Gospel Story Finder

“My mother helped us learn the value of work. We all had responsibilities every Saturday, and we always did our work before we ever went out to play. We’d scrub, clean, dust, and vacuum because Mother believed that we should learn how to do such tasks when we were young. She made games out of nearly everything we did; we’d play that the dishes were drowning people and that we were trying to save them. It was fun to be with her, for she taught us to enjoy whatever we did.”

WELCOME!I’m Sister Simon.Hi! I’m Ramón.Hello. I’m Cathlyn.I’m Mei Lin.Hi! I’m David.And I’m Joshua.
What on earth are you doing, Josh?Archaeology.Sure you are.
This is a very promising dig. I’m unearthing evidence of an early twenty-first century civilization.The early twenty-first century is right now.Exactly. From here I’ll work backward. Soon I’ll be in Book of Mormon times.
Right. So what have you discovered?This!
A CTR ring?Don’t you see? This proves that a young man who wanted to choose the right inhabited this dwelling. I bet with a little more digging, I’ll find a baptismal certificate.
Impressive.Brilliant might be a better word.

There is an old story of a waiter who asked a customer if he had enjoyed the meal. The man said that everything was fine, but it would have been better if they had given him more than two slices of bread.
The next day, when the man came to eat again, the waiter gave him four pieces of bread. The man said he still wished he had more. So the next day, the waiter gave him eight pieces! But the man still wasn’t satisfied.
Finally, on the fourth day, the waiter was really determined to make the man happy. So he took a nine-foot-long (3-m) loaf of bread, cut it in half, and with a smile, served it to the customer. Instead of being grateful, the man looked up and said, “The food was good, as always. But I see you’re back to giving me only two slices of bread.”

I went into a hospital one day in New Zealand to bless a woman who didn’t belong to the Church. She was dying. We all knew she was dying. The doctor even said so. She was having her farewell party. Ah, that’s one thing I like about the natives. When you go they give you a farewell party. They all gather around. They send messages over to the other side. “When you get over there tell my mother I’m trying to do my best; I’m not so good, but I’m trying.” “Tell her to have a good room fixed for me when I get over there and plenty of fish, good meals.” My, it’s wonderful how they send you off. There they were, all gathered around this poor sister. She was about to be confined, and the doctor told her it would kill her. She was tubercular from head to foot.

I had with me an old native, almost ninety. She was his niece. He stood up at the head of the bed and he said, “Vera, you’re dead. You’re dead because the doctor says you’re dead. You’re on your way out. I’ve been to you, your home and your people—my relatives. I’m the only one that joined the Church. None of you has ever listened to me. You’re dead now; you’re going to live.” He turned to me and said, “Is it all right if we kneel down and pray?” I said, “Yes.” So we knelt down. Everybody around there knelt down, and after the prayer we blessed her. The last time I was in New Zealand she was physically well from head to foot and had had her fifth child. She has not joined the Church yet. That’s the next miracle I’m waiting for.

In many ways, Ricardo has already begun his missionary service. “He was an example to me because he always went to church,” says Ricardo’s grandmother, Mavila Ruiz Cárdenas. For several years she had listened to the missionaries who came to visit with the family. And all the while Ricardo was there: sitting in and listening to the discussions, faithfully attending church each Sunday, even teaching his grandmother the hymns.
When he was eight years old and attending church by himself, he had not felt prepared for baptism. But, says Ricardo, “when my grandmother said she was ready to be baptized, then I was sure I was ready also.” So when Ricardo was 10, he and his grandmother were baptized on the same day.
No longer does Ricardo walk to church alone. Now every Sunday he puts on his shirt and tie, takes his grandmother by the hand, and they walk together. Who knows? In time, Ricardo will probably be leading others to church with him.

The New Era is my favorite magazine. I eagerly await each issue. I particularly want to thank you for the February 1987 issue on temple marriage. My best friend is getting married in the temple in June, and after I read that issue from cover to cover, I let her borrow it. It was really an eye-opener for us both and answered a lot of questions we had. It also made me realize what a blessing it is to get married in the temple, and it makes it even easier to stick to my goal of going there someday. But when I’m in doubt, you can be sure I’ll sit down and read it all over again!

In August 1976, at the age of twenty-six and coming from a non-member family, I received a blessing from my home teacher which in a few short months was to be staggeringly fulfilled. At that time, although my faith was strong, I was, nevertheless, carrying a burden. I had recently experienced profound trials of a personal nature. Also, I deeply longed for an eternal and righteous companion. I wanted a husband who could share both my spiritual and academic interests, but I believed that I would not find such a man in Tasmania, since there are few members of the Church here.

