Gospel Story Finder

My friends and I were doing a play. There was a girl nobody talked to. My friend said something mean about her, and I did too. I felt really bad about it. The next day my friend made fun of her again. I said, “Maybe she needs a friend.” I went and talked to her. I told her she was doing a good job. She smiled for the rest of practice. I was glad I could make her day a little brighter.
Lauren C., age 11, Utah, USA

Ever think about where you’ll be in 10 years? That’s exactly what a group of young women from Edmonton, Alberta, Canada, did in the late 1980s. The Mia Maids of the Whitemud Ward, Riverbend Stake, recorded their 10-year goals and predictions for themselves, placed these records in a time capsule, then promised to reunite after a decade.
Recently, these young women got together from different parts of North America to open the capsule. They were thrilled to realize that most of their dreams had come true.
Each of these young women continues to be active in the Church. All have pursued some sort of formal education, with most receiving degrees. One of the young women served a full-time mission. Those who are married have been married in the temple, and several are now raising children of their own.
Sharon Duncan Loose, who organized the reunion, says the girls’ support of one another during high school was a big factor in achieving these goals. “We knew we had a common belief and that we could turn to each other for help through temptations.”

I grew up in the same town with a boy who had no father and precious few of the other blessings of life. The young men in our community found it easy to tease and taunt and bully him. And in the process of it all he made some mistakes, though I cannot believe his mistakes were more serious than those of his Latter-day Saint friends who made life so miserable for him. He began to drink and smoke, and the gospel principles which had never meant much to him now meant even less. He had been cast in a role by LDS friends who should have known better and he began to play the part perfectly. Soon he drank even more, went to school even less, and went to Church not at all. Then one day he was gone. Some said that they thought he had joined the army.

That was about 1959 or so. Fifteen or sixteen years later he came home. At least he tried to come home. He had found the significance of the gospel in his life. He had married a wonderful girl, and they had a beautiful family. But he discovered something upon his return. He had changed, but some of his old friends hadn’t—and they were unwilling to let him escape his past.

This was hard for him and hard for his family. They bought a little home and started a small business, but they struggled both personally and professionally and finally moved away. For reasons that don’t need to be detailed here, the story goes on to a very unhappy ending. He died a year ago at age 44. That’s too young to die these days, and it’s certainly too young to die away from home.

When a battered, weary swimmer tries valiantly to get back to shore, after having fought strong winds and rough waves which he should never have challenged in the first place, those of us who might have had better judgment, or perhaps just better luck, ought not to row out to his side, beat him with our oars, and shove his head back underwater. That’s not what boats were made for. But some of us do that to each other.

For you to feel that urgency, I first share the story of Noelle Pikus-Pace, one of those Latter-day Saint athletes. In Noelle’s event, the skeleton, athletes build momentum as they sprint and then plunge headfirst on a small sled. With their faces inches above the ground, they race down a winding, icy track at speeds that top 90 miles (145 km) an hour.
Remarkably, years of preparation would be considered either a success or a disappointment based on what happened in the space of four intense 60-second runs.
Noelle’s previous 2006 Olympic dreams were dashed when a terrible accident left her with a broken leg. In the 2010 Olympics her dreams fell short again when just over one-tenth of a second kept her from the medal stand.
Can you imagine the anxiety she felt as she waited to begin her first run in the 2014 Olympics? Years of preparation would culminate in only a sliver of time. Four minutes total. She spent years preparing for those four minutes and would spend a lifetime afterward reflecting on them.
Noelle’s final runs were virtually flawless! We will never forget her leap into the stands to embrace her family after crossing the finish line, exclaiming, “We did it!” Years of preparation had paid off. We saw her Young Women medallion around her neck as the silver medal was placed there beside it.
It may seem unfair that Noelle’s entire Olympic dreams hinged on what she did during just four brief minutes. But she knew it, and that is why she prepared so diligently. She sensed the magnitude, the urgency of her four minutes, and what they would mean for the rest of her life.

Once, as I sat by my father’s bedside through the night, he talked about his childhood. He spoke of the love of his parents in difficult times and of the love of his Heavenly Father and the Savior. I knew he was dying of cancer, so it did not surprise me that at times he mixed up his feelings for his Heavenly Father with the love and kindness of his earthly father. My father had often said that when he prayed, he thought he could see in his mind the smile of Heavenly Father.
His parents had taught him by example to pray as if he spoke to God and that God would answer him in love. He needed that example to the end. When the pain became intense, we found him in the morning on his knees by the bed. He had been too weak to get back into bed. He told us he had been praying to ask his Heavenly Father why he had to suffer so much when he had always tried to be good. He said a kindly answer came: “God needs brave sons.”
And so he soldiered on to the end, trusting that God loved him, listened to him, and would lift him up. He was blessed to have known early and to never forget that a loving God is as close as a prayer.

