Gospel Story Finder

Did you like that Friend magazine I gave you?
Yeah. My dad liked it too, but he just lost his job, so we don’t have money for things like magazines …
Dad, I know we don’t have a lot of money this year because we had to move, but can we get Audrey a Friend subscription for Christmas? You could take it out of whatever you were going to get me.
In fact, I really don’t need much. Could we just give Audrey’s family most of what you would have spent on me? Without letting them know who it was?
I guess so, if you’re sure that’s what you want.
I was really hoping for that cool new scooter. She’s Mandy’s friend, not mine. In fact, she acts like I don’t exist.
But Mandy looked really happy when she told Dad what she wanted to do.
Dad, I heard what Mandy was saying. Would you do the same thing with my Christmas presents? But don’t tell Mandy. I mean, I don’t want her to think I like her friends.
You know what I mean.
You’re never going to guess what those two kids of ours just did.
Uh oh! Do I want to hear this?
Oh, trust me. You do.

One day the three of them took Old Brownie and Belle and went up City Creek Canyon for a jag of firewood. As soon as they’d found a good place to stop and load up, Pa had Jeremy unhitch the team so that they could graze while the wagon was loaded.
“There,” said Pa, when the wagon was full. “That’ll do it for this trip. Hitch the horses back to the wagon, Jeremy, while Brose and I fasten the chain around the load to keep any logs from falling off.”
“Let me hook up the horses, Pa!” cried Brose. “I can do it, honest! I watched you and Jere do it every day, coming across the plains! Let me hook ‘em up, Pa!”
Pa hesitated, then said, “All right, Brose. Don’t forget to fasten the crosslines, so you can drive the team together without their trying to go off in all directions.”
“So you can drive them!” That’s what Pa said! Maybe, if I hook ‘em up just right, thought Brose, Pa’ll let me drive all the way home!
Brose didn’t have any trouble leading the horses into place. Brownie stepped right over the wagon tongue into her place while Belle stood quietly waiting on the other side. Then, just as Pa had cautioned, Brose fastened the crosslines, snapping the one from Belle’s harness onto the ring on Brownie’s bit, and the other onto the ring on Belle’s bridle.
Next he took the wide leather strap on the front of Brownie’s harness, slipped it through the big ring on the end of the yoke, and fastened the snap to the ring on the other side of the harness. “There! That was just the way Jeremy would have done it,” Brose murmured, pleased. He fastened the strap on Belle’s harness to the yoke the same way. Then he took the driving line from where Jeremy had hung it on Brownie’s hame and threw it ever so gently over Belle’s back, just the way Pa would have done it—quiet, easy, so as not to frighten the team.
When he walked around to put Belle’s line with the other, Brose heard a bird call. It was a new sound, something like a meadowlark’s, yet different. It was more like that little brown bird he used to hear back in Connecticut before the family had come west. Maybe it was! Maybe that very same little brown bird had followed him, Ambrose Dodd, all the way to the Valley!
Brose didn’t know how long he had listened to the bird before he saw Pa and Jeremy. They had walked a little way down the canyon and had stopped, waiting for him.
Brose was to bring the team and wagon! He was going to drive! He climbed up onto the seat, picked up both of the lines, and slapped them against Brownie’s side, just as Pa would have done.
“Giddap!” he cried, loud enough for Pa and Jeremy and the horses to hear. The horses stepped forward. But the wagon did not move. Only the yoke went with the team, the ring on it sliding off the end of the wagon tongue and the lines slipping through Brose’s hands.
Jeremy ran toward him just as the wagon tongue banged to the ground. “Brose!” he called. “Hey, Brose! You forgot the wagon! It won’t move unless you hitch the tugs!”
Brose couldn’t move. How could he have been so dumb! How could he possibly have forgotten about the tugs?
Jeremy reached out and took the lines and drove the team around in a little circle, putting the team right in place. Brose came out of his daze and scurried around to pick up the end of the tongue and slip it through the ring of the yoke, which was still fastened to the horses.
Jeremy was just hooking the last tug to the doubletree when Pa came. Brose watched Pa climb over the front wheel and take his place on the front of the load. Pa reached for the lines, and Jeremy handed them up to him. Pa took them without a word, and Brose knew that he had lost another chance.
There wasn’t much talking during chores that night. When supper was over, Brose sat on the little stool beside the fire, listening to the crackling and hissing of the pine knot and watching the sparks it sometimes sent up with the smoke.
Jeremy took Pa’s fiddle from its case, and music began to fill the little cabin, then float away on the night air. Brose leaned back against the warm cabin wall near the fireplace and listened. He wished—oh, how he wished!—that he could play like Jere. Pa had been fair about it, though. He had tried to teach both of them. Brose still remembered Pa’s words: “Seems as though you’ve got ten thumbs, Brose, and they all want to go in different directions.”
Pa had quit trying to teach him soon after that, and at the time Brose had been relieved. But now every time he listened to the fiddle singing under Jere’s fingers, Brose wished Pa hadn’t given up quite so quickly.
He’d much rather be standing there by Pa’s chair, playing the fiddle, with Ma and Trudy and Willie giving him all the smiles Jeremy was getting, than do the job he was supposed to be doing. He saw Ma looking at him from time to time, but she didn’t interrupt the music with talking, and after a bit Brose made himself get started.
He knew someone had to straighten out the kinks in the wool so that Ma and Trudy could knit it into socks for winter. Brose hated to card. Mostly women and girls did it, but Ma said that Trudy was as fast at knitting as she was, herself. With both of them knitting, they could have twice as many socks ready when winter came. They could, that is, if Brose would just keep ahead of them with the carding.
Brose had his problems with this job too. Sometimes he got the wool so tangled up that Ma said it was worse for knitting when he got through with it than before he started. But she had more patience than Pa. Or maybe she needed the wool carded more than Pa needed another boy to play the fiddle.
Across the firelight Brose saw both Ma and Trudy knitting, each tapping a foot in time to the music. The only time either of them stopped was if one of them happened to drop a stitch. Then the stitch-dropper would move closer to the fire so that she could see to pick it up. Brose sighed as he pulled the big basket of wool closer to him and reached for the cards.
He laid one card close to the fire so that the wire brush would warm. He picked up a handful of wool and drew it across the other card. Then he took the card he had warmed and pulled it carefully across the wool, trying to get the strands straight.
“Learned that fiddle quicker’n I did,” said Pa, as Jeremy stopped for a moment. “Never did see a boy pick it up as fast as that.”
Pa will never be that proud of me, thought Brose, even if I did the carding perfectly! Ma would be pleased, but Pa and Jere wouldn’t care about it at all. Maybe … just maybe someday I’ll do something that they’ll think is important …
“Brose!” He was startled from his daydream by Ma’s voice. “The wool, Brose! I can smell it! You’ve got it too close to the fire!”
(To be concluded.)

