Gospel Story Finder

Richard is a good example of another approach. Born in the Church, Richard was not active until he was well into his teens. At that time a series of challenging events provided him with the opposition necessary to turn him toward the gospel. After a few weeks of reading and prayer, Richard had developed a testimony of Christ and the truth of the Book of Mormon. People remembered Richard because of his testimony and commitment to it.

The following winter, Joseph Jr. hobbled through the snow with his mother, brothers, and sisters. They were on their way west to a New York village named Palmyra, near where Joseph Sr. had found good land and was waiting for his family.
Since her husband could not help with the move, Lucy had hired a man named Mr. Howard to drive their wagon. On the road, Mr. Howard handled their belongings roughly and gambled and drank away the money they paid him. And after they joined up with another family traveling west, Mr. Howard kicked Joseph out of the wagon so the other family’s daughters could sit with him as he drove the team.
Knowing how much it hurt Joseph to walk, Alvin and Hyrum tried to stand up to Mr. Howard a few times. But each time he knocked them down with the butt of his whip.10
As Joseph limped along beside the wagon, he could see his mother was certainly bearing with Mr. Howard. They had already traveled two hundred miles (322 km), and so far she had been more than patient with the driver’s bad behavior.
About a hundred miles from Palmyra, Lucy was preparing for another day on the road when she saw Alvin running toward her. Mr. Howard had thrown their goods and luggage onto the street and was about to leave with their horses and wagon.
Lucy found the man in a bar. “As there is a God in heaven,” she declared, “that wagon and those horses as well as the goods accompanying them are mine.”
She looked around the bar. It was filled with men and women, most of them travelers like her. “This man,” she said, meeting their gaze, “is determined to take away from me every means of proceeding on my journey, leaving me with eight little children utterly destitute.”
Mr. Howard said that he had already spent the money she paid him to drive the wagon, and he could go no farther.
“I have no use for you,” Lucy said. “I shall take charge of the team myself.”
She left Mr. Howard in the bar and vowed to reunite her children with their father, come what may.12
The road ahead was muddy and cold, but Lucy led her family safely to Palmyra. As she watched the children cling to their father and kiss his face, she felt rewarded for all they had suffered to get there.
The family soon rented a small house in town and discussed how to get their own farm.13 The best plan, they decided, was to work until they had enough money for a down payment on land in the nearby woods. Joseph Sr. and the older sons dug wells, split fence rails, and harvested hay for cash, while Lucy and the daughters made and sold pies, root beer, and decorative cloths to provide food for the family.14

My father always expected neatness around our farm. As a boy, I had as one of my jobs that of soaping and oiling the harness and hanging up the collars and bridles on the pegs in the harness shop. The surrey had to be washed, greased, and painted regularly—too frequently to suit me. I asked my father, “Why wash the buggy? It’ll just get dirty and dusty again after the first mile or two.” But I made no impression on him and had to do it anyway. And when I painted the buggy, it had to be perfect—no smudges or crooked lines.

I had to whitewash the fence and paint the rose trellis green. Then I had to paint the barn, the granary, and the harness shed. He insisted that everything be neat and clean and in good repair around the house and the farm.

Recently Alvin received a special award for perfect attendance at seminary. Seminary for Manila’s LDS youth is usually held during afternoon or early evening, and during those hours Manila’s almost unbearable traffic is at its peak. But Alvin comes right on time.
“Alvin is not that hyperactive when it comes to class involvement,” Brother Nolan Caceres, his seminary teacher, remarks, “but when it comes to actual application of the lesson, he tries his best.”
His seminary example spills into other youth activities. The ward basketball team he plays on garnered second place in the sportsfest awards. And in activity nights at the meetinghouse? “He doesn’t fail us,” Brother Caceres answers. “He’ll be there.”

Accept help from others. The next important point is to be willing to ask for help from those around you. Sometimes help comes from unexpected sources. A few years ago I stood in line in Chicago waiting to put my baggage on a plane. Behind me was an older man. After a few minutes he said to me, “Where are you going?” I said that I was heading for Salt Lake City. He said, “I’m going there too. Are you a Mormon?” I responded by saying I was. He said that he had been a Latter-day Saint all his life and had prepared himself finally to go to the temple. While waiting for the plane, he opened his suitcase to show me all the missionary pictures that he had collected through the years. After some minutes, we were on our way and had a wonderful talk as we flew toward Utah. Upon arrival, we left the plane quickly. I made sure he knew where he was going and said good-bye.

Some weeks later I received this card in the mail: “Dear Brother Christensen, I lost your address and then found it. So I’m writing you a card. When I met you in Chicago, it was a prayer answered. I never travel anywhere. I wanted to be with someone. I have thought of you many times. I really enjoyed myself in Salt Lake City at the temple. Hope to see you someday. Thanks many times for the help you were to me.” I wasn’t planning to be useful that day, but I’m grateful for this brother who sought for extra help and I was nearby to assist.

