Gospel Story Finder

Horace Mann, that great educator somewhere back in the time of Abraham Lincoln, told how he was the speaker at the dedication of a great boys’ school, and in his talk he said, “This school has cost hundreds of thousands of dollars; but if this school is able to save one boy, it is worth all that it cost.” One of his friends came up to him at the close of the meeting and said, “You let your enthusiasm get away with you, didn’t you? You don’t mean what you said that if this school, costing hundreds of thousands of dollars, were to save just one boy, it was worth all that it cost? You surely don’t mean that.”
Horace Mann looked at him and said, “Yes, my friend. It would be worth it if that one boy were my son; it would be worth it.”

In the spring of 1972, President Spencer W. Kimball, who was serving as the Acting President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, was very ill. Throat cancer had returned, and his heart was threatening to fail due to a clogged artery and a malfunctioning valve. He was seventy-seven years old. The cancer was stopped with cobalt treatments, and his physicians recommended a complex surgical procedure on his heart, with only some chance of success.
In a meeting with his doctors and President Harold B. Lee of the First Presidency, President Kimball said wearily, “I am an old man and ready to die.” He wondered whether, at his age, it made sense to fight so hard to extend his life when, perhaps, his time had come. President Lee arose and said with power, “Spencer, you have been called! You are not to die! You are to do everything you need to do to care for yourself and continue to live.”
Spencer did not give up and die. He was not a man who gave up, no matter how difficult the task.
The surgery was performed and was successful. While he was recovering, President Joseph Fielding Smith passed away. Eighteen months later, President Harold B. Lee also passed away, and Spencer W. Kimball became the twelfth President of the Church. Considering his age and health history, most people expected his administration to be a brief “caretaker” period. But instead, it was a vigorous time of miracles. For the next twelve years, in the words of Elder Neal A. Maxwell, “one often got the feeling that [President Kimball] was always on the next ridge waiting for the Church to catch up. Though he smiled at us and beckoned us, he would like to have seen us move more than just a bit faster.”
He talked about the importance of missionary work and challenged us to “lengthen our stride.” He said, “It seems to me that the Lord chose his words when he said ‘every nation,’ ‘every land,’ ‘uttermost bounds of the earth,’ ‘every tongue,’ ‘every people,’ ‘every soul,’ ‘all the world,’ ‘many lands.’” He urged us to pray that the hearts of leaders of oppressive governments would be softened and that they would allow the missionaries to come into their lands. The number of missionaries doubled, and nearly three million people came into the Church. At the time of his death, 60 percent of the stakes in the Church had been created during his time as President.
He stressed the importance of temple work, and the number of temples rose from fifteen to thirty-seven, with several others announced or under construction.
He discussed the importance of the family as the basic unit of the Church, and a new Sunday meeting schedule was introduced to give families more time together.
A new English hymnbook was published; it became a standard for many language editions that later followed.
He taught the importance of scripture study, and new editions of the standard works with more extensive cross-referencing and a better topical guide were published. Individuals and families were encouraged to study the scriptures. Two revelations were added to the scriptures—the vision of the celestial kingdom given to Joseph Smith (D&C 137) and the vision of the redemption of the dead given to President Joseph F. Smith (D&C 138).
The First Quorum of the Seventy was formally organized and expanded, so that there were more General Authorities to handle the responsibilities of a rapidly growing worldwide church. Men from half a dozen nations were called to that Quorum. All the General Authorities, including President Kimball, traveled extensively, and area conferences were held in many cities on six continents.
But perhaps the most exciting moment occurred in June 1978 when the Lord revealed that the time had come to extend the priesthood to worthy men of all races. (See OD 2.)
Every good teacher knows that one of the best ways to get the attention of students is to whisper. President Kimball whispered, not because he wanted to, but because cancer had taken most of his vocal cords. And he got our attention! We listened raptly to his inspired counsel:
“I find that when I get casual in my relationships with divinity and when it seems that no divine ear is listening and no divine voice is speaking, that I am far, far away. If I immerse myself in the scriptures the distance narrows and spirituality returns.”
“Grow all the food that you possibly can on your own property.”
“We ask you to clean up your homes and your farms. … Make our properties a thing of beauty to behold.”
“Every person should keep a journal and every person can keep a journal.”
“Suffering can make saints of people as they learn patience, long-suffering, and self-mastery.”
“Marriage can be successful as long as selfishness does not enter in.”
“The spectacle of a nation praying is more awe-inspiring, more powerful, than the explosion of an atomic bomb.”
“Security is not born of inexhaustible wealth but of unquenchable faith.”
“I know that Jesus Christ is the Son of the living God and that he was crucified for the sins of the world. He is my friend, my Savior, my Lord, my God.”
Surely the Lord had prepared Spencer W. Kimball for just this time, had known of his unique talents, had seen him grow through many trials, and knew that he was the man who could lead the Church in a time of such growth and excitement.
He was born 28 March 1894 in Salt Lake City, the sixth child of Andrew and Olive Woolley Kimball. When he was three years old, his father was called to be president of the St. Joseph Stake in southeastern Arizona, so the family made the four-day move south.
Spencer thrived in the Gila Valley, but he also learned sorrow. There his mother died when he was just eleven years old. Four of his sisters also died.
The first World War thwarted his hopes for more advanced education, but he served a mission in the central United States and later married Camilla Eyring, who was a school teacher. They had three sons and a daughter. He established his own insurance business, was active in community affairs, and served in Church callings as diverse as music director, stake clerk, and stake president.
One youthful experience tells us much about his personality and abilities. When Spencer was fourteen, he attended a meeting in which the speaker asked how many in the congregation had read the Bible. He felt miserable that he could not raise his hand. He wrote, “That very night at the conclusion of the sermon I walked to my home a block away and climbed up to my little attic room in the top of the house and lighted a coal-oil lamp that was on the little table, and I read the first chapters of Genesis. A year later I closed the Bible, having read every chapter in that big and glorious book.”
He learned to work hard and long on his father’s farm, and he was not one to give up easily. When he was called to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles in 1943, he was shocked, overwhelmed, and humbled. In his first talk as an Apostle at the October 1943 general conference, he testified:
“I remember reading that Jacob wrestled all night, ‘until the breaking of the day,’ for a blessing; and I want to tell you that for eighty-five nights I have gone through that experience, wrestling for a blessing. Eighty-five times, the breaking of the day has found me on my knees praying to the Lord to help me and strengthen me and make me equal to this great responsibility that has come to me.”
The announcement of the June 1978 revelation also illustrates his patience: “We have pleaded long and earnestly in behalf of these, our faithful brethren, spending many hours in the Upper Room of the Temple supplicating the Lord for divine guidance.
“He has heard our prayers, and by revelation has confirmed that the long-promised day has come when every faithful, worthy man in the Church may receive the holy priesthood” (OD 2).
Perhaps Spencer W. Kimball’s patience and tenacity were just the qualities needed to bring about this great blessing from the Lord.
In a speech to a group of servicemen shortly after he had been called to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, Elder Kimball expressed his feeling of humility and wonder that such a call could come to him. But then he said, “I don’t know exactly why the Lord has called me, but I have one talent to offer. My father taught me how to work; and if the Lord can use a worker, I’m available.”
He became a legend for his energy, his long working hours, and the way he applied his motto—“Do It”—to himself. But always evident in his life was his great love of people. In fact, he often described himself by saying, “I love people.”
He had a special love for the Lamanites. In his patriarchal blessing he was told, “You will preach the gospel to many people, but more especially to the Lamanites.”
As a member of the Quorum of the Twelve, he was given responsibility for the Indian mission and later for the South American missions. President George Albert Smith gave him a special charge to look after the Indians throughout the world.
Stories abound of his kind acts and thoughtfulness. One snowy day when many airline flights had been canceled, thousands were stranded in a busy airport. A young mother and her two-year-old child waited in line after line trying to buy a ticket. The child was tired and hungry, and the mother was pregnant and could not carry her child. As the child sat whimpering on the floor, the mother moved her along with her foot. As people behind her in the line muttered and criticized, the young mother wanted to cry.
Then a man approached her with a kind smile on his face, “Young lady, it appears to me that you need a little help.” He took the child in his arms, comforted her, and gave her a stick of chewing gum. After he told the other people of the woman’s plight, they agreed to let her go to the front of the line. The man took her to her flight. As she boarded the plane, she thought, “What a wonderful man, and I don’t even know his name.” A few days later, she saw his picture in a newspaper and learned that he was Elder Spencer W. Kimball of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
On another occasion, a bishop in South America asked if Elder Kimball could bless a dying man in the hospital between stake conference sessions. They raced to the hospital and ran up the stairs and down the hall. As they entered the room, the bishop recalled, “There was an amazing change. Elder Kimball seemed to have all the time in the world.” They visited unhurriedly, administered to the man, and took their leave. Once out the door, they ran to the car and sped back to the conference.
Many people, sick in the hospital, were blessed and comforted by a much sicker Spencer Kimball during his many hospital stays. He once said, “My life is like my shoes—to be worn out in service.”
He spent a great deal of time counseling those who had become weakened by sin or were struggling with adversity. The sorrow and joy he shared with them inspired his books The Miracle of Forgiveness and Faith Precedes the Miracle, which have, in turn, inspired many more members of the Church.
Had Spencer W. Kimball died at the age of seventy-seven, he would have lived a marvelous life as a missionary, husband, father, businessman, stake clerk, stake president, and, for thirty years, Apostle. His many struggles with poor health, his acts of kindness, his loving wisdom would have stood as a monument to him.
But, at an age when most people retire and take their ease, he was given the greatest challenge a man could have. He accepted a calling he never expected to have and magnified it in such a way that millions of people, living and dead, were blessed.