Joseph Smith counseled all the members living in Missouri to gather to either Far West or Adam-ondi-Ahman for protection. However, Jacob Haun, who was the leader of the settlement of Haun’s Mill, didn’t want to leave his property. He counseled the others living there to stay; they would defend themselves if necessary.
On October 30, a mob of about 240 men approached Haun’s Mill with the intent of carrying out the governor’s extermination order. While the men in the settlement sought protection in the blacksmith shop, the women and children fled into the woods as the mob attacked. David Evans swung his hat at the mob and cried for peace, but the mob only shot at him. The mob also fired on the unarmed women and children.
Amanda Smith grabbed her two daughters and escaped across the millpond on a walkway. When the mob finally entered the blacksmith shop, seven-year-old Alma Smith saw them murder his father and brother. He himself was severely shot in the hip. His mother later found him, and through prayer and by following the instructions of the Spirit, he was healed. At least seventeen people were killed at Haun’s Mill and thirteen others were wounded.
Things were getting more tense in Far West also. The state militia took over the city. In November 1838, many of the Church leaders were arrested and taken to prison. It was at this time that Joseph Smith and other brethren were taken to Liberty Jail, where they spent four difficult months. While they were there, the rest of the Saints got ready to leave Missouri and move to Illinois. As they prepared to leave their homes, Amanda Smith and many others were harassed by the mobs.
But the Lord was watching over them. One day Amanda had gone into a cornfield to pray. As she was leaving it, a voice spoke to her, a voice as plain as any she had ever heard. It repeated a verse from a hymn: “The soul that on Jesus hath leaned for repose / I will not, I cannot, desert to his foes; / That soul, though all hell should endeavor to shake, / I’ll never, no never, no never forsake!” (Hymns, 1985, no. 85.)
From that moment Amanda had no more fears. Like the other Saints who remained faithful and obedient, she knew that the Lord would watch over her.