So I made plans to visit the USA at the end of the year. These plans and my personal crisis I discussed fully with my home teacher, Brother J. E. Prebble. We decided that together we would fast, and then he would give me a blessing. In that blessing he told me that I would journey to the USA later that year and that within three months of leaving I would meet my eternal companion, that he would need me to enable him to perform his function correctly as a priesthood holder, that not everything would happen quite as I had expected it to—though it would happen in the Lord’s way and in the Lord’s time, and that while I was away I would visit the temple and receive my endowments.

We were both astonished at the specific details, but utterly sure by the witness of the Spirit that God was giving me this understanding of my future.

In early December when I left, many of my friends, including my wonderful home teacher, Brother Prebble, came to the airport to see me off. He took me aside and told me he had a dream in which he had seen “him”—a kind of short, blue-eyed, fellow with ginger-colored hair. I boarded that plane with both anticipation and trepidation.

During my first weeks in the United States, I celebrated my twenty-seventh birthday by receiving my endowments, a beautiful and sustaining experience. But my three months were disappearing. By the end of January, there was still no sign of “him.” Because of a domestic crisis and health problems, I had to return to Tasmania in mid-February. I was overjoyed at returning home (I had been fearfully homesick) but bitterly disappointed for other reasons. I came very close to doubting God and my own worthiness.

When I arrived home I sought help from Heavenly Father about future plans. Because of a recent substantial hearing loss I could no longer teach. I decided to enroll in the law school. Classes began in early March.

My first day at the law school I was examining a class listing with one of the secretaries when a rather brash, scruffy, bearded fellow approached us and told me brusquely just which class I was meant to be in—his. Before following him to class, I whispered to the secretary, “Who on earth is that?” “It’s Mr. Stokes, one of the lecturers she replied. As I was sitting in that first class, an incredible thought occurred to me. This man was small, blue-eyed, with ginger-colored hair and our academic interests had at least brought us into the same room, if not quite together! I said, “Surely this can’t be him. He’s not even a member, and he seems far too set in his ways; besides, I told myself, academic types don’t readily join the Church.”

Michael Stokes asked me out approximately a week later. I made some excuse. The next time he didn’t ask. He told me I was joining him for lunch, and I found myself accepting! I soon learned just what an extraordinary person he was—unfailingly kind and compassionate, exceptionally gifted, a former Rhodes Scholar from Oxford University in England with impressive degrees in law from Oxford University, and a first-rate sportsman. But still, he wasn’t a member.

Two months later, after receiving confirmation from the Spirit, we were married. Another two months elapsed, and he joined the Church. Later we were sealed in the New Zealand Temple for time and all eternity. We have been blessed with two beautiful daughters. When I checked, I realized that we had met two months, three weeks, and six days from the time I had left for the United States. I know that most marriages between members and non-members do not generally result in the non-member joining the Church. But some do—and I suppose the only sure guide is to follow the Spirit. In my case, that surely was the answer. Heavenly Father does fulfill his promises—but in his time and in his way.

While living in Singapore, I came home late one afternoon to find our children strangely alert to my arrival. They greeted me, smiled, and seemed unusually attentive. Clearly, something was up. “What is going on?” I finally asked. “Nothing,” they said with smirks impossible to hide.
I coaxed until someone finally revealed that they had made blue slime … which somehow ended up plastered to a very high ceiling. “But don’t worry Mom, we cleaned it all up! Look!” I looked up, and they had done an impeccable job; only a slightly damp spot remained. They were so proud and even showed me a time-lapse video of their "successful" endeavor. I saw a mix of tennis racquets, broomsticks, and dust pans. Their ingenuity was impressive.
With their camera angle, I still couldn’t figure out how they had reached such heights. But they had photo evidence. They enthusiastically described how they had carefully constructed a mountain of kitchen chairs to support a step stool. My heart skipped a beat. A topple from that height onto a hard tile floor could have landed someone in the hospital with broken bones or worse. While I was grateful for their cleanup, I was more grateful we weren’t in the emergency room!
That moment caused me to reflect on my parenting. They were clearly more scared of asking me for help than they were of risking injury!

