Gospel Story Finder

When I was the mission president in the Bolivia Santa Cruz Mission, one of the missionaries serving with me, Elder Hinostroza, was happily serving in a town near the Brazilian border and wanted to finish serving his mission there. When it came time to make missionary transfers, I felt the impression to change Elder Hinostroza’s assignment and sent him to Santa Cruz. He said, “President, why change me when I have only six weeks left on my mission?”
I said, “I think it’s the right thing to do.”
He looked at me and said, “I’m not so sure.” But he was a good missionary and went to work.
Shortly after he began serving in his new assignment, he went to teach a family. He finished teaching the lesson, and the lady took out a picture from her wallet and showed it to Elder Hinostroza. She said, “The reason I’m here in Santa Cruz is because I’m looking for my daughter, whom I have not seen in 10 years. Somebody told me that she might be here.”
More than a million people live in Santa Cruz. The chances of a mother finding her daughter in a city of that size were very slim. Elder Hinostroza looked at the picture, then looked at the mother. He said, “I know your daughter. When I served one year ago in another ward, your daughter was there. She’s a member of the Church.” That night Elder Hinostroza took this mother to find her daughter who had been lost.
Heavenly Father cared so much about one mother and one daughter that He found a way to bring them together again. After that evening Elder Hinostroza called me and said, “I now know the care Father in Heaven has for His children, and I know why I was transferred. That knowledge has changed my life.”

On numerous occasions as ambassador I was even asked by Cook Islanders from various other religious denominations to give sermons in their church. I could have elected not to be involved, but I recognized the missionary opportunity that I could be engaged in, without compromising my role as the ambassador of the country.

I recall one incident where I was asked to give a religious sermon. I informed him that I could only give a Mormon discourse. He replied, and I quote, "Well we've never had one of those, so let's give it a try." After completing my sermon, he gave me a thick envelope which was obviously the collection of money from the congregation during the service. After several minutes trying to refuse the offering, I finally heard and listened to the guidance of the Spirit and accepted the gift. But without letting go of his handshake, I returned him the unopened envelope as a donation for the maintenance of their building grounds. He was obviously touched, expressing great interest in more LDS teachings.

For primary school students at three schools in the Momi Bay area of Fiji, Thursday, May 1, is a day many will remember.
Despite being a school holiday that day, many students attended school to witness the handing over of education and recreation supplies and equipment that brought new life to their educational journeys.
The school equipment, supplies, stationery, and sports balls were gifts from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Children and teachers from Tau Primary School, Ratu Nemani Primary School, and Savusavu Primary School were delighted with the new equipment and supplies, which included desktop computers, laptops, smart TVs, stationery, classroom supplies, educational charts and aids, and sports equipment.
Elder and Sister Johnson, who are serving as self-reliance missionaries in the Lautoka Fiji Stake, said they hope to help the primary school students gain a new educational experience with the items that were presented as part of the Church’s humanitarian efforts in education.
“We know the children will enjoy the gifts because they will help them educationally, socially, physically, mentally, and spiritually,” they said.
The students’ obvious joy in receiving the gifts was evident as they performed and danced to two songs to show their gratitude to the Latter-day Saints who delivered the equipment and supplies.
Hemant Kumar, principal of Tau Primary School, which has 150 children, expressed a deep appreciation for the equipment and supplies.
Vika Ratu, a mother present at the handing over ceremony at Tau school, was emotional and thankful for the personal packages handed out to each student. She said, “Such a gesture is very big and hit my heart, especially where some do not have much. The gifts are a great blessing that I will always remember.”
One Latter-day Saint from Tahiti who helped with the delivery, Temoe Tuahu, said, “I truly felt the love to each other and with each other and with the primary children. It brought home the scripture [to] love your neighbours” (see Matthew 22:39).
“I was so proud to be a part of this and excited for the primary children who will use the items to help them educationally,” said Jasmin Wakolo, a recently returned missionary of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints , who grew up in Fiji, and one of the young adults who helped hand over the school equipment.
She said she hopes the primary children who received the stationery today will cherish them and feel the love of Heavenly Father and the Saviour, as she did.

