. What humbling and thrilling experiences, all at the same time!

As Sister Rasband and I had the privilege of presiding over the New York New York North Mission several years ago, I marveled as the missionaries arrived in New York City.
As I interviewed them on their first day in the mission, I had a profound sense of gratitude for each missionary. I felt that their call to our mission was divinely designed for them and for me as their mission president.
After finishing our mission assignment, I was called by President Gordon B. Hinckley to serve as a Seventy in the Church. Part of my early training as a new General Authority included an opportunity to sit with members of the Twelve as they assigned missionaries to serve in one of the 300-plus missions of this great Church.
With the encouragement and permission of President Henry B. Eyring, I would like to relate to you an experience, very special to me, which I had with him several years ago when he was a member of the Quorum of the Twelve. Each Apostle holds the keys of the kingdom and exercises them at the direction and assignment of the President of the Church. Elder Eyring was assigning missionaries to their fields of labor, and as part of my training, I was invited to observe.
I joined Elder Eyring early one morning in a room where several large computer screens had been prepared for the session. There was also a staff member from the Missionary Department who had been assigned to assist us that day.
First, we knelt together in prayer. I remember Elder Eyring using very sincere words, asking the Lord to bless him to know “perfectly” where the missionaries should be assigned. The word “perfectly” said much about the faith that Elder Eyring exhibited that day.
As the process began, a picture of the missionary to be assigned would come up on one of the computer screens. As each picture appeared, to me it was as if the missionary were in the room with us. Elder Eyring would then greet the missionary with his kind and endearing voice: “Good morning, Elder Reier or Sister Yang. How are you today?”
He told me that in his own mind he liked to think of where the missionaries would conclude their mission. This would aid him to know where they were to be assigned. Elder Eyring would then study the comments from the bishops and stake presidents, medical notes, and other issues relating to each missionary.
He then referred to another screen which displayed areas and missions across the world. Finally, as he was prompted by the Spirit, he would assign the missionary to his or her field of labor.
From others of the Twelve, I have learned that this general method is typical each week as Apostles of the Lord assign scores of missionaries to serve throughout the world.
Having served as a missionary in my own country in the Eastern States Mission a number of years ago, I was deeply moved by this experience. Also, having served as a mission president, I was grateful for a further witness in my heart that the missionaries I had received in New York City were sent to me by revelation.
After assigning a few missionaries, Elder Eyring turned to me as he pondered one particular missionary and said, “So, Brother Rasband, where do you think this missionary should go?” I was startled! I quietly suggested to Elder Eyring that I did not know and that I did not know I could know! He looked at me directly and simply said, “Brother Rasband, pay closer attention and you too can know!” With that, I pulled my chair a little closer to Elder Eyring and the computer screen, and I did pay much closer attention!
A couple of other times as the process moved along, Elder Eyring would turn to me and say, “Well, Brother Rasband, where do you feel this missionary should go?” I would name a particular mission, and Elder Eyring would look at me thoughtfully and say, “No, that’s not it!” He would then continue to assign the missionaries where he had felt prompted.
As we were nearing the completion of that assignment meeting, a picture of a certain missionary appeared on the screen. I had the strongest prompting, the strongest of the morning, that the missionary we had before us was to be assigned to Japan. I did not know that Elder Eyring was going to ask me on this one, but amazingly he did. I rather tentatively and humbly said to him, “Japan?” Elder Eyring responded immediately, “Yes, let’s go there.” And up on the computer screen the missions of Japan appeared. I instantly knew that the missionary was to go to the Japan Sapporo Mission.
Elder Eyring did not ask me the exact name of the mission, but he did assign that missionary to the Japan Sapporo Mission.
Privately in my heart I was deeply touched and sincerely grateful to the Lord for allowing me to experience the prompting to know where that missionary should go.
At the end of the meeting Elder Eyring bore his witness to me of the love of the Savior, which He has for each missionary assigned to go out into the world and preach the restored gospel. He said that it is by the great love of the Savior that His servants know where these wonderful young men and women, senior missionaries, and senior couple missionaries are to serve. I had a further witness that morning that every missionary called in this Church, and assigned or reassigned to a particular mission, is called by revelation from the Lord God Almighty through one of these, His servants.