At my school there are two boys who are always bothering everybody else. Everyone is afraid of them. One time these boys were bothering some girls, and the girls were almost crying. I said a prayer within myself, and feeling very confident, I firmly told those two boys to stop bothering the girls. I didn’t feel alone or scared. They just looked at me, and although they were bigger than I was, they didn’t say a single word, and they left.
At that moment I tried to do what Jesus Christ would have done. I know that He lives and He loves me. I really like going to church, especially Primary, because I learn about the gospel.

For many years my wife and children and I have had the tradition of spending summer vacation on a small beach near our home in southern Brazil. Sometimes we moved because of work, but no matter how far we lived from that small beach, we always made the annual trip with much anticipation and joy. Likewise, extended family members and friends would travel long distances so we could all be together once a year. Everyone came as early as they could and stayed as long as possible.
At that small beach our family had many wonderful opportunities for spiritual growth and gospel teaching. Most of our extended family members were not members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and did not share our religious beliefs. To them the Lord’s day was just another day to play and have fun. Because more of the family would be at the beach on weekends than during the other days of the week, our presence and participation in Sunday activities was not only expected but also insistently requested—including by our children.
Our children were small and only just learning to apply the truths of the gospel. To them the temptation of participating in activities with their cousins and friends on Sundays was great. Spending time with family is an important part of the gospel, and breaking the Sabbath would have been easy to rationalize. After all, the closest unit of the Church at that time was more than 60 miles (96 km) away from the beach. Our friends and neighbors in our home congregation were far away, and none of them would ever know if we stayed at the beach instead of driving to the chapel and attending our meetings on Sunday. We went to church the entire year, and our extended family could be together only a few weeks a year.
Nevertheless, we never missed going to church on Sundays—not even once! We remembered the Lord’s teachings:
“And that thou mayest more fully keep thyself unspotted from the world, thou shalt go to the house of prayer and offer up thy sacraments upon my holy day;
“For verily this is a day appointed unto you to rest from your labors, and to pay thy devotions unto the Most High; …
“But remember that on this, the Lord’s day, thou shalt offer thine oblations and thy sacraments unto the Most High. …
“And on this day thou shalt do none other thing, only let thy food be prepared with singleness of heart that thy fasting may be perfect, or, in other words, that thy joy may be full” (D&C 59:9–13).
We chose to keep this commandment, and we taught our children that they should keep it as well. Soon they understood that it was more important to worship God on His holy day than to please family and friends or to satisfy their own desires.
On Sundays at the beach, we would wake up early, dress up for Sunday worship, and travel by car to the nearest chapel. During our trip and throughout the entire day, we would enjoy the peace and joy the Lord has promised to those who keep His commandments. We came to learn that this feeling of peace and joy does not come from the world.
After several years of this routine, something wonderful happened. Our children stopped questioning the importance of worshipping God on His holy day, and several of our children’s cousins began to ask if they could go to church with us! Little did we know that the feeling of peace and joy we felt was also being felt by our nieces and nephews upon our return from our meetings. Eventually a great blessing resulted. After some of those children became adolescents, two of them from one family told their parents, “We want to become Latter-day Saints.” Soon the entire family was baptized. Recently, one of the children, now a returned missionary, was married in the temple.
We still go to that beach every year, but everyone knows that on Sunday our family will not be there to play. Instead, we will go to church and worship God with family members who join us—a group that is becoming larger and larger every year!
When we look back on those years and think about the choice we made, we thank God for helping us have the courage to do what was right and to teach our children to do the same. We don’t have the slightest doubt that that decision strengthened our children as well as our extended family. It gave us the Lord’s promised peace, played an important role in the conversion of family members, and blessed us with a satisfaction not found in alternative Sunday activities that do not fill the soul.

Don’t be like the man who suddenly came into some money and decided to realize a lifelong ambition to be a conductor. So he bought an orchestra. The first day he was standing on the podium, obviously in seventh heaven, while his players were casting knowing glances at each other, wondering if it was worth the money to play under a conductor who knew so little about music. They began dropping a note here and there. He didn’t notice. They began leaving out whole parts of the piece—melody here, harmony there. He didn’t notice. Finally, the timpani player became so enraged at the obvious lack of qualification that he suddenly played a fusillade of loud bangs with hard sticks in the middle of a very quiet section. The conductor, finally shaken out of his reverie, dropped his arms to his side, glared at the orchestra with great menace in his eyes, and thundered, “All right! Who did that?”

