Gospel Story Finder

When I was in my teens, a recently returned missionary named Brother Peterson taught our Sunday School class. Every week he would draw a large arrow from the lower left-hand corner of the blackboard pointing to the upper right-hand corner. Then he would write at the top of the blackboard, “Aim High.”

Whatever doctrine he was teaching, he would ask us to stretch ourselves, to reach a little higher than we thought was possible. The arrow and those two words, aim high, were a constant invitation throughout the lesson. Brother Peterson made me want to serve a good mission, to do better in school, to set my sights higher for my career.

Brother Peterson had a work for us to do. His goal was to help us “think about, feel about, and then do something about living gospel principles.” His teaching helped save my life.

Number four comes from a contemporary of Abraham Lincoln, and this picture is entitled “Honesty.” During American slave days a little black girl was placed upon the auction block to be sold to the highest bidder. A prospective purchaser approached and said to this little girl, “If I buy you and give you a good home and treat you kindly and feed you well, will you promise me that you will be honest?” This wonderful little black girl said, “I will promise you that I will be honest whether you buy me and treat me kindly or feed me well or not.”

When I became a parent, I felt a heavy responsibility to support my children on the covenant path and make sure they followed Heavenly Father’s plan.
Beginning in my teenage years, I’d noticed counsel to parents in nearly every general conference, including the following:
President Ezra Taft Benson (1899–1994) told us that if we would “begin a serious study” of the Book of Mormon, we would “find greater power to resist temptation[,] … the power to avoid deception[,] … [and] the power to stay on the strait and narrow path.” So I knew my family would read the Book of Mormon as a family each day.
The family proclamation taught that “parents have a sacred duty to rear their children in love and righteousness, … to teach them to love and serve one another, [and to] observe the commandments of God[.] … Husbands and wives—mothers and fathers—will be held accountable before God for the discharge of these obligations.”
President M. Russell Ballard (1928–2023) reminded us that in order to “protect and preserve and strengthen our homes and families in a world pulling so hard in opposite directions,” we had to “be consistent in holding daily family prayer and weekly family home evenings[,] … teach the gospel and basic values in your home[, and] … create meaningful family bonds that give your children an identity stronger than what they can find with their peer group or at school or anyplace else.”
As a young mother, I interpreted all this instruction to mean that it was my responsibility to save my children. I felt that if I did all these things with my family then my children would be inoculated from temptation and threats to their testimonies.
However, over the last few years as my children have faced increasing threats to their testimonies and some have stopped attending church, I have felt betrayed. I wondered why we didn’t seem to be experiencing President Benson’s promise that my children would be protected with power to resist temptation and deception and to stay on the strait and narrow path.
I approached the April 2022 general conference with a heavy heart. Another child had just informed me that she was struggling with her testimony. I started watching general conference asking the same question later addressed by Elder Adrián Ochoa of the Seventy in his Saturday afternoon talk, “Is the Plan Working?” In my mind, I feared it was not.
I prayed to know what I could do to help my children desire to return to church participation. Preferably immediately. Answers came during general conference. But the answers that came were not what I expected.
Three lessons helped me change my heart.
Sunday morning, Elder D. Todd Christofferson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles said:
“Some misunderstand the promises of God to mean that obedience to Him yields specific outcomes on a fixed schedule. They might think, ‘If I diligently serve a full-time mission, God will bless me with a happy marriage and children’ or ‘If I refrain from doing schoolwork on the Sabbath, God will bless me with good grades’ or ‘If I pay tithing, God will bless me with that job I’ve been wanting.’ If life doesn’t fall out precisely this way or according to an expected timetable, they may feel betrayed by God. But things are not so mechanical in the divine economy. We ought not to think of God’s plan as a cosmic vending machine where we (1) select a desired blessing, (2) insert the required sum of good works, and (3) the order is promptly delivered.
“God will indeed honor His covenants and promises to each of us. We need not worry about that [see Doctrine and Covenants 82:10]. The atoning power of Jesus Christ—who descended below all things and then ascended on high [see Doctrine and Covenants 88:6] and who possesses all power in heaven and in earth [see Matthew 28:18]—ensures that God can and will fulfill His promises. It is essential that we honor and obey His laws, but not every blessing predicated on obedience to law [see Doctrine and Covenants 130:20–21] is shaped, designed, and timed according to our expectations. We do our best but must leave to Him the management of blessings, both temporal and spiritual.”
I’m sure I had heard similar teachings before, but this time it struck deep into my heart. This time I was ready to hear it, and I needed to hear it.
I was also reminded of an earlier general conference message from President Dieter F. Uchtdorf, then the Second Counselor in the First Presidency:
“We cannot earn our way into heaven; the demands of justice stand as a barrier, which we are powerless to overcome on our own.
“But all is not lost.
“The grace of God is our great and everlasting hope. …
“Salvation cannot be bought with the currency of obedience; it is purchased by the blood of the Son of God [see Acts 20:28].”
I knew this. I knew that I couldn’t earn my own way to heaven. But for some reason, I thought my obedience could earn my children’s way to heaven. The more I studied Elder Christofferson’s talk and others, the more I realized that I had been duped by Satan’s lie that my children didn’t need a Savior as long as I was a “perfect parent.”
As I studied and reflected on those talks, the Spirit helped me begin to understand that all the work to protect my children against temptation and deception and to shore up their testimonies is essential but does not guarantee my children will stay on the covenant path.
Agency is a crucial part of Heavenly Father’s plan. We are all given the gift of choosing for ourselves, even if that means our children may choose to turn away from what they’ve been taught. Even so, the Lord is always reaching out to His wayward children in love, and as earthly parents we can do the same.
