Gospel Story Finder

When he returned to London and resumed composing operas, his work was not well received, and creditors began to hound him again. In the depths of despondency, he began to wonder, “Why did God permit my resurrection, only to allow my fellow-men to bury me again?”3 In April 1741 Handel held what he assumed would be a farewell concert. His creativity was spent. A biographer wrote: “There was nothing to begin or to finish. Handel was faced with emptiness.”4
Late one August afternoon that same year, Handel returned from a long and tiring walk to find that a poet and previous collaborator, Charles Jennens, had left him a manuscript. This libretto quoted liberally from the scriptures, particularly the words of Isaiah, foretelling the birth of Jesus Christ and describing His ministry, Crucifixion, and Resurrection. The work was to be an oratorio. Given his previous failures, Handel was apprehensive as he began to read through the text.
“Comfort Ye,” the first words of the manuscript, seemed to leap from the page. They dissipated dark clouds that had been pressing upon Handel for so long. His depression waned and his emotions warmed from interest to excitement as he continued to read of angelic proclamations of the Savior’s birth and of Isaiah’s prophecies of the Messiah, who would come to earth to be born as other mortal infants. A familiar melody Handel had composed earlier flooded into his mind as he read “For unto Us a Child Is Born.” The notes distilled upon his mind faster than he could put pencil to paper as he captured the image of the loving Good Shepherd in the aria titled “He Shall Feed His Flock.” Then came the overpowering exultation reflected in the “Hallelujah Chorus,” followed by the soft, supernal testimony of “I Know That My Redeemer Liveth.” The work came to its majestic conclusion with “Worthy Is the Lamb.”
After all the music he had composed throughout his lifetime, Handel would eventually be known worldwide for this singular work, Messiah, largely composed in just three weeks during the late summer of 1741. Upon completing his composition, he humbly acknowledged, “God has visited me.”5 Those who feel the touch of the Holy Spirit as they experience the overpowering testimony of Handel’s Messiah would agree.

Then, the summer before his senior season, the time suddenly came for Eli to make a decision. That summer USA Today published an article that ranked the top professional prospects among college football players. To his surprise, Eli found his name on the list. It dawned on him how much money he could be making playing football the next year, and he knew he had to make a decision.
It was not an easy one. Eli knew that something he had often dreamed of since elementary school was within reach. He considered all the things that he could do with the money he would make as a professional football player: he could put his children through school and pay for their missions; he could have a retirement fund; he could go on as many missions with his wife as he wanted; he could teach and coach and not have any financial worries. He would be set.
On one hand there were good people who were active in the Church and who did a lot of good for the Church who played professional sports on Sunday. On the other hand, Eli had seen some very powerful examples of people who had refused to break the Sabbath.
One was Erroll Bennett, one of the top soccer players in Tahiti, whom Eli read about one day on his mission. When Brother Bennett joined the Church, he decided to withdraw from his team because he chose not to play on the Sabbath. When Eli read the story and saw how dedicated Brother Bennett was to the gospel, he was impressed. He says, “I knew I wanted to be a man like that, with that kind of commitment and dedication to what I knew was right.”
Eli discussed his choices with the people most important to him. His mother always reminded him of the commandment to keep the Sabbath day holy. His father, who had worked hard trying to support his family, told him to consider the decision carefully, reminding Eli how the money would help him support his wife and children. His wife, Jennifer, had received a paper in school full of quotations from leaders of the Church about the Sabbath day. Together they studied those and talked about the decision, but Jennifer and Eli’s parents all said that the decision was his and they would support him however he decided.
Eli talked to many other people. Some told him to play; some said maybe he shouldn’t. But Eli knew that talking to others wouldn’t make the decision for him. “When you’re considering giving up hundreds of thousands or millions of dollars,” he says, “it’s probably not something you’re going to do just because you’ve talked to someone.”
He knew that he would have to make the decision himself after praying to his Heavenly Father. Eli recalls: “It occurred to me to pray and fast about it because of what my parents taught me. … During the rest of the summer and through the next football season, all my scripture study and all my prayers and everything were focused on what the best decision would be. This lasted about six months. I didn’t make the final decision until the season was over at the end of December.”
That was an intense six months. Eli says: “I don’t think in my life other than sometimes on my mission I ever had the scriptures come to life for me as they did during that period of time. … I saw things I had never seen or understood before.”
One day, for example, he was reading in the Book of Mormon about Alma counseling his son Helaman. Alma urges his son: “O remember, remember, my son Helaman, how strict are the commandments of God. And he said: If ye will keep my commandments ye shall prosper in the land—but if ye keep not his commandments ye shall be cut off from his presence. … Therefore I command you, my son Helaman, that ye be diligent … in keeping the commandments of God as they are written” (Alma 37:13, 20).
The phrase “as they are written” particularly struck Eli. He knew the key to being in the Lord’s presence and to prospering was to keep the commandments “as they are written”—with exactness. Eli understood that to have financial security and other blessings for his family, “it was a more sure thing to keep the commandments and trust in the Lord than to have a million dollars.”
As the months progressed toward the end of the season, Eli became more sure of what he had to do. “I read my scriptures, and time after time I would see more and more and more reasons that I felt in my heart that I needed to observe the Sabbath more than I needed to play football,” Eli says.
When he finally made the decision, it was easy. He laughs now about all the attention he received: “I had been on the offensive line my whole career, and it’s not like a lineman gets a lot of recognition. I got so much more recognition for making that decision than I ever got for playing football. People wrote me, telling me what they thought about the decision I had made, good or bad. I never got so much mail in my life.”
Some people asked whether he had considered all the factors, and some asked if he had thought of all the money he could make. Eli laughs, “One of the most interesting things to me was that people would say, Haven’t you thought of this and this, when I had been thinking about it for ten years and had considered those things maybe a million and a half times.” The letters were entertaining, but they didn’t change his mind or cause him to reconsider. He had been very careful in making his decision, and once he made it he was firm.
Now Eli is doing what he has wanted to do for a long time—he is teaching and coaching in a local high school. Teachers aren’t famous for their high salaries, and sometimes the money is a little short. But Eli smiles about it: “The paychecks now, in spite of being low, are more than we were making when we were students. We’re happy to have more than we had before. Occasionally I think we could have a brand-new car or a nice house, but I have never had any serious doubts about the decision.”
He gathers his family around the room as he talks about the decision that has made such a difference in their lives. His daughter Hannah plays on the floor while his wife, Jennifer, holds the baby, Sarah. They don’t have the new house, car, and retirement fund, but they’re happy. Eli has come a long way from the boy who sometimes sneaked in to watch football on Sundays. Now he is a father who, like his own father and like Alma long ago, is determined to teach his children the commandments “as they are written” and to help them be covenant people of the Lord.

