Gospel Story Finder

By the time Domingos turned 18, his church activity began to irritate his father.
“Dad thought seminary was getting in the way of my schoolwork, so he banned me from getting up early to go. I wanted to honor him, so I quit going. But I still did seminary at home. Then he didn’t want that either, so I put that away.
“Then he’d find me reading my scriptures and think I hadn’t done my homework, even though my grades were good. One time he grabbed my scriptures and threw them in the rubbish bin. I had spent the last two years reading them and marking them, and they are really precious to me. The next morning I was able to get them back, but I had to give them to the branch president for safekeeping.”
It wasn’t long before Domingos’s father banned him from everything related to church activity—scripture study, Mutual activities, home teaching, and, finally, Sunday meetings.
“Even though I was 18 and legally my own person, my first reaction was to obey. Really. You want to obey your father because he is your father. But I knew I couldn’t break my promise to Heavenly Father by not attending church.
“Dad said if I went that Sunday, not to worry about coming back. So I packed my bags. My prayers were very sincere that night. The next morning, when he saw me dressed up, he was furious.”
Domingos left, but his parents came to the chapel and found him. They reached an agreement that he could attend every other Sunday. “I wasn’t happy with it, but it was better than nothing,” he says.
Then the next time he got ready for church, his father again told him if he went, never to return. “The second time was just as bad, probably worse. I’d been waiting to receive my patriarchal blessing, and the patriarch, who can only come about once a year, had come from far away. I got there for the appointment, but my father came at the same time. I had to go home and missed my blessing.”
The third time that his father confronted him in a similar way, Domingos left home and moved in with his grandmother. “Eventually my mum came and said my father was all right and he wouldn’t get angry again. So I came back.”
But in the meantime, he’d developed a desire to serve a full-time mission. “I prayed, and the answer was very certain that I should go when I turned 19. From then on my mind was made up—I just needed to prepare.”
If he would complete his first year of study, the University of the Northern Territory would agree to give him two years off to serve. But he’d have to carry an even harder class load for a few months before he left. “My coordinator actually encouraged me and said the mission would be a good experience,” Domingos says. He continued something he’d done since high school—telling fellow students about the steps of repentance and the plan of salvation.
He intensified his scripture study, memorizing many passages. “The scriptures brought me peace,” he says. “They reminded me of the things I should be doing.”
He joined the full-time missionaries when they gave discussions. He often bore his testimony. He kept a journal, writing in it every day. His Church leaders interviewed him, found him worthy, and sent in his missionary application.
Then one day, this time when he returned from church, his father kicked him out for the fourth time. “It was pretty final,” Domingos says. “He was not pleased with my plans for a mission and said if I went I wouldn’t be his son anymore.”
His branch president, Michael Kuhn, invited Domingos to live in his home until the mission call arrived.
Finished with his schoolwork, Domingos filled his days with prayer, with uplifting music, with Church activities, missionary work, and study of the scriptures. Sometimes he would read the scriptures all day long.
And then the letter came: “You are called to labor in the Hong Kong Mission.” Domingos returned home for a short time to try to make peace with his family before he left. “Mainly because they knew they could not change my mind, they yielded,” he says. Before he left, the family went out to dinner together and took lots of farewell photos.
Letters written from the Missionary Training Center and from the mission field reflect the joy that quickly followed:
—“At the airport I was able to meet one of the missionaries who taught me, Elder (Hoyt) Skabelund, and his wife and baby and parents. I am slowly learning Cantonese. The people in the MTC are wonderful.”
—“I’ve received two letters from my mother. Everything is going well at home. They are being blessed greatly and they know it! My family and relatives are now happy that I am serving a mission. Surely God is a God of miracles!”
—“I have done my first street display, talking to everyone who goes by. I have taught the six discussions in Cantonese.”
—“Now I have been transferred to Macau, a Portuguese colony neighbouring the coast of China. I am pretty lucky because not many missionaries get to serve here. We are teaching an investigator, and he will be baptized. I know that God called me here to do a special work.”
—“Every inconvenience was worth overcoming to read the Book of Mormon. Every insult was worth swallowing to keep the Sabbath holy. Every moment was worth waiting for to kneel in private prayer, every pain worth enduring to attend church. Every blow was worth taking, every torment worth suffering, every tear worth shedding to come on this mission.”
Today in Macau, Elder Liao looks out the window of his missionary apartment and sees a promised land.
“When I decided to go on a mission,” he says, “I knew there would be strong currents against me. I didn’t really know the dangers lurking in the water, what might try to sting me or to swallow me up. I was only thinking about making it. Now here I am, and I know that it’s worth it.”
And he’s eager to build a bridge to help others, including his family, to cross over to the other side.

Moses Mahlangu, of Soweto, South Africa, patiently but persistently waited sixteen years for baptism. When he speaks of his long wait, Brother Mahlangu compares himself to Cornelius, who he says was “very good in waiting to receive the word of God or to be a member of the Church until the angels came and told him what to do.” (See Acts 10:1–7.) Today, at age sixty-seven, Moses is a groundskeeper at the Johannesburg South Africa Temple, which he regularly attends.

Like most of us, Matthew and Judy Morrise of the West Hills Ward, Beaverton Oregon Stake, are always looking for new ideas for family home evening lessons and activities. The Family Home Evening Resource Book (item no. 31106) is the mainstay, but other ideas are also welcome. While looking through the resource book, Judy Morrise came across an idea calling for the use of a suggestion box.
“This seemed like a good way to find out how our children felt about family home evening,” says Sister Morrise. “I made the box and placed it on a shelf where I knew the children would see it. Imagine my delight when after a few days I found notes from my six-year-old and eight-year-old daughters. They wanted to use the family home evening ideas they saw monthly in the Friend magazine. We gave it a try, and within the next two months each girl gave a short lesson that included an opening song, scripture references, a story, and an activity. Of course, we ended with treats.”
The suggestion box worked for the Morrises. Following is a “suggestion box” for you, full of family home evening ideas and testimonies gathered from readers. As you read these suggestions, choose some that best fit your situation and give them a try.