This story about the Aaronic Priesthood begins with a young woman, 16-year-old Lauren DellAquila of the Cary Second Ward, Apex North Carolina Stake. Lauren hadn’t come to Church for years. She had never been baptized and confirmed, “but I just knew in my heart that the Church was true.”
She also knew David Christison, 16, and Andrew Hill, 15, who attend the same school, are Latter-day Saints. “I’m in marching band with David and had a couple of classes with Andrew last year,” she says. And she knew they stood by their beliefs. “It meant a lot to see their example, because most teens at our school don’t have values like they do,” Lauren explains.
Then one day after band, some other classmates were making unkind comments about the Church. Lauren told them if they really wanted to know the truth, they shouldn’t repeat rumors; they should find out for themselves. Afterward, David thanked her and asked how she knew so much about the Church. “She said that when she was really young she went to Church, but then her parents divorced and she stopped coming,” David says. “So I invited her to come again.”
“People had tried to get me to come back before, but for one reason or another it had never happened,” Lauren explains. “But when I told David and Andrew that I did want to try again, they were excited. I started coming to meetings, and they introduced me to the bishop, the missionaries, and the young women in the ward. They helped me feel at home.”
Soon Lauren was baptized and confirmed, and today she’s a happy, confident Laurel who recently gave a sacrament meeting talk about the importance of the priesthood. “If the gospel had not been restored,” she says, “I wouldn’t have seen two young men honoring their priesthood. And I wouldn’t have had the opportunities I have had to make covenants and to draw close to the Savior.”

As a single parent, my mother had many things to do, but she always took time to help me, comfort me, or simply listen to me. Knowing that she was always there was invaluable, and I want to give that to my own children in the future.
When my mother remarried, her new husband chose to become the father of my older brother and me. Soon afterward, a little sister joined our family, but I have never felt the slightest difference in the affectionate and loving way he has taken care of us all as his own. Thanks to his attitude, my older brother and I have been able to grow up in a strong and unified family with the priesthood in the home. The day we were sealed as a family was very special. His loving example has taught me that a father isn’t just something you are—it’s something you become.

Paying an honest tithe was second nature to me and had never been a problem. Then some years later my then husband, who had been less active for six years, became more and more antagonistic towards the Church. One day, he said that he hoped I was not paying his money to “that Church!”
Of course, I was tithing my housekeeping. I realised I needed to talk to the Lord and found a quiet place to kneel and to pray. The answer that came was, “I do not require tithing that is begrudged”.
My reply was, “I just pay my tithing. I have always paid tithing. What can I do?”
The quiet response came, “Tithe your time. Write to the missionaries from the Liverpool Stake and help strengthen them.”
I was obedient and did just that. My first letter was written to Elder Edward Goble from the Crosby Ward. It was a venture into the unknown for me, but I had been blessed with a talent for the written word, so I put pen to paper. The words came, and that first letter was written and mailed.
Since that day, I have been blessed to write many missionary letters through the guidance of the Spirit. Words come faster than my pen can write! Words of encouragement, hope and uplift, and there I stand, in awe of what those words teach. They have not come from me. I have been blessed to be an instrument in the Lord’s hands and tithing my time has been inspirational.
This adventure began during the 1970s, and although I’ve been able to pay my tithing again for many years, I have continued to write my missionary letters because it is a joy to touch lives for good.
It has been a wonderful experience, a rich blessing across five decades. How grateful I am that the Lord told me to tithe my time and write.

Parents and church leaders play an important part in molding our children and youth to become valiant missionaries. The things they learn will help them as they serve because
a mission is not a bed of roses. Challenges and trials are part of the missionary experience, as experienced by Brother Gym Vergel Ramos from Binmaley, Pangasinan.

Gym was 8 years old when he joined the Church in 2010 together with his entire family. He was called to the Philippines Butuan Mission and was supposed to enter the Missionary Training Center in June 2020, but it was postponed due to the lockdown. He underwent virtual MTC and was reassigned to his home mission, the Philippines Urdaneta Mission. On September 21, 2020, two days before he was supposed to report to the Urdaneta Mission home, his paternal grandfather, Fernando Ramos, passed away. His nonmember relatives could not understand why he wouldn’t postpone his mission any further to stay and grieve with the rest of their clan.

After 11 months of service in the field, he learned that his father Virgilio passed away due to Covid19. His area was a few towns away from their home, but his mother counselled him against going home, telling him to stay focused on his work as a missionary. His mission president gave the same advice, and he stayed put and continued to serve. Two months later, Elder Ramos learned that his maternal grandparents Efren and Julieta Manalo passed away one day apart. Despite all the loss, he soldiered on and gave his best as a missionary.

“Death is inevitable and the gospel is true,” says Gym Vergel, who honorably finished his mission last June 2022. “I don’t have any regrets. Heartaches are a part of life and learning. Because of the trials I experienced during my mission, I grew closer to Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. The atonement became more meaningful and gave me strength whenever I felt sad.”