William Law had first wept at the Prophet’s announcement of the principle of plural marriage, and with his arms around Joseph’s neck had pleaded that he not teach it. His son Richard, who said this took place about 1842 and who was present at the time, later related the incident to Joseph W. McMurrin, who summarized his remarks as follows: “William Law, with his arms around the neck of the Prophet, was pleading with him to withdraw the doctrine of plural marriage, which he had at that time commenced to teach to some of the brethren, Mr. Law predicting that if Joseph would abandon the doctrine, ‘Mormonism’ would, in fifty or one hundred years, dominate the Christian world. Mr. Law pleaded for this . . . with tears streaming from his eyes. The Prophet was also in tears, but he informed the gentleman that he could not withdraw the doctrine, for God had commanded him to teach it, and condemnation would come upon him if he was not obedient to the commandment.” In conversation with others of the brethren Joseph said the Lord had told him that keys would be turned against him if he did not obey the commandment. How early did he know that plural marriage would be restored? At least as early as 1832. By 1842, ten years later, he had introduced it. (Of that principle, Joseph told the brethren, “I shall die for it.”) Over that William Law became bitter, and soon he was excommunicated. Then Law attempted to organize his own church and began to fight back. He and his brother, Wilson, Chauncey and Francis Higbee, and Robert and Charles Foster were the sextet responsible for the publication on June 7, 1844, of the first and only issue of the Nauvoo Expositor.

An observant young man noted, “There are some missionary approaches that I’ve noticed don’t work, and some that I’ve noticed do work, and one that doesn’t work is saying, ‘This is what you believe, and it’s wrong.’ I did that a few times and wrecked some good chances. But now my younger brother and sister are taking a couple of Jewish friends to Primary with them, with the permission of their friends’ mother. So far they haven’t asked much about the Church, but we think that if we just don’t jump on them and try to push too hard that maybe they will come around.”

At one point I was traveling in rural Uganda to meet the organizer of a women’s co-op. It was raining hard and the streets were not paved. By the time we arrived at the house, my friend Kristyn and I were muddy. I really hesitated though to take off my shoes to enter the house. They were fairly expensive walking sandals; I had bought them specifically because I knew I would be walking a lot in Africa that summer. With some anxiety I left them on the front porch.

When I stepped in the house I was astonished to see a paper on the refrigerator that read “As Sisters in Zion.” Kristyn and I actually starting singing, and then a lilting voice joined us from the other room. I then noticed a picture of the First Presidency of the Church on the wall. We were in this little slice of heaven. Our new friend greeted us with a very traditional and gracious Ugandan greeting: “You are welcome.” And we responded by saying “thank you,” which is the opposite of what we do in the United States. This woman was in the Mukono Ward, and her husband was the bishop. She told us her story and we met her kids. It was a glorious hour.

When we exited the house, my shoes were gone. I will admit that my soul sank. All those lovely feelings fled. Then from around the corner of the house came a neighbor holding my clean shoes. It must have taken her the whole hour to remove the caked-on mud. She simply said, “You are welcome.” I felt the love of God and the goodness of people. Those shoes mattered to me right then only because they had given me the experience of seeing the kindness of strangers and realizing again that any hard thing I have done really has come through the help of God and others.