One day, while waiting her turn at the dentist’s office, Heidi felt impressed to give a copy of the Book of Mormon, with her picture and testimony inside, to a neighbor lady who was also waiting. “You can have this,” Heidi said, handing the woman the book. “It’s a true book, and ours is the true church.”
The spirit of truth worked quickly. The next day the neighbor lady, Lajla Pedersen, phoned and asked if she could go to church with the Pedersens the next Sunday. Soon Lajla and her husband, Jan, were converted to the Church. Within weeks he was baptized, ordained a priest, and, with much jubilation, was able to baptize his wife, his daughter, Lisabeth, and his son, Kim.

Shortly after returning from the Mexico City Mission, I received an invitation to accompany Elder Boyd K. Packer to Mexico to make a survey of the Church Educational System there. We arrived on Thursday and were involved in almost continuous meetings through Friday and Saturday; then Elder Packer presided over a stake conference. By Sunday evening, we were all very tired. Elder Packer returned home, and I remained to conduct a meeting on Monday with the supervisors of the Seminaries and Institutes of Religion.

Monday morning I checked out of the hotel and took a taxi to the mission office. I was in the back seat going through some papers when I happened to look at the taxi driver. My first thought was, “I’m busy. I’m tired. And besides, he probably is not interested in the gospel anyway.” But my rationalizing did not satisfy me, especially when I thought of my previous experience with President Kimball and remembered the lady on the bus between Mexico City and Cuernavaca. Finally, I leaned forward and asked him, “Señor, siempre ha vivido aqui en Mexico?” (“Sir, have you always lived here in Mexico City?”) “No,” he replied, “I am from Oaxaca.”

“Do you like living here in Mexico City better than in Oaxaca?”

“No, I liked living in Oaxaca better than here, but you see I’m the father of eight children. My oldest son is studying here at the Polytechnical Institute to become an engineer. He will graduate this year. My second son is also studying to become an engineer, and he will graduate next year. Our oldest daughter is studying to become a profesionista” (accountant).

I could see that he was very proud of his children. Then he turned to me and asked, “What are you doing here in Mexico City?”

“I’m here on a special assignment from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Have you ever heard of that church?”

He wrinkled his forehead and said, “Is that some kind of Catholic Church?”

“No,” I replied, “it is really quite different. In our faith we believe that when Jesus was on earth he organized his church just as he wanted it to be, but over the years a falling away, or apostasy, occurred. Then the time came in our era when the Lord decided it was right to reveal himself to living prophets again, and to restore his church to the earth.”

That simple explanation took only about forty seconds. I leaned back in the seat, feeling content that at least I had “opened my mouth.”

The next thing I knew he slowed down, looked over his shoulder, and said, “Would you be willing to come to my home and teach my family more about that?”

“I would be delighted,” I replied, “but my plane leaves at 2:00 P.M. this afternoon. If you have three minutes when we get where we are going, I will introduce you to a friend, and I am sure that we can make arrangements for someone to come to your home and tell you and your family more about this.”

“Well,” he said, “I’m buying my taxi; I can do with my time what I want to, so I’ll come with you.”

By the time we arrived at the mission office I had had an opportunity to tell him about our missionary program and how it operates. We parked the car and went into the mission office, and I introduced Herman Velasquez to President Eran Call, who graciously received him.

Just as they were making the arrangements, President Call looked out the office window and said with surprise, “Well, those two elders coming up the sidewalk right now are the two that work in your part of the city!” I had the privilege of seeing Mr. Herman Velasquez meet the elders who would be coming to his home the following Sunday to teach his family more about the gospel.

Some weeks later I received a letter from President Call, who wrote: “I thought you would be interested in knowing what has happened to that taxi driver you brought to the mission home the other day. The missionaries are meeting with him and his family, with his brother and his family, and his brother-in-law and his family, and last Sunday eleven people attended church services from among those families. The exciting thing is that the two most interested are those sons that are studying to be engineers.”

Six months later, I returned to Mexico City to attend a Young Adult conference. I heard that even though the taxi driver had not yet joined the Church, the oldest son who was studying engineering had been baptized and ordained a priest; his brother, the younger son who was studying engineering, had been baptized and ordained a teacher. Someday I would like to know what has happened since; surely much more has occurred.

“Time to get up,” Mom called cheerfully. I rolled over and pretended I didn’t hear her. That’s what I do when I don’t want to get up.
Mom didn’t give up. “Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes,” she called. “Anyone who wants to eat had better come downstairs.”
That got my brother going. “Come on,” Devon grunted, giving my bed a shake.
“I’m not hungry,” I muttered.
“Suit yourself.” He put on his robe and headed downstairs.
It was true. I wasn’t hungry. In fact, my stomach kind of ached. I stared at the wall. Maybe I should tell Mom I’m sick, I thought. That’s it—I’m sick and need to stay home.
A few minutes later I got my chance.
“Devon says that you’re not hungry.” Mom sat down on the edge of my bed. “Are you feeling all right?” She put her hand on my forehead. “You don’t feel hot.”
“I’m not sick,” I answered truthfully, “but I don’t feel very good.”
At first mom looked puzzled, then suddenly she understood. “Are you nervous about your talk?”
“I’m not just nervous,” I said. “I was nervous last night when I went to bed. Then I dreamed that when I got up to give my talk I couldn’t find my notes, and I couldn’t remember anything. It was awful!”
Mom shook her head. “I’m sorry that you had a bad dream, but it was just a dream. You’re going to do fine.”
“Can’t we call and say I’m sick?” I asked. But I knew that Mom would never go for it.
“Come have some breakfast,” she said, pulling the blankets off me. “You’ll feel better once you’re up and going.”
I knew that the only thing that was going to make me feel better was calling the Primary president and telling her that I was too sick to give a talk. Mary Kay could give two talks. She gives talks all the time. She even enjoys giving talks. I started to say something, but Mom gave me one of those “don’t waste your breath” looks, so I stopped.
“Good morning, Son,” Dad said happily as I slumped into my chair.
“Morning,” I grumbled. I couldn’t bring myself to call it a good morning.
Dad looked at me quizzically.
“Jeremy’s a bit worried about his talk,” Mom explained.
“Oh, I see,” Dad said. “Is there anything I can do to help? I’d be happy to listen if you want to practice before we go to church.”
I shook my head. Saying my talk in front of my dad wouldn’t help. I ate one pancake and half a piece of bacon before I asked to be excused.
“We’re really proud of you, you know,” Mom said as I rinsed my plate. “I wouldn’t have guessed that you would be the first one in our family to speak in church.”
“I’m sure that we’ll all get a turn eventually,” Dad said with a smile.
“What do you mean?” Devon asked anxiously.
“Just that speaking in church is something that Latter-day Saints do,” Dad replied. “We don’t have a pastor like we used to, who gives a sermon every week. The members take turns giving talks, instead.”
Devon shook his head. “I don’t ever want to give a talk.” He looked at me. “Who told you that you had to give a talk?”
“Nobody did. My teacher asked our class who wanted to give talks. Four of us raised our hands. We picked numbers to see who got to do it.”
“You mean you volunteered?” Devon was shocked.
I shrugged my shoulders. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. Now I wish I’d kept my big mouth shut.”
Mom squeezed my shoulder. “You’re going to do great. Now, go get dressed for church.”
Some time later I hurried down the stairs. “Dad, will you tie my tie? I’ve done it three times and still can’t get it right.”
“I’d be happy to.” He wrapped my tie around his neck and tied a perfect knot. My tie looked pretty funny on him. It was way too short. He slid the tie up over his head, then pulled it down over mine.
“Thanks,” I said as I tightened it. I pulled my note cards out of my shirt pocket and started to read through my talk for the zillionth time.
I sat through sacrament meeting, quietly reading my notes over and over again. It wasn’t until I glanced up and saw Mary Kay watching me that I carefully put them back into my pocket.
When I reached the Primary room, I walked up to the chairs at the front of the room. On the way, I stopped at the podium just to make sure that I really was tall enough to see over it without standing on the stool that the little kids use. It didn’t matter—even if I couldn’t see over it, there was no way I was going to stand on the stool.
As I looked out over the podium, I saw my mom and dad sitting in the back of the room. I hadn’t asked them to come, but I wasn’t surprised to see them. What did surprise me was that Devon was with them. He was missing Sunday School just to hear me talk! I wasn’t sure if I was pleased or annoyed.
Mary Kay sat down in the chair next to mine. “Are you nervous?” she asked.
I shrugged, trying to look calm. “Are you?” I asked.
She nodded. “I’ve given lots of talks, but I still get nervous.” She held out her hands to show me that they were kind of shaking.
“Then why do you always volunteer?” I asked.
Mary Kay shrugged. “I think talking in church is a good thing to do. I think it’s important to tell people what you believe. Don’t you?”
“I guess so,” I said. “I’ve never given a talk before.”
Mary Kay looked shocked. “Really?”
“In my old church, the pastor did all the preaching,” I explained.
“It’s great, once you get going,” Mary Kay said with a smile.
The music started, so we stopped talking. I felt surprisingly calm. Somehow, knowing that Mary Kay got nervous when she gave a talk made me feel better.
After the opening song and prayer, the Primary president announced that Mary Kay and I would be giving talks. Mary Kay went first. I had a hard time listening to her talk. I kept going through my talk in my mind. I was startled when I heard her say “amen.”
“Good luck,” she whispered as I passed her on my way to the podium.
I pushed the stool out of the way with my foot, pulled the microphone down, and began.
“This is the first time I’ve ever given a talk in church,” I began. “In fact, it’s the first time anyone in my family has given a talk in church.” I looked at my family. They were all smiling at me.
I went on to tell of all the ways my life had changed since I was baptized. I talked about reading the Book of Mormon. I told about when the missionaries told my dad that he wasn’t pronouncing Moroni’s name correctly. They said that Dad’s way made the prophet’s name sound like a kind of pasta.
Then I talked about learning to pray, how glad I was when I learned that Heavenly Father wants us to pray, and how I knew that He listens to and answers our prayers.
I was almost finished when I realized that my note cards were still clenched tightly in my hand. I hadn’t even needed them! I thanked my parents and Devon for joining the Church and told them that I loved them. That part wasn’t even in my notes. Then I ended my talk, “In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
As I sat down, I was filled with relief and joy.
“You did great!” Mary Kay whispered.
“Thanks,” I said, blushing slightly.
I looked back at my family. Devon smiled and gave me a big thumbs-up. Mom had tears running down her cheeks. I could tell they were happy tears.
When singing time began, I watched my family slip out the back door. I guess there was no reason for them to stay, but I still was sorry to see them go. It was then that I decided that the next time it was our class’s turn to give talks, I’d volunteer again.