Entering adulthood, Elder Christophe G. Giraud-Carrier had grand plans—start a rigorous college path, obtain an educational deferment to serve a full-time mission, marry his teenage sweetheart, and then begin family life and his profession as an engineer in his native France.
While the mission and marriage went as planned, other expectations did not. The deferment did not happen, but a transfer to Brigham Young University (BYU) did, followed by a desire to teach on the university level. University jobs in France were scarce for one educated outside the country, so raising a family, having a different career, and serving in the Church came in different countries and on the Lord’s timetable.
“The mere fact that very few things have happened in the way that we planned allowed us both to realize that if we let the Lord do His thing and take us places, then that’s where He wants us to be and that’s where we can serve,” said Elder Giraud-Carrier. “It has helped us to learn to trust Him, to trust that He can make of our lives more than we otherwise could.”

I breathed hard as my math teacher talked about our upcoming activity.
“I know most of you young people listen to rap,” he said. “It’s not very good music, and it’s often hard to leave it alone.”
He wanted to show us how bad it was by having the class count the seconds to the first swear word of each song. He explained that after we collected the data we were going to put it into graphs.
“Now, I expect you all to be mature about this,” he lectured. “But if anyone’s uncomfortable or you know your parents wouldn’t approve, you can take your book and go into the hall.”
I gripped my chair. I knew I couldn’t stay here—but I was afraid to move. No one else seemed to be thinking the same thing I was. “I’ll be the only one if I leave,” I told myself.
I rationalized that maybe it would be okay if my teacher stopped the song after the first swear word. I was so petrified to stand up that I lost my chance to leave. The first song came on, and I felt my heart sink as the Spirit disappeared from the room.
The song ended, and its data was written on the board. Before I could think, another song blared curse words through the speakers. I couldn’t take it anymore. I knew that this kind of music drove away the Spirit, and that Heavenly Father didn’t want me listening to it. I picked up my book and asked the teacher if I could leave. As I walked out of the room, the Spirit returned, and I knew I had done the right thing.

A little while ago, I was invited to read the Book of Mormon every day. I was asked to begin with prayer and to write down my impressions as I read.

Before this challenge, I did not read the Book of Mormon often, but as I accepted the challenge, I became accustomed to reading every day and starting with prayer. It helped me and gave me strength to stand against temptation. It made me much stronger.

At the beginning it was kind of difficult because I would get distracted or tired. But as time went on, I couldn’t stop reading the Book of Mormon. I felt something inside that told me to keep going, and I could feel my testimony growing. Now I don’t just believe—I know that it’s true.

I’ve learned that it helps me to read the Book of Mormon with a spirit of gratitude for everything. And as I continue reading the Book of Mormon, the Spirit indicates that it’s true.

As I wrote in my journal while reading, I knew what to write because I had started with a prayer and asked Heavenly Father to help me understand through the Spirit what He wanted me to learn. And the Spirit taught me as I studied and wrote.

I am grateful for all I have learned. It is going to help me a lot on my mission. I will be a representative of the Lord, teaching others His doctrine and the teachings that the prophets have given us in the Book of Mormon. It is the key for people to come unto Christ.

After my mission, when I marry in the temple and start a family, it will help me to teach my children about the gospel and be able to say to them that all of this is true. Reading the Book of Mormon each day and writing down what I learn has been a great blessing in my life.

I have been remarkably blessed by the moral influence of women, in particular my mother and my wife. Among other women that I look to in gratitude is Anna Daines. Anna and her husband, Henry, and their four children were among the pioneers of the Church in New Jersey, in the United States. Beginning in the 1930s, when Henry was a doctoral student at Rutgers University, he and Anna worked tirelessly with school and civic organizations in Metuchen, where they lived, to overcome deeply rooted prejudice against Mormons and to make the community a better place for all parents to raise their children.

Anna, for example, volunteered at the Metuchen YMCA and made herself indispensable. Within a year she was appointed president of the Mothers’ Auxiliary and then “was asked to run for one of the three women’s positions on the YMCA board of directors. She won without opposition, and so joined the very council that only a few years before had refused to let the Saints meet in their building!”