Kailey, ever the optimist, has been learning braille, a language that allows her to read by feeling raised dots with her fingertips. “Braille is going to be part of my life,” she says. “So I decided to start learning now. That way, I’ll have a head start.”
But to communicate in Braille, Kailey needed expensive equipment, including a special computer.
Though many people in the community—such as those at her father’s work as well as in the ward—would have gladly paid for the equipment, Kailey decided she could raise money for the equipment herself by recycling aluminum cans. The problem: it would take a lot of cans. When the ward deacons quorum president, Carter N., learned about her goal and dilemma, he came to the rescue and brought others with him.
“My uncle had a metal shed,” Carter says. “He said I could tear it down, recycle the metal, and make some money to help Kailey, so I did that with his help. But I kept thinking about her idea to recycle cans. ‘Couldn’t we collect enough cans to help pay for her equipment?’”
The next Sunday at bishopric youth committee (BYC) meeting, Carter shared his feelings and presented a plan. “The youth and the leaders talked it through,” Carter says, “and we all said, ‘We can do it’” to help Kailey collect cans. “We’ve been gathering cans ever since.”
Gathering may be an understatement.
“The BYC took the idea and ran with it,” says Mark D. Holmes, Kailey and Carter’s bishop. “The youth made plans, put up posters, and did all the work. The rest of the ward joined in too. Pretty soon people who weren’t members of the Church saw us out gathering cans and were eager to get involved.” Many businesses invited the youth to put up posters and set out boxes labeled “Kans for Kailey.”
Although the original goal was just to recycle as much as possible, during the next few months, more than 14,000 aluminum cans were collected by the youth, the ward, and the community. “The bishop let us store them in his shop building,” Carter explains. “We completely filled that, plus a couple of horse trailers.” After the cans were crushed to save space, they still filled a storage shed that’s 12 feet wide, 12 feet deep, and 8 feet tall.
“At first I didn’t think we could get that many cans,” says Michael P., 13. “But when people remembered they were doing it for Kailey, they all seemed to have more desire to help.”
“We were doing for her something she couldn’t do entirely for herself,” says Kinsley K., 12. “In a small way, we were following the example of the Savior.”
The money collected from the recycling provided more than enough money to purchase the Braille equipment. “I really like the equipment,” Kailey says. “I use it a lot.”
What’s more, the youth, the ward, and the community all gained a vision of what they could do when they worked together.

Some years ago, President Gordon B. Hinckley told “something of a parable” about “a one room school house in the mountains of Virginia where the boys were so rough no teacher had been able to handle them.
“Then one day an inexperienced young teacher applied. He was told that every teacher had received an awful beating, but the teacher accepted the risk. The first day of school the teacher asked the boys to establish their own rules and the penalty for breaking the rules. The class came up with 10 rules, which were written on the blackboard. Then the teacher asked, ‘What shall we do with one who breaks the rules?’
“‘Beat him across the back ten times without his coat on,’ came the response.
“A day or so later, … the lunch of a big student, named Tom, was stolen. ‘The thief was located—a little hungry fellow, about ten years old.’
“As Little Jim came up to take his licking, he pleaded to keep his coat on. ‘Take your coat off,’ the teacher said. ‘You helped make the rules!’
“The boy took off the coat. He had no shirt and revealed a bony little crippled body. As the teacher hesitated with the rod, Big Tom jumped to his feet and volunteered to take the boy’s licking.
“‘Very well, there is a certain law that one can become a substitute for another. Are you all agreed?’ the teacher asked.
“After five strokes across Tom’s back, the rod broke. The class was sobbing. ‘Little Jim had reached up and caught Tom with both arms around his neck. “Tom, I’m sorry that I stole your lunch, but I was awful hungry. Tom, I will love you till I die for taking my licking for me! Yes, I will love you forever!”’”