In the October 2018 general conference, Elder Dale G. Renlund of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught:
“Though God wants us to be on the covenant path, He gives us the dignity of choosing.
“Indeed, God desires, expects, and directs that each of His children choose for himself or herself. He will not force us. Through the gift of agency, God permits His children ‘to act for themselves and not to be acted upon’ [2 Nephi 2:26].”
I find great comfort in what Elder Renlund said next: “No matter how long we have been off the path or how far away we have wandered, the moment we decide to change, God helps us return [see Alma 34:31]. From God’s perspective, through sincere repentance and pressing forward with a steadfastness in Christ, once back on the path, it will be as if we were never off. The Savior pays for our sins and frees us from the looming decrease in happiness and blessings.”
I know that we all need the Savior. This truth brings me profound relief. While it remains my responsibility to teach my children and support them on the covenant path, it is not my job to save myself or my children. That is the Savior’s work, and He is doing it perfectly. It is Heavenly Father’s work and His glory “to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man” (Moses 1:39). He has a plan of salvation for all of His children. I need to trust in His plan, not my plan. And I’ve been trying to remember that He does keep His promises to protect and strengthen our families. I have faith that He is always inviting my children to come unto Him, and He will comfort and strengthen me as I strive to do the same.
A second lesson I learned was from Sister Amy A. Wright, First Counselor in the Primary General Presidency, who spoke immediately following Elder Christofferson. She taught: “Oftentimes we can find ourselves, like the lame beggar at the gate of the temple, patiently—or sometimes impatiently—‘wait[ing] upon the Lord [Isaiah 40:31].’ Waiting to be healed physically or emotionally. Waiting for answers that penetrate the deepest part of our hearts. Waiting for a miracle.”
My prayer going into that general conference had been for immediate results. I knew this wasn’t realistic, but I hadn’t anticipated learning lessons about the importance of waiting.
Sister Wright continued: “Waiting upon the Lord can be a sacred place—a place of polishing and refining where we can come to know the Savior in a deeply personal way. Waiting upon the Lord may also be a place where we find ourselves asking, ‘O God, where art thou?’ [Doctrine and Covenants 121:1]—a place where spiritual perseverance requires us to exercise faith in Christ by intentionally choosing Him again and again and again.”
I have given this concept a lot of thought since that general conference. Learning to wait, to be patient with my children and their choices, and to trust that the Lord is ever seeking after them has required a lot of effort on my part. I wish it were as simple as making the choice one time to believe and then being filled with peace for the rest of my days, as I pray that my children will choose to reach out to the Savior and exercise faith in Him. But it has not been that way for me. Some days it has felt easier to give in to hopelessness and despair, to give up because it may seem like “the plan isn’t working.” It has required great effort and spiritual perseverance to exercise faith and maintain hope in Heavenly Father’s plan when I’m seeing my children make choices that don’t reflect the divine truths I taught them. Yet every day that I choose hope over despair, I am choosing Him. Again and again and again.
This struggle has brought me closer to God. It has made me turn to Him through prayer. It has focused my scripture study. It has turned me to the temple. Most of all, it has made me immensely grateful for the Atonement of Jesus Christ. I am so grateful to know that He loves my children and that He gave His life for them.
Learning to wait upon the Lord has become a sacred place for me. It has become a refining experience.
Studying these general conference talks and focusing my gospel study has deepened my understanding of doctrine and strengthened my faith. I am learning “line upon line, precept upon precept“ (2 Nephi 28:30). to trust in the Lord and in Heavenly Father’s plan of redemption while still praying that my children will choose to follow Jesus Christ and His gospel. And I am looking forward to the next general conference to add to my learning and my testimony.
A third talk giving me hope from that conference was delivered by Elder Larry S. Kacher of the Seventy. As I have studied this talk, it has taught me powerfully. I have learned that the Lord allows us to experience the complexities of life to help us turn to Him. Elder Kacher taught that “there is simplicity on the other side of life’s complexities as we remain ‘[steadfast] in Christ, having a perfect brightness of hope’ [2 Nephi 31:20].
“Part of life’s purpose is to allow these potential stumbling blocks to become stepping-stones as we climb what I call the ‘ladder of faith’—a ladder because it suggests that faith is not static. It can go up or down according to the choices we make.”
I have grown through this trial of my faith. In my puny wisdom, I want to spare my children from the trials of life. But would I deny my children this same growth? In God’s mighty wisdom, He has provided a path for us to follow, His plan of salvation. As we navigate that path, we encounter challenges that test our faith in Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. It is up to us to use our agency to choose to follow Christ in our own ladder of faith, allowing our trials to be stepping-stones rather than stumbling blocks. Elder Kacher reminds us that “our progression is an eternal one.”
My children’s story is not over. God’s plan of salvation is real, and I need to have faith in His plan and trust in His purpose. As my children continue to exercise their agency, I strive to remember that the Lord will continuously reach out toward them and that He will help them return if they choose to do so. He is mighty to save.
I am finding hope in Proverbs 3:5–6:
“Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.
“In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.”
I am sure others are experiencing their own trials of faith. Yours may be similar to mine, or you may struggle with different questions. May I suggest that you take your concerns to the Lord before general conference and also through an ongoing study of general conference and the scriptures. Put in the effort to “hear Him”; then trust Him to teach you what you need to hear. I know that He loves us and that He has the power to save us and to save our children as we—and they—each individually choose to turn to Him in faith.
The author lives in Utah, USA.