When I returned home to Chile after my mission, I felt confident. In fact, my next decisions seemed clear because I felt so connected to Heavenly Father. However, as I started attending college, meeting friends, and even dating someone, I found that listening to the Spirit and feeling the joy of the gospel grew increasingly difficult.
I prayed every night to the Father to feel again what I had felt on my mission. But I didn’t get an immediate response.
The answer came later when I read Alma’s words to his son Helaman: "I say unto you, that by small and simple things are great things brought to pass” (Alma 37:6).
I thought to myself, “What are the small and simple things that I’m not doing?”
I realized there were a lot of spiritual habits I hadn’t been prioritizing since my mission, and I needed to make a change.
Here are three small and simple practices that have helped me reconnect to the Spirit:
Studying, reading, and pondering this book had always improved my relationship with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. However, when I returned home, I slowly stopped the habit of scripture study I’d cultivated for two years. Sometimes, we incorrectly believe that attending church and saying half-hearted prayers will bring us the Spirit as quickly as we can get a meal on our doorstep from a food delivery app. But it’s not that simple!
Inviting and feeling the Spirit requires effort.
The Lord has said, “The Book of Mormon and the holy scriptures are given of me for your instruction” (Doctrine and Covenants 33:16). Daily study of the Book of Mormon reminds us of who we are and gives direction on how to live our lives to become truly happy. Sometimes other things get in the way of reading, but I have a strong testimony that when we choose to put God first by reading His word, even for a few minutes each day, He blesses us in all things.
Every young adult is different: some study, others work, and many do both, among other things. But regardless of your status or living situation, make time to study Come, Follow Me. Spending time discussing the gospel with friends or family (whether in person or virtually) creates a protective barrier in your home and enables an atmosphere of revelation. Satan knows this and will use distraction and other tools to prevent this.
However, I’ve witnessed how studying Come, Follow Me with my family and sharing our thoughts from Sunday School reduces contention in our home and invites the Spirit and the Savior’s light.
“Attend institute!” was the prophet’s invitation to all young adults who wish to draw near to the Savior and His grace. With my busy school schedule, adding even more classes didn’t seem sensible. But institute was just one hour a week to give to the Lord, and it became a spiritual refuge for me and my friends, especially on days when the world felt heavy.
I know that standing in holy places with holy people will help you connect to the Spirit.
Being a busy young adult in this world is hard. It requires diligence, patience, and action to stay focused on what matters most.
President Russell M. Nelson testified, “It will not be possible to survive spiritually without the guiding, directing, comforting, and constant influence of the Holy Ghost.”
It’s true! I felt so disconnected from the Spirit when I wasn’t taking time to connect with Him. Now I know that drawing closer to Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ doesn’t have to be strenuous. It just takes simple actions—like daily prayer—to intentionally reach out to Them.
If you’re feeling distant from the Spirit, ask yourself, “What are those small and simple things that I am not doing?” He will help you know how you can keep your connection to Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ strong and steady.