Several years ago one of our BYU performing groups was on tour in Riga, Latvia. As was customary, the students were assigned host families who would share their homes during the duration of our stay in that city.
Two young men were assigned to a nonmember host ”mom.” Despite the cultural and language barrier that existed between them and the limited time that they would be together, one of these young men felt a strong impression to share the gospel with his new friend. Even the concept of a Heavenly Father was new to her, but, somehow, with the help of the Spirit and an English-Russian dictionary, her heart and mind were opened to new ideas she could never have imagined, and she listened, learned, and believed. Several weeks later this young man received a beautiful letter from this sweet sister—written with the help of the same English-Russian dictionary—expressing her thanks and her belief in God. She concluded with these words: “I wasn’t know why or what for I lived and you present me wings.”

Eventually, I went back to my town and my branch. It was then that I decided I wanted to serve a mission. This was a difficult decision for me because I had nothing and would be leaving behind people I loved. As I was trying to decide, I read D&C 84:81 and 88, which say, “Therefore, take ye no thought for the morrow, for what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink, or wherewithal ye shall be clothed … for I will go before your face. I will be on your right hand and on your left, and my Spirit shall be in your hearts, and mine angels round about you, to bear you up.” I knew the Lord would care for me, so I turned in my mission papers and was called to the Utah Salt Lake City Temple Square Mission.

One of many outstanding missionaries with whom Sister Funk and I served was Elder Pokhrel from Nepal. After being a member of the Church for only two years, he was called to serve in the India Bangalore Mission, an English-speaking mission. He would tell you he was not well prepared. That was understandable. He had never seen a missionary until he was one, because no young missionaries serve in Nepal. He did not read English well enough to understand the instructions included with his call. When he reported to the missionary training center, instead of bringing nice slacks, white shirts, and ties, he packed, in his words, “five pairs of denim jeans, a couple of T-shirts, and a lot of hair gel.”2

Even after he obtained appropriate clothing, he said he felt inadequate every day during the first few weeks. He described that time of his mission: “Not only was the English difficult, but the work was just as challenging. … On top of all of that, I was hungry, tired, and homesick. … Even though the circumstances were tough, I was determined. I felt weak and inadequate. I would pray at those times for Heavenly Father to help me. Without fail, every time I prayed, I would feel comforted.”3

Though missionary work was new and challenging for Elder Pokhrel, he served with great faith and faithfulness, seeking to understand and follow what he was learning from the scriptures, Preach My Gospel, and his mission leaders. He became a powerful teacher of the gospel—in English—and an excellent leader. After his mission and some time in Nepal, he returned to India to continue his education. Since January he has served as a branch president in New Delhi. Because of the real growth he experienced as a missionary, he continues to contribute to the real growth of the Church in India.

Back in 1977-78, Southeast Idaho, like in recent years, was in the grip of a devastating drought. This is, after all, a desert where precipitation is always going to be sparse and unpredictable. The stakes in Idaho Falls where I was working that summer organized a vigil of prayer and fasting to the end that the Lord would moderate the weather for their good. I wondered at the time at their use of language—why ask for the weather to be moderated, why not simply ask for more rain? After participating with our stake in the fast, I was impressed to observe that while the historic amount of rain received in the spring and summer did not appreciably change, the timing of the rain was such that the non-irrigated dry farms in the region got the needed rain at the proper time and in the proper amounts to ensure a bumper crop. From this perspective, I have no doubt that the Lord’s hand has been manifest in moderating the climate in our mountain valleys to allow for productive agriculture. However, I am also satisfied that the active faith and work of the people of the area in building large dams and irrigation projects has also contributed hugely to making agriculture successful in Southeast Idaho.