Boo found Daddy’s toolbox and took out a big hammer. She pounded with the hammer—Bang! Bang! Bang! But Daddy took the hammer away. “No, no, Boo,” Daddy said. “Those are my things.”
Boo is a little girl, bouncy when she walks, giggly when she talks. Boo is busy! She is busy learning about everything—where she can play and where she can’t, what she should do and what she shouldn’t.
In Big Sister’s room Boo wanted to climb up to the mirror and put colors on her face! But Big Sister scooped her off the chair. “No, no, Boo,” Big Sister said. “Those are my things.”
When Boo wanted to poke the shiny needle from Mommy’s sewing basket into the bright cloth or to cut with the sharp scissors, Mommy put the sewing basket up on a high shelf. “No, no, Boo,” Mommy said. “Those are my things.”
Boo tried to dip a paintbrush into Big Brother’s paint box so she could dab and dribble the paint. But Big Brother took the brush away before the dribble dropped. “No, no, Boo,” he said. “Those are my things.”
Boo was sad. She sat in a corner. She didn’t feel bouncy. She didn’t feel giggly. She didn’t have anything to keep her busy.
Mommy looked at Daddy. Big Sister looked at Big Brother. The next day Big Sister played ball with Boo. Then they played dolls. Big Sister read lots of stories to Boo. Boo was busy!
Boo was so busy that she didn’t hear Daddy pounding. She didn’t see Mommy sewing or Big Brother painting.
In the morning they all said, “Come with us, Boo. We’re going to the Yes-Yes Place.”
The Yes-Yes Place was a playhouse. Daddy had built it. Big Brother had painted it. Mommy had sewed the curtains and made the little furniture. And it was all for Boo.
Boo sat in the little chair and looked in the little mirror and put little-girl makeup colors on her face. She pounded with her rubber hammer. She cut bright cloth with her safe scissors. She painted with her jars of finger paint. And no one said, “No, no!”