“Some two or three years after I was baptized, one day while engaged in my studies, I began to reflect upon the fact that I had not obtained a knowledge of the truth of that work—that I had not realized the fulfillment of that promise, ‘he that doeth my will shall know of the doctrine,’ and I began to feel very uneasy. I laid aside my books, left the house, and wandered around through the fields under the oppressive influence of a gloomy, disconsolate spirit, while an indescribable cloud of darkness seemed to envelop me. I had been accustomed, at the close of day, to retire for secret prayer, to a grove a short distance from my lodgings, but at this time I felt no inclination to do so. The spirit of prayer had departed and the heavens seemed like brass over my head. At length, realizing that the usual time had come for secret prayer, I concluded I would not forgo my evening service, and, as a matter of formality, knelt as I was in the habit of doing, and in my accustomed, retired place, but not feeling as I was wont to feel.

“I had no sooner opened my lips in an effort to pray, than I heard a sound, just above my head, like the rustling of silken robes, and immediately the spirit of God descended upon me, completely enveloping my whole person, filling me from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet, and O the joy and happiness I felt! No language can describe the almost instantaneous transition from a dense cloud of mental and spiritual darkness into a refulgence of light and knowledge that God lives, that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, and of the restoration of the Holy Priesthood, and the fulness of the Gospel. It was a complete baptism—a tangible immersion in the heavenly principle or element, the Holy Ghost; and even more real and physical in its effects upon every part of my system than the immersion by water; dispelling forever, so long as reason and memory last, all possibility of doubt or fear in relation to the fact handed down to us historically that the ‘babe of Bethlehem’ is truly the Son of God; and also the fact that He is now being revealed to the children of men, and communicating knowledge, the same as in the apostolic times. I was perfectly satisfied, as well I might be, for my expectations were more than realized; I think I may safely say, in an infinite degree.

“I cannot tell how long I remained in the full flow of the blissful enjoyment and divine enlightenment, but it was several minutes before the celestial element which filled and surrounded me began gradually to withdraw. On arising from my kneeling posture, with my heart swelling with gratitude to God, beyond the power of expression, I felt—I knew that he had conferred on me what only an omnipotent being can confer—that which is of greater value than all the wealth and honors worlds can bestow. That night as I retired to rest, the same wonderful manifestations were repeated, and continued to be for several successive nights. The sweet remembrance of those glorious experiences, from that time to the present, brings them fresh before me, imparting an inspiring influence which pervades my whole being, and I trust will to the close of my earthly existence.” (Preston Nibley, The Presidents of the Church [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Company, 1974], pp. 139–140.)

When Charlotte Baumann stood to bear her testimony at the end of the Frankfurt Germany Stake’s youth conference, she shared an experience that many of the other teens could relate to.
“My biology class was discussing the effects of alcohol on the body,” she said. “I noted that alcohol is poison, nerve poison, and people drink it only because they think it’s fun. The class couldn’t understand that, and then I gave my opinion on it, and that led to the question of why. One boy asked me if my ideas were like the Mormons’, and then I said, ‘Well, I am a Mormon.’ At first he didn’t believe me, and I thought that was pretty funny.”
The questions continued, even into the hallway after class, which is when a thought occurred to Charlotte. “I suddenly remembered that I had the shortened version of For the Strength of Youth, and I passed it around and had people read it. I think some of them did understand me then, and maybe that will have some effect on one or the other of them.”

Anna Matilda Anderson huddled with her mother and sister, Ida, under the black umbrella. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the train approach. She shivered. This train would take her from Sweden and begin her journey to America.
“Be good and listen to Elder Carlson,” Anna’s mother whispered in Swedish. She held the girls close. Elder Carlson was a missionary who had been serving in Sweden for three years, since Anna was eight. Now it was time for him to return to his family in Idaho, in the United States.
When Mamma had decided to send Anna and Ida to America to escape the persecution in Sweden, Elder Carlson had offered to watch over them. Now he stood by the train. He motioned for the two girls to join him. Ida hugged her mother tightly and moved forward, but Anna stayed behind.
“I love you,” Anna said. “I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too. Now listen closely. If you come to a place where you can’t understand what the people are saying, don’t forget to pray to your Father in Heaven because He can understand you.”
Still thinking of her mother’s words, Anna got on the train with Ida and Elder Carlson. She had been excited about her first ride on a train, but now she only wanted one last glimpse of Mamma. The train was too tall for her to see people’s faces, but she smiled when she saw her mother’s black umbrella held high above the crowd. It reminded her that Mamma was watching.
With a great bellow of smoke, the train lurched forward. At first it moved so slowly that Mamma ran beside the train. The black umbrella waved at Anna. But soon the black umbrella disappeared from view. Anna leaned against the windowpane. She knew it would be a long time before she saw Mamma again.
There had not been enough money for Mamma to buy a ticket. A family in Ogden, Utah, had paid for Ida’s passage to America. Ida would stay with them on their farm and work to repay them. But Anna would stay with her aunt in Salt Lake City. Anna’s aunt had gone to Utah several years earlier, and Mamma had written to tell her that Anna was making the long journey too.
After that first train trip, they took a boat over the North Sea to Denmark. Then they sailed to England and Ireland before crossing the Atlantic Ocean and landing in New York City. Anna was seasick for most of the 15-day journey. She was so relieved when she finally stepped off the boat!
“America looks different than Sweden, ja?” she said to Ida as they boarded the train in New York that would take them to Utah.
“Ja,” Ida whispered back in Swedish. “But America is home now, and if we work hard enough, soon we can bring Mamma here too.”
At last they were on the final stretch of their journey. Anna would have been excited for it to end if it didn’t mean losing Ida. There weren’t enough days left!
Finally Anna heard the conductor call, “Ogden, Utah!” She knew no English, but Anna recognized that name. Her heart sank. It sank even further when Elder Carlson stood and picked up his and Ida’s bags.
“Do you have to go?” she asked her sister.
“Yes,” Ida said gently. “Don’t worry, Auntie will be there when you get to Salt Lake City.”
Anna watched from the train as Ida and Elder Carlson met his family at the station. They would take Ida to her new home on the farm and then travel on to Idaho. Now Anna felt truly alone.
To be continued …