One winter’s morning during a snowstorm, I took my mother to have some blood tests done. It was “white-knuckle” driving on snowy, icy roads. We were headed home and going around a corner very slowly. The car hit black ice, and as if in slow motion, we headed for the curb. THUNK! I quickly asked Mom, “Are you OK?”
“Yes.”
We continued cautiously, slowly.
Then I said in an oh-so-sarcastic kind of way, “So I suppose you’re going to sue me for whiplash.” Instantly she jumped in, moaning and holding her neck. “Oh . . . ohhhhhh . . . oh, my neck hurts. . . . Oh, I can’t move my head. . . . Oh dear, I have to call . . .” and she tried to say the name of one of the lawyers who advertises on TV. (“One call . . . that’s all!”) It was so spontaneous and so hilarious that we both laughed until we were screaming.
We eventually came up for air, but Mom kept the fun going for days, calling me, moaning and whining about her whiplash the minute I’d answer.
I’m so grateful for what I have learned from my parents about being cheerful, lighthearted, and—yes—sometimes silly.

My mother was born of Puerto Rican parents working in the sugar industry in La Romana, Dominican Republic in 1913. Both of her parents died in 1916 within months of one another when she was almost three years old. Puerto Rican neighbors raised her until she married and moved to Puerto Rico with her little family in 1930. My mother never found any paperwork on the birth or death of her parents or where they were buried. I felt this was my chance to do some digging and find what my mother could not find.
One Sunday we decided to visit a ward in La Romana. It happened to be Mother’s Day. I shared my story with the sisters in Relief Society with hopes that someone could help. A kind sister who happened to work in the civil registry of the town said she would research the archives for me. A few weeks later she said she could not find anything. An official registry was not kept, by law, until the 1930s. Some records were destroyed by floods or fire or just stored under poor conditions causing them to deteriorate. I gave her my sisters’ names and birth dates and the towns in which they were born. No records found. I was devastated. What do I do now?
With nowhere to turn I immersed myself in FamilySearch. I had found documentation on my grandmother in Puerto Rico before she left to La Romana in a census. I found a ship manifest that listed my grandmother traveling with a newborn (my mother) to Puerto Rico twice. The last time was within the year she had passed. I now knew the town she was from, my mother’s real birthday and who they visited. This was a real treasure. My mother was an orphan with no real information, and now I had a place to start.
Although I had not found what I was looking for, we took the time to visit all the places my mother talked about. I was able to get a feel for what life must have been like in the early days of the twentieth century living in a sugar cane industry town. This gave me renewed faith in continuing my search for more information.
As I continued to search further back through my grandparents’ lines, I found many wonderful treasures. I found that my family line in Puerto Rico dates to early explorers in the Caribbean. Some had served as governors in the Dominican Republic. Some were sea captains, farmers, and businessmen. Some were maids, seamstresses, and some of nobility. I was able to do the temple work for many there in the Santo Domingo Dominican Republic Temple where we volunteered as ordinance workers once a week. I was beginning to feel a closeness to my ancestors that I thought I would never experience. My excitement and joy in the work I was doing carried me through times of disappointments. I knew that if I kept looking, I would be able to find many more, and I did.
My time in the Dominican Republic was cut short because of the pandemic, but not before finding my family and learning more about my rich Caribbean roots. The tapestry of my family lines is rich with stories of courage and faith. At one time, I thought I would not be able to complete my four generations with temple work, at least not in this life. But now I have gone well beyond four generations. Elder and Sister Soares said in the last RootsTech that one purpose of temple work was to unite the past with the present and the future. I have felt this each time as my grandchildren enter the temple to do the work for these sweet people I never knew existed. I can honestly say I now know them and love them. They are my family.

A few days after my father passed away, family and friends gathered for his funeral in Las Cruces, New Mexico. At my mother’s request, the grandchildren sang “Families Can Be Together Forever.”1 After the closing song and prayer, the grandsons escorted my father’s casket to a hearse outside the chapel.
As the hearse pulled away, one of my younger brother’s toddler grandsons called out, “Bye-bye.” We then traveled to the cemetery, where I dedicated the grave and the rest of us said, “Bye-bye.”
Afterward, I drove to my parents’ home. As I entered their cul-de-sac, I stopped for a moment. I thought about the many times over the previous 30 years I had pulled into their driveway, had dropped off our children to spend part of their summer vacation with Grandma and Grandpa, and had celebrated Christmas there.
As I relived memories, I was almost overcome by sadness. I realized that most of my grandchildren will never know the welcome sight of my parents’ home after an all-day drive. They will never smell the aroma of my mother’s cooking. They will never hear the laughter echoing from the walls of my parents’ home. They will never hike the nearby sand dunes with my parents, hunt crawdads with them, spend time in their mountain cabin, or attend their friendly ward.
For my grandchildren, my parents will be little more than fading names etched on gravestones. We still have my mother, but after she passes away, my grandchildren will probably never travel to southern New Mexico.
I’m thankful that these sad thoughts soon left. Almost as quickly as they came, peaceful thoughts from the Holy Ghost replaced them.
I thought of the plan of salvation and of the great welding link that connects us to our ancestors and our posterity. I thought of the blessings of family history and temple work. I thought of my responsibility to preserve memories and photos and stories. I remembered that the family I have here on earth, I can also have in heaven. And I thought of who makes that possible.