Thump! went the backpack on the living room end table. “Put your bag in your room, Petey!” Mother said as she rounded the corner, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. Her smile faded as she noticed Peter’s somber face. “Are you OK?”
“I guess so.” Peter shrugged as he hung his coat on a hook by the door.
“Then why the glum face? Did you have a fight with Justin?”
“Well, no … It’s just that whenever I ask him to come to Primary with me, he says he’s too busy or has stuff to do or something. Why can’t I make him come? Primary is so cool!”
“Let’s sit down a minute,” Mother said, heading for the couch. She tossed the towel onto the end table next to Peter’s backpack. “Do you remember the eleventh article of faith?” she asked when they were seated. “I think that’s one you’ve already learned.”
“Hmmm, let me think.”
“‘We claim the privilege …’” she started him off.
“Oh, yeah! I remember now. That’s the one that says ‘how, where, or what they may.’”
“That’s right! It says, ‘We claim the privilege of worshiping Almighty God according to the dictates of our own conscience, and allow all men the same privilege, let them worship …’”
“‘how, where, or what they may!’” Peter finished proudly.
“That’s very good, Petey. But do you know what it means?”
Peter began to fidget on the couch.
Mother smiled thoughtfully. “Let me see if I can help. Remember last week, when Dad was out of town and we had that snowstorm?”
“Do I ever! We had to shovel the walks and driveway before school. It was a lot of work. And then the neighbor kids wanted to walk through the snow, so they tromped across our lawn, instead! What a waste of time!” Peter shook his head, remembering the footprints across the front lawn.
“Well, no it wasn’t,” Mother corrected gently. “Because our walks were clear, it was easy to get the car out to take you to school.”
“OK, OK.” Peter’s nose wrinkled slightly. “I still don’t get what that has to do with the eleventh article of faith—or Justin.”
“Well, we worked hard to clear a path in the snow—that’s what we wanted to do. It was important to us. But the neighborhood children chose to walk in the snow, instead—because that’s what was important to them. Right?”
“Right,” Peter said. “So what?”
“Well, you want Justin to go to Primary on Sunday because it’s important to you, right?”
“Oh. I think I get it,” Peter said slowly. “Even though I choose to go to Primary, that doesn’t mean that Justin has to, right?”
Mother smiled. “That’s right. Heavenly Father has given us a very precious gift called agency. It is the right to choose and act for ourselves. We can’t force someone to follow the same path we choose to follow. However, while you need to let Justin have his agency, it’s also very good for you to love him and be his friend. You can keep showing Justin the ‘clear path’ that’s important to you. And maybe—just maybe—he’ll want to follow it one day.”
As Peter grabbed his backpack and headed up the stairs, he turned and smiled. “I’m glad I have my agency so I can choose to go to Primary.”

When Jason woke up on Saturday morning, he jumped out of bed, looked out his window, saw the sun shining, and heard birds singing. He smiled his biggest smile. “What a happy day!” Jason said as he got dressed.
He began to clean his bedroom. He was expecting company, and he wanted his bedroom to look just right. He put all his cars and trucks and other toys in the toy box. He put all his books on their shelves. He put his dirty clothes in a basket.
Finally Jason looked around and smiled. “My bedroom looks good,” he said. “Now I am ready for my company.” He jumped back into bed, pulled his blankets up around his chin, and waited.
Pretty soon he heard a noise in the hall. He shut his eyes and tried to act like he was asleep. Squeak, squeak went the door to his bedroom as it slowly opened. Dad, Mom, and Jason’s two sisters tip-toed to his bed and began to sing. “Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. …”
Jason opened his eyes and smiled his biggest smile. “Thank you,” he said. “I knew you would come for my birthday!”

Inspiration from the Holy Spirit has been so important in my life. When I was a young college student wondering what I should major in, I chose physics even though I did not have an answer to the question “What will you do with that?” I felt peace through the Holy Spirit. When I went to graduate school but didn’t know how a PhD in physics would mesh with my desire to primarily be at home with my young children, I kept going because the Holy Spirit whispered peace. As different unexpected opportunities arose for me to keep a toe in my career, I was amazed. I did not anticipate that when our youngest child was in eighth grade, the Holy Spirit would prompt me to apply for a full-time faculty job. When I applied, I did not anticipate that so many things would happen to make it exactly the right time to do so. I never planned to be a university professor and am still quite astounded by how things continue to unfold as I move ahead. I am extremely grateful for inspiration from the Holy Spirit.

For example, when Kenneth Miklya was converted to the gospel, the priests quorum in the St. Paul Minnesota First Ward took care of all the baptismal arrangements, under the bishop’s direction. One seventeen-year-old priest conducted the service, another presented an appropriate spiritual message, and a third baptized him. During the following months Ken received the Aaronic Priesthood and was ordained a deacon, a teacher, and a priest—all by his fellow priests quorum members. “It was a meaningful experience for all the young men involved,” says Thomas A. Holt of the St. Paul Minnesota Stake. “The priesthood became a reality to them. Most of these young men are currently serving missions.”