Gym also said he learned to rejoice in the promise of the resurrection. It gave him hope, not just in coping with the loss of family members but also in becoming a better person so he can be strong for his mother and siblings. The tragedy they experienced made them closer and stronger as a family.

Looking back at his mission, Gym is grateful for who he has become. He is blessed not just by the things he learned but also by the people he met. Friends who are now like family continue to help and support him as he works hard to gain an education and at the same time stay on the covenant path.

After a particularly hard day, I asked my husband to give me a blessing. During the blessing I was reminded that I am a daughter of God, that He is aware of me and my needs, and that my son is a son of God. Brad was God’s son first, and my husband and I have a partnership with God in Brad’s behalf. I realized that I had not been using all the tools that the partnership provides for me. My husband and I had researched and discovered many resources to help us, but we forgot the most significant one: prayer.
I began to pray daily about how I could help Brad. When he was having an emotional meltdown, I would say a quick prayer for inspiration before approaching him. As I relied on God for my support and for inspiration for my son, I got a glimpse of what I could be and what I could do for him. I strived to follow Alma’s words: “And this is my glory, that perhaps I may be an instrument in the hands of God” (Alma 29:9).
The changes were immediate. I was flooded with ideas and ways to help Brad. I used family home evening as a tool and prayed for ideas about what to teach. I also read the scriptures with more intent and recognized the great parenting advice they contain. I began to be filled with hope and comfort.
As I continued to put into practice the idea that my husband and I are partners with God in parenting our children and using the tools that He has given us, I began to rely on God more and more. I realized that my knowledge of parenting could only go so far, but a loving Heavenly Father, who knows all things and loves my son more than I do, could help me become a better and stronger mother. And though I still sometimes falter, I know where to look for help. I understand now that some trials may not have a time limit on them, but if I keep my eye on eternity, God will help me.

Hubert Joly, former CEO of consumer electronics firm Best Buy, managed to turn the company around by applying the principles of the LIVE framework in his organization. When Joly became Best Buy’s CEO in 2012, the company was in deep trouble—operating performance had been in sharp decline and analysts and reporters were convinced the company’s days were numbered. Almost everyone thought Joly was crazy to take the job.

From his own shopping experience, Joly knew that Best Buy’s stores were places with few caring people, many unhelpful rules, and frustrating customer service. Joly set out to change that and much more with an approach to leadership grounded in connecting people’s search for meaning to their work at Best Buy.26

Best Buy’s purpose became “to enrich customers’ lives through technology.”27 Joly established three principles to guide the organization in achieving that purpose:

Joly believed that establishing genuine human connections was critical to unlocking the potential in people. He was fond of telling the story of a store manager in Boston who helped an hourly worker grow in skill and confidence to achieve her dream of financial independence: with hard work, she became a department manager.

Joly succeeded in getting the three principles to permeate the entire organization, all the way to store managers and frontline people. But at the core of the turnaround of Best Buy—the company went from being on life support to five consecutive years of sales growth and profitability—was the commitment to help people find meaning at work, to see people as sources of initiative and creativity, to treat people as individuals to help them flourish, and to forge genuine human connections of respect, value, and care.

Seventh, don’t complain. Life isn’t always fair. That’s a fact. But it’s always charged with marvelous opportunities if you know how to find them. I remember once when I was working as hard as I knew how. I happened to be working for a man who took all of the ideas and suggestions and work that I did and passed them on to his superior as though they were his own suggestions. For a while I was really upset about that. As I pondered it, a thought came to me, and I decided from then on I would write reports to him of everything that I was doing or trying to do, and I sent a copy to his boss. He didn’t like that, but it worked beautifully.

Some years ago down in California, where I presided as a stake president, a bishop asked a young man in his ward if he would be willing to spend his summer months in doing missionary work. He was studying medicine, but he agreed that he would. Do you know what he did? He went around to the boys and girls he had attended high school with and said to them, “My Church has asked me to do some missionary work for it, and I am not very well prepared. How would you like to give me a few nights of your spare time and let me practice on you so that I will become prepared to do my missionary work?” With just that one little thought, he brought four of those high school friends into the Church during those summer months. Isn’t that better than sitting around twiddling your thumbs, wasting your time? There is opportunity all around us on every hand.

The Getman family moved to Hill City, South Dakota, five years ago. Soon after their move, they began an enormous project—constructing their own home. The first step was clearing enough land on their forested lot. Kevin and Pamela worked with their mom, Billie, their dad, Gary, their older sister, Jessica (15), and their older brother, Michael (20), to cut down trees, chop them into firewood, and line up the logs in big stacks. When it came time to burn the unusable wood and brambles, Kevin became his dad’s best helper, watching the flames with garden hose in hand. If the fire got too big, Kevin doused it with water.