Even though Mom is a stay-at-home mom, it seemed like all of her time and energy was swallowed up by other things—church, Dad, and my two brothers, who always had games to attend and who needed extra help with their homework. It seemed like Mom never had time for me.
Usually that was OK, but then a big thing happened. We moved from a small southern town to this huge northern city. The weather is cold here, and my classmates seemed cold, too. I had a hard time making new friends. Everyone else already knew each other and invited each other over to their homes after school. No one invited me. They dressed differently than I did, too. I had the clothes I’d worn in the south; they dressed in blue jeans and sweaters. Whenever I said, “Yes, ma’am,” to the teacher, like everyone did in the south, the other students snickered. They usually just said, “Yeah” or “OK,” when the teacher talked to them.
No one invited me to play after school, or to eat lunch with them, or to be on their team at recess. I felt left out and lonesome.
One day I decided to do something about it. I thought I might make some friends by having a party. A party would be much more exciting than just inviting one person over after school. I tried to explain all this to Mom. I asked her first if I couldn’t please have a party. Then I begged. I even cried, though not on purpose.
“I can’t do it right now, Ann Kathryn,” Mom said. “Because of the move, I have too many other things that need to be taken care of first. Give it time. I’m sure you’ll make some new friends real soon.” Mom didn’t understand how important this was to me.
I gave it time and tried to be friendly at school, but nothing changed. One day seven girls from my class were sitting at my lunch table. Almost before I knew what was happening, I found myself saying, “I’m having a party Saturday afternoon … at … at two, and you’re all invited.”
I scared myself so much that I thought I’d fall through the floor. I didn’t have my mother’s permission, and yet I’d invited seven girls to my house for a Saturday afternoon party. How dare I? What was Mom going to say?
The girls looked at me like they saw me for the first time. “Is it a birthday party?” one of them asked.
“No,” I answered, “so you don’t need to bring presents or anything. It’s just a party.” I crossed my fingers and hoped it would all work out somehow.
The girls all got permission from their parents and told me the next day that they’d be coming.
Saturday came, and I still hadn’t told Mom. I spent the morning as usual, helping her clean the house. My job was dusting, and I dusted like my life depended on it.
Lunchtime came and went. How could I tell my mother? What would she say? I wasn’t excited anymore, only scared. I prayed in my heart that the girls would all call and say that they couldn’t come, but there were no phone calls. Next I prayed that they would come, but dressed in their regular clothes, like they just happened to drop by. I knew I was dreaming.
The hall clock ticked louder than it ever had, almost as loud as my heart. I almost passed out when the doorbell rang. I ran to open the door before Mom got there, but she was right behind me. Four of the girls, more dressed up than they would be for school, stood smiling at the door. “Hi,” they said. “Are we too early for the party?”
Mom, in her house-cleaning slacks, looked at them, then looked at me, and faded quietly into the kitchen.
The door bell rang again. The three other girls stood there smiling. This time my mother did not appear at the door. I could hear her bustling around in the kitchen. I guessed that she had decided to let me handle this mess on my own.
It was a strange party, but I did my best. We watched a new video my family had bought. Then we played games. I even gave away my new charcoal pencils to the winners. I began to have fun, and the girls laughed a lot and seemed to be having a great time, too.
After we’d played a few games, Mom called from the dining room, “Girls, it’s time for refreshments.”
Astonished, I led my new friends to the table. Our best dishes were out, and there were flowered napkins, a plate of Mom’s yummy cookies, and ice cream with chocolate sauce and nuts! Mom had changed into her best skirt and sweater. She was smiling! I couldn’t believe she was going to help me through this!
“It’s good to have you girls come over,” Mom said. “Ann Kathryn’s birthday is during the summer when we’re on vacation, so she doesn’t always get to have a party with her friends.” She smiled at me.
Everyone enjoyed the refreshments. The girls left soon after that, and I was alone with Mom. She didn’t say a single word. Not one. She just began clearing the table. I rushed to help.
My father and brothers came home from a ball game, saw the party stuff, and asked, “What’s going on?”
“Oh,” Mom answered, real calm, “Ann Kathryn and I had a little surprise party.”
That’s all she said. She knew that I knew that I’d done an awful thing. I didn’t need a scolding. I felt terrible inside, even though the party had been wonderful.
That night Mom came to my bedroom to say good night, as she often did. She sat on the bed and gently brushed the hair from my eyes. She looked at me real deep and said, “I’m sorry, Annie Kate. I didn’t know how much you needed a party.”
“Oh, Mom, I’m so sorry I didn’t get permission first. The invitation just kind of slipped out, and then I didn’t know what to do. You were so great! Will you ever forgive me?”
She kissed me on the forehead, “Of course, I do, darling. And do you forgive me for not understanding?” I nodded. “I think we both need to spend more time talking to each other,” she added. I smiled and she kissed me on the forehead, then left. I had done a dreadful thing to my mother, but she had understood and had forgiven me. Everything felt right again.
I sometimes just say the words when I pray, but that night I knelt and prayed with all my heart. I asked Heavenly Father to forgive me for not being honest with my mother, and I thanked Him that she was so understanding and forgiving. I went to bed that night knowing that all was forgiven, and that was the best feeling I’d had all day.

Apart from marrying Patricia Terry in 1963 and having their children Matthew, Mary Alice, and David (Duff), I believe his most crucial season was his mission from 1960 to 1963—the years that profoundly shaped the rest of his life.

Late one night in 1960, he and I sat and talked candidly in a car parked in a gentle St. George rainstorm near his home. The raindrops running down the car windows mirrored the tears that occasionally blinked down his cheeks as he thought out loud about his dilemma. He was in love with Pat—the only girl he had ever dated seriously. Pat was modest and bright, naturally beautiful, and a young woman of unusually deep faith.

When he was running for Dixie College student body president a few months earlier, Jeff had believed that if he won the election, he would need to be at Dixie the next year—so he would stay and marry Pat, rather than serving a mission now; and they could serve together later. But he had barely lost the election, perhaps because I was his campaign manager, just as he’d managed my campaign when I lost the year before. But now his bishop wanted to submit his mission papers. He had a testimony, but he was afraid Pat would marry someone else during his mission, and he couldn’t abide the thought of losing her.

Should he go now, or should he stay? Given the powerful impact his mission would have on his entire future, this was a far more crucial moment than either of them could have imagined. But perhaps Pat sensed something. He said she wanted what was “best for them,” not just “best for him.” Her further advice was something like, “Jeff, just go. The Lord will take care of us. You’ll grow and be better off. And the chances are pretty good that I’ll still be here.” She didn’t offer, and he didn’t ask, for a firmer commitment. But, finally overcoming his fearful anguish, he decided to go. It was an act of wrenching, but trusting, sacrifice to the Lord.