It was Christmas morning and my six-year-old little brother, Andrew, was the first one to sneak out of bed. When I woke up and went looking for him a little while later, I couldn’t believe what I found. There he was, under the tree, having just opened all of my presents!
Mom and Dad were still asleep in bed. So was my baby sister. Right then, it was just Andrew, me, and my opened Christmas gifts. As I watched him play with a model airplane that I now wouldn’t get to open, I became angry. My Christmas was ruined!
As my anger grew, I decided that I really needed to stop and pray for help to not be mad. So I did. Almost immediately, I felt a little calmer. Then I looked at Andrew more closely, and a funny thing happened. That huge grin on his face made me smile too. I mean, he was so happy! Then I couldn’t help it. I started laughing! Before long the whole thing felt hilarious. I mean, how could I stay angry with my little brother when he was so excited?
That Christmas morning, I learned the importance of stopping to pray whenever bad feelings start to develop. After all, Christmas is supposed to be a happy holiday, not an angry one.

Now the other personal report concerns my effort over the past year to improve my humility. I’ve had a couple of recent experiences that have greatly contributed to that effort, and I need to report them to you.

Two or three months ago I bought a bolt-end of material suitable for making suits. When I took it to a local tailor, he informed me that there was simply not enough in that bolt-end to make a suit that would fit me. Later that day, when I was in Salt Lake, I happened to drive by another tailor’s shop and decided to get a second opinion. To my astonishment, I was told: “Oh, sure. I can make you a suit from that fabric and, if you like, a second pair of pants and a vest.” I expressed my surprise and told him of my other conversation earlier in the day. He replied, “Well, you’ve just got to remember one thing. You’re not nearly as big a man in Salt Lake as you are in Provo.”

Two decades have now passed since we joined the Church, and we have been blessed in many ways. Two more children were born into our family. The year 1996 was especially wonderful. Luciano went on a mission to Italy, and our eldest grandson was baptized. And if that was not enough, Heavenly Father touched my husband’s heart concerning the Church. In December 1999 our family was sealed in the Sydney Australia Temple.

It took one year to build concrete steps down a volcanic cliffside to the swimming hole and the beautiful waterfall below. Four boys worked on this project. They had two picks, two crowbars, and one sledgehammer, and they worked every night after school and every Saturday for six months. Little by little, they chipped the rock away until they had a pathway wide enough to support some concrete clear to the bottom of the waterfall. It took them another six months of backbreaking labor to make the steps. They hauled sand from the beach in an old pickup truck. They added cement and took gravel from the river and mixed the concrete by hand in a shallow pocket hollowed out of a large stone. Then they shoveled the wet concrete into buckets and lowered them down the cliff with ropes attached to a long bamboo pole. One step at a time they worked until the trail was completed.