When the ground was finally cleared, the Getmans faced another challenge: giant rocks. Set at the top of a tiny mountain, the spot they had cleared for their home seemed to have just as many boulders as trees. There were too many rocks to move, so the Getmans decided to build right on top of the rocks. “Just like the wise man in the Primary song,”* Mom jokes.

After blasting a few of the boulders with dynamite, the Getmans used the rest to form a strong foundation for their home. One boulder pokes right through the wall into their house, a reminder that this home is built on granite. But that boulder is not the only rock in the Getman house. Both Pam and Kevin have rock collections, piles of sparkling stones in many colors and sizes. Laying each rock on a table, Pam admires its distinctive beauty. She knows that Jesus Christ created our world, and she feels reverence for each of His creations. In fact, she hopes one day to be a florist so she can share the beauty of nature by making gifts out of flowers.

“Dear Dad,” I started the most important e-mail of my life. “Since Allie is about to turn eight, I was wondering if you would let all of us get baptized together.”
My brother, sisters, and I had known our entire lives that baptism was out of the picture until we turned 18. My father is not a Church member, and my mother has always hoped for the day when the entire family would be able to fully embrace the gospel.
That e-mail marked the first time I had gathered the courage to ask my father’s permission in a straightforward, sincere manner. I’d fasted and had so much hope that this would be the time he would agree. His answer of “no” followed by an explanation of his personal beliefs and why he felt so strongly about having us wait was disappointing.
Even though I was not a baptized member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I was an active participant. I had stood by as my friends were baptized at age eight. I missed the trips to the Idaho Falls Temple when others my age participated in baptisms for the dead. Although discouraged, I kept my faith and activity. I knew someday I, too, would enter the waters of baptism.
On January 25, 2008, I arrived home late after a school skiing trip. I was very tired and inattentive during family scripture time, only half-listening to my mother read from the Book of Mormon. Suddenly Mom’s voice said, “I talked to your dad today.” My ears perked up mildly because he had recently moved to the East Coast. She continued, “He has decided to let all of you get baptized.” I sat up on the couch and stared at my mother in disbelief.
One week later my siblings and I were each baptized by our maternal grandpa. He had not baptized his own children, and this was his first experience performing a baptism. Humbly, my grandpa took me by the hands as I was immersed in the water into an unbelievable moment. The next day my uncle confirmed me a member of the Church and I received the gift of the Holy Ghost. Later I joined the youth in my ward on a trip to the Idaho Falls Temple to do work for those who had also waited for baptism.
It took the same courage as before to contact my dad, this time by phone, and thank him for allowing me to be baptized. He gave me a quick but sincere “you’re welcome” as we moved on to talk about other things. Even though most of this conversation seemed a usual chat with my dad, I know this was one of the most special phone calls of my life.

William was the firstborn, and from the beginning there was a strong bond of love between him and his mother. Then when he was a young man she died suddenly and he was brokenhearted. No longer was he the carefree young man we knew. He became quiet and withdrawn. Then one day he came to me and said, “Father, I have decided to leave home and go to America. I want to go to Zion where the Saints are. I have applied for a visa, and when it comes I shall be leaving.” About a year later the visa was granted, and William made preparations to leave.
Then came the day of his leaving. How can I describe that day? I stood on the doorstep of my cottage on the hillside and watched him go down the hill with his trunk on his shoulder. I knew I would never see him again, and part of me went with him. Would I miss him? Would I miss the sun if it failed to rise over the mountains out my window? He was my firstborn son, whose life was a lesson in faith and humility. He was the peacemaker in the family. The days passed, and the ache in my heart was eased. His letters came with regularity, and they told of his joy of being with the Saints.
One day a year or so later my second son, John, spoke to me at supper, “Father, I have decided to join my brother in America. I have applied for a visa.”
I looked at this boy, hardly into manhood. How different he was from his brother. Handsome he was with dark hair that curled a little. He had a smile that was captivating, and he was very popular with the girls. Somehow he reminded me of when I was a young man. I too had dark hair that curled a little, and I was popular with the girls. But Bess came along and stole my heart.
I went to the railroad station and wished him good-bye. My tears fell on his shoulder as the train pulled into the station. As it left I felt as if part of my life went on that train.
The walk back home was the loneliest walk of my life. I had to try hard to keep bitterness out of my heart. That which I loved most, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, had taken away my two sons.
Ivor, my third son, was still living in the village. He was destined not to be with me long. He had been born two months early and was so tiny that his mother carried him on a pillow. He grew to manhood but suffered from a heart disease. He was the poet in the family, and even though his health was poor he was always happy. I can hear him yet as he sang to the trees in the woods that bordered our home. I remember that just a few days before his heart failed him that we walked together up into the meadow and we looked across the valley. He took my hand in his and spoke softly. “Listen, Dad,” and across the valley came the plaintive call of a cuckoo bird. “Isn’t it lovely? The cuckoo tells of the coming spring, and soon the meadow will be white with daisies, and the birds will sing joyful tunes. Oh, Dad, its a grand world that God has given us.”
He died in his sleep and was buried beside his mother in the little cemetery on the hill.
The funeral was quite an event in our village. It was the first Latter-day Saint funeral ever conducted there. Many people came out of curiosity, but most came because Ivor was loved and respected. Mr. Jones, the undertaker, in his black suit and top hat drove the wagon with the casket with a pair of black horses.
It was only a short distance to the cemetery, and the mourners walked behind the wagon. Soon the villagers started to sing. At first their voices were quiet like the summer breeze on the mountains. Then as the words came, “Feed me till I want no more,” their voices raised in a great crescendo like waves breaking on a rocky shore. Oh, my people from whom I came, your songs of mourning are still in my heart, and I know that my son and my Bess heard.
When I returned home after the funeral, I took my son’s letters out of a drawer and read them again. My oldest son wrote, “I am now the high priest group leader, and also a supervisor at the temple. I am so grateful that you taught me the gospel.”
The letter from the second son read, “I am excited today, for I have been ordained the bishop of my ward. How can I thank you enough for teaching me the gospel?”
The fire is burning low, and my hand is so tired I can’t write more at this time.
The next words were in my father’s handwriting:
Your grandfather passed away a few days later, and he was buried beside his wife and third son.
As I finished reading I looked up to see my dad standing there. His eyes were moist and so were mine, but a twelve-year-old cannot stay sad very long.
“Dad,” I asked, “were you the second son?”
“Yes, my boy, I was the second son.”
“Your hair is not dark anymore, but there is still a little curl to it.”