After 25 years of marriage, Gina learned about her husband’s pornography use and his infidelity. Traumatized, Gina called her bishop. She soon found that he was an understanding listener who let her cry when she needed to—a blessing she acknowledges that not every spouse in her situation has.
Gina remembers that in one of their first meetings, her bishop “advised I get counseling immediately, not for my marriage or for my husband, but so I could have solid support as I faced the challenges ahead. He wanted me to feel cared for, and he knew that he did not have the background that might be needed. He saw my depression and anxiety and advised me to talk to my doctor about any medical help I might need.”
Over the next few years, Gina regularly attended support groups and counseling and sought the support of family—sometimes calling them to ask them to pray for her on her hardest days. She has learned, she says, that “Heavenly Father will never leave me in darkness.”
Gina remembers that soon after she met with her bishop for the first time, he advised her to do a few things that seemed like the standard answers. “He gently urged me,” she remembers, “to get to the temple, read my scriptures, continue in prayer.”
In the challenging years that followed, Gina found that the “standard answers” were her means of caring for herself. The scriptures became her sanctuary. “I would read a verse, write it down, and try to ponder what it meant to my situation, and then write those thoughts down,” she explains. “I knew that, more than ever, I had to hear the Lord’s word and have it take deeper root in my understanding. I could make so little sense of the rest of my world, but for the time I was in the scriptures, I was making sense of something—one verse at a time.”
Likewise, prayer and temple attendance took on new meaning. “When I was done pouring out my heart,” Gina remembers, “I would say, ‘Heavenly Father, now it’s Your turn.’” And she would wait quietly and listen. “Even in the darkest hour,” she explains, she realized that her “spirit was growing.”
Today, Gina is divorced and focused on her healing and that of her children, and she often reaches out to help women in similar circumstances find hope.

Twelve-year-old Saajan has never seen a temple in person.
“My mom has always had a goal to go to the temple,” Saajan said. “Her love for the temple is contagious. Now my goal in life is to visit the temple.”
Saajan was born in India, but when his parents got divorced, he moved with his mom to the United Arab Emirates. “My mom works really hard. She’s like a superhero to me. Even during the hard times, she never gives up.”
Saajan’s mom and grandma joined the Church in India a few years before he was born. They read the Book of Mormon and knew it was an answer to their prayers. Saajan grew up going to church with his mom, and he was recently baptized after waiting for his father’s permission.
“Getting baptized was one of the best choices I have ever made,” he said. “And when I received the gift of the Holy Ghost, I felt so warm and joyful inside.”
Now Saajan is passing the sacrament for his ward and preparing to enter the temple. He received his temple recommend, and he can’t wait to enter the Dubai United Arab Emirates Temple when it is finished.
“When I heard that they announced the temple, I personally felt it was for me,” Saajan said. “It was an answer to our prayers. I was shocked because they’re building it right where we live! I will be able to take a train directly to the temple and go as often as I want. I’m also excited for the Bengaluru India Temple that my grandparents will be able to visit.”
Saajan is excited for his grandparents to have the Bengaluru India Temple near them.
Saajan wants to do temple work for his other ancestors as well.
“I’m preparing myself so that I will be worthy to enter the temple. I want to do what I can to help all of my ancestors. I have such an exciting opportunity to serve the Lord and do the things pertaining to the kingdom of God.”

When you meet someone, how do you introduce yourself? What things are important to your identity? My name is Brian. And I belong to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. But I haven’t always felt like I belonged.
I joined the Church my first year of college. What seemed like only moments after my baptism, well-intended members started asking, “Will you serve a mission?” A mission wasn’t something I had been able to give serious thought to yet. But I felt like the expected answer was yes.
Just over a year after I joined the Church, I received my call to serve in England and arrived eager to teach. But within a few days, I realized how homesick I was. I was not prepared to serve a full-time mission.
While discussing my feelings with mission president, he felt impressed to sing, “There Is Sunshine in My Soul Today” (Hymns, no. 227) over the phone. It struck me as a little odd, but it brought me feelings of light and warmth.
And yet a week later I was on a plane heading home. I wrestled with my feelings the entire flight. I felt overwhelmed worrying about what others might be thinking about my choices. I was angry at myself that I didn’t serve a full two years—after all, I had left behind friends and family and postponed school to serve a mission. I had endured so much heartache, and now it just felt like Heavenly Father had abandoned me in my time of need. I wondered if I even belonged anymore because I hadn’t lived up to every expectation.
A week after coming home, my best friend’s family invited me over to watch a session of general conference. It was the last thing I wanted to do. But I went.
Halfway through the session, Elder Jeffrey R. Holland walked to the podium and said, “There is sunshine in my soul today”—the same thing my mission president had unexpectedly sung two weeks earlier. The Spirit whispered, “This is the Church you belong in.” Over the next 15 minutes, my entire perspective changed.
Before hearing Elder Holland’s talk, I thought belonging meant meeting every expectation. Now I understand better that the Lord’s Church isn’t for those who are already perfect but to help perfect those who aren’t. And when you are trying to follow Him, you belong in His Church.