After the fall harvest, Josiah Stowell and Joseph Knight traveled to the Manchester area on business. Both men knew that the fourth anniversary of Joseph’s visit to the hill was at hand, and they were eager to know whether Moroni would finally trust him with the plates.
Local treasure seekers also knew it was time for Joseph to get the record. Lately one of them, a man named Samuel Lawrence, had been roaming the hill, searching for the plates. Worried that Samuel would cause trouble, Joseph sent his father to Samuel’s house on the evening of September 21 to keep an eye on him and confront him if it looked like he was going to the hill.20
Joseph then readied himself to retrieve the plates. His yearly visit to the hill was to take place the next day, but to keep ahead of the treasure seekers, he planned to arrive at the hill shortly after midnight—just as the morning of September 22 was beginning—when no one expected him to be out.
But he still needed to find a way to protect the plates once he got them. After most of the family had gone to bed, he quietly asked his mother if she had a lockbox. Lucy did not have one and got worried.
“Never mind,” Joseph said. “I can do very well just now without it.”21
Emma soon appeared, dressed for riding, and she and Joseph climbed into Joseph Knight’s carriage and set out into the night.22 When they arrived at the hill, Emma waited with the carriage while Joseph climbed the slope to the place where the plates were hidden.
On the night of September 22, 1827, Joseph and Emma drove a carriage to this hill, where the Book of Mormon plates were buried. After obtaining the plates, Joseph hid them in a hollow log for a time to protect them from treasure seekers.
Moroni appeared, and Joseph lifted the gold plates and seer stones from the stone box. Before Joseph set off down the hill, Moroni reminded him to show the plates to no one except those the Lord appointed, promising him that the plates would be protected if he did all within his power to preserve them.
“You will have to be watchful and faithful to your trust,” Moroni told him, “or you will be overpowered by wicked men, for they will lay every plan and scheme that is possible to get them away from you. And if you do not take heed continually, they will succeed.”23
Joseph carried the plates down the hill, but before he reached the carriage, he secured them in a hollow log where they would be safe until he obtained a lockbox. He then found Emma, and they returned home as the sun began to rise.24
At the Smith home, Lucy waited anxiously for Joseph and Emma while she served breakfast to Joseph Sr., Joseph Knight, and Josiah Stowell. Her heart beat rapidly while she worked, fearful that her son would return without the plates.25
A short time later, Joseph and Emma came into the house. Lucy looked to see if Joseph had the plates but left the room trembling when she saw his empty hands.
Joseph followed her. “Mother,” he said, “do not be uneasy.” He handed her an object wrapped in a handkerchief. Through the fabric, Lucy felt what seemed to be a large pair of spectacles. They were the Urim and Thummim, the seer stones the Lord had prepared for translating the plates.26
Lucy was elated. Joseph looked as if a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders. But when he joined the others in the house, he made a sad face and ate his breakfast in silence. After he finished, he leaned his head forlornly on his hand. “I am disappointed,” he said to Joseph Knight.
“Well,” the older man said, “I am sorry.”
“I am greatly disappointed,” Joseph repeated, his expression changing to a smile. “It is ten times better than I expected!” He went on to describe the size and weight of the plates and talked excitedly about the Urim and Thummim.
“I can see anything,” he said. “They are marvelous.”27

Somewhat wistfully, Dad spoke up. “I sure wish I’d had the opportunity when I was a kid to meet my favorite baseball hero. Remember, Dad, the time we drove all the way to Boston to see Cal Herder pitch?”
“I’ll never forget it,” Grandpa answered. “You had a brand-new baseball, and you were hoping to get Herder’s autograph on it.”
Cal Herder. The name was familiar to Tom. “I remember hearing you talk about him, Dad. He was probably the best pitcher the team ever had, wasn’t he?”
“Sure was,” Dad replied, “but I never did get him to sign my baseball. There was a big crowd that day, and when the game was over, there was such a mob around him that I couldn’t get to him before we had to leave. I’d hoped to get one another day, but we never got there again.”
“Wasn’t he number eleven?” Grandpa asked. “As I recall, they retired his number when he stopped playing so that no other team member would ever wear it.”
“I think you’re right,” Dad agreed. “Well, Tom, maybe you’ll be luckier. David Reaves is number forty-three, isn’t he? By the way, I figured you’d want to go over to see the team, so I bought something for the occasion.” He handed Tom a small, cube-shaped box.
Tom quickly opened it. Inside it was a new baseball.
As he got dressed the next morning, Tom imagined David Reaves’s name autographed on the ball. Fishing and swimming could wait. The first thing he wanted to do was visit the training camp.
After breakfast Dad and Grandpa went out to work in the garden, and Tom ran down the street toward the ballpark. He was a little surprised that there weren’t many people at the training grounds, but then he realized that it was a school day for the kids who lived in the area. A few men Grandpa’s age stood along the fence talking to one another. Out on the field, catchers and pitchers were warming up. They weren’t wearing uniforms, so Tom couldn’t read their numbers. He recognized some of the players, though, but he didn’t see David Reaves.
He went over to the men along the fence, who were talking to a white-haired man in a coaching jacket. “Excuse me, but have any of you seen David Reaves?” Tom asked.
The men shook their heads, and the man in the coaching jacket replied, “He won’t be out here today, son. He broke his finger practicing yesterday, so he’ll be laid up for a while. But don’t worry. He’ll be in fine shape by the time the season opens.”
Tom couldn’t hide his disappointment. “Oh, no!” he moaned. “I sure hoped to see him.”
The man in the uniform smiled sympathetically, “I’m sorry. Say, I’d guess you’re a pretty good pitcher yourself, aren’t you?”
“Well,” said Tom, “I’ve pitched in Little League.”
“Why don’t you come over on this side of the fence and throw me a few balls? Maybe I can show you a pointer or two.”
Tom slipped through the gate, and the coach tossed him a ball. He made sure Tom was warmed up thoroughly, then asked him to throw his best pitch.
Tom pitched it fast and solid.
“Boy!” said one of the men leaning against the outside of the fence. “Maybe you’ll be scouting him for the team in a few years.”
Tom pitched a second ball and a third the same way.
“Not bad,” said the coach. “But let me show you how to get a little variety in your pitching so that the batter won’t know what you’re up to.” He showed Tom how to twist his wrist so that the ball would curve. “Now try it.” The ball went far outside, and the coach lunged for it. As the coach twisted around, Tom noticed the number on his jacket—number 11!
“Cal Herder was number 11 when he played for Boston!” Tom blurted out.
The coach looked surprised. “I’m Cal Herder,” he said. “I didn’t think a fellow your age would know about an old-timer like me.” He smiled.
“Oh, I sure do!” Tom replied. “You were my dad’s favorite player! But I thought you retired.”
“Nope,” said Mr. Herder. “Only from playing. Baseball’s my life, and I’ll coach just as long as they’ll let me.”
Tom threw a few more balls until he felt comfortable with the new pitch. Then Mr. Herder said, “I think I’d better go help some of the big guys.”
“Before you go, will you do me a favor?” Tom took the new baseball out of his pocket. “Will you autograph this for me, please?”
“Be glad to,” said the coach, and Tom watched with delight as the man wrote “Cal Herder” across the ball.
“Thanks a million for the help and the autograph!” Tom exclaimed.
“Glad to give you both,” Mr. Herder replied; then he trotted across the field.
Tom nearly flew back to his grandpa’s house. Dad and Grandpa were picking oranges off a tree in the front yard.
Dad looked at Tom and laughed. “From the grin on your face, I know what you have—a ball atographed by David Reaves.”
“Wrong, Dad. It’s something for you. Something you’ve been wanting for a long time.”