“Danna,” Mamá called. “Ready for school? It’s scripture time!”
“Coming!” Danna slid her math book into her brightly colored school bag and slung it over her shoulder.
Danna and her family memorized a new scripture verse every week. Each day before they left for school, they practiced saying it together. Mamá said that learning a new scripture is like making a new friend. “Once it’s in your heart, it’s there whenever you need it.”
Danna and her younger sisters stood by the door and repeated this week’s verse. It was from the Doctrine and Covenants.
“‘Pray always, that you may come off conqueror,’” they said together.
“What does ‘come off conqueror’ mean?” Danna’s sister Tatianna asked.
“It means that you can do hard things!” Danna said.
Mamá nodded. “When we pray, Heavenly Father will help us.”
Danna repeated the scripture over and over in her mind as she hurried off to school.
Later that day, Danna’s teacher stood at the front of the classroom next to the blue and white Guatemalan flag. “Time for your math test,” Señora Morales said. She started passing out a stack of papers.
Danna liked math. And she was good at it! She had studied hard for the test, and she knew she could do well on it.
Danna grabbed her pencil and started working. She was feeling good about her answers. Then she got to the last set of problems. They were really hard. She couldn’t remember how to do them!
Danna felt a wave of panic. How could she finish her math test? She gripped her pencil and read the next problem again.
Then a thought popped into her mind. “Pray always, that you may come off conqueror …”
Danna took a deep breath. She closed her eyes and said a quiet prayer in her heart. Heavenly Father, please help me remember what I’ve learned. Please help me to do a good job on this test.
Danna looked back at her paper. She looked at the problems she had already solved. Then she looked at the hard ones again. She started remembering how to do them! Her nervousness melted away. She took another deep breath and went to work.
After school, Danna was excited to tell her family about what happened.
“At first I couldn’t remember how to solve some of the problems,” Danna said. “But then I thought about the scripture we’re memorizing. I said a prayer, and Heavenly Father helped me.”
“Way to go!” Mamá said.
“You came off conqueror!” Tatianna said.
Danna laughed. “I did! No matter what score I get, I know I did my best.” She gave Mom and Tatianna a big hug. She couldn’t wait to see what scripture friend they would make next week!
This story happened in Guatemala. Go to page F6 to learn about that country!