I was only 20 when my bishop extended a call to me to serve in my ward Relief Society presidency. I panicked.
As soon as I was asked to serve, the adversary reminded me of my insecurities and shortcomings. He tried to convince me that I was not good enough to fulfill this assignment.
I was sure this calling was a mistake. I was pretty new in the ward, I was still figuring out my own life, I had a lot of social anxiety, and I felt completely unready to serve in such a role.
Perhaps you can relate.
That day I met with my bishop, I accepted the calling to serve in Relief Society. I was amazed at how—despite my being young, inexperienced, and terrified at times—the Savior strengthened me beyond my inadequacy. He helped me deepen my love for my sisters in the gospel and offer them support in the ways they needed.

The seminary students in the Phoenix Park Ward of the Dublin Ireland Stake were a little worried. Their stake president and their bishop had approached them about something new. Would they be the first seminary class in all of Ireland to try meeting every day—early every day?
Elaine O’Farrell, age 15, remembers her first reaction: “I thought, if we see each other every day, we’ll get on each other’s nerves.” And there was that other obvious worry. Pamela Fagan, age 15, explains, “No way would they get me out of bed that early.” Farris Bukhatwa, age 17, and Louise Byrne, age 17, lived the farthest distance away. It was not going to be easy.
But not everyone was worried. Jenna Gallagher, age 15, was a little bit excited about the idea. “I had heard about early-morning seminary in other countries,” she says. “I always dreamed of going to seminary that way. I was really pleased that we were going to do it. I knew if I made a sacrifice, the Lord would bless me.”
Then things started to work out. Farris was able to use the family car in the mornings and could pick up Louise. Pamela agreed to get up extra early so she could leave on time with her brother Derek. Elaine changed her mind and said she liked seeing these people every morning. Jenna was happy just to be in seminary. Brett Crowther, age 18, and his brother Brandt, age 16, the mission president’s sons, were thrilled to be with other Church youth every day. And best of all, their teacher, Rosemary Richmond, was terrific.
All students in Ireland are required to take religion class. Even though they go to early-morning seminary, these Latter-day Saint students are not excused from their school religion requirement. But their study of the scriptures has paid off. Louise explains, “Franciscan friars visited our school. When they were asking questions, they would point to me and put their fingers to their lips as if to say, ‘Shhh, don’t answer the questions.’ They knew I could answer them.”
Elaine tells a similar story about religion class. “If my teacher asked what a word means, like covenant, I would answer,” she says. “He knew I would know the answer no matter what he asked.”
Derek Fagan, age 17, has excelled in both school and seminary, and he credits an experience he had just before he received his patriarchal blessing: “We had been talking about patriarchal blessings in seminary. I prayed and asked if I should get mine. Our stake did not have a patriarch at that time, but three days later, our new patriarch was called. I felt it was my answer. That’s when I decided for myself that the Church is true and that I would try harder to do well and choose the right. My patriarchal blessing was amazing. I carry it with me everywhere. Since early-morning seminary started, everything has been clearer. Even in school, I learn very quickly now.”
Derek became the first seminary student in Ireland to memorize all the scripture mastery scriptures. As an extra challenge, he memorized the account of the First Vision as found in Joseph Smith—History.
Brandt Crowther remembers an experience he had a few months after he and his family arrived in Ireland: “I had prayed almost every night of my life, but one night, I prayed with sincerity and asked the Lord what He wanted me to do here in Ireland. I needed to know in my heart that the Church is true. I found out that God does live and He loves me. I gained an understanding of what He wanted me to do. Since then, I’ve been happy being here. I’ve loved it. I’m closer to the Savior now.”
Brandt explains some of the things the Lord told him he needed to do: “I needed to read the scriptures every day and pray every night and keep the commandments. That night the Spirit was with me. I didn’t want to go to bed.”
Seminary class often helped Farris find answers: “I received a testimony of prayer and of tithing. I would pray about things I really needed to find out about—and then it would click in seminary. I would understand things better. What is it like when the Spirit gives you an answer? You’re calm, and you understand things. You’re not nervous. You know it’s true. You feel it in your heart.”
The students in this seminary class enjoy being together. And now every weekday morning isn’t enough. They get together every Saturday night, too.
It all started when Louise’s mother told Brett that Louise’s friends always ask her to go to the pub with them on Saturdays, but she never goes. “We decided to get the whole class together and go out and have some fun,” says Brett. “We’ve been getting together every Saturday night. It’s good fun.”
What do they do? The first week they went to the cinema, but that quickly became too expensive. So they started going to each other’s houses to play games or watch videos or just talk and talk and talk. Elaine explains, “We used to have nothing to talk about; now we don’t have enough time to talk.”
For Louise, having something else to do on Saturdays has strengthened her resolve to stay strong in the Church. “It’s a reason for me not to go with my friends from work every weekend,” she explains. “Sometimes I used to go along. I didn’t do anything I shouldn’t, but just being there didn’t feel good. It eventually wears out your spirit. I got so tired of trying to speak up for myself. But when I go with the seminary class, I can just be me. I feel accepted.”
And most of all, “Saturday nights are fun,” says Pamela. “My other friends’ standards are completely different from mine. I feel much better going to the seminary activity. We have great fun.”
Derek adds, “Early-morning seminary and our activities on Saturday evenings have brought us closer, and we’re better friends. I’ve gotten a lot closer to everyone in the class, even Pamela, my sister. I wouldn’t even consider going out and getting drunk and breaking the Word of Wisdom.”
Most of all, this year of seminary has taught these students the meaning of faith. Their teacher, Rosemary Richmond, helps them learn from Church history about the faith of the early prophets and members. Her husband, Brendan, suffers from an extremely rare and damaging lung disorder and is confined to a wheelchair. Although she has the constant worry of her husband’s care and health, she is eager to prepare lessons and have the seminary class come each morning.
“Members here are very faithful, especially Rosemary, with all the trials she’s been through,” Louise says. “It makes you realize how lucky you are. In seminary we read about the Prophet Joseph Smith and the pioneers. Joseph Smith is a great man. I love him. The testimony he had never faltered. Can you imagine living back in those days? The pioneers had to walk halfway across North America just to practice what they believed. I want that sort of faith because I love the Church.”
Louise is developing that kind of faith. Every day she stands up for her beliefs. And with her small group of valiant seminary friends, she doesn’t have to stand alone. None of them do. They have found a way to strengthen each other. And that has made all the difference.