In the middle 1970s I experienced something that awakened my interest in the Hebrew Scripture, or as we often refer to it, the Old Testament. I heard Elder Packer deliver a wonderful sermon in the Marriott Center in which he discussed the gifts of the Spirit. As he spoke I began to have an experience not unlike what he was discussing. In particular, I learned that I should begin to study Hebrew in order to be prepared for opportunities that may come.

I have dropped into a number of Hebrew classes in the past twelve years. I haven’t given the language the time it needs and I am certainly not fluent, but I have learned enough to have received a great deal of enjoyment and edification from Hebrew Scripture and to gain a great love for the language, culture, and people of Judah. Through it I have discovered a marvelous source of insight into the Old Testament—the Soncino Bible. This is a Jewish publication with the Hebrew text on the right, corresponding English text on the left, and rabbinical commentary from the Talmud and other sources at the bottom. I seldom read it but what I find some great treasure. One very good way to learn about the ancient prophets of the stick of Judah is from the rabbinical commentators and through considering some of the Hebrew words. One really doesn’t need much skill in Hebrew to gain at least some benefit from this. Even a few words are a good start. And even without any knowledge of Hebrew one can learn a great deal from the commentary. The rabbis have considered, contemplated, debated, and pondered the words of the prophets for many years, and they give us contact with the ancient traditions.

All of us, for some reason, have come to BYUH. We are not here by chance but there is a reason. Before graduation, I usually send out an email to the prospective graduates inviting them to share something unique about themselves. Usually the Commencement speakers want to know the graduates and perhaps what has brought them here to BYUH. Usually I get answers like, I have siblings who graduated from this school or I have this many kids and I am graduating, or my husband and I are graduating together. Occasionally I will get a reply that is so uplifting and so touching that it brings me to tears. One student told me that although his family were not members, his father had suggested that he come to BYUH. He had been online and came across our website and was impressed by what we offered. In his understanding he was coming to go to school and get an education but he said this experience here changed his life. Unlike many of you who have found your spouse here, he left single, but he left as a member of the church. He shared how the faculty and students and friends that he met here had helped him have an experience that he could not have had elsewhere. He left not only with a degree but with a testimony of the gospel and for that he was grateful. He knows that because he showed faith and came to BYUH that he was blessed.