“I’m not going to Primary any more if I have to sit by Jimmy,” I told Mom as I got into our car.
“What does Jimmy do that bothers you?”
My sister, Christine, who is two years older than I am, cut in. “He’s a real pain. He’s always pulling someone’s hair or poking them in the side or untying their shoelace. I don’t blame Alan. I wouldn’t want to sit by him, either.”
I looked at her gratefully. It was nice to have an older sister, especially when she agreed with me.
Mom looked at me. “Is that why you don’t want to sit by Jimmy?”
“Yes,” I said. “He always gets me in trouble.”
“How does his being naughty get you in trouble?”
Christina came to my rescue again. “When someone keeps hitting you and pulling your hair, you finally hit him back. Then you’re in trouble too.”
“Is that what happened today, Alan?” Mom asked, looking me right in the eye.
“Well-l-l-l, I can’t just let him hit me for no reason, can I?”
“So you got into a fight in Primary?” Mom asked.
I knew she was disappointed in me. I hung my head and said, “Yes.”
“Did it make you feel better to fight with Jimmy?” she asked me.
“I thought it did then, but now I’m not so sure. You make me feel like I did something bad.”
“Are you sure it’s me that’s making you feel that way?” Mom asked.
“I don’t know. What am I supposed to do when he starts poking and hitting me? I don’t want the other kids to think I’m a wimp. Besides, he hits hard, and it hurts.”
Just then, Dad got in the car. I was thankful that Mom didn’t say anything about my fighting in Primary as Dad started the car and drove home.
Later in the afternoon, though, Dad came to my room. “Alan, Mom tells me that you had some problems in Primary today. I’d like you to tell me what happened.”
I felt hopeful because he didn’t seem angry. When I finished explaining, he said, “That sounds like a pretty difficult situation, all right. Do you think hitting Jimmy back will stop him from hitting you any more?”
“Well, I hope so,” I answered. “At least he knows I can hit just as hard as he can.”
“Yes, I suppose he knows that,” Dad agreed. “Do you think he likes you any better now?”
“Dad, you must be kidding! He hates me now.”
“Do you like him any better than you did before the fight?”
“How can I like him better after he made me get into trouble with everyone?”
“Alan,” Dad began, “one of the reasons we go to church is to learn to be more like Jesus Christ, isn’t that right?”
“Yes,” I answered, “and Jesus would never have hit Jimmy. But, Dad, what would He have done?”
“That’s a good question. Let’s see if we can find an answer.” He opened my Bible to Matthew 18:21–22 [Matt. 18:21–22] and asked me to read it out loud.
“‘Then came Peter to him, and said, Lord, how oft shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? till seven times?
“‘Jesus saith unto him, I say not unto thee, Until seven times: but, Until seventy times seven.’”
I felt very discouraged. “There is no way I can stand to have Jimmy hit and poke me a zillion times before I can hit him back.”
Dad smiled. “The idea isn’t to wait until you can hit him back.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Let’s look in Matthew 5:43–44 [Matt. 5:43–44]. What does this say that we should do?”
I began reading out loud: “‘Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbour, and hate thine enemy.
“‘But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you.’”
“Do you understand what Christ is teaching us here?” Dad asked.
“It sounds too hard for me to do.”
“Well, let’s make sure we understand what He is saying. First, He tells us to love our enemies.”
“Maybe I’m bad,” I said looking up at Dad, “but I don’t love Jimmy, not after what he did today.”
“But that’s just it, Alan!” Dad said. “Don’t you think the Savior knew how hard it would be to love our enemies? That’s why He told us how. He said to bless, do good to, and pray for those who do harm to us. He knew that it is very difficult to hate someone you are praying for and doing nice things for. Those kinds of actions change feelings of hate and anger into love and concern.”
I had a hard time believing that and it must have shown on my face. Dad said that he wanted me to try an experiment. He said that it wouldn’t be easy but that I should pray for Jimmy and do good things for him. He said that while I prayed for Jimmy, I should also pray that my feelings toward him would be softened.
That night as I knelt to say my prayers, I prayed that Jimmy would be happy. I also asked Heavenly Father to help me like Jimmy. I did that all week long. This part wasn’t too hard. It was the doing-good-things part that I was worried about.
I saw Jimmy only on Sundays because he didn’t go to my school. I didn’t feel ready to sit by him in Primary yet, but I didn’t want him to think I hated him, either. As I thought about it, I really didn’t hate him. I almost felt sorry for him. Maybe Heavenly Father was softening my heart.
All week I tried to think of something I could do for Jimmy. I figured he’d throw anything I gave him back at me, or make fun of me if I tried to do something nice. It was Saturday before I decided what I could do for him—something secret!
I asked Mom for three cookies to give him. I put them into a bag and typed a note on our computer: “To Jimmy, from someone who likes you.”
On Sunday, I asked Sister Lamb, my Primary teacher, if she would give the cookies to Jimmy without telling him whom they were from. She smiled at me and said she’d give them to him at the end of class.
During opening exercises and class, Jimmy made it obvious to everyone that he didn’t want to sit by me. He made several remarks that were pretty rude, but I just bit my tongue and waited. Before the closing prayer, Sister Lamb told Jimmy to stay a minute after the prayer.
I walked out of the room, but I didn’t go far. I wanted to hear what Jimmy said when he got the cookies. “Why are you giving me these?” he asked.
“Oh, they aren’t from me,” Sister Lamb said.
“They must be from you—no one else likes me.”
“No,” Sister Lamb said again.
“Well, who are they from?”
“I promised not to tell,” Sister Lamb said. I heard her closing her books, so I hurried away. I must have been smiling, because when I got in the car, Mom said, “Things must have gone much better in Primary today.”
“Yeah,” I said casually, “everything was OK.” Everything was more than OK. I felt happier than I had in a long time.
For three more weeks, I gave something to Sister Lamb to give to Jimmy. He began telling our class that someone must really like him. I could tell that he liked what was happening. It even seemed to me that he wasn’t as mean and rude as he used to be.
Then Dad asked me how I was doing with my experiment. I told him what had been happening, and he smiled. “That’s great, Alan! It sounds like you’re ready to make him your friend now.”
I looked up at Dad in surprise. “I thought that’s what I was doing.”
“You can’t go on giving him treats forever, Alan. At some point, you know, you have to give yourself.”
“Huh?”
“It sounds to me like Jimmy needs a friend. Maybe you could invite him over to play.”
“But, Dad,” I answered, “Jimmy lives a long way from us. He doesn’t even go to my school.”
“Well, why don’t you see if he can come over next Saturday. I’ll pick him up and take him home.”
“I’m not sure he’d come. And what would we do? I don’t even know what he likes.”
The call was easier than I had thought it would be. Jimmy sounded surprised, but he accepted.
Saturday came. I rode with Dad to Jimmy’s house. I was a little bit nervous when I knocked on his door. He opened it and called to his mother that he was leaving.
On the way home, I asked Jimmy what he liked to do. We soon discovered that we both liked soccer and roller-blading. When we got to my house, I discovered that he was a computer whiz. We spent most the afternoon playing games, drawing pictures, and making up stories on the computer.
When it was time to go, we walked through the kitchen to the car. Mom was baking chocolate chip cookies, and she gave us some as we went out the back door. As he bit into one, Jimmy looked at me suspiciously. “Hey, these are just like the cookies my secret friend gave me at church.”
I laughed. “Maybe you’ll have to come here to get treats from your secret friend from now on.”
“It’s a deal! And you can get treats at my house.”