After my husband died, the missionaries came into my life. I resisted the gospel message at first. I had become very independent. But one day they said to me, “Sister Ncube, you know, we are not looking for members. What we are after is your soul. We are pursuing you for your soul.” That went deep in my heart. I sat down and said, “I agree. I will be baptized.” For the first time in my life, I learned what true freedom was. When I was baptized my soul was set free.
I was baptized on Liberia’s Independence Day, but for me it was the day I would declare, “Now, I know the truth. I know I am free. I am free indeed.”

“Wow!” Ana said. “Look at all the stars.” Everyone in Ana’s family looked up from the campfire. It seemed like there were millions of stars in the dark sky.
“Just think,” Mom said, “each of those stars is one of Heavenly Father’s creations.”
“Let’s each name one of our favorite things that Heavenly Father has created for us,” Dad suggested.
“I know,” Daniel said quickly. “I like those huge waves we saw at the ocean last year.”
Ana didn’t know what to choose. She thought about the warm sun, the bright moon, and sweet-smelling flowers. Then she remembered how much she loved all kinds of soft, furry animals. “Animals!” she said.
Ana started to shiver, so Dad wrapped a blanket around her. “After Heavenly Father created all these beautiful things for His children, He saw that they were good,” Dad said.
Ana had a warm, happy feeling inside. She pulled the blanket up to her chin and looked back up at the stars. “Thank you, Heavenly Father,” she whispered.

Soon after receiving the priesthood and becoming a deacon at the age of twelve, I also became a cadet in the Royal Canadian 52nd Air Cadet Squadron. It was a new and challenging experience adapting to the military method of things. I especially remember how difficult the first summer was. As a new cadet, it was my duty to attend basic training. So while my other friends from school were out-of-doors playing, I was learning how to march and to obey commands.
Unfortunately I wasn’t a very good marcher, and that’s all anyone there ever wanted to do. The sun shone fiercely, and the heat was unbearable in our dark green uniforms. I thought I would faint. The food was cold, and the mess hall avoided all the foods I liked. Military life certainly was different from what I was used to.
On our first Saturday night before bed, all the cadets assembled in the corridor of our barracks. When our flight sergeant came in, everyone snapped to attention.
“In the morning,” he shouted, “we are all going to church. There are only two churches on this base, Catholic and Protestant, so make sure you know where you want to go before tomorrow! Is that clear?”
The corps of young cadets shouted back in strict unison, “Yes, sergeant!” Then he left.
That night I had trouble sleeping. This would be the first time I wouldn’t be able to attend The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I didn’t know what to do. I climbed out of bed and began to pray again. I was desperate to know what I should do. I told Heavenly Father that I was really confused and scared. Would He please help me? As I crawled into bed the second time, I was still worried, but I began to feel that things would work out.
Bright and early the next morning, we lined up outside our barracks in the drizzling rain. The sergeant in his rain-tarp jacket gave the command I was dreading. “Catholics stand on one side, Protestants on the other!” After everyone had moved, I found myself standing alone between the two lines.
The flight sergeant glared across the square and shouted to me, “Where are you going?”
“I don’t know, sergeant—I’m a Latter-day Saint.”
He looked at me with a frightful glare, shook his head, and ordered, “Follow me.”
I followed him to the chaplain’s barracks. Inside, the ministers were still preparing for their Sunday meetings. The sergeant gave a sharp knock, and a voice within called for us to enter. As we stepped in from the rain, a gentleman dressed in camouflage and wearing a Catholic priest’s collar around his neck met us.
“This one’s a Latter-day Saint,” the sergeant complained, then ducked back out into the rain.
The priest invited me to sit down, and he and another priest began to decide among themselves what to do in such an interesting situation. They finally decided that they didn’t know enough about the Church to make a decision and asked me what we believed. At first I wasn’t sure what to say, and then my mind suddenly cleared and I started quoting the Articles of Faith: “‘We believe in God, the Eternal Father, and in His Son, Jesus Christ, and in the Holy Ghost.’”
They both nodded in agreement.
I continued, “‘We believe that men will be punished for their own sins, and not for Adam’s transgression.’”
At this point, one priest suggested that it might be best if I went with the Protestant minister.
After the Protestant meeting, the minister found me in my barracks. He asked me how I had enjoyed the meeting. I told him that it certainly was different from what I was used to.
“What else do Latter-day Saints believe?” he asked, pulling up a chair. All the other cadets in my room drew closer to listen. It was exciting as I repeated all the Articles of Faith. Everyone seemed very interested when I spoke of the Book of Mormon, of how it was another testament of Jesus Christ.
Later that night I made a long distance call to my mother and told her how my difficult experience had turned into a missionary opportunity. I also requested that she send me a Book of Mormon so that I could give it to my minister friend.
The week went on, and finally the Book of Mormon arrived. On the inside cover I wrote my testimony and slid in the card containing the Articles of Faith that my mother had also sent me. The minister gladly accepted my gift and promised me that he’d read it.
I never was able to find out if that Book of Mormon changed the life of the minister, but as I look back, I can recognize how Heavenly Father taught me the importance of knowing the Articles of Faith.