When he came to the office one day, just after this, I recognized his name and talked to him more about his experience. He told me he still didn’t quite understand how or what made his father go online to check out schools, but it was a blessing in his life. Many of us do not understand why we have come here but if we trust in the Lord, keep his commandments and be obedient, the Lord will be able to guide us and direct us to do what he wants us to do.

The first Young Women camps in Mongolia were some of the most memorable experiences of my life. While serving a mission, my husband and I assisted the newly baptized leaders and young women. We had just one branch in Mongolia, and most of the people had been members less than one year. Acting as an adviser to the Young Women leaders, I knew camp would be a wonderful way for young women to recognize God’s love for them and appreciate His wonderful creations.
Quoting from my August 15, 1995, journal entry:
“Last week we went camping with the young women. It was fun … wet, but fun. It had rained the entire week before we left on Friday. That morning it was clear and warm, and we were excited to go. We got four small tents from the Boy Scouts here, and the girls brought two other tents. We had forty-three girls show up, seven leaders, and one other missionary couple.
“Overall, the camp was great. As soon as we pitched our tents, torrential rains came down on us. The Scout tents were less than ideal, and water drenched the heavy woolen blankets and clothes. We had to put 8–9 girls in 4-man tents. They didn’t seem to mind. They went hiking, picked baby strawberries by the handful, peeled potatoes in the creek … all in the rain. We didn’t hear a complaint.
“Friday night, we studied the Book of Mormon by candlelight. It was a great experience. The leaders led a discussion that would have gone on for hours if we hadn’t sent them to bed. They went to their wet tents and conducted testimony meetings. They loved every aspect of the evening. Everything is so new to these people. They have so few opportunities, and it is ever so rewarding to provide some worthwhile opportunities for them to learn and grow. I’m sure we have started a tradition of girls’ camp in Mongolia.”
The Church in Mongolia was in its infancy. They had no scriptures translated into Mongolian, no camp manual, nor even hymns in Mongolian. But for two days in the Mongolian steppe, they enjoyed God’s creations, studied the gospel together, became more united, and felt the Spirit as they shared their testimonies of their newfound religion.

As a teenager, I was a slacker. I didn’t like commitment and my focus was on having fun. I did poorly in school and paid little attention in church. My low ideals stood out like my long hair. That was my status in life when my Young Men’s leader, John Galbraith, began to encourage us young men to be our “best self.” His enthusiasm for life, as well as his success stories, caught my attention and I began thinking seriously about where I was going with my life. Later, during my senior year, a teacher basically called me out for being a slacker. I decided then and there that I needed to change. That decision quickly evolved into a commitment to be true to myself and to God. At that time, I did not know the Church was true but became determined to find out. Over the next 18 months I read the Book of Mormon, pondered, and prayed sincerely about it. I did my best to exercise faith and eventually received an undeniable confirmation from the Spirit that it is true. I felt like I had begun running in the race of life!

We will have opportunities throughout our lives to share our beliefs, although we don’t always know when we will be called upon to do so. Such an opportunity came to me in 1957, when I worked in the publishing business and was asked to go to Dallas, Texas, sometimes called “the city of churches,” to address a business convention. Following the conclusion of the convention, I took a sightseeing bus ride through the city’s suburbs. As we passed the various churches, our driver would comment, “On the left you see the Methodist church” or “There on the right is the Catholic cathedral.”
As we passed a beautiful red brick building situated upon a hill, the driver exclaimed, “That building is where the Mormons meet.” A lady in the rear of the bus called out, “Driver, can you tell us something more about the Mormons?”
The driver pulled the bus over to the side of the road, turned around in his seat, and replied, “Lady, all I know about the Mormons is that they meet in that red brick building. Is there anyone on this bus who knows anything more about the Mormons?”
I waited for someone to respond. I gazed at the expression on each person’s face for some sign of recognition, some desire to comment. Nothing. I realized it was up to me to do as the Apostle Peter suggested, to “be ready always to give an answer to every man that asketh you a reason of the hope that is in you.” I also realized the truth of the adage “When the time for decision arrives, the time for preparation is past.”
For the next 15 or so minutes, I had the privilege of sharing with those on the bus my testimony concerning the Church and our beliefs. I was grateful for my testimony and grateful that I was prepared to share it.