He was called to the London Mission just when the brethren were feeling strongly that it was time for missionary work in Europe to take a major step forward. But some careless proselyting in England had made President David O. McKay feel the need to send Elder Marion D. Hanks, a gifted young General Authority, as the new London mission president.

I asked Jeff about Elder Hanks in one of my letters from my own mission in Germany. I still remember his answer: “It’s great to feel like I’m finally on a mission and not just in on a big business deal.” He said Elder Hanks called time-out on everything else the missionaries had been doing, and he immersed them deeply—permanently—in the Book of Mormon.

Elder Hanks was a bright and perceptive teacher with a gentle sense of humor. His candor and his deep love for the Book of Mormon opened their eyes and hearts. He first assigned them to read the entire Book, marking all references to Christ. Then he had them read it again, marking all the doctrinal passages. Then he taught them Christ’s doctrine with “the soul of a poet-philosopher.” [2] He became Jeffrey Holland’s personal mentor and role model—and that gradually but deeply changed Jeff’s life.

After our missions, I was startled, even moved, to see how much he had matured, and how his own gifts of personality and insight had so rapidly developed. And now, inspired by his new mentor, he wanted to teach Institute—which had never crossed his mind before.

After teaching Institute for several years, Jeff wrote of his gratitude to Elder Hanks for introducing him “to the profundity of the Book of Mormon and the majesty of Christ that lay hidden there.” [3] He said no one loved the Book of Mormon more than Elder Hanks, nor “taught it with more power and conviction.” [4] And to the 2023 Seminar for New Mission Leaders, he said that “no young man was more affected by a mission than I was. My whole life was reshaped, and refined.”

Knowing how very hard it was for Jeff to dig deep enough to find the faith, the courage, and especially the sacrifice to go on that mission makes me feel absolute admiration for him. At his youthful age of 19, I believe he wanted Pat more than he wanted that mission—because he deeply feared losing her. He had no idea how the mission would profoundly change his whole life—and hers. But in pure trust, he finally bowed before the Lord and said, “Yes, I’ll go.”

Recently, my mom and I chose to fast on a weekday. We were fasting for my dad and that his heart would be softened towards the gospel of Jesus Christ.
This was the first time I’d ever fasted on a day other than Sunday, and I thought it would be really hard. It was actually the most spiritual fast I’ve ever had! As I tried to focus on my love for both my earthly father and my Heavenly Father, all thoughts of my rumbling stomach disappeared from my mind and I completely forgot my physical needs. I felt the Spirit testify to me that everything would be all right.
Not eating is sometimes hard because I love food! However, I’ve learned that if I simply get down on my knees and tell Heavenly Father, “I’m going to fast now, but I can’t do this on my own,” then His grace and Spirit can help me make it through the rest of the fast. Miracles do happen, and I can testify that I have never, ever come to the end of a fast and regretted it.
Merili R., 18, Minnesota, USA

“They kicked me out of school because I’m a Mormon,” says seven-year-old Raúl. That may seem like a big price for one so young to pay. But Raúl doesn’t think so—even though he was happy at the school, had lots of friends there, and loved his teacher.
Raúl Ever Aquino Gonzales was a first grader in a religious school in a small town in Paraguay—and was the only Latter-day Saint in the school. One day, he says, “people started criticizing the Church without knowing anything about it. They were saying things that aren’t so.” Raúl—a likable, outgoing boy—felt he couldn’t just sit there without saying anything. “I tried to defend the Church by telling them they were wrong,” he explains. “I was expelled because I wouldn’t conform.”
Now Raúl, still a first grader, is enrolled in a different school. “I’ve already told the people at the new school that I’m a Mormon,” he says. And with a grin, he adds: “But they didn’t kick me out!” His best friend in his new class is also a member of the Church.

When I received mine as a teenager, I remember getting the distinct impression as it was given that I would not serve a full-time mission as a young woman. Nothing in the blessing specifically said that, but the impression was clear. I was a little disappointed but happily thought it must mean I would be married by the time I reached mission age, ready to start the large family I'd dreamed of. A few years later, when I turned 21 and was not married, I decided it was time to find out if I should submit mission papers. I had one semester of school and an internship yet to go. As I prayed about my decision, I was reminded that I had been given an answer six years ago when I received my patriarchal blessing. I felt slightly chastened for asking the Lord for an answer I'd already received. Turn with me to D&C 3:4. We read, "For although a man may have many revelations, and have power to do many mighty works, yet if he boasts in his own strength, and sets at naught the counsels of God, and follows after the dictates of his own will and carnal desires, he must fall and incur the vengeance of a just God upon him." If we want God to guide our path, we have to recognize and act on the direction He gives, even if it's not to our liking.