Our grandson was only four when a policeman picked him up on the side of the highway. He said he was headed to Grandma’s house, about five miles (8 km) away.
It was the second time he had run away from the unhappiness at home, trying to get to me. Over the next few months, I came to realize that the responsibility of raising my grandson and his two younger sisters was probably going to fall on my shoulders—an idea I did not readily embrace.
My husband and I had done our best to raise our children with gospel principles, but they eventually rejected those principles. I was in my 50s and felt that I had finally earned the right to pursue my own interests. I cherished the goal my husband and I shared of serving a mission together when he retired. The notion of going grocery shopping with preschoolers, organizing mealtimes, doing thousands of loads of laundry, and someday again mothering teenagers reduced me to tears.
One afternoon, however, something changed my heart. A small thing had upset my grandson, so I took him onto my lap and wiped away his tears. As I held him, we talked about how much Jesus loved him. Nearby I had a wall calendar featuring paintings of the Savior, so we looked at those beautiful images one by one.
My grandson was especially interested in a depiction of the Savior sitting in a stone doorway with a small, brown-haired girl on His lap. In the painting, both the Savior and the child radiate peace. My grandson looked closely, pointed to the girl, and called her by his sister’s name.
“How can Katie sit on Jesus’s lap, Grandma?” he asked. “I want to sit on His lap too!”
“You can’t sit on Jesus’s lap now, sweetheart, but you can sit on my lap,” I said. “Jesus gives little children grandmas to love them and hold them and take care of them when they need it.”
Suddenly my heart embraced a future of loving—as the Savior would love—three beloved children who needed me. They were no longer a burden but a wonderful blessing and opportunity to serve our Lord.
I will be forever grateful for the tender mercy of the Lord given to me that afternoon. It changed my life and continues to strengthen and bless our home.

Several months ago, after boarding an airplane scheduled to fly to Phoenix, Arizona, the passengers found themselves retained on the ground because of foggy weather. While we were waiting, the door of the airplane opened several times and others joined us, even though it was half an hour or more after the plane should have departed.
A young teenager took the vacant seat beside me. After a short time, he looked toward me and said, “Hey, mister, are you a Mormon?”
I said “Yes” and inquired why he asked.
He reported, “I joined the Church several months ago, but I don’t know whether I believe it anymore.”
We talked about the gospel. I bore my testimony. We discussed many things relating to the Church and to life. Meanwhile, the plane had left Salt Lake and was winging its way south.
This fine young man who wanted to have his testimony reaffirmed and strengthened was willing to do something about it. Cody and I are pen pals now. When I think of him, I recall a wonderful young man, searching for truth, needing a little reassurance, and seeking it on his own. He took responsibility.

When I was 12, my dad lost his job. Money was tight, and I was embarrassed that my family was poor, and I was jealous of my friends’ clothes and toys.
I was really stressed out and even depressed at times because I let jealousy get the best of me. Our family fasted and prayed so my dad could find another job. Our family began to change, especially my dad. He wasn’t stressed. He was happy and spent more time with us, and he read his scriptures more. It changed the whole mood in our home, and my dad became more in tune with the Spirit.
Sometimes it takes a trial for someone to become a better person. If you take trials the right way, you will be greatly blessed. It took about a year for my dad to find a new job, but we were so grateful Heavenly Father answered our prayers.

Benson, where are you? It’s time for bed.
I don’t want to go to bed.
Why not?
Because there is a ghost in my room.
There is not a ghost in your room.
Are you sure?
I promise.
Dad, what is the Holy Ghost?
That’s a good question.
The Holy Ghost is a member of the Godhead. His job is to help us feel what Heavenly Father wants us to know and do.
Is He scary?
No, the Holy Ghost isn’t scary at all. We don’t see the Holy Ghost, but we feel Him near. He helps us feel happy.
All right, now close your eyes. It’s time to go to sleep. I love you.
I love you too. And I think I feel the Holy Ghost.

Hiding behind Dad’s truck, I pulled ever so slightly on the rope that reached up over the tree branch above the garage door. The large bucket of water at the other end of the line jiggled as I pulled. I grinned. The trap was finally ready!
My big brother was so going to get it as soon as he came out of the garage. Kyle deserved it, too! This time his teasing had gone too far.
My little sister walked over to my hiding place again. “Come on, Megan. Let’s go play. Just forget about it,” she said.
“No way,” I told her. “I’m going to get even.” She didn’t understand. I had to do this.
“But I want to play on the swings,” she said. “Won’t you come with me?”
I shook my head. “Not until Kyle walks under my trap.”
My sister left. The sun rose higher. It was a perfect day to play outside. But this was important. I thought of all the rotten times my brother had teased me.
Banging and clanging sounds came from inside the garage. What was he doing in there?
I had to admit it was getting a little boring holding that rope. Especially on such a nice, sunny day. But I didn’t think about letting go for a second. The wait would be worth it when Kyle walked through the garage door and I dumped the big bucket of water on his head. I couldn’t wait to see his face! It would be the perfect payback.
A noise came from behind the garage door. My muscles tightened as I gripped the rope. I watched the door like a cat ready to pounce.
The lock clicked. The door swung open. I saw the edge of a tire and one of my brother’s sneakers. This was it! I yanked hard on the rope. The entire bucket of water tipped and poured all over Kyle. As the now-empty bucket dangled from the rope on the tree, I jumped up and hooted in excitement. Yes!
Then I noticed something that stopped my yell of excitement right in my throat. Kyle was pushing my bike. It had been broken for weeks. But now it was all ready to ride. I didn’t understand.
Kyle looked at me and said, “Um, I fixed your bike.”
I just stood there. As the water dripped off his face and off my bike, I didn’t feel at all like I expected to. My trap had worked perfectly, but I felt horrible.
The whole time I’d been waiting there, my big brother had been doing something nice for me. In fact, now that I thought about it, Kyle did nice things for me all the time.
“I’m sorry!” I said, still feeling awful. “I was … I mean, earlier today …”
He held up a hand and smiled. “It’s OK, Megan. I’m sorry too. That’s why I wanted to fix your bike.”
Kyle looked up at the bucket. “Nice trap,” he said. Then he laughed. “I never saw it coming.”
I couldn’t help but laugh with him. Suddenly I felt much better inside. My big brother had already forgiven me. Just like that! I realized I needed to learn how to do that too.
“Hey, want to ride bikes?” I asked.
Kyle nodded. “Sounds awesome. I’ll probably dry off faster that way.”
As we laughed again, I knew it was going to be a great day after all.