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

A modern example of this is taken from the life of Elder John B. Dickson of the Seventy. He recalls:
“When it was time for me to go on a mission, I was very excited to serve the Lord. Just before I was to leave, however, I found out that I had bone cancer. The chance of living long enough to serve a mission wasn’t very high. I had faith that the Lord would provide a way if He wanted me to go. My father gave me a blessing in which I was told that I would serve my mission in Mexico, serve in the Church all my life, and have a family. My right arm had to be amputated above the elbow, but my life was spared, and the promises I was given have all been fulfilled.
“Some would think that losing an arm would be a terrible burden, but it has been one of the greatest blessings in my life. I learned that it is very important to have challenges and to face up to them.”
Elder Dickson had always been right-handed, and now he had to learn to do everything left-handed. One struggle was learning how to tie his ties. He said: “One Sunday morning when I was in my bedroom with my tie in my hand, I thought, How am I going to tie this? I thought about getting a clip-on tie. I thought about asking Mom to help me. But I couldn’t take her with me on my mission just to tie my ties. So I decided I had to learn how to do it myself. I finally figured it out by using my teeth. I still do it that way, even after having tied it thousands of times.”

My family and I were rafting on the Green River some years ago. We had been told by our guide to stay in the boat. If we decided to jump out when the water was calm, we were told to stay close to the boat, because if we got close to the rapids and were far from the boat, the guide wouldn’t be able to get us out in time. However, if we were in the water and were far away from the boat and we got close to the rapids, we were to turn and put our feet out to push off the rocks. I did not like the idea of pushing off rocks or being bounced around in the rapids!

But I was having fun out in the water and was moving rather quickly ahead of the raft when I heard the loud sound of the rapids ahead. I turned back and yelled, “Pick me up!”

The guide yelled back, “Swim toward us!”

Panicking, I began to swim with all my strength toward the boat, but the current was dragging me backward faster than I was going toward the raft. Everything in me wanted to avoid going over those rocky rapids. I was stroking as hard as I could, training my eyes on the prow of the raft—I was intent!

Just at the last moment, the raft came near, and the guide reached out, grabbed me, and tossed me into the raft. We were immediately swept over the rocks and the turbulence.

All of my thoughts and desires had been riveted on making it backto the safety of that raft. Imagine the good that would flood into our lives if we stayed riveted on Jesus Christ and His love no matter what our circumstances.

One day we had a special devotional on the Savior as part of our early-morning seminary class. The girl in charge bore her testimony of Christ, then asked each of us to share our feelings. Our teacher, Brother Pratt, added his testimony, and said we needed to know Christ died for each of us individually.
While I was listening to the others bear their testimonies, it occurred to me I wasn’t really sure I had a testimony of the Savior. I had always attended church and seminary classes, and I thought he was Heavenly Father’s Son, and an example to follow, but I wasn’t really sure of him as my Savior—someone so essential to my salvation.
I managed to give some sort of reply and spent the next several days pondering over the experience and praying to know for myself. I received a warm feeling that the Church was true and that I should live its teachings. I felt good about that answer and decided that having a basic testimony of the gospel and living the standards of the Church was enough. But I still didn’t understand the need for a Savior.
Later I moved from home. Eventually I faced a serious crisis that left me with deep emotional and spiritual pain. Without the necessary faith in Christ to guide me, I felt lost and alone. I had stopped praying sometime earlier and had just decided that I was no longer going to go to church. Then my home teachers, Dan and Terry, came by. I was a little embarrassed because I hadn’t been to church that day and had no good excuse for my absence. The Spirit told them that something was seriously wrong, so they persisted in presenting a lesson that seemed to be especially for me. They visited with me for a while, and when it was time for them to go, they offered a powerful prayer. The Spirit lingered after them for a short time, and I felt more hopeful than I had in a long time.
I wanted that Spirit to remain. I gathered up the remnants of my faith and offered a prayer. Because I hadn’t been praying for a while, I had no real hope or expectation of an answer. But as I knelt and prayed, I felt an overpowering warmth come into my heart. Complete love and understanding filled the room. I was surprised at the depth and strength of the Savior’s love—how well he knew me!
There was no room for misunderstanding or doubt as he lovingly empathized with my challenges. All of a sudden a black cloud lifted, and I knew, as words came into my mind, where I could improve, and the Savior promised me all the help I would need. I learned that there is indeed a loving Heavenly Father and a Savior, Jesus Christ, and that they know each of us as individuals. I also learned that they will give us the help we need as we extend our faith in them. And, no matter what, we must always pray.
Although I still had problems to overcome, I knew the Savior was there, ready to help; I have never felt completely alone with my problems since. I can now say, along with the hymn, “I know that my Redeemer lives” (Hymns, no. 136). And I am grateful.