My dear brethren, my spirit is subdued and my heart is full tonight as I stand before this great body of priesthood and realize that there are thousands upon thousands in other gatherings throughout the Church, and as I contemplate the responsibilities that have been placed on my shoulders.
After receiving my call the other day, I was asked by President Lee if I was shocked. I had difficulty replying. Being shocked was an understatement. I might say that the aftershocks have been much more severe than the original. Notwithstanding this, I have faith and look forward with great anticipation and enthusiasm to the future.
I do this because I know that God lives. I know that his Son, Jesus Christ, the Savior of mankind, is the head of this Church and that he is actively directing the affairs of this, his Church today, through his prophet, President Joseph Fielding Smith, who has just borne witness in such a powerful way of his calling and also of mine.
I also know I have been called by the Lord through his prophets, as President Smith announced, and that if I will repent of my sins, He will bless me and strengthen me for the tasks ahead. If I did not know these things to be true, I would not have the courage nor the temerity to accept such a call. Even knowing this, it is frightening to contemplate assuming such a sacred trust.
The last ten and one-half years under the direction of a great leader, Bishop John H. Vandenberg, have been wonderful indeed. I have been associated with him as a member of my stake presidency when I served as bishop of the Denver Fourth Ward, as a fellow counselor in the Denver Stake presidency, and now for more than ten years as one of his counselors in the Presiding Bishopric. I want him and you to know that I love and appreciate him. He is a man of great ability. I am deeply grateful for having had the privilege of being his counselor.
Bishop Simpson, as first counselor in the Presiding Bishopric, has made a great contribution to the Church, as evidenced by the love the people everywhere have for him. He is a man without guile.
And now I am deeply grateful to two wonderful high priests for their dedication and total commitment to the Lord, which caused them to respond to the call to complete the Presiding Bishopric as my counselors.
In approaching the task of selecting counselors, I sought the inspiration of the Lord in prayer. I reviewed hundreds of names of worthy brethren, any of whom could have been called. The two who were called were the ones the Lord wanted. You witnessed confirmation of this truth as you listened to their testimonies in the first session of this conference.
We recognize our dependence on our Heavenly Father in assuming the responsibility as your Presiding Bishopric. We have but one desire and that is, to accomplish the work of the Lord in his own way and in his own time, for we recognize that this is his Church. We are his servants called to assist him in accomplishing his purpose, which is “to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man.” (Moses 1:39.)
The Presiding Bishopric functions under the supervision and direction of the First Presidency, who constitute the presidency of all the priesthood throughout the world. Under their direction and through their delegation, the Presiding Bishopric presides as the presidency of the Aaronic Priesthood throughout the world.
The Aaronic Priesthood is the lesser priesthood. It is a preparatory priesthood preparing its holders for the greater or Melchizedek Priesthood. Therefore, the Presiding Bishopric’s responsibility is to support and sustain the presidency of the Melchizedek Priesthood by assisting in the preparation and qualifying of young men to receive the Melchizedek Priesthood.
In this regard we sustain the inspired prospective elders program that has just been introduced. There are tens of thousands of wonderful adult male members of the Church who hold the Aaronic Priesthood or who have not been ordained whose spiritual welfare has now been assigned to the elders quorum presidencies of the Church. This program is, and will become even more so, a great blessing to these brethren.
As I now reflect on the responsibility that has come to me as the president of the Aaronic Priesthood, I recall some of my feelings as a boy. I am humbled by the many blessings the Lord has granted me through the Aaronic Priesthood.
I remember with some clarity the thrill of passing the sacrament as a deacon in the Cardston Second Ward, Alberta Stake, in Canada. That same thrill returns each time I am invited to pass the sacrament to the General Authorities in our monthly meeting in the Salt Lake Temple.
I remember how I considered it an honor to participate in such a sacred service. I remember so well how my parents taught me that my hands and heart should be clean and pure so that I would be worthy to participate in this ordinance.
The greatest of all lessons was the example my father and mother set for me. Next was the example of my deacons quorum adviser, who was also my Scoutmaster. Brother Ben Wood was the epitome of what leaders of boys should be. Every boy under his leadership felt his great love. His influence was not limited to Sunday morning or Tuesday evening; it was felt all through the week. I shall ever be grateful to my deacons adviser for the lessons of life he taught me as a twelve-year-old deacon, lessons that have helped me from that day until now.
Many young men throughout the world are having experiences today similar to those I had as a twelve-year-old boy. All of you, whether you are twelve years of age or older, have the opportunity to experience these wonderful things.
The foundation on which each boy begins is recognition that he is in very deed a son of God, with something of the divine in his soul. All men are children of God, but you have something more. You have the authority to act in his name. This sets you apart from the rest of the world. It does not automatically make you better than others, but it gives you the responsibility to live a better life than others.
Because you know you are a child of God and hold his priesthood, more is expected of you than of those who do not have this great blessing.
I have been thrilled as I have met young men of the Aaronic Priesthood throughout the Church who have a comprehension of the great blessing and honor that is theirs by virtue of this priesthood and who have consequently begun to build their lives on a sure foundation.
I was in the Pago Pago Stake in American Samoa. President Peters, the stake president, invited me to accompany him to one of the ward sacrament meetings. We arrived unannounced, so there were no special arrangements made.
It was a hot, humid day. As we approached the humble, one-room chapel with no air-conditioning, I suggested it might be appropriate to leave our jackets off. President Peters was quick to tell me that they wore jackets in sacrament meeting in their stake—no matter what the temperature—as a means of showing the Lord that they not only worshiped him but they also honored and respected him by being dressed in their very best.
As I took my place on the stand, there sat the priests and deacons at the sacrament table. Each had on a shirt, tie, and jacket. It was so hot and humid.
The normal dress of the islands is very casual, as you know, but in the eyes of these wonderful Samoan leaders and their Aaronic Priesthood boys, participating in the sacred sacrament service was not a casual experience. It was a sacred duty. They felt that their appearance helped show the respect and reverence they had for the Lord. I shall never forget their influence of reverence in that meeting. Surely their understanding of their relationship with Heavenly Father is an important step in magnifying their priesthood.
One day several years ago, I attended the finals of an Aaronic Priesthood scripture contest in Sao Paulo, Brazil. These were the finals in a mission-wide contest held under the direction of President Wayne Beck. Sitting on the stand, acting as judges, were the district counselors. Gathered in small groups through the chapel were the contestants. As they were called up before the judges, they were challenged to repeat from memory scriptures selected at random by the judges and then to explain the meaning of each scripture.
I witnessed as much enthusiasm and excitement among these teams of young men of the Aaronic Priesthood as one normally sees at a basketball or soccer game. Because of the location, it was not as vocal, but it was just as intense. It was fun for them to make the scriptures become a part of themselves.
After a meeting with some of our servicemen in Da Nang, South Vietnam, one man in battle dress came up to me and asked if I would write a letter to his parents, who were nonmembers, explaining to them the great honor that had come to him that day. He said they knew nothing about the Church and asked, “Bishop Brown, would you mind telling them what a great honor it was for me to be ordained a priest in the Aaronic Priesthood today?”
Some time ago in New York City a fine-looking young man said to me, “It isn’t easy to be a Jew and a Mormon.” When this young man was baptized, his parents were so displeased they held a formal funeral. As far as they are concerned, their son is dead.
How important it is that all young men of the Aaronic Priesthood recognize their responsibility as priesthood holders and, as President McKay used to say, act accordingly.
And now a word to fathers, bishops, and other Aaronic Priesthood leaders, with emphasis for the fathers. With a feeling of brotherhood and love, we the Presiding Bishopric lock arms with you in the great causes of youth. Never has there been a finer generation of young people.
I have a conviction that the spirits of this generation were held back by the Lord to come forth at this time because they are special spirits. And yet the world into which they have come is filled with evil and temptation. Satan is at work with his legions. We who have been called—in the home and in the Church—to lead the youth have a sacred responsibility to them.
Regarding the home, the Lord has said in the Doctrine and Covenants:
“And again, inasmuch as parents have children in Zion, or in any of her stakes which are organized, that teach them not to understand the doctrine of repentance, faith in Christ the Son of the living God, and of baptism and the gift of the Holy Ghost by the laying on of the hands, when eight years old, the sin be upon the heads of the parents.
“And they shall also teach their children to pray, and to walk uprightly before the Lord.” (D&C 68:25, 28.)
The first responsibility rests with the parents. The position of the Church is to aid the parents and the family, not to replace them.
Bishops, you are the presidents of the priests quorums, and with your counselors you are the presidency of the Aaronic Priesthood in your wards. These young men need your leadership. They need your attention, for you have a special calling with a special blessing. You have the power of discernment. You are common judges in Israel.
If you will take the time to become involved with these young people and see that they become involved with you, you can become saviors on Mount Zion to many. You are the ones, along with the other leaders in the wards and branches, who make the difference.
We want you to know of our love and support for you. We are grateful to the Lord for each of you and pray our Heavenly Father’s blessings upon us all that, through our united and devoted leadership, we may help every young man in this church honor his priesthood so that not one of these precious children of God will be lost. I pray this humbly in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