One of the exciting opportunities which comes from the general conference for me is to arrive a little early and have the privilege of walking through the aisles of this great Tabernacle, greeting the conference visitors as they are here assembled. You discover that this is truly a world conference.
Even though some speak a different language, there is another way to communicate, for quickly you discover, as you shake a hand, look into the eye of someone from a different land, there is a common bond, there is a brotherhood and a sisterhood which knows no national boundaries.
We have frequently addressed ourselves in this conference to the country in which the headquarters of this church is located. When this occurs, I watch with interest the faces of those who hear this message through an interpreter. I have detected more than just a courteous attention. There is a genuine interest and understanding. And I guess this is right, for as I study history, there appears to be a common theme, which is played over and over.
We love our great country and we love yours—because it is your home. I have been given an exciting assignment to assist in planning the United States of America’s bicentennial celebration. I have never had an assignment which has given me a clearer vision of history and an opportunity to observe the operations of government.
Some months ago I was asked to assist in inviting many of the religious leaders of America to a special meeting for the purpose of increasing the participation of religious congregations in our nation’s bicentennial celebration. About 400 of us assembled in Washington, D.C., and spent two days together discussing ways in which we could make a contribution to this exciting celebration.
While I found myself having a deep respect and admiration for many of the religious leaders in attendance, I also found myself having some grave concerns over a number whom I guess you would describe as the liberal element.
Part of the program covering this two-day period was to divide ourselves into small discussion groups of about twenty in number to examine the role the churches would play during this celebration.
As we concluded the first day I discussed the possibility, with a bright young colleague I had invited to attend this assembly with me, of preparing a declaration for the churches of this land to jointly proclaim to our countrymen, a reaffirmation of our need for divine guidance, an expression of gratitude for the Lord’s hand in directing the formation of the government of the United States of America. I don’t know how late this young man stayed up that night but when I met him for breakfast the following morning he had an excellent draft of the proposed declaration.
I was excited with the possibility of presenting it to our small discussion group as we assembled together that morning. However, my enthusiasm rapidly dissipated. We soon discovered it was the consensus of this small group of religious leaders that any declaration referring to the Lord our God would not be acceptable. They reasoned such a declaration would be offensive to the atheist. After all, they stated, the atheist has a right to his belief, also. Of course, I completely agree that all men must have their right of free agency but I argued vigorously against locking up our own firm convictions just because they could not be accepted by everyone. The more we argued, the more the opposition united against us. We were not able to get ours or any other declaration out of committee.
I was so shocked with the outcome and obvious futility of our efforts that I had to seek out the religious leader who opposed our declaration. In talking to him I found myself suffering from even a greater shock. Here was a man with divinity degrees listed in a long string of letters behind his name, a leader of a Christian congregation, giving these kinds of answers to my questions:
Question: “Do you not believe that God inspired the early leaders of this country in the formation of this great nation?”
Answer: “I find no evidence in my studies of God’s hand directing the affairs of mankind in any age.”
Question: “With such a philosophy, how do you stand in front of your congregation each week and teach Christian doctrine?”
Answer: “Oh, it is not difficult. I gather together a representative group of the congregation and whatever is the consensus of this group, this is what I preach.”
Once again, I repeat that while in Washington, D.C., attending this gathering I met many devout and wonderful church leaders, but I must say as I returned home from this trip I had a growing concern that from the pulpits of many of our churches in this land as well as in the world in general there is an increasing tendency to teach the doctrines of man rather than that which God has directed.
As the meeting concluded I had great disappointment that a declaration of gratitude to our Eternal Father had not been pronounced or produced by this great body of religious leaders. However, I came away with the firm resolve that I would at least let my voice be heard on two issues during this bicentennial year.
First, I will develop within me the courage to stand up and defend that which I believe to be right. I will declare my personal witness that the heavens are not closed. The Lord continues to guide and direct all of his children on earth if they will but heed his voice. I will teach my firm conviction that the foundation of any righteous government is the law that has been received from the Lord to guide and direct man’s efforts. Righteous government receives direction from the Lord. The scripture President Tanner quoted bears this out, in our country, in the establishment of this government. “And for this purpose have I established the Constitution of this land, by the hands of wise men whom I raised up unto this very purpose, and redeemed the land by the shedding of blood.” (D&C 101:80.)
I have resolved to do all that is within my power to keep alive the same faith which existed in the hearts and souls of our early founding fathers.
It was George Washington who declared, “The people know it is impossible to rightly govern without God and the Bible.”
Again from Andrew Jackson the declaration: “The Bible is the rock on which this Republic rests.”
I reaffirm before you here today of my faith that the Lord God continues to govern the affairs of his children. His law must be the foundation on which all law is based. We must be willing to support, defend, and live in harmony with his divine law.
Now second, I want to publicly profess my opposition to those who are so caught up in their own learning they believe with their enlightened minds they can change the laws of God. A consensus of mankind is not and never will be empowered to change these divine laws.
Let me cite just one example of how these seemingly enlightened minds are trying to destroy the sacred institution of marriage with their erroneous doctrines and teachings. A quotation from a recent publication, which is just one of many I have recently received from concerned citizens, is as follows:
“On the basis of this and other such evidence, some observers suggest that the institution of marriage which had necessarily been changed over the centuries to accommodate the needs of a changing society now faces a future in which it may gradually become obsolete. In their judgment, marriage will ultimately manifest itself, not as a religious sacrament or a legal certification but simply as a sociological fact.” (William H. Masters and Virginia E. Johnson, The Pleasure Bond, Toronto and Boston, Little, Brown and Co., p. 179.) They are calling for a new Christian approach to marriage. They state that dogmatism is being forced to yield to humanism no matter how slowly or how grudgingly. They call attention to studies they claim are on the verge of revealing with assurance that having extramarital relations may serve as a vehicle to faithfulness to God.
I find that such teachings are absolutely contrary to the instructions of the Lord to mankind. As I examine the physical order in the Lord’s divine plan, I find no evidence that he has ever found it necessary to make a correction. The earth continues to rotate in the same direction. The angle of its axis is unchanged. The circulation of moisture continues from sea to cloud to earth to river to sea with its same beneficial effect without alteration.
I find the same consistency in the divine law he has established for mankind. In the very beginning he declared:
“And the Lord God said, It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him an help meet for him.
“And the Lord God caused a deep sleep to fall upon Adam and he slept: and he took one of his ribs, …
“And the rib, which the Lord God had taken from man, made he a woman, and brought her unto the man.
“And Adam said, This is now bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh: she shall be called Woman, because she was taken out of Man.
“Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife: and they shall be one flesh.” (Gen. 2:18, 21–24.)
The union between husband and wife is sacred to the Lord, something not to be trifled with. The marriage covenant was essential to the Lord God to accomplish his mission and purposes for which he created the heavens and the earth.
In all periods of time, he has declared his divine law is to safeguard and protect this holy union between husband and wife. When Moses found need for laws to govern the children of Israel, one of the pronouncements by the Lord to him was, “Thou shalt not commit adultery.” (Ex. 20:14.)
In another age when the only Begotten Son was on the earth, he reaffirmed with added emphasis this eternal law: “Ye have heard that it was said by them of old time, Thou shalt not commit adultery:
“But I say unto you, That whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after her hath committed adultery with her already in his heart.” (Matt. 5:27–28.)
The Lord in his dealings on the American continent, as contained in the Book of Mormon, declares again the same consistent teaching, “Thou shalt not commit adultery.” (Mosiah 13:22.)
He has not left us without that same instruction in our modern scriptures. For again in this day he has declared, “Thou shalt not commit adultery; and he that committeth adultery, and repenteth not, shall be cast out.” (D&C 42:24.)
There has not been and never will be contradiction in the divine laws of God. Scripture after scripture in all ages of time declare his divine message that does not change and cannot be changed by man.
It is comforting to me that the early founders of this country had the same conviction of the powers of the Almighty. Thomas Paine said, “What is it we want to know? Does not the creation, the universe we behold, preach to us the existence of an Almighty power, that governs and regulates the whole? And is not the evidence that this creation holds out to our senses infinitely stronger than anything we can read in a book that any imposter might make or call the word of God? As for morality, the knowledge of it exists in every man’s conscience.” (In God We Trust, ed. Norman Cousins, New York, Harper and Brothers, 1958, p. 1.)
And so today, I sound the same words of warning as Paul the Apostle of old: “For the time will come when they will not endure sound doctrine; but after their own lusts shall they heap to themselves teachers, having itching ears;
“And they shall turn away their ears from the truth, and shall be turned unto fables.” (2 Tim. 4:3–4.)
I leave you my witness that there is a consistency in the laws of God that will not change. When we conform our lives to his laws we will find a rewarding joy, a fulfillment, and a peace as we live here on earth. When we would pervert or change his laws or disregard them, we must stand the judgments of God, and as surely as that occurs, misery, sorrow, and heartache will be the result.
Let us catch the spirit of the Psalmist who wrote, “The earth is the Lord’s, and the fulness thereof; the world, and they that dwell therein.” (Ps. 24:1.)
May God grant that we may have the courage to stand up and be counted for that which we know to be right, I humbly pray in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