Sister Melbourne was mean and grouchy. There was no other way to describe her. Just the other day I heard her telling the bishop that children took too much time in testimony meeting. She even said that most of us didn’t understand what we were saying; we just wanted attention. I walked out of the chapel feeling very angry.
My anger didn’t last, however. It was December, and Christmas was in the air. Excitement filled me right up to the top of my head. I had to smile and laugh, or I think I would have burst. We began singing “Jingle Bells” as we rode home from church, just to let some of the excitement out.
After dinner, Mom and Dad called us into the family room. We all knew what we were going to discuss. Every year for as long as I could remember, we had chosen a family in our ward who needed some extra help at Christmastime, and we had secretly taken gifts and food to their house. It was one of our family’s favorite traditions.
When we were all together, Dad said, “It’s time we decide which family to help this year. Do any of you children have a suggestion?”
Some years it had been really easy to decide because of a particular family’s needs, but this year we couldn’t think of anyone. When none of us said anything, Dad looked at Mom. “Maybe Mom has a suggestion. Sometimes she notices things the rest of us miss.”
Mom smiled. “As a matter of fact, I do know of someone who needs our help. Before, we have always chosen a family with children, but this year I think we should help Sister Melbourne.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing! “But, Mom,” I protested, “she’s not poor or sick, and she’s really grouchy. She doesn’t even like kids. I think we should choose someone else.”
“I agree with April,” said my older sister, Beth. “She really is grouchy. It wouldn’t be any fun doing something for her. She might even kick our gifts off her porch. Besides, she seems to have plenty of money. She dresses in nice clothes.”
I looked at Beth gratefully. It was comforting to have someone older agree with me. Peter spoke up. “She’s always telling me to shush, even when I’m quiet.”
Lynn and Josh didn’t say anything. They were too small to know who Sister Melbourne was.
“I know that Sister Melbourne has enough money to take care of herself,” Mom said. “And I know that she isn’t very pleasant to be around. But that’s exactly why I think she needs our help.”
I wasn’t convinced, but I listened as Mom continued: “Sister Melbourne has had an unhappy life. She was divorced before she moved here. She has three children who are married. They have children of their own but never come to see her or let her get to know her grandchildren. Perhaps she has done something to make them want to stay away. I don’t know about that, but I do know that she is very lonely and unhappy. I think she needs someone to let her know that she is loved. You see, April, you weren’t quite right when you said that she wasn’t poor.”
“You mean she’s poor in love?” I asked.
“Yes, and sometimes it’s much more painful to be poor in love than it is to be poor in money.”
We were all quiet for a few minutes. Then Dad said, “Let’s take a vote. How many of you would like Sister Melbourne to be our special family this year?”
Slowly Beth’s hand went up. Lynn and Josh raised theirs. Then Peter raised his. Looking around at everyone, I reluctantly raised mine.
Mom said that instead of buying all our gifts for Sister Melbourne from the store, we should make most of them. All the next week we cut out snowflakes, strung popcorn and cranberries, pasted together red and green chains from paper strips, and made cookies and candy. We bought apples and oranges to go with all the things we had made.
It was Dad’s job to get a box just the right size for our gifts and to decorate it. We carefully arranged everything inside the box and put on the lid. Dad added a huge red and green plaid bow on the top.
We gathered around the dining room table to have a prayer and make our final plans before we delivered the box. In the prayer, Dad asked Heavenly Father to please soften Sister Melbourne’s heart and help her to receive our gift in the spirit of love with which we were giving it. I was comforted by those words, because I remembered what Beth had said about Sister Melbourne kicking our gift off the porch, and I had visions of cookies, candy, paper snowflakes, apples, oranges, strings of popcorn and cranberries, and red and green chains strewn all over the ground.
We all put on our coats and piled into the car. Since the box was pretty big, we decided Dad would carry it to the porch. After he returned to the car, it would be my job to ring the doorbell and run back to them before Sister Melbourne opened her door.
I could feel my heart pounding with excitement as Dad parked far down the street from her house. “April and I will walk to Sister Melbourne’s house,” he said. “The rest of you must be very quiet so that you don’t attract attention.” He lifted the box out of the car and motioned for me to follow him.
“Dad,” I said, “I’m afraid Sister Melbourne will catch me and get mad.”
“She’ll never catch you!” He grinned at me. “You’re the fastest runner in our family. But if you’re really worried, I’ll wait for you behind those bushes over there on the far side of her yard. When she’s inside again, we’ll go back to the car together.”
“I’d like that,” I said, smiling gratefully up at him.
Dad carefully set the box on the porch. I waited until he was hidden behind the bushes, and then I ran up the steps, rang the doorbell, and flew down the steps and across the yard to the bushes, where I crouched down next to Dad. “Good work,” Dad whispered, putting his arm around me.
The door opened, sending a ray of light out across the snow. Sister Melbourne didn’t see the box at first, but as she was about to close the door, she saw it and stopped. She just stood there for a second. Then she bent down and read her name on the top. She lifted the lid, and once again she was very still. Finally she picked the box up and looked around the yard. She was smiling, but there were tears running down her cheeks. “Thank you,” she called out. “Thank you, whoever you are.”
Dad and I were both quiet for a few moments after she went inside and closed the door. I whispered, “I think she really liked our presents, don’t you?”
“Yes, I think she really did.”
The next Sunday as we were driving home from Church, we looked at everyone’s Christmas decorations and we began singing “Jingle Bells” again. When we passed Sister Melbourne’s house, I saw our snowflakes in her big front window, and the popcorn and cranberry strings and red and green chains on a Christmas tree that hadn’t been there the week before. “I think Sister Melbourne’s getting richer,” I said.
Mom stopped singing long enough to give me a hug. “So are we.”