My grandfather, who died more than forty years ago, is also my hero. He taught and helped us when we were struggling with criticism and ostracism from others because we had accepted the gospel. My grandfather was a highly regarded businessman who was meek and kind. Despite his position in society, he always sidestepped praise given him. He lived a simple and humble life, despite his status and his many and obvious talents and qualities. And he taught me by example about love and devotion in marriage.

“Fam’lies can be together forever through Heav’nly Father’s plan” (“Families Can Be Together Forever,” Hymns, no. 300). I love this Primary song, which teaches that families can be sealed for eternity. I prayed that this could be true for my family, especially after my father passed away.
Recently the Lord answered my prayer. My mother, my two brothers, and I were able to travel to the Manila Philippines Temple to be sealed together and to my father. It was our first time in the temple together, and I can still remember the happiness I saw in my mother’s and brothers’ eyes. There was a great feeling of joy there.
I know the temple is the house of the Lord and that those in the temple have the proper authority to perform sacred ordinances. I’m so grateful that through these ordinances my family can be with my father again. Since going to the temple, we try to be a stronger family and do all we can to keep our covenants so that we can be together forever.

Toward the end of his talk President Monson gave us all an invitation. He said, "Ask yourselves, ‘Have I rescued anyone recently?' "

A week later I was in a meeting where we discussed President Monson's talk on rescuing, and one Area Seventy related that he had always tried to visit less-active members when he presided at stake conferences. The next day I flew to Portland to conduct an auxiliary training session. I asked Elder Brinkerhoff, the Area Seventy who hosted me in that city, if we might be able to visit a less-active member following the training session. He immediately thought of a couple he had been home teaching. He said, "Last Sunday they came to sacrament meeting in our ward for the first time."

We visited their home. They were a pure-hearted couple who, for some unknown reason, had become less active. The wife looked at me at one point and said, "Brother Osguthorpe, you probably don't know this, but we went to sacrament meeting for the first time last week." I asked her about her impressions of the meeting. I found it important that she did not mention the messages that had been given from the pulpit; she focused on the members and their friendship. She said, "I was surprised at how many friends we had in this ward even though this was our first time at sacrament meeting. So many people came up to us and were so glad to see us." Then she got tears in her eyes. "I just didn't know we had so many friends."

Elder Brinkerhoff then let them know how much it had meant to him that they had attended, and I asked the wife, "So why do you think Elder Brinkerhoff cares so much?" And again with tears in her eyes, she responded, "Because he loves us."

Elder Brinkerhoff had been meeting with this couple for some time. He had been extending all three types of invitations--invitations that challenge, invitations that befriend, and invitations that rescue. And the couple had finally begun to respond to the invitations. When Elder Brinkerhoff extended these invitations, perhaps it did not always look like teaching. Maybe the couple didn't always feel like he was presenting formal lessons. But in the truest sense, this was gospel teaching at its very best. They were learning key doctrines. They were responding to invitations to action. And they were experiencing the promised blessings.

As I approached my 18th birthday and prepared to enter the mandatory military service required of young men during World War II, I was recommended to receive the Melchizedek Priesthood, but first I needed to telephone my stake president, Paul C. Child, for an interview. He was one who loved and understood the holy scriptures, and it was his intent that all others should similarly love and understand them. Having heard from some of my friends of his rather detailed and searching interviews, I desired minimum exposure of my scriptural knowledge; therefore, when I called him I suggested we meet the following Sunday at a time I knew was just an hour before his sacrament meeting time.
His response: “Oh, Brother Monson, that would not provide us sufficient time to peruse the scriptures.” He then suggested a time three hours before his sacrament meeting, and he instructed me to bring with me my personally marked and referenced set of scriptures.
When I arrived at his home on Sunday, I was greeted warmly, and then the interview began. President Child said, “Brother Monson, you hold the Aaronic Priesthood. Have you ever had angels minister to you?” I replied that I had not. When he asked if I knew I was entitled to such, I again replied that I had not known.
He instructed, “Brother Monson, repeat from memory the 13th section of the Doctrine and Covenants.”
I began, “‘Upon you my fellow servants, in the name of Messiah I confer the Priesthood of Aaron, which holds the keys of the ministering of angels—’”
“Stop,” President Child directed. Then, in a calm, kindly tone, he counseled, “Brother Monson, never forget that as a holder of the Aaronic Priesthood you are entitled to the ministering of angels.”
It was almost as though an angel were in the room that day. I have never forgotten the interview. I yet feel the spirit of that solemn occasion as we together read of the responsibilities, the duties, and the blessings of the Aaronic Priesthood and the Melchizedek Priesthood—blessings which come not only to us but also to our families and to others we will have the privilege to serve.