My testimony didn’t come to me by way of a great revelation or by some overpowering, indescribable feeling. I always thought I would have to experience one of those things to know the Church was true.
I was struggling with my testimony between my eighth- and ninth-grade years. My parents had always taught me the right things, and I had been riding on their testimonies. At this time, doubts started to accumulate in my mind, and questions I couldn’t answer found their way to the surface.
Hanging around friends who didn’t obey the commandments made it harder for me to find the truth. As I struggled through the year, I lost the sense of who I was and what was important. I was aggravated all the time. I only wanted to be around my friends. My life was plagued with wrong decisions and their consequences. I was praying and reading my scriptures, but I didn’t seem to be getting an answer when I asked if the Church was true.
I don’t know exactly what happened to me, but I finally realized my lifestyle was not good. An awful sense of guilt rushed through me as I realized how many people were affected by my actions. However, I couldn’t seem to get away from my friends. When I hit high school, things didn’t get much better.
Taking seminary was one of the best things I could have done. It helped me see what I was doing, and that I was getting nowhere in life. I still desperately wanted to find out if the Church was really true.
Later in the year, I became best friends with a girl in my ward. My friend played a major part in helping me find myself. Over the summer we went to Especially for Youth and girls’ camp. I began really seeking the truth instead of expecting it to be handed to me on a silver platter. I was able to share my testimony with friends at EFY. Ordinarily I wasn’t the strong one. I didn’t even know I had it in me. It was then I knew I had known all along the truthfulness of the Church.
Friends can either make or break you, and I found that out. I merely had to find myself and start living the principles Heavenly Father had laid out for me to follow.
So it wasn’t some big, shocking conviction, it was merely a look inside myself and a calm assurance that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the only true church. My life is so much better because I made the decision to follow the Lord.
In recent years, my testimony has only strengthened. I have come to rely on the Lord for everything. There are still trials ahead, but I know I can face them if I have faith and trust in the Lord.

Stories or poems will help your listeners remember the points you are trying to make. For example, a talk on ambition might include the following illustration:
A young boy named Tommy was showing a visitor some of his drawings—birds, dogs, cars, houses. He confided that these were not his best drawings. “May I see your best drawings, then?” asked the visitor. “Oh,” replied Tommy, “I haven’t done those yet.” (Vaughn J. Featherstone, “Of Mind and Muscle,” Do-It-Yourself Destiny, Bookcraft Publishers, p. 109).

The organ music was solemn and low, and a reverent silence fell over the congregation as the pallbearers entered carrying the simple pine box. A few garden flowers had been lovingly placed on top, and nestled among them was an old mandolin, its worn but polished finish gleaming dully in the dim light. The flickering candles made the large room seem gloomier, although sunlight reflected in here and there between the rough-hewn logs.
The organ seemed out of place in this rugged wilderness. There were few luxuries in this early western settlement, and the small organ, brought all the way across the plains on a wagon, was highly treasured.
Amanda watched little puffs of dust rise from the floor as the pallbearers walked slowly down the aisle.
“The coffin is so small,” she whispered to her mother.
“Your great-grandfather may not have been very tall in stature, but he was a giant in spirit,” Mother whispered back.
Amanda nodded, and bitter tears stung her dark brown eyes. Grandpa’s death was hard for her to understand. He had been light-hearted, always spreading laughter wherever he went. And music. How he loved music!
Bishop Madsen stepped up to the tall box that served as a pulpit and announced the opening song and prayer. Then Amanda’s mind wandered again as the service began. She could see herself bumping around in the back of the covered wagon, gazing longingly behind them as the trail disappeared into dust. She’d missed her home and the friends she’d left behind. Grandpa hadn’t seemed to, though. He’d sat in front, constantly looking ahead.
The bishop had finished speaking, and he turned toward Amanda.
“Amanda, we all know how much you and your great-grandfather loved to sing together. Do you think you could come up here and sing one of his favorite songs for us?”
Amanda froze in her seat. I could never sing without Grandpa, she thought. She looked at the mandolin lying among the flowers. It had helped Grandpa while he tended sheep. Maybe it would help her now.
She rose slowly and walked over to the casket. Her hands trembled as she lifted the mandolin from its bed of flowers. Several people in the crowd nodded encouragement. Amanda cleared her throat, placed her fingers on the strings, and began: “Come, come, ye Saints, …”
The song went beautifully until she came to the last verse. Tears welled up in her eyes, and her voice started to quaver.
Bishop Madsen stepped quickly to Amanda’s side, beckoning the congregation to join in. Instantly the little log church was filled with music.
And should we die before our journey’s through,
Happy day! all is well!
We then are free from toil and sorrow, too;
With the just we shall dwell! …
Amanda sat down, still holding the mandolin. Mother put her arm around Amanda’s shoulder and said, “Grandpa’s mandolin can become as much a part of you as it was a part of him. Take good care of it.”
Amanda smiled. It was already a great comfort to her.