Before becoming a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints at the age of 25, I had stopped attending my former church on Sundays. I had spent my teenage years visiting various churches in the towns where I grew up, where I was invited to play the guitar and sing. I accepted invitations from different churches each week, and I promised myself that when I found the “right” church—where they knew who God is and where I felt at home—I would stay. Depending on how many churches were in a town, I simply repeated the cycle after a few months.
Then one cold winter’s day, two missionaries knocked on my door. By then, I was married with two young children and living in a very small town. I seemed to be their only prospect, and the Elders came around to teach me on a daily basis. On the Friday, they invited me to attend church with them that Sunday. PANIC! In our discussions, they had mentioned the importance of the Sabbath: that members refrained from shopping and time-wasting frivolities and spent the day attending church (THREE hours?!?) and engaging in various activities that would build the family and bring them nearer to God. They had also discussed reverence and showing respect through our clothing choices—the expression ‘Sunday best’ was mentioned. Why the PANIC? I didn’t own a dress or a skirt!
There was only one dress shop in the town and I didn’t rate my chances of finding anything suitable too high. Sadly, I was right. The only option was a cream-coloured pleated skirt that my grandmother would have loved! I shuddered . . . and to add insult to injury, the price was exorbitant! But, I couldn’t walk away from the church that not only knew that Jesus Christ is the Son of the Father and a separate personage, but also showed reverence by dressing and behaving in an appropriate way. So I bought the hideous cream-coloured skirt—thinking I would at least blend in. The reality was that there were only three members in the branch and 12 missionaries—so I stood out anyway!
Decades later, I still remember the feeling that choice inspired: the opportunity to show my love and reverence for my Heavenly Father and His Beloved Son, Jesus Christ, by choosing my ‘best’ clothes and going to learn more of Them. Of course it’s not actually about the clothes—Heavenly Father loves us every day, barefoot and wearing jeans. It’s about honouring Them and showing respect.

We were on a family vacation in Utah when my husband died of a sudden heart attack. Still numb from shock, I faced my first major decision. Our home was three thousand kilometers away in Washington, D.C. “What do we do now?” I wondered. “Do we move back to Utah among family and old friends, or do we stay is Washington where we had established our home?” My ninety-two-year-old grandfather, a wise patriarch of a large family, offered good counsel. “Go back home to Washington for the present,” he said. “It is not wise to uproot your family until you think it through for at least a year.”
It was not a difficult decision to make. Our home, with its familiar surroundings, was a haven, and there was a memory in every room. It would have been more difficult for us to start over somewhere else.
Looking back, I see the wisdom of remaining among supportive neighborhood, school, and Church friends. The great loss we had suffered did not disrupt the stability of our lives.

My daughters, ages 8 and 10, seemed to be growing farther and farther apart. As their mother, I ached inside to see the bickering between them and the mean looks they often directed at each other.
During this time I was praying earnestly to the Lord to help me with my own weaknesses. I prayed that He would help me learn what I needed to learn about charity, and I was led to some beautiful passages of scripture.
One night things came to a head with my daughters. I lost my temper and, after ranting and raving at them, stormed outside to cool down and think. After a few minutes, the Spirit began to soften my heart, prompting me to go inside and apologize to my eldest daughter, who had caught the worst of my temper.
As I entered her bedroom, I saw my 10-year-old daughter kneeling beside her bed, weeping. She looked up at me with tears in her eyes and said, “I don’t know what to do.” She told me she wanted to pray and read her scriptures so she would feel better, but she couldn’t because she felt so bad.
When she told me how sorry she felt for her part in our quarrel and then said I was not to blame, oh, what shame I felt. We talked a while and then turned to the scriptures, where I read to her about charity, “the pure love of Christ” (Moroni 7:47), and shared some of the things I had learned. At that point her younger sister looked in the room, and we invited her to join us. I then explained, in words an eight-year-old could understand, what we had read about charity.
After I had finished, both girls turned to me with big eyes and expressed a desire to be filled with this great love spoken of in the scriptures. We then knelt and, as Mormon counseled, humbly asked the Father to fill us with this love (see Moroni 7:48).
Touched by the Spirit, we could not help but weep. We rose from our knees, embraced, and expressed our love for each other. At that moment I saw an eternal sisterhood and friendship begin to bloom between my daughters, and I was comforted.
Their relationship has continued to grow since then. They have a greater desire to work out their differences, show more patience, and share their belongings. I am grateful for their righteous desires and efforts.
I will always treasure that experience, and I pray that there will be more like it as we continue to strengthen the bonds of charity and love in our home.