Just as I did on every other day, I arrived at work on 2 May 1997 at 8:00 A.M. I was going to begin work when the boss said he wanted to talk to me. Throughout our conversation, I sensed he wanted to fire me. He spoke of bureaucratic problems with the employment agency I worked for and of laws I didn’t know much about.
Ultimately, I was let go, and I walked away thinking, What will happen now? I will arrive home and say I have been fired, and my grandmother will be disappointed. She and others in my family depended on me to work and help my family financially.
All at once, I remembered: I could pray to God. Maybe He would help me find work yet today. I walked into some trees, got on my knees, and prayed, “Heavenly Father, please help me find work today, so I won’t have to go home and make my grandmother sad.”
I thanked Him, arose, and began walking. With a happier outlook, I thought, If I lost that job, then it must be because I will find a better one. I walked for about two kilometers until I passed a construction job where a friend of mine was working. When he saw me, he asked, “Rui, aren’t you doing anything?”
I explained what had happened, and he said, “If you want to, you can work here.” He was in charge of the job. Of course, I agreed to work there.
And so it was that at 8:00 that morning I was fired, and about 9:30, just 1 1/2 hours later, I was working again. God had heard my prayers, and He blessed me in a short time with even better work.
Great is the power of prayer.

Dear brothers and sisters, I join with you in expressing my love and sustaining support to President Eyring and his family. President Hinckley extended this call to serve in the Quorum of the Twelve late Thursday afternoon. I cannot possibly articulate the kaleidoscope of feelings I have experienced since then. There have been sleepless nights and much prayer. My spirits have been buoyed, however, by the knowledge that President Hinckley is the prophet and that the membership of the Church will be praying for me and my family.
To say that I feel deeply inadequate would be an understatement. When I was called as a General Authority in April of 1996, I also felt unequal to the calling. Elder Neal A. Maxwell reassured me then that the most important qualification for all of us serving in the kingdom is to be comfortable in bearing witness of the divinity of the Savior. A peace came over me at that time and has stayed with me since because I love the Savior and have had spiritual experiences that allow me to testify of Him. I rejoice in the opportunity to bear witness of Jesus Christ in all the world (see D&C 107:23), notwithstanding my inadequacies.
In Doctrine and Covenants 68, verses 5 and 6, we read:
“Behold, this is the promise of the Lord unto you, O ye my servants.
“Wherefore, be of good cheer, and do not fear, for I the Lord am with you, and will stand by you; and ye shall bear record of me, even Jesus Christ, that I am the Son of the living God, that I was, that I am, and that I am to come.”
I seek the companionship of the Holy Ghost as I speak with you this Sabbath morning.
The overwhelming feeling that I have in receiving this call is that we must live by faith and not by fear. In 2 Timothy, the Apostle Paul references the faith of Timothy’s grandmother Lois and his mother, Eunice. Paul writes:
“For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind” (2 Timothy 1:7).
In my own case, I respectfully acknowledge ancestors now on the other side of the veil who gave everything asked of them to build the kingdom of God upon the earth.
I am grateful that all my life I have been surrounded by those who love the Savior. My heart is full of appreciation for my family. My wife, Mary, has been the joy of my life. Her spiritual strength, righteous example, sense of humor, and loving support have blessed me throughout my life. Our three children and their spouses have been sources of great personal satisfaction and, together with our nine grandchildren, have been such a blessing to us. Their faith and prayers and the goodness of their lives have been a great comfort to Mary and me.
When I think back to my youth in Logan, Utah (Elder Perry’s fabled Cache Valley), I realize how fortunate I was to be reared in a goodly home—to have a righteous mother who was full of faith, a loving father, an older brother who has been an extraordinary example to me as well as a friend and counselor, and a younger sister who has been loving and supportive. How fortunate also to have had talented and devoted Church leaders, teachers, coaches, and friends who were wonderful examples to me.
As a young man I had the opportunity to serve in the British Mission, which was a seminal, defining event in my life. The influence of a valiant mission president is one of the great miracles of the restored gospel. A few weeks ago I received a birthday card at Church headquarters from a woman I helped teach in Gloucester, England, many years ago. I had lost contact with her. She informed me that she and her husband are both very active members and have 6 children and 20 grandchildren, all born in the covenant. It may be the best birthday card I have ever received.
Mary and I left Utah so I could attend law school in Palo Alto, California. We were planning to return to Utah after graduation, but the Spirit directed that we stay in California. We lived in California for 33 years and raised our family there. We both had many opportunities to serve. We loved the diversity of the members and their commitment to the gospel of Jesus Christ. I will be eternally grateful for the wonderful Latter-day Saints in California who have been such a positive influence in my life.
These last 11 1/2 years of service as a Seventy have been truly rewarding ones. As I leave that quorum, I want my fellow Brethren to know of my love and appreciation for their dedication and loyalty to the kingdom of God on the earth—for their faithfulness and good works. I want them to know of the joy it has been to serve with them.
I love the Brethren we sustain as prophets, seers, and revelators with all my heart. I’ve tried to serve honorably and lighten their responsibilities in any way I could. I’m grateful to the First Presidency and Quorum of the Twelve for their lives of goodness and example, their patience, their teaching, their kindness, their devotion to our Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, and His restored gospel. I am grateful that God called Joseph Smith to be a prophet through whom the fulness of the gospel was restored to earth.
My experience as a General Authority has filled my heart with appreciation for the faith and goodness of the Latter-day Saints all over the world. We served for two years in the Philippines. In April of 1961, President Hinckley, then an Assistant to the Twelve, sent the first missionaries to Manila. There was only one Filipino priesthood holder in the Philippines. Today there are almost 600,000 members. Their lives are not easy, and they lack many material things, but they love the Savior. The gospel is having a tremendous impact in improving their lives. What a blessing to serve in their midst.