Following Joseph Smith’s death, Brigham Young was absolutely clear about priorities: first, the Saints must finish the Nauvoo Temple and receive the endowment there. Then they must seek a new home, the prophesied place of refuge in the West. For President Young, these goals required resolute attention. Indeed, so contagious was his enthusiasm that the pace of construction on the Nauvoo Temple increased dramatically under the leadership of the Twelve.

Ironically, such rapid progress inflamed enemies who, fearing that it might be impossible to drive the Mormons from Nauvoo after they finished their temple, vowed to drive them out first. 7 Faced with the probability of violence, in January 1845 Brigham Young momentarily hesitated; should they finish the temple even if it meant bloodshed? His diary records the answer: “I inquired of the Lord whether we should stay here and finish the temple. The answer was we should.” 8

Confirmed in his course, President Young pressed forward with iron resolve. In May, the capstone was laid and the Twelve announced that endowments would begin in December, a timetable they kept. Brigham talked tough throughout this period, partly to intimidate enemies and prevent bloodshed. “We would rather suffer wrong than do wrong,” was his motto, 9 and his faith that the Lord had dictated the direction and would oversee the outcome allowed him to act boldly.

Despite commanding the largest military force in Illinois, President Young declined to unleash the Nauvoo militia when violence finally broke out in September 1845. Instead, he and his fellow Apostles turned to intensive, special prayer, launching what historian B. H. Roberts called “par excellence the period of prayer in the church.” 10

With work on the temple progressing amid a tense peace, in the spring of 1845 President Young turned his attention to the West. Joseph Smith had spoken privately of “a place of safety preparing … away towards the Rocky Mountains.” 11 Only weeks before his martyrdom, the Prophet had commissioned the Twelve to seek that place of refuge.

President Young found it no sacrifice to leave home and temple, for he knew that the destiny of the Saints lay not in Nauvoo but in the West. There, he believed, they would become a mighty people; there they could build new homes and a new temple in safety. Believing this, when mobs attacked settlements around Nauvoo in September 1845, President Young used the occasion to publicly announce the long-planned migration.

A major concern for Brigham was finding the right place. After frequent fasting and daily prayer in his room in the temple, he saw in vision the right spot and felt he could recognize it. His mind at ease, he was now ready.

One month later, Brigham Young and the first company of Saints crossed the Mississippi River, though it was still winter. Once on his way, President Young seemed drawn westward as if by an unseen hand. “Do not think … I hate to leave my house and home,” he wrote his brother Joseph from the Iowa prairies. “No, far from that. … It looks pleasant ahead,” he wrote, “but dark to look back” toward Nauvoo. 12

The Iowa experience, nonetheless, proved difficult, and for a time it seemed that the whole Church was mired, both literally and metaphorically, hub-deep in the spring prairie mud. Moving thousands of Saints hundreds of miles took far longer and consumed more resources than even Brigham Young had imagined. The experience drained him and forced him to grapple with his limitations. He lost so much weight that his clothes no longer fit. Exhausted physically and emotionally, Brigham understood more than ever the need for God’s intervention. And he longed for Joseph to counsel him and to reassure the people.

As Brigham Young left his bed on the morning of 17 February 1847, illness seized him so suddenly that he “fainted away, apparently dead.” 13 Only those who die and go through the veil could know how he felt, he said two weeks later, adding that “I know I went to the world of spirits.” However, it was not given him to remember immediately the details of what he saw there: “All that I know, is what my wife told me about it since. She said that I said, I had been where Joseph & Hyrum was” and that “it is hard coming back to life again.” 14

Once revived, Brigham Young fell asleep and dreamed, and when he awoke, he recorded what he had seen. “In my dream I went to see Joseph,” he wrote. Finding Joseph sitting by a large window looking “perfectly natural,” Brigham took him by the hand, kissed his cheeks, and asked him why they could not be together as before. Joseph arose from his chair, looked at Brigham, and spoke in his usual way: “It is all right.” Brigham protested, but Joseph replied: “You will have to do things without me a while and then we shall be together again.”