My own family, anticipating the celebration of this 90-year milestone in my life, started helping me remember and appreciate the experiences of my long life. For example, my niece gathered and shared with me several letters that I had written to my parents nearly 70 years ago from my marine outpost on the island of Saipan in the Pacific during World War II.
One of these letters particularly caught my eye. It was a letter I wrote to my mother for her to open and read on Mother’s Day 1945. I would like to share some excerpts with you in the hope you will see why I will ever be grateful to my loving father and mother for the lessons I learned from their teaching in the home. My parents are the defining example I retain of goodly parents who placed their marriage and the proper rearing of children as their highest priority.
My Mother’s Day 1945 letter began:
“Dear Mom,
“For the last four years I have had the great misfortune of spending Mother’s Day away from you. Each year I have wanted to be with you and tell you just how I love you and how much I think of you, but since it is once again impossible, I will have to do the next best thing and send my thoughts through the mail.
“This year more than any of the others I can see just what having a wonderful mother has done for me. First of all, I miss the little things you used to do for me. Whenever I got out of bed in the morning, I never had to worry about whether I’d find a clean shirt and clean socks. All that I had to do is open a drawer, and I would find them. At mealtime I always knew that I would find something I liked, prepared the best way possible. At night I always knew that I would find clean sheets on my bed and just the right amount of covers to keep me very comfortable. Living at home was really a great pleasure.”
When I read these first two paragraphs of the letter, I was shocked by how sentimental they sounded. Perhaps living in a tent and sleeping under a mosquito net on a camp cot had my thoughts returning to my very special home.
My letter to my mother continued:
“But deeper is the feeling for you because of the example you set for me. Life was made so enjoyable for us as a family that we wanted to follow in your footsteps, to continue on through experiencing the same joy that had been ours in our younger days. You always found time to take the family into the canyon, and we could count on you to do anything from climbing mountains to playing ball with us. You and Dad were never going on vacations alone. The family was always with you. Now that I am away from home, I always like to talk about my home life because it was so enjoyable. I couldn’t turn from your teachings now because my actions would reflect on your character. Life is a great challenge to me to be worthy to be called the son of Nora Sonne Perry. I am very proud of this title, and I hope that I will always be worthy of it.
“I hope that next year finds me with you to show you the good time I have been planning to show you on Mother’s Day for the past four years.
“May the Lord bless you for all the wonderful things you have done for this troubled world.
“All my love, Tom”
As I reread my letter, I also reflected on the culture of the family, the ward, the stake, and the community in which I was raised.
Culture is defined as the way of life of a people. There is a unique gospel culture, a set of values and expectations and practices common to all members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. This gospel culture, or way of life, comes from the plan of salvation, the commandments of God, and the teachings of living prophets. It is given expression in the way we raise our families and live our individual lives.
The first instruction to Adam for his mortal responsibility is found in Genesis 2:24: “Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife: and they shall be one flesh.”
The joining together of a man and a woman to be legally and lawfully wed not only is preparation for future generations to inherit the earth, but it also brings the greatest joy and satisfaction that can be found in this mortal experience. This is especially true when the powers of the priesthood proclaim a marriage to be for time and for all eternity. Children born to such marriages have a security that is found nowhere else.
Lessons taught in the home by goodly parents are becoming increasingly important in today’s world, where the influence of the adversary is so widespread. As we know, he is attempting to erode and destroy the very foundation of our society—the family. In clever and carefully camouflaged ways, he is attacking commitment to family life throughout the world and undermining the culture and covenants of faithful Latter-day Saints. Parents must resolve that teaching in the home is a most sacred and important responsibility. While other institutions such as church and school can assist parents to “train up a child in the way he [or she] should go” (Proverbs 22:6), this responsibility ultimately rests on the parents. According to the great plan of happiness, it is goodly parents who are entrusted with the care and development of Heavenly Father’s children.
In our remarkable parental stewardship, there are many ways that goodly parents can access the help and support they need to teach the gospel of Jesus Christ to their children. Let me suggest five things parents can do to create stronger family cultures:
First, parents can pray in earnest, asking our Eternal Father to help them love, understand, and guide the children He has sent to them.
Second, they can hold family prayer, scripture study, and family home evenings and eat together as often as possible, making dinner a time of communication and the teaching of values.
Third, parents can fully avail themselves of the Church’s support network, communicating with their children’s Primary teachers, youth leaders, and class and quorum presidencies. By communicating with those who are called and set apart to work with their children, parents can provide essential understanding of a child’s special and specific needs.
Fourth, parents can share their testimonies often with their children, commit them to keep the commandments of God, and promise the blessings that our Heavenly Father promises His faithful children.
Fifth, we can organize our families based on clear, simple family rules and expectations, wholesome family traditions and rituals, and “family economics,” where children have household responsibilities and can earn allowances so that they can learn to budget, save, and pay tithing on the money they earn.
These suggestions for creating stronger family cultures work in tandem with the culture of the Church. Our strengthened family cultures will be a protection for our children from “the fiery darts of the adversary” (1 Nephi 15:24) embedded in their peer culture, the entertainment and celebrity cultures, the credit and entitlement cultures, and the Internet and media cultures to which they are constantly exposed. Strong family cultures will help our children live in the world and not become “of the world” (John 15:19).
President Joseph Fielding Smith taught: “It is the duty of parents to teach their children these saving principles of the gospel of Jesus Christ, so that they will know why they are to be baptized and that they may be impressed in their hearts with a desire to continue to keep the commandments of God after they are baptized, that they may come back into his presence. Do you, my good brethren and sisters, want your families, your children; do you want to be sealed to your fathers and your mothers before you … ? If so, then you must begin by teaching at the cradle-side. You are to teach by example as well as precept.”
The proclamation on the family says:
“Husband and wife have a solemn responsibility to love and care for each other and for their children. ‘Children are an heritage of the Lord’ (Psalm 127:3). Parents have a sacred duty to rear their children in love and righteousness, to provide for their physical and spiritual needs, and to teach them to love and serve one another, observe the commandments of God, and be law-abiding citizens wherever they live. …
“… By divine design, fathers are to preside over their families in love and righteousness and are responsible to provide the necessities of life and protection for their families. Mothers are primarily responsible for the nurture of their children. In these sacred responsibilities, fathers and mothers are obligated to help one another as equal partners.”
I believe it is by divine design that the role of motherhood emphasizes the nurturing and teaching of the next generation. But it is wonderful to see husbands and wives who have worked out real partnerships where they blend together their influence and communicate effectively both about their children and to their children.
The onslaught of wickedness against our children is more subtle and brazen than it has ever been. Building a strong family culture adds another layer of protection for our children, insulating them from worldly influences.
God bless you goodly mothers and fathers in Zion. He has entrusted to your care His eternal children. As parents we partner, even join, with God in bringing to pass His work and glory among His children. It is our sacred duty to do our very best. Of this I testify in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