The Lord said to his own, “O ye of little faith.” (Matt. 6:30.) Aren’t we all? Once when far away from home, after three days of quite intense suffering, I finally admitted to my companion, Brother Harold B. Lee, that I was in distress. He gave me a sleeping pill he had, then knelt by my bed and blessed me. Though I had gone through three nights in pain and almost without sleep (it was then 3:00 A.M.), I was fast asleep moments after the blessing. I am now ashamed to confess that the next morning when I awakened, my first thought was of the potency of the pill. Then, as hours passed and I knew the effect of the pill must have passed, the distress did not return, and I fell on my knees in remorse to ask forgiveness of the Lord for having given credit to the medicine rather than to him. Months passed and still there was no return of pain or distress. I am ashamed, but I probably represent numerous people who have done likewise. O we of little faith! “Brother A. was not healed.” “Sister B. got well, but it was a long process.” “Brother C. would have gotten well anyway.”
As I went into surgery a few years ago, I was still conscious when the doctors and nurses were standing around me waiting, I said to the specialist, “There are numerous people full of faith who are praying for you this morning.” He quietly replied, “I’ll need their prayers.” It is my firm conviction that the numerous prayers were heard, that his hand was steadied and guided, that his judgment increased, and that as a result of the blessings of the Lord, healing followed and my voice returned to a satisfactory extent. The skeptic might have other answers.
Sometimes I have cringed to hear elders tell of miracles in which they were the administrators. It has sounded like boasting, reminding me of the Lord’s caution to the triumphant seventies:
“Notwithstanding in this rejoice not, that the spirits are subject unto you; but rather rejoice, because your names are written in heaven” (Luke 10:20.)
I would fear to boast of miracles in which I was part for fear the Lord might be displeased even to the extent of curtailing his power entrusted to me.
The blessing belongs to the recipient, who may wish properly to bear testimony to it, but it would seem ill fitting and presumptuous to even approach boasting, for none of us can heal. Only by the priesthood are results manifested. If an elder charged the afflicted one never to mention those who laid on hands, it would further take away the temptation to take honors unto oneself. All honor should be given our Heavenly Father in every instance. Such a procedure seems to be in line with the Savior’s life, for in many healings he charged, “Tell no man.” To the leper asking mercy he said, “I will; be thou clean,” and immediately the leprosy was cleansed. Then Jesus said, “See thou tell no man.” (Matt. 8:3–4.)
I know that the healing power is in the Church and that numerous people are healed or improved or restored through the blessings of the Lord, sometimes with and sometimes without the skill of men.
We should do all we can for ourselves first: dieting, resting, taking simple herbs known to be effective, and applying common sense, especially to minor trouble. Then we could send for the elders, the home teachers, the neighbors or friends in whom we have confidence. Frequently this is all that is required, and numerous healings can be effected. In serious cases where the problem is not solved, we turn to our skilled and helpful men who can help so wonderfully. One young woman who was sent to the hospital for serious surgery, and who was very nervous and afraid, stated that when the doctor came to see her the night before the early morning surgery, he indicated he had been to the temple. She relaxed and felt at peace, realizing that she was in the hands of a righteous, skilled man of faith and the Lord was watching.
Let not the skeptic disturb your faith in these miraculous healings. They are numerous. They are sacred. Many volumes would not hold them. They are simple and complex. They are gradual, and they are instantaneous. They are a reality.

Some books tell us things we should know; others just entertain us. This 1968 Newbery Award book does both—and more. It is one of the most unusual and delightful books you could find to read.
Claudia decides that her family takes her too much for granted. She plans to leave home so they will miss her. She invites her brother Jamie to go with her because he is the miser of the family and can be depended upon to have money. They run away to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City, where they become involved in mystery, adventure, and excitement. Their story and the unexpected things Claudia and Jamie find out about themselves are recorded by the wealthy Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler in a long letter to her lawyer.
This book is a must for older readers of the Friend.