Many families throughout the world struggle financially, especially during times of economic crisis.1 The impact of such a crisis was felt in our local ward several years ago, as we saw several families in need of assistance. At the beginning of that year, our bishop shared with us an invitation from our stake president to give a generous fast offering to help those in need.
Although our leaders asked us to look at our individual situations and consider if we were able to be more generous with our fast offerings, they did not specify how much we should give. However, the Spirit reminded us of the counsel given years ago by President Marion G. Romney (1897–1988), First Counselor in the First Presidency. He said: “I am a firm believer that you cannot give to the Church and to the building up of the kingdom of God and be any poorer financially. … A person could not give a crust to the Lord without receiving a loaf in return. That’s been my experience. If the members of the Church would double their fast-offering contributions, the spirituality in the Church would double. We need to keep that in mind and be liberal in our contributions.”2
We knew it would be a sacrifice for our family to increase our fast offerings, but we considered President Romney’s teaching and promise carefully. As a family, we had been blessed abundantly and we felt a strong desire to increase our fast offerings.
Moreover, we wanted our family to overcome the tendency to be selfish. Because we live in a society so focused on acquiring things and filling our own desires, we were concerned that our children might grow up selfish. But we had hope in President Spencer W. Kimball’s (1895–1985) words: “Upon practicing the law of the fast, one finds a personal well-spring of power to overcome self-indulgence and selfishness.”3
Within the first three months of giving a more generous fast offering, we began to see many blessings. We were able to spend less on groceries, and our gas tank seemed to stay full longer. Our children asked for fewer things, and the selfishness in our home almost disappeared.
For example, when we contributed to the local food drive, our children began encouraging us to give more. When we did our annual inventory of our food supply, we found that we actually had two years’ worth of food. Additionally, in the past it would take us one month to go through a 50-pound (22.7 kg) bag of rice. Now the same bag of rice lasted us two months. It seemed like our food storage was multiplying.
We were reminded of the story of the widow of Zarephath. During a time of famine, the prophet Elijah called upon a widow, who had no means to feed him, to provide him with water and bread. Her response was, “As the Lord thy God liveth, I have not a cake, but an handful of meal in a barrel, and a little oil in a cruse: and, behold, I am gathering two sticks, that I may go in and dress it for me and my son, that we may eat it, and die” (1 Kings 17:12).
The prophet promised her that “the barrel of meal shall not waste, neither shall the cruse of oil fail. …
“And she went and did according to the saying of Elijah: and she, and he, and her house, did eat many days” (1 Kings 17:14–15). Her barrel, which had enough for one last meal for her family, was multiplied to allow her family and others to eat many days. The same type of miracle—based on our own offering—was occurring in our family.
During financial difficulties, giving a generous fast offering and helping care for the needy can be difficult, particularly when we are—like the widow of Zarephath—among the needy. Giving a generous fast offering, no matter the amount, requires faith in the Lord and His promise to care for us. But the Lord fulfills His promises, and our family’s experience taught us that the more we are willing to share, the more we are blessed.
As President Romney said: “Don’t give just for the benefit of the poor, but give for your own welfare. Give enough so that you can give yourself into the kingdom of God through consecrating of your means and your time.”4 Giving a more generous fast offering helped our family find joy in caring for the poor and strength in our own spiritual welfare.
Our willingness to give a crust has brought us many loaves in return. Our willingness to give generous fast offerings more than doubled our food storage. Indeed, the Lord’s power to multiply five loaves and two fishes to feed 5,000 men, besides women and children, with enough fragments to fill 12 baskets (see Matthew 14:16–21), is the same power that filled the barrel for the widow of Zarephath and multiplied our family’s food storage. Still, our greatest benefit has not come in the form of multiplying food but in the decrease of selfishness and increase of spirituality in our home.
It is our witness that as we contribute generously to the fast offering funds of the Church, including when our means are limited, the Lord will magnify our efforts and bless us beyond our understanding.