Let me share an experience about responding to prophetic words from the life of President Russell M. Nelson:
In 1979, five years before his call as a General Authority, Brother Nelson attended a meeting just prior to general conference. “President Spencer W. Kimball challenged all present to lengthen their stride in taking the gospel to the entire world. Among the countries President Kimball specifically mentioned was China, declaring, ‘We should be of service to the Chinese. We should learn their language. We should pray for them and help them.’”18
At age 54, Brother Nelson had a feeling during the meeting that he should study the Mandarin language. Although a busy heart surgeon, he immediately secured the services of a tutor.
Not long after beginning his studies, Dr. Nelson, attending a convention, unexpectedly found himself sitting next to “a distinguished Chinese surgeon, Dr. Wu Yingkai. … Because [Brother Nelson] had been studying Mandarin, he began [a] conversation [with Dr. Wu].”19
Dr. Nelson’s desire to follow the prophet led to Dr. Wu visiting Salt Lake City and Dr. Nelson traveling to China to give lectures and perform surgical operations.
His love for the Chinese people, and their love and respect for him, grew.
In February 1985, ten months after his call to the Quorum of the Twelve, Elder Nelson received a surprise phone call from China pleading for Dr. Nelson to come to Beijing to operate on the failing heart of China’s most famous opera singer. With the encouragement of President Gordon B. Hinckley, Elder Nelson returned to China. The last surgical operation he ever performed was in the People’s Republic of China.
Just two years ago, in October 2015, President Russell M. Nelson was once again honored with an official declaration, naming him an “old friend of China.”

Not long ago, we were having a family day at beach. The kids were having a great time in the water and enjoying the sunshine. My brother-in-law and I were cooking some food on the grill and watching the activities going on by our children and other beach goers. We watched a pair of swimmers out past the breaking waves in an area that we both knew was prone to strong currents pulling away from shore. I commented to my brother-in-law that I would be surprised if these two gentlemen wouldn't need our help. We watched them swim for several minutes without moving in their desired direction. They were actually being dragged further out to sea. They soon were very fatigued and one of them started to panic, waving his arms wildly, and we could faintly hear his cries for help. I sprang into action thinking this is my opportunity to be a hero and save a life. I ran and grabbed a surfboard that we had in the truck and handed it off to my brother-in-law. I encouraged him to go quickly and make us rescuers. Within a few minutes, he had both would-be victims back on the beach. Luckily, one of them had made it back to the beach on his own, but his partner had been swept out into a dangerous place. They were so grateful for the help, the rescue. They could not thank my brother-in-law enough for they knew that the consequences could have been so much worse for them that day. In a spiritual sense, there are many around us that are in tragic waters. They are in need of rescue, and we are their rescuers. Missionary work includes helping and supporting those who are new to the Church and those whom we consider lost. President Hinckley taught us that each new member needs three things: a friend, a responsibility, and nurturing with the good word of God. (see Gordon B. Hinckley, "'Every Convert Is Precious'," Liahona, Feb 1999, 9)