Once I accepted the answer I had received, I was quickly rewarded with an internship opportunity in Alabama where I could live with my grandparents. I spent a semester getting to know grandparents, who I had only seen about once a year while growing up. The week before I left, I helped Grandma take Grandpa to the doctor to check out some pains he was experiencing. About two months later, Grandpa passed away from liver failure. I had not been given the opportunity to wear a missionary badge, but I spent three valuable months with my non-member grandfather that no full-time missionary could have had. The Lord knew when I was 15 what my mission call would be.

Today I would like to address one of the most joyful, glorious, and powerful gospel truths that God has revealed. At the same time, it is ironically one for which we have been criticized. An experience I had some years ago profoundly deepened my appreciation for this gospel truth.
As a representative of the Church, I was once invited to a religious conference where it was announced that from that moment on they would recognize as valid all baptisms performed by almost all other Christian churches, as long as the ordinance was done with water and in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. Then it was explained that this policy did not apply to baptisms performed by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
After the conference I was able to delve deeper into the reasons for that exception with the leader in charge of the announcement. We had a wonderful and insightful conversation.
In short, he explained to me that that exception had primarily to do with our particular beliefs about the Godhead, which other Christian denominations often refer to as the Trinity. I expressed my appreciation for him taking the time to explain to me his beliefs and the policy of his church. At the end of our conversation, we hugged and then said goodbye.
As I later contemplated our discussion, what this leader said about Latter-day Saints not understanding what he called the “mystery of the Trinity” stayed in my mind. What was he referring to? Well, it had to do with our understanding of the nature of God. We believe that God the Father “is an exalted man” with a glorified “body of flesh and bones as tangible as man’s; [and] the Son also.” Thus, every time we talk about the nature of God, in some way, somehow, we are also talking about our own nature.
And this is true not only because we all were made “in [His] image, after [His] likeness,” but also because, as the Psalmist recorded, God said, “Ye are gods; and all of you are children of the Most High.” This is for us a precious doctrine now recovered with the advent of the Restoration. In summary, it is nothing more or less than what our missionaries teach as the first lesson, first paragraph, first line: “God is our Heavenly Father, and we are His children.”
Now, you might say, “But many people believe we are children of God.” Yes, that is true, but their understanding may be a little different from the implication of its deeper meaning that we affirm. For Latter-day Saints, this teaching is not metaphorical. Rather, we truly believe that we are all literally the children of God. He is “the Father of [our] spirits,” and because of that, we have the potential to become like Him, which seems to be inconceivable to some.
It has now been over 200 years since the First Vision opened the doors to the Restoration. At the time, young Joseph Smith sought guidance from heaven to know what church to join. Through the revelation he received that day, and in later revelations given to him, the Prophet Joseph obtained knowledge about the nature of God and our relationship to Him as His children.
Because of that, we learn more clearly that our Heavenly Father has taught this precious doctrine from the very beginning. Allow me to cite at least two accounts from the scriptures to illustrate this.
You might remember God’s instructions to Moses as recorded in the Pearl of Great Price.
We read that “God spake unto Moses, saying: Behold, I am the Lord God Almighty, and Endless is my name.” In other words, Moses, I want you to know who I am. Then He added, “And, behold, thou art my son.” Later he said, “And I have a work for thee, Moses, my son; and thou art in the similitude of mine Only Begotten.” And then finally, He ended with, “And now, behold, this one thing I show unto thee, Moses, my son.”
It appears that God was determined to teach Moses at least one lesson: “You are my child,” which He repeated at least three times. He could not even mention the name of Moses without immediately adding that he was His son.
However, after Moses was left alone, he felt weak because he was no longer in the presence of God. That is when Satan came to tempt him. Can you see a pattern here? The first thing he said was, “Moses, son of man, worship me.”
In this context, Satan’s request to worship him may have been only a distraction. A significant temptation for Moses in that moment of weakness was to become confused and believe that he was only a “son of man,” rather than a child of God.
“And it came to pass that Moses looked upon Satan and said: Who art thou? For behold, I am a son of God, in the similitude of his Only Begotten.” Fortunately, Moses was not confused and did not allow himself to become distracted. He had learned the lesson of who he really was.