We also served for three years in the Pacific Islands. It is significant that almost 25 percent of all the Polynesians in the world are members of the Church. Their faith and spirituality are legendary. Sister Cook and I were in Vava‘u in the Tongan islands on one occasion. I had just spoken about following the prophet in the general session of stake conference. At the luncheon following the conference, I sat next to a distinguished elderly patriarch. He indicated how grateful he was to hear what the prophet was teaching. He gave me the following account. Vava‘u, which is a relatively small island, usually has sufficient rain, but periodically there are severe droughts. The island has long inlets or bays, almost like sounds, which curl into the island below steep hills. When drought conditions left the village without water, there was only one way they could obtain fresh water and stay alive. Over the centuries they had found that fresh water traveled down through rock formations inside the mountains and came up in a few spots in the sea.
The Tongan men would set off in their small boats with a wise elder standing at one end of the boat looking for just the right spot. The strong young men in the boat stood ready with containers to dive deep into the seawater. When they reached the appropriate spot, the wise man would raise both arms to heaven. That was the signal. The strong young men would dive off the boat as deep as they could and fill the containers with fresh springwater. This old patriarch likened this lifesaving tradition to the living waters of the gospel of Jesus Christ and the wise man to God’s prophet here on earth. He noted that the water was pure, fresh, and, in their drought condition, lifesaving. But it was not easy to find. It was not visible to the untrained eye. This patriarch wanted to know everything the prophet was teaching.
We live in a precarious time. The world is in desperate need of the fresh springwater, which is the gospel of Jesus Christ. We should listen intently to the prophet as we make choices. My own informal records indicate that President Hinckley has continually emphasized faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. That has been followed by his emphasis on strengthening families and having family religious observance in the home. Over and over again he has told us that if we would live a principle, we would gain a testimony of the truthfulness of that principle, which would in turn increase our faith.
I know that many of you are concerned about raising your children during these difficult times and increasing their faith. When my wife and I were starting our family in the San Francisco Bay area, we had that same concern. At a critical point our stake members were advised by Elder Harold B. Lee, then a member of the Twelve, that we could raise our families in righteousness if we would:
Follow the prophet.
Create the true spirit of the gospel in our hearts and homes.
Be a light to those among whom we live.
Focus on the ordinances and principles taught in the temple. (See D&C 115:5; Harold B. Lee, “Your Light to Be a Standard unto the Nations,” Ensign, Aug. 1973, 3–4.)
As we followed this counsel, our faith increased and our fears decreased. I believe we can raise righteous children anywhere in the world if they are taught religious principles in the home.
One area where members can live by faith and not by fear is in our missionary effort. Prior to my call to the Presidency of the Seventy on August 1 of this year, I had served in the Missionary Department for six years, the last three years as Executive Director under Elder M. Russell Ballard, who served as Chairman of the Missionary Executive Council.
Some mission presidents informed us that many wonderful members are in camouflage to their neighbors and coworkers. They do not let people know who they are and what they believe. We need much more member involvement in sharing the message of the Restoration. Romans 10, verse 14, puts this into perspective:
“How then shall they call on him [speaking of the Savior] in whom they have not believed? and how shall they believe in him of whom they have not heard? and how shall they hear without a preacher?”
Verse 15 contains the wonderful message referenced in Isaiah:
“How beautiful are the feet of them that preach the gospel of peace, and bring glad tidings” (see also Isaiah 52:7).
It has been observed that the members are going to have to move their feet and let their voices be heard if they are to achieve this blessing.
Preach My Gospel: A Guide to Missionary Service was first introduced in October 2004. President Hinckley commenced this effort when he called for missionaries to learn the doctrine and to teach the principles by the Spirit. Every member of the First Presidency and Quorum of the Twelve participated to a significant degree. Elder Ballard and I felt that the windows of heaven were opened and the Lord’s inspiration poured out to bring forth this great resource. Over 1.5 million copies of Preach My Gospel have been acquired by the members of the Church. It is a wonderful foundation, and the missionaries are powerful, spiritual teachers. However, if we are to accomplish what President Hinckley has requested, the members, living by faith and not by fear, need to share the gospel with their friends and associates.
In our individual callings we need to have faith and not be fearful.
Our daughter, Kathryn, is serving as the Primary president in her ward in Salt Lake City. My wife and I attended her ward last Sunday to observe the Primary sacrament meeting presentation, “I’ll Follow Him in Faith.” I was thrilled to hear the children recite scriptures and stories coupled with songs focused on faith in Christ.
After the meeting I asked her about her calling. She said that initially the calling weighed her down. Much time was spent going over problems. Then the presidency decided to emphasize love, faith, and prayer. Suddenly spiritual impressions came to mind about a particular child or family. Friction was replaced with love. She tells me that as they acted upon promptings from the Spirit, Primary reflected a reverence and peace, and real gospel learning was taking place.
It is our faith in Jesus Christ that sustains us at the crossroads of life’s journey. It is the first principle of the gospel. Without it we will spin our wheels at the intersection, spending our precious time but getting nowhere. It is Christ who offers the invitation to follow Him, to give Him our burden, and to carry His yoke, “for [His] yoke is easy, and [His] burden is light” (Matthew 11:30).
There is no other name under heaven whereby man can be saved (see Acts 4:12). We must take upon us His name and receive His image in our countenance so that when He comes we will be more like Him (see 1 John 3:2; Alma 5:14). When we choose to follow Christ in faith rather than choosing another path out of fear, we are blessed with a consequence that is consistent with our choice (see D&C 6:34–36).
May we all recognize and give thanks for the incomparable gift of life we each enjoy and for the breath that He lends us daily. May we choose to have conviction at the crossroads of life and exercise faith in Jesus Christ. My prayer is that we will live by faith and not by fear. I bear my witness of God, who is our Heavenly Father, and His Son, Jesus Christ, who atoned for our sins, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