A year after I was baptized, I received my mission call and entered the Missionary Training Center in Manila, Philippines. It was there that I made some treasured friends. The first was my companion, Sister Loh, a convert from Singapore. Since I couldn’t speak her language and she didn’t know any Filipino dialects, our only option was to communicate in English.
The 16 days I spent in the MTC were the most spiritual of my life. Although we were far from our families, we still felt loved thanks to a special person—Sister Luda Lee Cottrell, the wife of the MTC president. She was always smiling and happy. She gave us comfort and love and taught me about charity in words and in deed.
On our last night in the MTC, Sister Loh and I wanted to give something to Sister Cottrell as a remembrance and to thank her for all the love she gave us. We didn’t have anything nice to give, so my companion suggested that we sing a song for Sister Cottrell. I immediately agreed. Because we were new in the Church, neither of us was familiar with most of the hymns. We chose to sing “I Am a Child of God” (Hymns, no. 301).
We found Sister Cottrell in her office. We told her of our simple present, and she gladly and patiently listened to us. While Sister Loh and I were singing, a memorable spiritual experience happened. I realized that we were three people of three different races, cultures, and languages. My companion and I were singing in English so that our beloved Sister Cottrell could understand what we were singing.
At that moment I forgot all our differences. The Spirit was telling me that what we are on earth doesn’t really matter, because the three of us are literally daughters of Heavenly Father. The Spirit taught me why and what brought the three of us there. It is the gospel of Jesus Christ. It is the gospel that brought Sister Loh and me to the MTC. It is the gospel that made Sister Cottrell such a wonderful, loving person. It is the gospel that gave the three of us the knowledge that we are all children of God.

Let me tell you of an experience I had with one of our Area Presidents. We were in a land where, to our knowledge, there was not a member of the Church among the millions of that nation.
There was a man who knew of the Church and desired baptism. He had been a longtime student of the Bible. He belonged to a Christian church but was not satisfied. The thought came into his mind that he should belong to a church that carried the name of the Savior. In an old encyclopedia in a public library, he found listed The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints with headquarters in Salt Lake City. He wrote a letter of inquiry and received a response with literature. Other literature followed as he requested it.
When we met him he had read the Book of Mormon again and again. He had read the Doctrine and Covenants and other Church writings. With enthusiasm he had told his friends of his treasured find. He asked to be baptized.
We questioned him. He knew of the priesthood, its orders and its offices. He knew of the various ordinances and the procedures of our meetings.
Did he believe the Book of Mormon to be the word of God? Oh, yes, he knew it to be true. He had read it. He had prayed about it and pondered. He had no doubt of its truth.
Did he believe Joseph Smith to be a prophet of God? Most assuredly. Again, he had studied and prayed. He was convinced of the reality of that glorious vision when God the Eternal Father and His Beloved Son, the resurrected Lord, appeared to the boy Joseph to usher in a new and final dispensation of gospel truth.
The priesthood had been restored with all its gifts and powers. He knew that. Our friend asked for baptism and hoped for the priesthood that he might teach and act with proper authority.
“But,” we said, “if we baptize you and then leave, you will be left alone. While there are many Christians in your nation, and freedom of religion is guaranteed under its laws, there are severe restrictions concerning foreigners. There will be no one to teach you and help you. There will be no one on whom you can lean.”
He responded, “God will teach me and help me, and He will be my friend and support.”
I looked into the eyes of that good man and saw the light of faith. We baptized him under the authority of the holy priesthood. We confirmed him a member of the Church and bestowed upon him the Holy Ghost. We baptized his wife. We conferred upon him the Aaronic Priesthood and ordained him to the office of priest so that under proper direction they might have the sacrament.
We held a sacrament and testimony meeting with them. We embraced them and said good-bye to one another, and tears were in our eyes. They left to return to their home, and we left for responsibilities in other nations.
I shall never forget him. He is poor in the things of the world. But he is educated—a teacher by profession. I know little of his circumstances. But this I know—when we talked with him, the fire of faith burned in his heart, and our own faith was quickened also.
As we traveled from that scene and there was time to meditate, I wished that faith of his kind was found more widely, both among us and among others. His example has provided a text for me. It is found in the fifth verse of the seventeenth chapter of Luke. Jesus had been teaching his disciples by precept and parable. “And the apostles said unto the Lord, Increase our faith” (italics added).