After the ship landed in New York on June 6, Henry and Mary still had a long way to go. They travelled to Nebraska by boat and train, often riding in cattle cars. The bedding and equipment sent by their mother were not waiting for them in Nebraska, so on July 13 they set off in a Church wagon train with only the clothes on their backs.
To make matters worse, Henry lost his wooden clogs when he crossed the Platte River. Not wanting to wait for the rest of the wagon train to reach the river, Henry got up early and left by himself—something he knew he was not supposed to do. When he reached the river about noon, he was tired and fell asleep. When he woke up, he saw the last of the wagons pulling up on the other side of it.
He shouted, and William Henry Chipman, the captain of the company, told him to swim across the river. Taking off his heavy coat and wooden clogs so he could swim, Henry plunged into the water. When the current carried him downstream, Captain Chipman rode his horse into the water. Henry grabbed a stirrup and held on while the horse swam across.
He was safe, but he had to walk across the remaining plains barefoot. His feet became black, hard, and cracked from the journey; blood often oozed from the cracks. Sometimes at night Mary cried in sympathy as she pulled spines of prickly pear cactus from his feet.

Some years ago, President Thomas S. Monson came to a regional conference in Hamburg, Germany, and it was my honor to accompany him.
President Monson asked about Brother Michael Panitsch, a former stake president who had been one of the stalwart pioneers of the Church in Germany. I told him that Brother Panitsch was seriously ill, that he was bedridden and unable to attend our meetings.
President Monson asked if we could pay him a visit.
I knew that shortly before his trip to Hamburg, President Monson had undergone foot surgery and that he could not walk without pain. I explained that Brother Panitsch lived on the fifth floor of a building with no elevators. We would have to climb the stairs to see him.
But President Monson insisted. And so we went.
I remember how difficult it was for President Monson to climb those stairs. He could take only a few at a time before needing to stop and rest. He never uttered a word of complaint, and he would not turn back. Because the building had high ceilings, the stairs seemed to go on forever, but President Monson cheerfully persevered until we arrived at the apartment of Brother Panitsch on the fifth floor.
Once there, we had a wonderful visit. President Monson thanked him for his life of dedicated service and cheered him with a smile. Before we left, he gave him a wonderful priesthood blessing.
President Monson could have chosen to rest between our long meetings. He could have asked to see some of the beautiful sights of Hamburg. I have often thought of how remarkable it was that of all the sights in that city, the one he wanted to see more than any other was a feeble and ailing member of the Church.
President Monson came to Hamburg to teach and bless the people of a country. But at the same time, he focused on the one.