The tree had been young when Olivia Tucker McCoy joined the Church. In her diary she wrote: “We were baptized Oct. 3, 1897. My husband’s father had given him the place he settled on with the understanding that he would help him work and pay for that place and the one his father bought, but as it was his father’s he never got the deed. So, after we joined the Mormons his father told him he would have to move.”
Their little daughter had been burned in a fire in December, and they asked for time before moving the child but were ordered out. On January 3, 1898, “We put her in the wagon on a bed, moved to what they called the Coates place, and rented the same from Jim Smyly.
“The Christmas of 1898 I spent with my sister, a Mrs. Guinn, the one I lived with when I was married. But the folks didn’t seem just the same. You see, I had joined the Mormons and I was reminded of it.”

Aïolah and Evaline V.
Aïolah V. of France is a 12-year-old Beehive. So is her sister Evaline, who turns 13 in a month. “I’m glad my sister is here to help me move from Primary into Young Women,” Aïolah says.
One of their favorite things is Personal Progress, but when they read about one goal, they laughed. “Learn to play a musical instrument,” it said.
“We’ve been playing for years,” Evaline says. But then they talked with their mother. She helped them to see that they could use music to fulfill another goal: service.
Aïolah and Evaline are now preparing to perform in sacrament meetings and talent nights, give concerts for children and seniors, and accompany missionaries as they sing.
“Personal Progress is nice,” Evaline says. “It lets you do what you love and do new things too.”

There have been times in my life when I felt as if there was no hope for me to be happy or to return to our Father in Heaven. Several years ago I was disfellowshipped from the Church. I had lived a life of pride and sin and had suffered greatly because of my actions. My engagement to the woman I loved didn’t work out, my relationships with others were suffering, and I wasn’t happy.
Although I wished I had chosen to be humble long before then, I was compelled to be humble and to seek to do the will of the Lord. I started to read the scriptures more frequently, to pray more often, and to seek to serve others. I tried to repair the relationships I had neglected for so long, including my relationship with Heavenly Father. I truly desired a change of heart.
It was early morning as I drove to school one day, and the sun was not yet up. The eastern horizon glowed, and the western horizon was dark, with a full moon descending behind it. I had developed the habit of conversing with my Heavenly Father while driving. As I prayed during this car ride, my mind was enlightened, and a new hope was placed within my heart.
I realized that my life was glowing and getting increasingly brighter, just like the eastern horizon. The darkness was dissipating, and my sins, which were as great as that full moon, were descending. They were not yet gone, but I knew that they soon would be if I continued my sincere repentance. I had hope that someday my life would be as bright as noonday.
With time and as I prayed for love for my Heavenly Father and others, I became more humble. Increased humility led me to serve God and others more selflessly, and my hope for eternal life and a better future was renewed and replenished. As that hope grew, so did my faith that my Savior, Jesus Christ, is mighty to save and to cleanse me from all unrighteousness. I know the words of Mormon are true: “Ye shall have hope through the atonement of Christ and the power of his resurrection, to be raised unto life eternal” (Moroni 7:41).

Li Hsiao-lung, 17, of the First Ward, said having a temple in Taipei continues a history of conversion in her life. “When my brother was baptized, he recognized that the gospel is precious. He decided to share this sweet fruit. He invited me to church, and I heard the missionary discussions. He got me excited about reading the scriptures. He taught me how to pray. Since I’ve been in the Church, I feel like my understanding keeps growing and growing. I think that when I go to the temple, it will help me to keep growing and understanding.”

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.

Among many very good deeds, Hilda was largely responsible for gathering the whole of Joe’s offspring as a family. In late 1952, Joe, Hilda, John, and I went to Southern Rhodesia, and siblings Gwen, Peter and Sue were taken out of the Fairbridge home, located near Bulawayo in the south, to join the rest of us now located in what was Salisbury, the capital. We were all together in the one home for a precious two years. Then, due to concerns about space in our three-bedroomed Rhodesia-Railways-provided house, Gwen left to live in a special establishment set up to house young single women.
Those years in colonial Rhodesia were wonderful, especially for John and me. As youngsters we lived a largely outdoor life, often running around barefoot and getting up to mischief, but mostly creatively (building platforms in trees; forming rowing boats from corrugated metal sheets — usually used for roofing purposes; fabricating catapults from carefully chosen branches of trees and rubber strips from old car-tyre inner tubes, and bows that we used to shoot arrows made from dried elephant grass with pins in their heads and chicken feathers as fletching). Hilda was always around to attend to our injuries, and provide as best she could for us, including repairing clothing.