Dad was out of town on a business trip, so the only one to greet me when I limped off the plane from my mission was my mother. She held me and we cried.
I took as many medical tests as possible, but the doctors could not find the problem. Taking off my missionary tag nine months early was the hardest thing I have ever done. I felt like a failure for not finishing my mission.
Being a missionary had always been in my plans. When my older brother left on his mission, I dressed up with a homemade name tag to see him off. When the mission age change was announced in 2012, I had just turned 19 and knew that the announcement was an answer to my prayers. I danced around the room, filled out my paperwork that day, set up my medical appointments, and put my papers in within the week. I received my call to the California Anaheim Mission two weeks later and reported to the missionary training center two months after that.
I hit the mission field with “greenie” fire and never wanted to slow down. My trainer and I literally ran to some lessons because we were so excited to teach. For me, being a full-time missionary was the most natural thing in the world. I was awkward and struggled at times, but there was nothing more amazing to me than being a missionary.
Around eight months into my mission, my companions and I were given bikes because of a car shortage. I hadn’t ridden a bike in a long time and wasn’t entirely sure how to do so in a skirt, but I was thrilled anyway. After a few weeks, though, I developed a pain in my side that would come and go. I ignored it and kept working.
The pain became more frequent and more intense until one night my companion had to take me to the emergency room. I took many medical tests but the doctors couldn’t find the source of my pain.
In the weeks that followed, I prayed to Heavenly Father to make the pain go away and received several priesthood blessings, but it just got worse. Every possible position hurt; the pain was constant. But I decided that I could get used to it and kept going.
One day I collapsed on the side of the road, unable to move anymore. I was transported to the hospital to do tests with yet again no results. I tried to take it easy and sit on bus-stop benches with my companions and teach people as they waited for their buses. I sat through lessons, biting my lip through the pain. I eventually pushed myself too far and ended up in the hospital again. I realized that I might permanently damage myself if I stayed on my mission. After a lot of prayer, I received the answer that I should go home to sort out my health issues.
When I realized I was home for good, I was devastated. But I tried my best to maintain my faith and scripture study. My family handled it well, but the other people around me weren’t sure how to react to my situation. They kept asking me questions, and I barely kept it together. One man, however, called me unexpectedly and told me that his son had come home early from a mission a long time ago. He told me that this trial had the potential to destroy my faith and happiness and that it frequently did with many early-returned missionaries. “What you have to remember,” he said, “is that as long as you are trying as hard as you can to live your life righteously, it’s always a step forward no matter what happens outside of your control.”
That became my motto, and I relied on it heavily for the next year. For eight months I could barely walk, but people would still judge me when they found out that I had come home early. They said that there were people with worse medical conditions who had finished serving. They didn’t understand why I couldn’t have finished, even with medical difficulties. It was agonizing to hear this when I had loved my mission so much, but I had faith that Heavenly Father had a purpose for my trial and that it would be a step forward.
I began school again and started dating. I could see that I was progressing, but I felt that I would always view my mission with a little bitterness. Then a friend of mine reminded me that the Savior’s Atonement can heal all pain and bitterness. With His help I could be happy when thinking about my mission.
I knelt down and prayed to my Heavenly Father. I told Him about my pain and my efforts to be healed and comforted. I asked if He would take away the bitterness I felt. After my prayer, the Lord opened my eyes to see my mission from His perspective. Both my service and early return were a part of the Lord’s plan to help make me into who He wanted me to be. I could see the miracles that He had provided since I came home. It has been a hard path, but now I can look back on my early return home with peace, knowing that God has my best interests at heart.

My son Justin grew up with a difficult disease. Sometimes he was very weak. He couldn’t always do things like everyone else, even though he tried. He knew what it felt like to be different.
One day Justin and his friends got together to play a game. They had to hit a ball with their arms to keep it in the air. One of the girls who came to play had a broken arm.
It would have been easy to say, “OK, we’re all playing, and she’s just going to watch.”
But instead, Justin said, “I have a great idea. We’re all going to play with one arm.” Everybody played the game using just one arm, including the girl who was wearing a cast. No one was left out.
Justin is my hero. He always looked at other people and thought, How do they feel? Justin was sick for most of his life, but he was happy because he helped other people and followed Jesus Christ.