Brigham then addressed Joseph as his mentor and asked for counsel. The advice was direct and simple: “Be sure to tell the people to keep the spirit of the Lord.” 15 Brigham then turned and saw Joseph in the light, “but where I had to go was as midnight darkness.” Because Joseph insisted, Brigham “went back in the darkness” and awoke. 16

Though Brigham Young spoke frequently of this in the weeks before heading for the Rockies, he did not elaborate on its meaning. Undoubtedly, it buoyed his spirits and provided still more evidence that he was on the Lord’s (and Joseph’s) errand. Though still burdened by the demands of leadership and the magnitude of the challenge, he was at peace.

That peace was not always shared by those closest to him. Two weeks after President Young’s illness and vision, his brother, Joseph Young, called on him in his office and “stated that he thought 100 lbs Provisions”—the announced minimum for the trek west—“very little for each Pioneer.” Some months before, he had told Brigham that getting the Saints safely across Iowa would require as great a miracle as Moses leading the children of Israel through the wilderness. Should they now expect a second miracle? With so little, he insisted, any mishap at all could endanger the whole enterprise. For Brigham Young, that amount—all they could expect to obtain—simply must do. “Brigham replied he wanted all to stay here, who had not faith to go with that amount.” 17 Though not foolhardy, President Young was realistic. After doing the best they could, the Saints had no choice but to depend on the Lord for the rest.

President Young faced the challenge with such unwavering confidence because he knew the plan was not his own. As he told the Saints nearly 10 years later, “I did not devise the great scheme of the Lord’s opening the way to send this people to these mountains.” Who did? “It was the power of God that wrought out salvation for this people,” he insisted. 18

From the moment Brigham Young entered the Salt Lake Valley in 1847, he had a focused sense of mission about what the Saints must do there and a firm conviction that, through the Lord’s protection, they would be privileged to do so.19 He foresaw that if they lived worthily, they would never be driven from there.20 This faith sustained him and informed his decisions throughout his long tenure as civic and Church leader in Utah.

In 1857–58, President Young’s faith was put to a severe test as thousands of U.S. troops marched to Utah as an “escort” for Alfred Cumming, who was sent by the U.S. government to replace Brigham Young as governor. Some have argued that Governor Young should have immediately sought a political solution. Logically, compromise and accommodation seemed the only policy that might preserve peace.

President Young felt otherwise. The Saints’ experiences in Missouri had taught him what enemies can do when backed by military authority. Confident that if the Saints did all in their power, the Lord would prevent disaster, Governor Young declared martial law and mobilized the territorial militia to do everything short of bloodshed to slow down the advancing troops. Grasslands and supply wagons were burned, provisions and cattle confiscated, and the advance units harassed day and night. Still the troops came—until the timely arrival of heavy snows forced the army into winter camp near Fort Bridger, roughly a hundred miles from the Mormon settlement in the Salt Lake Valley. 21

That did not end the army’s advance, of course. By spring, soldiers wanted revenge for a miserable winter. Facing a renewed and perhaps even more dangerous threat, Brigham Young ordered his men to prepare to oppose the army but added the promise that “not a gun will be fired, not a man slain.” One of his commanders, a man who viewed President Young as the Lord’s mouthpiece, replied that “he knew it was true but he did not believe a word of it.” Given the circumstances, bloodshed seemed inevitable. 22

Even as troops advanced toward the city, Brigham Young and governor-designate Alfred Cumming, aided by Thomas L. Kane, the non-Mormon friend of the Saints who had risked his life to reach Utah in the winter, concluded a peaceful accord. Without incident, the army marched peacefully through a deserted Salt Lake City to an isolated encampment 30 miles away. U.S. Army Captain Jesse Gove summarized the toll of the Utah War: “killed, none; wounded, none; fooled, everybody” 23—everybody except Brigham Young, who, throughout, had an inner assurance that the encounter would not result in calamity.

President Young’s leadership was not flawless, of course; in mortality, no one’s is. “There are weaknesses manifested in men that I am bound to forgive,” he said on one occasion. “I am right there myself. I am liable to mistakes,” he continued, but “I am where I can see the light. I try to keep in the light.” 24 The promise he felt was not that he would make no mistakes or always know what was best but that, in the end, God oversees the essentials. He quickly abandoned what did not work well for something that might work better, but his direction and his destination remained unchanging. Long-term goals based on revelation provided the consistency that informed his day-to-day decisions and gave him the confidence to press forward regardless of the obstacles—or even the errors.

Such certainty sometimes made Brigham Young appear stubborn. A few months after the peaceful resolution of the Utah War, President Young visited Governor Cumming. Concerned that they had narrowly averted disaster, the fair-minded governor cautioned Brigham Young to refrain from provocative acts in the future.