An acquaintance of mine grew up not far from here. By the time he was 14 years old, he was over six feet tall and very uncoordinated. He said, “One afternoon when I was in a 10th-grade seminary class, the Spirit really touched me. I came to know that the gospel literally was true. I made up my mind that day that I wanted to serve the Lord in any way I could.”
By his senior year, he was well over six feet tall and much more coordinated. Many universities offered him scholarships to play basketball. After his first year playing at a university, he told his coach that he would like to be excused for two years to go on a mission. The coach said, “If you leave, you can be sure of one thing: you will never again wear one of our basketball uniforms!” Many thought that his “mission” ought to be playing basketball. Even some family members, including his parents, tried to convince him not to serve a mission. But he was totally committed. He was willing to give everything to the Lord—the scholarship, the applause of the fans, and the excitement of playing. He knew what the Lord was counting on him to do. He was called, and he served an honorable mission.
When he returned two years later, he was even taller and about 35 pounds heavier. His coach decided to repent. He was permitted to wear one of those basketball uniforms again, and in his senior year, his team not only won the conference championship but went on to the finals in national competition.

When I was 19 years old, one of my best friends was married. The wedding was wonderful, she looked beautiful, the groom was handsome, and they were happy. I, on the other hand, was a little distraught. I was caught off guard by what she was doing. She was altering my vision for her—and for me. I definitely wanted to get married, just not yet. I thought we were both so young, and here she was marrying not only before graduating from college, but before she had the chance to travel much or engage in intellectually stimulating career opportunities. I was up the night prior to her wedding, anxious about what would happen in her future, while she was sound asleep, rightly confident in her decision.
As I look back on my reaction, I have to smile. What was I thinking? I look at her life now: she has two lovely children and a loving home. A few months after her wedding it became clear to me that she had made the right decision, and it is even clearer now. I recognize that she was prayerful and thoughtful and trusted in God’s promptings to her.

I received a most interesting letter from a mother a few months ago reporting to me her service hours to her community as a Bicentennial commitment. A portion of her letter read as follows: “I went to a P.T.A. meeting at the beginning of the school year and learned that my sixth-grade daughter was assigned to read a certain book in school. I felt impressed that I should read it to see if it was desirable for children. As I read it, I found it highly undesirable for sixth-graders. It contained profanity, violence, disrespect for adults, especially parents, and was generally gloomy and depressing, with nothing of love and beauty and goodness. I discussed the book with the principal of the school and told him of my concerns. He suggested that I read the whole series of books before condemning them, and if I still felt the same way I could write my objections in a letter and give them to him, giving specific examples of objectionable materials.
“I complied with his suggestion and continued to read the other books and found them also unfit for our children. I felt compelled to write my letter even before I had finished the last in the series.
“I was gratified to receive a call later from the assistant superintendent of this school district, asking me to come to his office. He told me it was not their policy to have books in their basic reading curriculum with profanity in them and that they would immediately remove those books from their school district. He said they were highly embarrassed that someone should have to point out to them the objectionable nature of the books, and that they would see that those persons responsible for reviewing the books in the future did a more thorough job.”

I grew up in a quiet town in Idaho, USA. My family is Catholic, but we always felt very welcomed by the large Latter-day Saint community. We were often invited to what I now know to be “ward” activities, and I would get invited to attend Primary. I don’t remember going to Primary that often, but when I became Young Women age, I participated in lessons and was asked to play on the volleyball and softball teams.
One very special activity I went to was Young Women in Excellence night. Leigh Anne, my best friend since second grade, had invited me. I wasn’t familiar with what happened at these activities, and she’d told me just to come in a dress and to listen with my heart. She walked me through the displays of handmade crafts, desserts, inspirational thoughts, and more crafts.
Then a movie was shown of a boy with his mother, who spoke to him about eternal families. As she spoke to him, I recognized a warmth and swelling in my heart that I’d never felt before, and it made me want to cry. I wasn’t sure what it was.
I looked at Leigh Anne, and she was looking at me. She knew what I was feeling. She didn’t say a word. She just looked at me with tears in her eyes, nodding that she understood and wanted me to keep listening.
I remember the feeling I had as the Holy Ghost testified of the truthfulness of eternal families. I learned to recognize the witness of the Holy Ghost because my friend was someone I could trust and because she followed the prompting to allow me to learn. I’m so grateful for this first step in my conversion process.