My dear brothers and sisters, I still remember the seminar for Regional Representatives that I attended in 1972. At the end of that seminar President Marion G. Romney, on his way out of the auditorium, walked through the aisle where I was standing with two big binders under one arm and a stack of printed materials under the other arm. President Romney stopped and said, “Now, Brother de Jager, how are you going to teach all these inspired materials?”
I paused, thinking of an answer that would satisfy a member of the First Presidency of the Church. I replied, “President Romney, I shall teach in such a way that everyone will understand.”
President Romney, a twinkle in his eye, said, “That’s not enough; you shall teach in such a way that no one will misunderstand these divine materials.” Then he walked on.
Now, many years later, I begin to see more and more the wisdom of his counsel. People do easily misunderstand, like the sweet old sister I met in the ZCMI shopping mall the other day.
“Aren’t you that Dutchman who spoke in general conference a while ago?” I said, “Yes, ma’am.” Then she continued, “Oh, I loved your Holland story about the boy with his finger in the dike.” I remarked, “Well, sister, that was not exactly the subject of my talk; I was talking about saving souls.” But she went on to say, “You know, I heard that story for the first time when I was still in school, and I am so pleased you told it again.”
Brothers and sisters, I have learned not to argue, especially with sisters. So I left this sister with a smile and went on my way, a sadder but wiser man. I had apparently failed to teach so that no one misunderstood.
Therefore, my challenge today is to do better. I would like to dedicate a few words of appreciation to the modern-day pioneers who are laboring in the smallest of branches in newly opened missions of the Church.
Especially in places where the membership is still too small to make the many programs of the Church work as the Lord intended, for the edifying of the Saints and for the establishing of Zion.
I also would like to pay tribute to the couples who labor in faraway places as representatives of the International Mission. Some of them are in their seventies and are now serving their third mission!
I am also full of praise for the dedication and endurance I have witnessed in Asia, shown by the deacon in Tien Mu, Taiwan, the newly ordained elder in Bacolod in the Philippines, the Relief Society sister in Solo, Indonesia, the Primary president in Khorat, Thailand; and let there be no misunderstanding: I honor all those who labor in similar places and callings all over the world. May the richest blessings of our Heavenly Father always be with these modern-day pioneers.
What a tremendous work still lies ahead of us, for I have observed that in the merry-go-round world of daily living there is a growing need for the peace and tranquillity of the gospel of Jesus Christ. This church, which bears his name and which was restored to the earth by the Prophet Joseph Smith, can provide people of every nation and tongue with that peace.
I testify that the priesthood of God has been restored to the earth and that a daily growing number of priesthood holders are willing to serve as coservants of the Lord. With this Priesthood we serve best when we serve those who need us most!
There is a deliberate purpose for every soul to be here on the earth, and our Father in Heaven has sent his word to reveal that expressed purpose and to guide all mankind in joyously fulfilling that conscious design. But, alas, there are many who reject the instructions, the revelations, and the guidance and prefer to stumble on in the darkness of their own reasonings.
And there are also many who have the feeling that the whole world is against them. Sometimes this is indeed true; and they had better find out why, because they will then discover their own shortcomings and what ways there are to improve themselves. The Lord does not ask whether a person comes to his church from prison or from a successful and respectable background. He accepts a soul, not his history! And then a door opens and that person starts to progress, learning line upon line, precept upon precept, through example and through the scriptures like the beautiful parables of Jesus Christ.
Let us read them often, these traditional classroom illustrations, of which the British poet Thomas T. Lynch said:
He spoke of grass and wind and rain,
Of fig trees and fair weather;
And made it his delight, to bring
Heaven and earth together.
He spoke of lilies, corn and vines,
The sparrow and the raven;
And words so natural, yet so wise,
Were on men’s hearts engraven.
He spoke of yeast and bread, of flax and cloth,
Of eggs and fish and candles—
See, how the whole familiar world
He most divinely handles.
The social background of the life of Jesus Christ is wonderfully reflected in the parables. They take us back to the first century a.d. In my vivid imagination, when reading the parables I enter that home and watch the housewife making the bread or patching the old garment or looking for the lost coin. I see the bustle of the marketplace and watch the travelers on the road. I work the fields with the sower, I climb the hills with the shepherd, or stand by the lakeside and help the fishermen to pull the net ashore.
I become acquainted with the local merchant, his large house, his vineyard, and his barns. I learn how he deals with his steward and his laborers, and I am fascinated by it. Nothing of the life in the busy province of Galilee seems to escape the Master. His greatest interest was always in the common people.
Brothers and sisters, I want you to know that I have a desire to be the Lord’s humble servant in this dispensation. He lives. The same Jesus is the head of this church.
I am a convert to this church. I received the light through the missionaries, and I know there are two important forces that can carry light to all corners of the world—the sun in the heavens and the mission organization of this church. I see this miracle happen every day while traveling in the missions of the area to which I have been assigned. What is required is organized teamwork. Let us remember this when we, as a team, build branches and districts, wards and stakes, priesthood quorums, and auxiliary organizations in our Father’s kingdom here on earth, and always keep in mind the words often quoted by President Harold B. Lee: “There is no limit to the good that you can do, if you don’t care who gets the credit” (see Antoine R. Ivins, in Conference Report, Apr. 1946, p. 42). The need of the hour is true discipleship in the Lord’s restored church.
The gospel of Jesus Christ is on the move worldwide, and the missionary program is the inspired blueprint for progress.
Therefore, let us go forward with great determination, in a spirit of love and unity. That is our best source of motivation—to do the work with all our might, mind, and strength, and make people really happy.
In the book of Proverbs in the Old Testament we read: “Where there is no vision, the people perish: but he that keepeth the law, happy is he” (Prov. 29:18).
I know with all my heart that this is true. I testify that the purpose of the restored gospel is to create happy families in this life and in the life to come.
That we all may come to a perfect understanding of this divine purpose is my humble prayer in the name of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

While serving as a mission president, I presided over the membership council of a brother that resulted in the withdrawal of his Church membership. This man repented of his sins and after a year was authorized to be rebaptized.
After his baptism, I received an email from him that read: “Dear President, yesterday the ordinance of baptism was performed, and I can assure you that I feel like new. A miracle was performed within me. The sacrifice of the Lord Jesus Christ became effective in me. Today, I feel free from the oppression of sin. I know that I would not have achieved this alone. My leaders and my wife helped me keep my sights on the goal. Christ is my Savior. The miracle of forgiveness exists.”

Thanks for the birthday card. Brenda said that she got one from you too. It’s fun to have a cousin born on the same day. Sometimes we pretend that we’re twins. Because it was our eighth birthday, we had our party together with all the cousins and aunts and uncles. Everyone went bowling—and Grandma Richards won!
Then we came to our house and played games. We had a piñata, and Mom blindfolded us and turned us around and around before we could swing the bat at it. Brenda got too dizzy and knocked a lamp off a table. It didn’t break, though. Whew!
After that, we made our own pizzas. They looked funny, but they tasted great. Because our birthdays are in the middle of July, Brenda made a pioneer face on hers and I made mine look like an American flag. Scooter wanted to put chocolate chips on my pizza for the stars, but Mom stopped him. She let him put some on his piece of cake, instead.
We had one huge birthday cake. One half was chocolate, and the other half butterscotch. It had yellow candles, and Brenda and I blew them out together. We had ice cream, too, and I ate a scoop of pralines-and-cream for you.

A miracle is taking place in the southern part of the United States. It pertains to family history and temple work. Between 1860 and 1865, hundreds of thousands of soldiers died. Many had never married.
William D. Taylor, a Canadian, found himself, together with his wife and family, living in that area of the United States and wondering about those soldiers. The Taylors have been working at getting the records of the soldiers for over four years and have sent over 101,000 of their names to the temple to have their work done for them there. Brother Taylor writes, “I am thankful for being allowed to do this work. It brings me joy unparalleled to anything I have ever known.”

May I share with you an experience that took place on the island of Okinawa in the Servicemen’s District? As the local Okinawan members were excitedly preparing to go to Tokyo, which is nearly 900 miles away, for the area general conference, the young people of the Servicemen’s Branch found out that an active young Okinawan family was not planning to go with the rest of the branch. When approached and asked why he was not going to conference, this faithful brother hesitantly replied that he just could not afford to take his wife and children at this time; it was out of the question.
The young people of the Servicemen’s Branch immediately met and planned a cookie sale project to raise funds necessary to send this family to conference. The young people baked cookies in their parents’ homes; later when they were busily engaged in selling these cookies, they were pleasantly surprised when they approached the servicemen to purchase their cookies, explaining the purpose of their project. Without hesitation the servicemen all bought cookies and donated money in excess of the purchase price, so that the young people could reach their goal. The happy result was that this young Okinawan family was able to go to Tokyo to conference with the rest of their branch, because of the help they received.
The young people of the Servicemen’s Branch all learned a great lesson in giving and loving; they learned through experience that persons who really care for others and who give some of their time, talents, and belongings for the good of others are the ones who really receive the fullest blessings of life.

My grandparents have had a great influence on my life. Even though they have been dead for many years, I still feel their confirming love. One grandfather, James Akerley Faust, died before I was born. I knew him only through the stories my grandmother and my parents told about him. However, I feel a strong kinship with him because I am in part what he was. Among other things, he was a cowboy, a rancher, and a postmaster in a small town in central Utah. On one occasion Grandfather took a trip in the winter to Idaho, where he met an acquaintance who had fallen on hard times. It was cold, and Grandfather’s friend had no coat. Grandfather took off his coat and gave it to him.