For Nepali families, drinking tea with milk first thing in the morning is an ingrained tradition. In every home and every tiny shop along every narrow street, small stoves brew tea. To begin to follow the Word of Wisdom has been difficult for many of these young converts.
When Deepak Shrestha’s older brother, who was the first missionary to serve from Nepal, told him the Church was the greatest thing in the world, Deepak was interested. Then his brother challenged him to live the Word of Wisdom. Deepak quickly felt the wisdom of this advice because “it affects the future.” The result of that decision has been the start of Deepak’s strong and continually growing testimony of the gospel.

My senior couple friends, such moments should be in the making for many of you. Consider the story told by Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles about what a senior couple serving in Chile was able to do. The parent of one of the young elders died. The mission president was far enough away that he couldn’t get to the missionary quickly.
“But there was a sweet [mature] missionary couple serving in the area,” Elder Holland says. “They came and sat with that missionary and tenderly cared for and comforted him until the mission president could make personal contact. We had great young missionaries in our missions, but no young single missionary could have done for that elder what that couple was able to do.”1
Their skill at that moment was simply to convey compassion in a time of need. They weren’t concerned about speaking any language other than the language of Christlike love. They weren’t worried about missing a grandchild’s birthday or a baby blessing, as important as those events may be. They were concerned about being where the Lord could use them to bless the life of one of His children. And because they were willing, He was able to let them represent Him.

You will very likely hear these words in your lifetime: “Are you a Mormon?” Perhaps it will be when your friends see that your drink of choice is root beer. Or maybe it will be when you decide to turn down a date to the school dance because you’re not yet 16 years old. Whatever the situation, you most likely won’t be asked at gunpoint. And your answer won’t determine whether you live or die. But that was the way it was for 19-year-old Joseph F. Smith.
After serving a four-year mission in the Hawaiian Islands, from 1854 to 1857, young Joseph F. Smith began his long journey home to Utah. He boated across the Pacific Ocean to San Francisco, then slowly began his journey by foot with a small company of Latter-day Saints.
One day when the company had stopped to camp and rest, a group of troublemakers came storming through. Most of the men ran and hid, but Joseph decided he had nothing to be afraid of, so he continued the task of piling firewood in the camp. As he did so, one of the men approached him with a pistol, declaring that it was his duty to exterminate every Mormon he came in contact with. As he pointed his pistol at Joseph, he demanded, “Are you a Mormon?”
Without fear or hesitation, Joseph answered, “Yes siree; dyed in the wool; true blue, through and through.”
The man was so startled by the courage of young Joseph F. Smith that he dropped his pistol and said, “Well, you are the [expletive deleted] pleasantest man I ever met! Shake, young fellow, I am glad to see a man that stands up for his convictions.” The man rode off, with the others following behind (Joseph Fielding Smith, Life of Joseph F. Smith, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book, 1938, 189).

About a hundred years ago, Sarah Young Vance qualified as a midwife. Before she began serving the women of Arizona, a priesthood leader blessed her that she would “always do only what was right and what was best for the welfare of her patients.” Over a period of 45 years, Sarah delivered approximately 1,500 babies without the loss of a single mother or child. “Whenever I came up against a difficult problem,” she recalled, “something always seemed to inspire me and somehow I would know what was the right thing to do.”3

This story happened in Finland.
Joska and his family walked quietly through the snow. It was Christmas Eve, and they were doing one of their favorite traditions. Every year, people in Finland visited the cemetery to light candles on the graves of their loved ones.
Lots of bright candles glittered in the dark. Even though it was cold, they made the cemetery feel cozy and peaceful.
Joska’s parents led them to a grave. “Who’s this?” his little sister, Aasa, asked.
“This is my great-uncle,” said Mum.
Turo, Joska’s older brother, pointed at the dates on the stone. “He was born over a hundred years ago!”
“Yes. But he’s still part of our family.” Mum pulled out a candle. “Do you want to light it, Joska?”
Joska nodded and lit the candle. Then he carefully put a metal lid with holes in it on top. It would keep the wind from blowing out the flame. He placed the candle on the ground in front of the grave. The soft, glowing light looked beautiful.
They went to the next family grave. Joska held Aasa’s hand as they walked.
“Why do we light candles on the graves?” she asked.
“Because it’s important to remember our family members,” he said.
“Even if they lived a hundred years ago?” Aasa asked.
“Yes,” Dad said. “All our aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents are part of our family. We’re all one big family because of Jesus Christ.”
Mum got out another candle. Turo helped Aasa light it.
“But why do we light the candles at Christmas?” Aasa asked.
Joska thought about that for a minute. They could light candles at the cemetery any other day. Why Christmas Eve?
“Maybe because Jesus is the Light of the World,” Joska said.
Mum smiled. “That’s a great answer. I think you’re right.” She helped Aasa put her candle in the snow next to the grave. “It’s because of Jesus Christ that we can be with our family forever. And because He lived again, all of us will live again too.”
They all stepped back to look at the lights. The whole cemetery twinkled like it was full of stars.
Joska’s heart felt warm as they walked back to the car. When they got home, they would open presents and play games. But right now, Joska was glad he could have this quiet time with his family. He would always be grateful for Jesus’s light.
Why did Joska and his family light candles on Christmas Eve?
Illustration by Flavio Remontti