I was told recently of two missionary companions—one had many outward talents, the other didn’t. They had received a letter from a man and his family to whom they had taught several discussions. The letter told the elders to come by and pick up the Book of Mormon because the family had decided they were not interested in continuing the discussions.
The more outwardly talented elder felt confident that by using all his social skills and all his learning he would be able to change the man’s mind. During the meeting he used every persuasive skill he could think of. The other elder listened. Finally the man agreed to continue the discussions.
Later, at the family’s baptism, the talented elder remembered the night with some degree of pride. After the baptism the man told him, “The night I changed my mind and continued to have you teach me was the most important night of my life. As you talked to me, my mind was so determined to not listen that there was nothing you could have said that would have caused me to continue. But then I looked at your companion. His eyes were focused on me. I saw in his face more love than I had ever known before. My heart felt a spirit that made it so I could not resist his silent message. I decided then that if this church could cause someone to love like that, then I wanted to be part of it.”

I was a missionary sent to France in 1949. Missionary work then was much different from missionary work now. There was no Missionary Training Center, so when I arrived in Paris, I had had no language training at all. There wasn’t a set of lessons to teach investigators. Different missionaries used different methods to teach the gospel.
I had been in Paris for just a few weeks when my companion received word that his mother was dying of cancer. Since his scheduled release date was only weeks away, the mission president allowed him to return home early to see his mother. If that had happened today, another elder would have been transferred to my area to be my companion. But in those days I was left to work by myself until transfers for the entire mission were made.
Before he left, my companion and I had scheduled a few lessons. I knew that I would have to take care of those appointments. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know the language, and there were no prepared discussions. I was nervous and frightened.
I began to read the Book of Mormon and to pray as hard as I could. I would pray, and then I would read, then I would pray again and read some more. This went on for several days.
Finally it was time to go to my first appointment—the Alvarez family. They were a lovely couple whom we had just begun teaching. When I went, I didn’t know what I was going to say. I had a testimony of the gospel and the restoration, but I did not know the language.
But when I went to see this family, the Lord took over. For two hours I taught them. I’m sure that it wasn’t in beautiful French, but I was able to communicate with them how I felt about the gospel. They understood the message and were touched by the Spirit.
That night when I returned to my apartment, I knew that there really was a Father in Heaven and that He had called me on a mission. I knew that Heavenly Father had watched over and helped me—had loosed my tongue—and that He watches over all His missionaries. It was the first spiritual testimony that I had received in my life of the truthfulness of this work. One of the greatest blessings that ever happened to me was serving a mission.

When I told my bishop about my pregnancy, he was so helpful. It was a blessing to meet with him regularly. As I talked with him about my options for the baby, he wanted me to know that he was there to represent the Lord in my repentance process but would not tell me what decision to make about raising or placing my baby. As we were studying Doctrine and Covenants 9:8–9, my bishop asked me to pray and tell Heavenly Father what I really wanted—he encouraged me to make a decision and seek confirmation from the Lord.
So I went home and prayed. I told Heavenly Father all the amazing reasons why I would be the best mom for this baby, and I asked to know if that decision was right. The next day, everything in life felt like it was falling apart. For instance, I lost my medical insurance, and my car broke down.
At church the following Sunday, I told my bishop how life seemed to fall apart after I prayed about my decision. Because of what had happened after my prayer, my bishop suggested that I consider a different decision and seek confirmation about it instead.
While working with my bishop, I had considered placing the baby for adoption and had narrowed down the potential adoptive families to two couples. The bishop suggested that I select one of the two couples and pray about that decision to ask if this little guy needed to go with them.
I went home and reluctantly prayed, asking Heavenly Father if the couple I had chosen were the ones my child needed. The next morning, a connection my sister made led to a miracle solution for my insurance. I felt this was a confirmation that adoption was the right path for me, and I remember thinking this child could have so much more with a different family.
I knew that Heavenly Father would help me with this decision. Part of me hoped this choice would be like the story of Abraham and Isaac (see Genesis 22)—that when it came time for me to place my son for adoption, God would tell me I didn’t need to do it anymore. But He didn’t. I needed to place my son with a wonderful family.