This evening I encourage you young men to begin to unlock the knowledge of who you really are by learning more about your forebears. Alex Haley, the author of the book Roots, said: “In all of us there is a hunger, marrow-deep, to know our heritage—to know who we are and where we have come from. Without this enriching knowledge, there is a hollow yearning. No matter what our attainments in life, there is still a vacuum, an emptiness, and the most disquieting loneliness.” We can have exciting experiences as we learn about our vibrant, dynamic ancestors. They were very real, living people with problems, hopes, and dreams like we have today.
In many ways each of us is the sum total of what our ancestors were. The virtues they had may be our virtues, their strengths our strengths, and in a way their challenges could be our challenges. Some of their traits may be our traits. I noticed a while ago that one of my great-grandsons, a toddler, seemed to have an interesting kind of a walk. My wife said, “He walks just like you do!” Now I wonder from whom I inherited this characteristic.
It is a joy to become acquainted with our forebears who died long ago. Each of us has a fascinating family history. Finding your ancestors can be one of the most interesting puzzles you young men can work on.
Each of us has to begin this work somewhere, and it can be done by young or old. This summer 170 children of the Accra Ghana Lartebiokorshie Stake worked on their four-generation family trees during a two-hour program, with more than 74 completing and displaying their trees.
As President Boyd K. Packer has said, “If you don’t know where to start, start with yourself. If you don’t know what records to get, and how to get them, start with what you have.” You will learn about the phenomenon that is you. It can be more fascinating than any movie you might see or any computer game you might play. You will need to find out who your grandparents and great-grandparents were and what temple work has been done for them. If you don’t know how to get this information, ask people in your ward who do know how.
Ask living members of your family what they know about your extended family. Look at records close at hand, such as family Bibles, to find more details about your forebears. Then you can reach out to other sources such as vital records, church records, census records, and military records. If you have access to a computer, you can put your computer skills to work and log on to the Church’s FamilySearch.org Web site. Family history has become a sophisticated activity where computers provide immense resources for your search. You can easily access a vast collection of family history records using the Internet on your home computer or at your nearest family history center.
Family history centers are now available in 88 countries. They are part of an unequaled record-keeping system that helps preserve the heritage of families all over the world. In the Family History Library in Salt Lake City, patrons are constantly corresponding and submitting information about their family histories. One person wrote, “We are sending you five children in a separate envelope.”
The great work of providing the saving ordinances for our kindred dead is a vital part of the threefold mission of the Church. We do this work for a purpose, which is to redeem our dead ancestors. Temple work is essential for both us and our kindred dead who are waiting for these saving ordinances to be done for them. It is essential because “we without them cannot be made perfect; neither can they without us be made perfect.” They need the saving ordinances, and we need to be sealed to them. For this reason it is important that we trace our family lines so that no one is left out.
Searching for our kindred dead isn’t just a hobby. It is a fundamental responsibility for all members of the Church. We believe that life continues after death and that all will be resurrected. We believe that families may continue in the next life if they have kept the special covenants made in one of the sacred temples under the authority of God. We believe that our deceased ancestors can also be eternally united with their families when we make covenants in their behalf in the temples. Our deceased forebears may accept these covenants, if they choose to do so, in the spirit world.
The great vicarious work for our kindred dead in our temples demonstrates both the justice and the fairness of the gospel of Jesus Christ. The Prophet Joseph Smith explained the terrible dilemma which would face God’s children without temple work for our dead. Said he: “One dies and is buried, having never heard the Gospel of reconciliation; to the other the message of salvation is sent, he hears and embraces it, and is made the heir of eternal life. Shall the one become the partaker of glory and the other be consigned to hopeless perdition? Is there no chance for his escape?” Fortunately our ancestors will have the opportunity to receive and accept the saving ordinances as we identify them and complete these sacred ordinances for them by proxy. We do for them what they cannot do for themselves. It is a very satisfying experience.
In the great vision in the Kirtland Temple, Elijah the prophet appeared to the Prophet Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery and committed the keys of temple work and the sealing power into Joseph Smith’s hands. This fulfilled Malachi’s prophecy that Elijah would be sent “to turn the hearts of the fathers to the children, and the children to the fathers, lest the whole earth be smitten with a curse.”
So what does this mean? To turn our hearts to our fathers is to search out the names of our deceased ancestors and to perform the saving ordinances in the temple for them. This will forge a continuous chain between us and our forefathers eventually all the way back to Father Adam and Mother Eve.
The heart of an 11-year-old boy was turned to his fathers during a family home evening when the children assembled personal books of remembrance. Young Jeff wanted to accompany his mother to the National Archives. She was afraid he might disturb the other researchers there. But he persisted, and she relented and took him with her. Four hours into their research, he exclaimed, “Mama, I’ve found Grandpa!” Indeed, he had found his great-great-great-grandfather. However, it doesn’t always work that way. In a letter to the Family History Department, someone wrote: “We lost our grandmother. Will you please send us a copy?”
The gospel of Jesus Christ teaches us that the celestial family organization will be “one that is complete,” that is, “an organization linked from father and mother and children of one generation, to the father and mother and children of the next generation, thus expanding and spreading out down to the end of time.”
In tracing our family names, we often find them spelled differently, depending on the source. This was the case of a university student in Provo, Utah, who caught the vision of this linking of generations. He was walking through the library one evening and remembered hearing someone in the Searing family tell about a town in New York State that had been named after an ancestor. So he decided to look up the town. He stumbled across a very old copy of a gazetteer of New York and read about a man named Simon Searing who helped settle Long Island in the mid-1600s. Could Simon be his ancestor? He had to know. He began research in earnest and traced his line back several generations. But still he needed to bridge the gap between the 1800s and the 1600s. Then a miracle occurred. He unexpectedly located a history of a Syring family. The families in the Syring book ended in the same generation he had reached in his own research. Not only was he able to connect many generations, but he also linked himself to the early settler Simon Searing.
Some who are interested in family history try to enhance their own image by linking up with prominent people. In my own experience it has been quite different. I have been fascinated by learning of some of the unknown, ordinary people whose records tell of heroic lives. Arthur R. Bassett once said: “Who among us wants to throw stones at their own ancestors? I, for one, am intrigued by their battles—their victories as well as their defeats. … I am fascinated by what may seem the most commonplace of lives, because I have come to realize the excitement that is concealed in the commonplace.”
It is not likely that you will find any horse thieves in your ancestral line. But if you do, it is important that their temple work be done, because we believe in repentance for the dead also:
“The dead who repent will be redeemed, through obedience to the ordinances of the house of God,
“And after they have paid the penalty of their transgressions, and are washed clean, shall receive a reward according to their works, for they are heirs of salvation.”
The process of finding our ancestors one by one can be challenging but also exciting and rewarding. We often feel spiritual guidance as we go to the sources which identify them. Because this is a very spiritual work, we can expect help from the other side of the veil. We feel a pull from our relatives who are waiting for us to find them so their ordinance work can be done. This is a Christlike service because we are doing something for them that they cannot do for themselves.
Many of you young men have already had a taste of temple work as you have participated in baptisms for the dead. When we go early to the temple, we often see young people dressed in white, ready to take part in this satisfying experience before going to school. You are to be commended for your dedication in performing this vital work. In so doing you have already felt the peace and serenity found within the walls of our temples.
I testify that God is a just God, and He will not give privileges to us and withhold them from our forebears. But we will need to do the baptisms, the endowments, and the sealings for them by proxy here on earth in order for us and them to be linked together for eternity “and have part in the first resurrection.”
I further testify that the Lord directs and inspires President Hinckley as he leads us in this important work. May the peace that comes from faithful discharge of our priesthood duties ever be with us, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

I joined the Church when I was 16. Soon after, I became seriously ill and missed a month of school.
While I was sick, I decided to catch up on school assignments and read my history textbook. I was so excited when I saw there was a whole chapter on the Latter-day Saint contribution to the westward expansion of the United States!
But as I read, my heart sank. The history of my new church was twisted and ugly according to the textbook. How was I ever going to be tested on these falsehoods?
I finally went back to school, even though I still felt weak. Towards the end of my history class, my teacher suddenly stopped and asked, “Is anyone in this class a Mormon?”
The world seemed to stop. My heart pounded. I raised my hand and proclaimed to the entire class that I was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
“So, Wendy, have you read the chapter about the Mormons?” the teacher asked. I told him I had. “Is it accurate?” I said it was not. “We’re not going to discuss this chapter in class,” he said. “Every Mormon student I’ve ever had has said the textbook is incorrect.” He then suggested that if anyone wanted to know the true history of the Church, they could ask me!
Although I may have been weak physically, with the support and guidance of the Holy Ghost, I was stronger than I ever imagined I could be.
Wendy Z., California, USA