On April 5, 1876, the day before general conference, three gunpowder reserves in Salt Lake City ignited. The ensuing explosion sent rocks and rubble across the city. The blast was felt as far north as Farmington, Utah, and numerous homes and buildings sustained damage—including the Twentieth Ward schoolhouse. A newspaper report at the time read:
The walls [of the schoolhouse] are cracked and the roof broken. The building will have to be greatly repaired before it can be considered safe.1
The Twentieth Ward schoolhouse’s principal happened to be none other than Karl G. Maeser. After assessing the damage to the school, Brother Maeser went looking for his bishop, John Sharp. He found Bishop Sharp in counsel with President Brigham Young. Brother Maeser reported to both men on the schoolhouse’s damage, but it became clear the prophet’s thoughts were elsewhere.
“Brother Maeser,” President Young interjected, “I have another mission for you.” He was “considering the establishment of a Church school” and was searching for the right person to lead it. The prophet then declared: “You are the man, Brother Maeser. We want you to go to Provo to organize and conduct an Academy to be established in the name of the Church—a Church school.”2
By month’s end, Brother Maeser was headed to Provo. It was then that President Young offered up his famous charge “not to teach even the alphabet or the multiplication tables without the Spirit of God.”3

When I was 15, my family and I took a vacation from our home in Arizona to the central United States. We drove through many states, including Kansas, Texas, Arkansas, Missouri, and Illinois.
Our vacation went well. We learned to enjoy each other’s company during the long van rides from place to place.
As we pulled into a restaurant one evening, we were all anxious to grab a bite to eat. As we got out of our van, I suddenly had a silent but powerful impression that told me to look at the back tire on our van. I started to walk toward the restaurant, but I couldn’t shake the feeling. I looked back over my shoulder and then stopped. The impression came to my mind: “Check the back tire.” It was so forceful I couldn’t ignore it.
I approached the rear of the van and heard a hissing sound. Sure enough, our right rear tire had a leak and was quickly going flat. I ran to get my dad, who had already gone into the restaurant with the rest of the family.
My father took the van down the road to a gas station before the tire went completely flat. Since the tire wasn’t damaged, the repair was inexpensive and quick. And we were able to fix the flat just minutes before the service station closed for the night. I don’t know what would have happened if I had ignored the prompting. But I do know that because I responded, we were able to continue our trip safely and conveniently.
Since that incident, I’m always reassured of the power of the Holy Ghost and how truly blessed we are as members of the Church to have that special line of communication. I am grateful for that experience, for it will stay with me, forever reminding me that our Father in Heaven loves, cares, and watches out for all of His children.

It had been a long night of practice, and I was ready to go home. As I pulled out of the school parking lot, I noticed a friend waiting in the dark for a ride. I nodded and waved to him as I drove past.
But I was only a couple blocks down the road when I felt a strong impression that I needed to turn around. So I drove back and asked my friend if he needed a ride. He said he did.
As we started driving home, the topic of religion came up. I was surprised when he asked me hesitantly, “So … what do you typically do on Sundays?”
I told him that Sunday is a day where I take time to worship Heavenly Father and be with family. He was intrigued and continued to ask questions. Before dropping him off, I invited him to come to church. He accepted, and the next Sunday, he joined my family and me at church and even participated in our at-home Come, Follow Me discussion afterwards.
My friend eventually started coming to church every Sunday and even got baptized. Now we go to the temple together with our friends.
Seeing his experience helped me realize how much God loves all of His children. If I hadn’t heeded that prompting to turn around, I’m not sure I would’ve been a part of my friend’s amazing journey. I know the Lord can work through us when we heed the Spirit’s promptings.
Morgan G., Arizona, USA