The next account is found in Matthew 4. Scholars have entitled this “the three temptations of Jesus,” as if the Lord was tempted only three times, which of course is not the case.
Hundreds of gallons of ink have been used to explain the meaning and content of these temptations. As we know, the chapter begins by explaining that Jesus had gone into the desert, “and when he had fasted forty days and forty nights, he was afterward an hungred.”
Satan’s first temptation apparently had only to do with satisfying the Lord’s physical needs. “Command that these stones be made bread,” he challenged the Savior.
A second enticement may have had to do with tempting God: “Cast thyself down: for it is written, He shall give his angels charge concerning thee.”
Finally, Satan’s third temptation referred to the aspirations and glory of the world. After Jesus had been shown “all the kingdoms of the world, … [Satan] saith unto him, All these things will I give thee, if thou wilt fall down and worship me.”
In truth, Satan’s ultimate temptation may have had less to do with those three specific provocations and more to do with tempting Jesus Christ to question His divine nature. At least twice, the enticement was preceded by the challenging accusation from Satan: “If thou be the Son of God”—if you really believe it, then do this or that.
Please notice what had happened immediately before Jesus went into the desert to fast and pray: we find the account of Christ’s baptism. And when He had come out of the water, there came “a voice from heaven, saying, This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.”
Do we see the connection? Can we recognize a pattern here?
It is no wonder that every time we are taught about our divine nature and destiny, the adversary of all righteousness tempts us to call them into question.
How different our decisions would be if we really knew who we really are.
We live in a challenging world, a world of increasing commotion, where honorable people strive to at least emphasize our human dignity, while we belong to a church and embrace a gospel that lift our vision and invite us into the divine.
Jesus’s commandment to be “perfect, even as [our] Father which is in heaven is perfect” is a clear reflection of His high expectations and our eternal possibilities. Now, none of this will happen overnight. In the words of President Jeffrey R. Holland, it will happen “eventually.” But the promise is that if we “come unto Christ,” we will “be perfected in him.” That requires a lot of work—not just any work, but a divine work. His work!
Now, the good news is that it is precisely our Father in Heaven who has said, “For behold, this is my work and my glory—to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man.”
President Russell M. Nelson’s invitation to “think celestial” implies a wonderful reminder of our divine nature, origin, and potential destination. We can obtain the celestial only through Jesus Christ’s atoning sacrifice.
Perhaps that is why Satan enticed Jesus with the very same temptation from the beginning to the end of His earthly ministry. Matthew recorded that while Jesus hung on the cross, those “that passed by reviled him, … saying, … If thou be the Son of God, come down from the cross.” Glory be to God that He did not hearken but instead provided the way for us to receive all celestial blessings.
Let us always remember, there was a great price paid for our happiness.
I testify as with the Apostle Paul that “the Spirit itself beareth witness with our spirit, that we are children of God: and if children, then heirs; heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ; if so be that we suffer with him, that we may be also glorified together.” In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Once I heard a forceful appeal by a woman from the Mutual. … She gave a rousing talk on the reading of the scriptures and making them our own; then she stopped her dissertation to ask this mixed congregation, about a thousand of us, “How many of you have read the Bible through?”
I think I was about fourteen years old at the time. An accusing guilt complex spread over me. I had read many books by that time, the funny papers, and light books, but my accusing heart said to me, “You, Spencer Kimball, you have never read that holy book. Why?” I looked around me at the people in front and on both sides of the hall to see if I was alone in my failure to read the sacred book. Of the thousand people, there were perhaps a half dozen who proudly raised their hands. I slumped down in my seat. I had no thought for the others who had also failed, but only a deep accusing thought for myself. I don’t know what other people were doing and thinking, but I heard no more of the sermon. It had accomplished its work. When the meeting closed, I sought the large double exit door and rushed to my home a block east of the chapel; and I was gritting my teeth and saying to myself, “I will. I will. I will.”
Entering the back door of our family home, I went to the kitchen shelf where we kept the coal oil lamps, selected one that was full of oil and had a newly trimmed wick, and climbed the stairs to my attic room. There I opened my Bible and began on Genesis, first chapter and first verse, and I read well into the night with Adam and Eve and Cain and Abel, and Enoch and Noah and through the flood even to Abraham.
Note: Young Spencer went on to finish the Bible. Since then he has read it and all the scriptures many times.