Amanda Higbee was frightened. Papa had warned her about the wicked men who hated Mormons. The previous May Papa had baptized her, and it had been the happiest day of her life. Today was the worst, or so Amanda thought. Papa should have come home last night, but he hadn’t. Mama said not to worry, but Amanda was afraid some of the wicked men had caught him.
In the next room a door slammed, and Amanda rushed out. But instead of it being Papa, it was her brother Josiah, yelling, “Ma! The mill’s on fire! Walker’s barn is burning, and they’re heading toward the Robison’s!”
“Who are ‘they’?” asked Ma as Josiah tried to catch his breath.
“A mob of Missourians. They had guns and torches and everything! I heard them say that they were going to burn all the Mormons out of Jackson County.”
If Ma was frightened, she didn’t show it. Instead, she gathered her children about her and said, “Children, your father warned us that this might happen. I’m afraid it won’t be long before they’ll be here. Listen carefully. This is what you must do …”
After listening to Ma’s instructions, the children quickly obeyed. Mary gathered up the bedding, while Josiah brought the wagon around. After handing Joseph a bag of grain, Amanda helped Hannah with the cooking gear. In the distance, a reddish glow lit up the sky, and Amanda could hear men shouting. A few pieces of furniture were loaded into the wagon, and then the Higbees were off, with Josiah driving.
On the road ahead they saw several of their friends and neighbors. The Robisons and Walkers had escaped in time, as well as the Stones and Ewells. Amanda waved to Elizabeth Robison, but Elizabeth just stared past her. Wondering why, Amanda turned around and saw wagonloads of people coming from every direction. Behind them were burning farms and houses. Amanda started to cry. It was too much: Papa was lost, their home was gone, and now they were fleeing for their lives!
“What’s this?” Ma said, turning around. “Tears, Amanda? Hannah, you too? What you need is a good story.”
Amanda didn’t think a story would help, but Ma continued anyway. “Did you know that we are just like the Nephites in the Book of Mormon?” she asked.
“We are?” Josiah asked, “I don’t remember anything like this happening to them.”
“Oh, yes, Josiah,” Ma replied. “The Nephites were driven from their homes many times. Like us, they believed in a prophet of God, and because of their belief, they were often persecuted and sometimes put to death.”
“Did they have a prophet named Joseph Smith, too?” sniffled Hannah, wiping away her tears.
“No, Hannah. But there were many other prophets. Let me tell you about a prophet named Abinadi. When he preached to a certain king by the name of Noah, the wicked king refused to believe Abinadi’s words. He ordered his men to bind Abinadi and kill him by setting him afire.”
“Did they really burn him?” asked Amanda.
“Yes. But one of the king’s men, Alma, believed what Abinadi had taught. When Alma tried to save him, King Noah became even angrier, and he ordered his men to kill Alma too. Luckily Alma escaped from the king’s guards and hid.
“Alma repented of his sins and preached privately among the people the things that Abinadi had taught. Every day more and more people came to listen to Alma. In time over two hundred believers were baptized.
“One day,” continued Ma, “King Noah heard about Alma’s success and sent out an army to destroy Alma and his followers. However, when King Noah’s army reached the forest near the Waters of Mormon where Alma and his people had been gathered, no one was there. Heavenly Father had warned Alma, and everyone had escaped.
“After traveling in the wilderness for eight days, Alma found another beautiful place for his people to live. There they built houses, planted crops, and were very happy. They lived in peace for several years. Then a group of Lamanites and apostate Nephites found them. They were as bad as King Noah. They made Alma and his people slaves; they beat them for believing in Jesus Christ, and if any of Alma’s people were discovered praying to the Lord, they were to be put to death.”
“You mean the Nephites were killed just for praying?” gasped Mary.
“How would the Lamanites know if they were praying—did they have spies?” asked Josiah.
“I don’t know, Josiah,” Ma replied. “But the Nephites were brave people. They outsmarted the Lamanites by praying in their hearts. Heavenly Father heard their prayers and said to Alma, “Thou shalt go before this people, and I will go with thee and deliver this people out of bondage’ (Mosiah 24:17). Then He caused the Lamanites to fall into a deep sleep. While the Lamanites were asleep, the Nephites escaped. Soon they found a country with a good king, Mosiah, and they lived there in peace and prosperity.”
“I liked that story, Ma,” said Amanda. “Please tell us another.”
Everyone agreed, and soon their mother was telling them about Alma and his adventures in the city of Ammonihah. While her mother explained how Alma and Amulek escaped from prison, Amanda realized that she had forgotten all about her own problems.
When nightfall came, the Higbees looked for a place to spend the night. Rain had started to fall, so they decided to camp in the shelter of an overhanging bluff. Some of their friends camped near them, and for a while everyone felt safe. Then, about two o’clock in the morning, the rain turned into a raging storm, and a small stream near the camp became a roaring river. Amanda watched in horror as trees and bushes were swept away. Grabbing her belongings, she joined the rest of the family as they raced for shelter. Earlier, Josiah had spotted a cave near the top of the bluff, so they headed toward it.
Because Ma had become very ill during the night, Brother Carr offered to carry her to the cave. Walking next to them, Amanda felt like crying again. And when she saw that the cave was filled with wild hogs, she was terrified. But she, Mary, and Josiah decided that the family needed the cave more than the hogs did. So, grabbing sticks, the children attacked. The hogs fled.
Ma was carried in as soon as the cave was cleaned out as well as it could be. Too sick to lie down, Ma spent the rest of the night sitting in her chair. Amanda curled up between Mary and Hannah. Sharing a wet blanket, they tried to sleep as lightning crackled, thunder boomed, and babies cried.
Morning came, and with it the sunshine. A familiar voice awakened them. “Hello! Anybody up there?”
Amanda ran from the cave, shouting, “Papa! Papa! You’re safe! You found us!”
Behind her came the rest of the family. Soon everyone had been hugged and kissed. Then Papa explained how he had found them. After hiding for several days, he had returned home to find it burned and his family gone.
“Did you cry, Papa?” asked Amanda, snuggling closer to him.
“Yes, Amanda. I cried, and I prayed. Then this morning I rode into camp and heard about some crazy kids who had chased wild hogs out of a cave so that their mother could get in out of the rain.” The children smiled proudly, and father finished by saying, “Do you realize you probably saved your mother’s life?” He picked up Ma, and they all worked their way down the hill, a complete family once more.
Later that day the Higbees stood near the bank of the mighty Missouri River, where many of the Saints were lined up, waiting to cross over. These people had just fled fire, flood, and mobs. However, hope was in their hearts, for ahead of them was a new land. Like the Nephites, they would again plant crops, build houses, and live in peace for a few years. Their hard times were not over, but for now they were safe and happy to be alive.
The Higbees’ turn on the ferryboat came, and they began the crossing. Looking at the brown waves slapping against the sides of the boat, Amanda felt sick. Oh, Heavenly Father, she silently prayed, help us.
Heavenly Father did help them. They made the trip safely—all except Ma. She was nearly unconscious when Papa carried her up the bank. Some women, seeing her condition, rushed over to help. Within minutes a tent was put up, and Ma was carried inside.
“Is Ma going to die?” asked Hannah fearfully, trying to peek into the tent.
“No,” replied Papa. “Your mother’s baby is ready to be born.”
And sure enough, at that very moment they heard the cry of a newborn baby.
“Yippee!” yelled Josiah. “We just got us a brother.”
“It could be a girl,” Amanda reminded him.
But Josiah was right. Cradled in Ma’s arms was a beautiful baby boy.
“Look at his little fingers and toes,” Hannah whispered.
“Hello, baby!” said Joseph.
“His eyes are so big,” sighed Amanda.
“What’s his name?” asked Josiah.
“Let’s call him Alma,” Ma suggested, and everyone agreed.

The journey to her parents’ home some five hundred miles away seemed impossible. The distance was disheartening, and she had no provisions. To make matters worse, it was winter. But those fears were nothing compared to the thought of traveling alone through a war zone. Alexandria remembers sitting alone in the snow, hungry and weak, with cold tears on her cheeks. She was inconsolable until, remembering her mother’s prayers, she decided to offer her first: “Help me. Help me find my way home.” She wasn’t sure her prayer had been heard, but she nevertheless began the dangerous trek.
The winter days passed slowly. As if in answer to her prayer, someone along the way gave her a map. That spark of hope kept her going, from farm to farm and town to town, day after day. At dusk she pleaded with strangers for a place to sleep—floor or barn, it didn’t matter, as long as it was inside, so she wouldn’t get caught—and shot—for breaking curfew. Food was so scarce that she had nothing to eat but the meager scraps of stale bread and potato peelings that she scrounged from scrap buckets after her hosts had retired to bed. At first light she would resume her journey, often with her clothing wet because of the damp, leaking barns in which she had slept.
Late one afternoon, after an unusually long walk in deep snow, Alexandria was exhausted and knew she would not reach the next town on her own before curfew. She was afraid because she had learned that German soldiers were in the area. Suddenly, three horse-drawn hay wagons driven by German soldiers appeared on the narrow road. As Alexandria hid nearby, she got an idea. If she hopped onto one of the wagons without being seen, she could make it to the next town before dark. The last wagon passed, and she put her desperate plan into action. Running with all her strength, she managed to grab a pole attached to the back of the wagon and climb aboard.
Alexandria rode in relative comfort until, a few miles later, the wagons came to an abrupt halt. She froze with fear. At the sound of approaching footsteps, she closed her eyes and said a silent prayer. “Please help me, dear God!” The footsteps came closer, then stopped right next to her. Alexandria lifted her head to look into the compassionate eyes of a young soldier who motioned for her to remain still. Then he turned to rejoin his comrades without making his discovery known. The company moved on, and Alexandria safely reached the next town.
“I know Father in Heaven was watching over me and was helping me,” she says, her eyes misty with emotion.
After weeks of traveling, Alexandria arrived home, thin and weak but overjoyed to see her family again.