Elder Stolt’s grandfather was Vernon Carl Poulter II, who served a three-year, Mandarin-speaking mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in 1957. Elder Poulter’s first assignment in the Far East Asia Mission was in Taipei, Taiwan. It had only been open to missionaries for a few months, and because none of the Church’s Latter-day revelations had been translated into Chinese yet, teaching the gospel required an extensive 17 lessons before baptism and another 20 after.
Many of Elder Poulter’s contacts showed great potential, but he was always transferred to a new area before they progressed in their conversion. After one transfer, he and his junior companion decided to put their prayers to the test. Elder Poulter suggested: “Let’s pray specifically to be led to someone prepared to hear the gospel, then stay on our bikes until we receive the Spirit’s direction.”
An hour later, at a busy intersection in congested Taipei traffic, Elder Poulter had the distinct impression to turn right. When he caught up with his companion, the impression returned—stronger this time—that they should turn around.
Elder Poulter recorded: “We plunged back into traffic, made a ‘U-Turn’ across four lanes . . . back to the intersection, and turned left through another eight lanes of traffic.”
The elders eventually found themselves on a street that was too narrow even for bicycles. “As we continued on foot, I saw a man a few feet away watching us very intently through an open window. Our eyes met and I knew he was the person to whom we had been led.”
Mr. Hu invited the missionaries in and accepted, without question, their first lesson about the need for latter-day prophets. “Since Joseph Smith saw God and Jesus Christ and is the most important person of our time,” Mr. Hu wondered aloud, “how should I honour him?”
At his request, the missionaries returned the next day to continue teaching Mr. Hu and his family. During the lesson, Elder Poulter recalls that a ‘pure white light’ emanated through the window, but from no apparent source. He writes: “It was clear to my mind that we were in the presence of the Holy Ghost, whose radiance could actually be seen as well as felt.”
After the elders repeated the story of Joseph Smith for his wife and children, Mr. Hu bore his testimony and gave his own lesson to his family based on his reading of a pamphlet the missionaries had left him the day before. “His understanding and sincerity were most impressive,” Elder Poulter recalled. Mr. Hu closed by stating that these elders were bearers of the truth, then asked for permission to translate the pamphlet so he could share it with his friends and neighbours.
“Not knowing better, I said OK . . . we were pleased to see Mr. and Mrs. Hu with their two girls at church the next Sunday.” Then, Elder Poulter was transferred again. Prepared to leave the area, he started to pack a set of books his father had given him for the mission. Along with the standard works, they included, Articles of Faith, Joseph Smith Tells His Own Story, and James E. Talmage’s, The Great Apostasy. “I had the strong impression to take them all to Mr. Hu the next day . . . the [books] were received with joy and gratitude. That was the last I heard of the Hu family on my mission.”
When he finally returned home, Elder Poulter felt discouraged and embarrassed about the meagre results of his three years in the mission field. In time, his perspective changed and some 40 years later, he was inspired to share this experience in a Sunday School class.
“I bore my testimony that our part in the Lord’s plan is not always apparent. I never learned what had become of the Hu family, [but] I don’t have to; doing the Lord’s work is its own reward.”
Three days later, Elder Poulter received a letter that had been forwarded to him via a missionary in Taipei. It was from a Mr. Hu Wei Yi. In the letter, Brother Hu, now in his 80s, recounted his family’s baptism and reported that he had been a patriarch, a temple sealer and was even set apart by President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985) to be a translator.
The list of titles Mr. Hu translated included all the books Elder Poulter had given him, plus many more, “and then I read, The Book of Mormon. I couldn’t believe my eyes,” Elder Poulter writes. Yes, the Book of Mormon, the revealed word of God was translated into the second most spoken language in the world, by a humble man who had been prepared by the Lord to meet a pair of faithful missionaries.

She met Frank Bennallack in school. He shared Leonie’s love of ballroom dancing and became her debutante partner when she was 18. Before long, the two were planning a future together.
Their married life got off to a great start. Leonie and Frank saved up to buy land and build a house, which they completed soon after their honeymoon. The newlyweds enjoyed taking long walks together, playing cards with friends and going to balls, and when they eventually welcomed five beautiful children into their family, Leonie cherished being a mother. “Throughout our childhood and our lives, we always felt loved,” says Lisa.
After some time, the family’s fortunes changed. They lost their home and had to move several times as Frank sought reliable work. Times were hard, but Leonie never complained. “Mum always demonstrated incredible patience,” said Lisa. She was an excellent cook who would brighten her children’s days with great food and fun activities. “I knew we weren’t all that well off, but thanks to Mum, I had no idea how poor we really were.”
It was around this time that Leonie joined the Church. Her growing faith and love of the gospel sustained her through even greater difficulties.
Only a few years after her baptism, she found herself a single parent with four children still at home and a mother-in-law in her care. For the first time since her wedding almost 30 years earlier, Leonie needed to find work.
All the while, Leonie’s testimony of Heavenly Father and the Saviour increased. She was a dedicated disciple of Jesus Christ and His restored gospel; and had faith in priesthood power and the wonderful blessings it brought to her and to her family.
In 1976, Leonie moved her family to Adelaide to be near her oldest (married) daughter, where Lisa said, “we were supported by a wonderful ward, a loving bishop and great home teachers.” Leonie accepted a calling there as the Relief Society president, which initially intimidated her. But “she exercised her faith and did a wonderful job,” recalled Lisa. Leonie’s testimony of the gospel was continually strengthened as she served many other callings in the ward before she was called as a temple worker at the Adelaide Australia Temple. Through the faith she had, Leonie was able to remember all she needed to remember for that sacred role. “She loved her years of working at the temple,” says Lisa, and her mum especially enjoyed when family members attended while she was serving.
Some of Leonie’s greatest successes were at home with her family. She set a wonderful example of daily prayer and scripture reading, and she kept a journal since 1981. Leonie delighted in witnessing her children and grandchildren serve missions, get sealed to their spouses in the temple, have their own children, and participate in the work of the Lord through various leadership callings. This reflected her favourite scripture, found in 3 John 1:4 “I have no greater joy than to hear that my children walk in truth.”
In her 50s she moved in with her daughter’s family, and Leonie faithfully continued to serve and to love. As one grandson remembers, “There was never a Christmas, an Easter or a birthday when all of the grandchildren [didn’t] received something from Nana. She never forgot . . . we all knew through her kindness and actions that she loved each and every one of us.”
In a final act of motherly devotion, just before she died, Leonie wrote special, personal letters to each of her five children and their families. The discovery of these letters after Leonie passed away was a wonderful and profound surprise that touched their hearts at a very tender time.
She was known by many names throughout her life: Leonie, Mum, Nana, Sister Bennallack . . . but perhaps her greatest triumph as a mother is that “her children [continue to] arise up and call her blessed.” (Proverbs 31:28)