I have always admired my great-grandmother Mary Bommeli’s devotion to sharing the doctrine of Jesus Christ. Her family was taught by missionaries in Switzerland when she was 24.

After being baptized, Mary desired to join the Saints in America, so she made her way from Switzerland to Berlin and found work with a woman who employed her to weave cloth for the family’s clothing. Mary lived in a servant’s room and set up her loom in the home’s living area.

At that time, teaching the doctrine of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was illegal in Berlin. But Mary found she could not keep from sharing the things she had learned. The woman of the house and her friends would gather around the loom to hear Mary teach. She spoke of the appearance of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ to Joseph Smith, the visitation of angels, and the Book of Mormon. Remembering the accounts of Alma, she taught about the doctrine of the Resurrection. She testified that families can be reunited in the celestial kingdom.

Mary’s enthusiasm to share the doctrine of the restored gospel soon caused trouble. It was not long before the police took Mary off to jail. On the way, she asked the policeman for the name of the judge she was to appear before the next morning. She also asked about his family and if he was a good father and husband. The policeman described the judge as a man of the world.

In the jail, Mary requested a pencil and some paper. She spent the night writing a letter to the judge, bearing witness to the Resurrection of Jesus Christ as described in the Book of Mormon, discussing the spirit world, and explaining repentance. She suggested that the judge would need time to reflect on his life before facing final judgment. She wrote that she knew he had much to repent of, much which would deeply sadden his family and bring him great sorrow. In the morning, when she had finished her letter, she gave it to the policeman and asked him to deliver it to the judge, and he agreed to do so.

Later, the policeman was summoned by the judge to his office. The letter Mary had written was irrefutable evidence that she was teaching the doctrine of the restored gospel and, by so doing, breaking the law. However, it wasn’t long before the policeman returned to Mary’s cell. He told her that all charges were dismissed and that she was free to go. Her teaching the doctrine of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ had caused her to be cast into jail. And her declaring the doctrine of repentance to the judge got her cast out of jail.

Mary Bommeli’s teaching did not end with her release. The record of her words passed true doctrine down through generations yet unborn. Her belief that even a new convert could teach the doctrine of Jesus Christ has ensured that her descendants will be strengthened in their own battles.