“With all due respect to your Excellency,” the President interrupted, “I do not calculate to take the advice of any man that lives in relation to my affairs.” Though not spurning friends and counselors, during such crises, in God alone would he trust. “My religion is true,” he told the governor solemnly, “and I am determined to obey its precepts while I live.” He would, he insisted, “follow the councils of my heavenly Father, and I have faith to follow it, and risk the consequences. …

“You may think strange of it,” he concluded, “but you will yet see that I am right.” 25

This story took place in New Zealand.
Carlan and her family went to a cemetery to learn more about their family history.
Mummy, where do people go when they die?
Well, their bodies stay here, but their spirits go to the spirit world.
What do they do there?
They learn and teach about Jesus.
Will we ever see them again?
Yes, we will! After Jesus died, He lived again. Because of Him, we will live again too. That’s called resurrection.
This is my cousin’s grave.
Will your cousin live again too?
Yes! We will all live again. And our family can be together forever.
Wow! I can’t wait to meet your cousin someday.
Illustrations by Book of Lai

When David Thomas Kelly, 17, was accepted for the Aboriginal Teachers Aide course, his family moved to Perth, Australia, so he could attend school. There his family met the missionaries and was converted to the Church.
David became involved in early morning seminary and played the organ for priesthood meetings. Now he has accepted a call as a labor missionary to work full-time on the renovation of the chapel/community center in Dianella, Western Australia. He is one of the first aborigines to be called to missionary service in Australia. In a couple of years, David hopes to serve a full-time teaching mission.

Much like another young man, whom I will mention later, I was 14 when I started to question religion and my faith. I attended the church of another denomination close to my house, but I felt the desire to visit many different churches.
One afternoon, I noticed two young men in dark suits and white shirts entering my neighbor’s home. These young men looked—special.
The next day I met my neighbor, Leonor Lopez, and asked her about those two men. Leonor explained that they were missionaries for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She joyfully told me that her family was baptized into the Church a year earlier. Seeing my interest, Leonor invited me to meet the missionaries and learn about the Church.
Two days later, I joined the Lopez family to meet the missionaries. They introduced themselves as Elder John Messerly from Ogden, Utah, and Elder Christopher Osorio from Walnut Creek, California. I will never forget them.
Since I was only 14, Elder Messerly insisted we go next door to my home so that my mother could know what they were teaching me. There, he kindly explained that they came to share a message about Jesus Christ and asked for her permission to teach me. Mother agreed and even joined us while they taught me.
The missionaries first asked Leonor to offer a prayer. This touched me very deeply because her prayer was not a repetition of memorized words but an expression from her heart. I felt she was really talking to her Heavenly Father.
The missionaries then taught us about Jesus Christ. They showed a picture of Him that impressed me because it was a picture of the resurrected, living Christ.
They continued, teaching us how Jesus established His Church in ancient times, with Him at the head joined by twelve Apostles. They taught us about the Apostasy—how truth and Christ’s authority had been taken from the earth after His Apostles died.
They told us of a young 14-year-old boy named Joseph Smith who, during the early 1800s, visited different churches searching for truth. As time went on, Joseph became even more confused. After reading in the Bible that we can “ask of God” for wisdom, Joseph, acting in faith, retired to a grove of trees to pray and ask which church he should join.
One of the missionaries read Joseph’s account of what happened as he prayed:
“I saw a pillar of light exactly over my head, above the brightness of the sun, which descended gradually until it fell upon me.
“… When the light rested upon me I saw two Personages, whose brightness and glory defy all description, standing above me in the air. One of them spake unto me, calling me by name and said, pointing to the other—This is My Beloved Son. Hear Him!”
During that lesson, the Spirit confirmed to me several truths.
First, God listens to all His children’s sincere prayers, and heaven is open to all—not just a few.
Second, God the Father, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Ghost are three separate beings, united in Their purpose “to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man.”
Third, we are created in the image of God. Our Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, have bodies of flesh and bones like us, but They are glorified and perfected, and the Holy Ghost is a personage of spirit.
Fourth, through Joseph Smith, Jesus Christ restored His gospel and true Church to the earth. The priesthood authority conferred on Christ’s Apostles 2,000 years ago is the same priesthood conferred upon Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery by Peter, James, and John.
Finally, we learned about another testament of Jesus Christ: the Book of Mormon. Written by ancient prophets, it tells of the people who lived in the Americas before, during, and after the birth of Jesus. From it we learn of how they knew, loved, and worshipped Christ, who appeared to them as the resurrected Savior.
The Spirit moved me profoundly as I learned of the Savior’s declaration to them: “Behold, I am Jesus Christ, whom the prophets testified shall come into the world.”
The missionaries gave us our own copy of the Book of Mormon. We read and accepted the invitation found at the end of the Book of Mormon, which reads:
“And when ye shall receive these things, I would exhort you that ye would ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, if these things are not true; and if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost.
“And by the power of the Holy Ghost ye may know the truth of all things.”
It has been almost 45 years since my mother and I first learned the joy and power of having faith in Christ. It was because of their faith in Christ that the Lopez family shared their new faith with me. It was because of their faith in Christ that these two missionaries left their homes in the United States to find my mother and me. It was the faith of all these dear friends that planted a mustard seed of faith in us that has since grown into a mighty tree of eternal blessings.
During these blessed years, we have known, as President Russell M. Nelson declared: “Everything good in life—every potential blessing of eternal significance—begins with faith. Allowing God to prevail in our lives begins with faith that He is willing to guide us. True repentance begins with faith that Jesus Christ has the power to cleanse, heal, and strengthen us.”

In 1999, I made a significant decision to leave my position at the Polynesian Cultural Center as a full-time musician to become a teacher. This choice felt monumental. While I loved my job as a musician, my passion for shaping young minds compelled me to pursue a career in education. I felt strongly that this was where I was meant to be.

In the scriptures, we learn that “children are an heritage of the Lord.” [4] This profound truth resonated with me as I embarked on my teaching career. I remembered the Savior’s admonition in Matthew 18:3, where He taught, “Verily I say unto you, Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.” [5] This scripture reminded me of the purity, faith, and obedience that children embody, and it became a guiding principle in my teaching philosophy.

In Sister Jean A. Stevens’ April 2011 general conference talk, “Become as a Little Child,” she shared how Jesus Christ taught us to look to children as examples of faith and obedience. [6] I found this message to be a reminder that I needed to be humble and always to contemplate my purpose: Was I merely going through the motions, or was Heavenly Father guiding my every step? As I began teaching, I realized the profound influence I could have on my students’ lives, and I embraced this opportunity with enthusiasm.

One pivotal moment in my journey occurred when a principal recognized potential in me that I hadn’t seen in myself. She asked me to sign a piece of paper, which I later discovered was my enrollment in the administrator licensing courses for the Department of Education. It was a leap into the unknown, but I felt a divine nudge encouraging me to take that step. As I embarked on this new journey, I understood that every experience—every twist and turn—was leading me closer to understanding my purpose.

After five years of teaching, I became a principal, and I felt both exhilarated and intimidated by the responsibility. In 2012, I was asked to transfer from He‘eia Elementary to King Intermediate School, a challenge that tested my resolve. I often pondered whether I had the capability to help the youth of this community, but deep down, I felt that Heavenly Father had a plan for me, even if I couldn’t see it clearly at the time.

The trials and tribulations of being a principal were many, but so were the blessings. I leaned into my faith and the principles of the gospel, relying on the teachings of our Heavenly Father to guide me. After many nights of fasting and prayer, I reorganized my teaching philosophy and based it on the fundamentals of the Church’s Children and Youth program. The structure and organization of this very well-established program was something I needed to learn and morph into my organizational structure. With this structure in place, my admiration for the Church’s infrastructure was deepened. I learned that students need to feel loved, to have a sense of purpose, and to be valued. To achieve this, it was essential to value the teachers, for they are the backbone of the educational experience.

During this time, I recalled President Gordon B. Hinckley’s counsel in his opening remarks for the April 2005 general conference to “stand a little taller” in every aspect of our lives. He taught us to “lift our eyes and stretch our minds to a greater comprehension and understanding of the grand millennial mission of this The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” [7] I sought to create an environment where students and teachers alike felt valued and inspired, a place where we could all stand a little taller and believe that we have the capability to achieve greatness. I believed that by fostering a culture of love and support, we could create a nurturing atmosphere conducive to learning and growth.

These school years brought many challenges, but also great rewards. In 2013, our school received the STRIVE HI Award, recognizing our students for achieving the highest test results in Hawaii. That same year, I was honored as Hawaii’s Principal of the Year, and later, received the National Principal of the Year award. As I stood on that stage, accepting these honors, I couldn’t help but reflect on my journey and the divine hand that guided me. From a small town in Turangi, moving to Hawaii, and never thinking these opportunities would be offered to someone like me. Those that were honored were principals with unbelievable experiences—and then there was me! The question that always came to mind was, “Why me? What does my Heavenly Father want me to do with this opportunity? How do I share my testimony on this platform?” The spotlight was overwhelming, and I felt a surge of insecurity and inadequacy. I began to pray earnestly, seeking guidance from Heavenly Father. I realized that every blessing and recognition was not just for me, but for my students, my community, my culture, and my family, but most importantly for our God.