This missionary ticks all the usual boxes—he wears a white shirt and tie, has his scriptures at the ready, and possesses a natural faith in God. But something else makes Elder Gavin Chambers stand out from the crowd.
Chambers is a 206 centimetre (6-foot 9-inch) all-American volleyball player! From Corona, California, he’s traded in his volleyball togs for the threads of a full time missionary.
Elder Chambers has been serving in the Papatoetoe area of the New Zealand Auckland Mission, where he recently began training a junior missionary companion, Elder Bryce Jacobson “I really look up to Elder Chambers,” says Elder Jacobson, clearly referring to him as a senior companion. But at his height, being looked up to is something Chambers is used to.
He was always tall. “By the time I was 13, I was already 182 cm (six feet). But my real growth spurt didn’t begin until my sophomore year in high school.” He reached his full height by his senior year, and, as with most tall kids, it was assumed he would play basketball. That was not to be.
“I never really liked basketball,” he noted. “The other kids and the coaches always kind of made fun of me, telling me I couldn’t jump.”
His mother urged him, instead, to try a local recreation league volleyball team. “I had never had so much fun in any sport before,” Chambers says. “I was hooked! Even though I wasn’t very good, I went home and told Mom that volleyball was the sport for me!”
Great club coaching helped him find his footing in the game, and because of his prodigious height, they made him a middle blocker. Finally, the burden of being tall began to pay-off. After a season of club volleyball, he was anxious to join his high school team and test his new skills. But disaster struck in his very first scrimmage.
“I jumped and extended myself to try and block a ball, and when I came down, I landed on the foot of the guy on the other side of the net and broke my ankle,” Chambers recounted. “I had to wear a boot everywhere after that and I didn’t get to play at all my freshman season.”
“It was frustrating to have made progress in this new sport I really liked, then lose that whole season.”
But from the ashes of that setback rose the phoenix of an all-star career. Over the next three years, Chambers became a feared opponent on the court, drawing the attention of college volleyball teams throughout the US. He turned down scholarships offered by top schools—Stanford and UCLA among them—in favour of what he truly wanted: to play for the nationally-ranked Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah (USA).
Chambers’ youth career culminated in the summer of 2022, with the victory of his Orange Coast Volleyball Club at the under-18 national club volleyball championship. Chambers was named first-team all-American by the American Volleyball Coaches Association. The kid who couldn’t jump had proven all of those early naysayers wrong.
“After that tournament . . . I took a couple of weeks and kind of basked in the excitement of it all—I wore my gold medal . . . and enjoyed the recognition,” Chambers says. “But then I knew it was time to move on with my life.”
That meant accepting his call to serve as a missionary for the Church. With his newly found fame, one might think it was difficult to walk away from volleyball, but Chambers had already made that decision as a 12-year-old. He wanted to serve the Lord by inviting others to come unto Christ. Going on a mission was the right thing to do.
“Sure, it was hard to stop playing volleyball . . . but I had prayed about this decision, and I felt confident that the plan Heavenly Father had for me was to serve a mission right after high school.”
He says deciding early in his life made it much easier to manage all of the other things that could have acted as roadblocks to missionary service. “You want to make sure that you pray about that decision, too, because you may have ideas about what you want to do with your life, but your plan and the one Heavenly Father has for you may be different.”
Because of a visa issue for New Zealand, Chambers began his missionary service in the West Virginia Charleston Mission. There, he saw people in severe economic distress, but Chambers found them to be humble, just searching for spiritual guidance in their lives.
The gospel of Jesus Christ is the answer.
The situation in New Zealand is a lot different, but people here are also searching for answers to life’s questions. “We’re making friends everywhere we go, talking to people and sharing God’s plan of happiness with them,” he continues. “The work is hard, and we get rejected . . . , but we have tremendous faith that we’ll find people who are looking for a spiritual change in their lives,” he said. “When they’re ready to listen we’re going to be there, to answer their questions and help them learn what to do.”
“As I look back now, I can see how the Lord answered my prayers, and helped me find that perfect time to serve,” Elder Chambers says. “By doing things the Lord’s way, I was able to receive an offer to play at a college that would allow me to serve a mission and live my volleyball dream afterwards.”

Some years ago, for instance, a brother in our ward mentioned that his wife and several of their children were sick with influenza. I sympathized and asked routinely if I could do anything to help. He surprised me by saying, “Yes, you could bring our dinner tomorrow night.”
All the next day I complained about spending my valuable time preparing a meal for his family when he was well and perfectly able to feed them himself. What a contrast that was to the happy feeling I experienced recently while preparing dinner for the family of a sister who was recuperating from surgery.
What happened between these two experiences to change my attitude? Discussions in Relief Society about compassionate service have helped; the examples of joyful service in our ward have been even more influential. So many sisters are anxious to serve that in some instances it seems one practically has to sign a list and wait for your turn to serve.

“Can we talk?” Jonas asked Mom. He sat down on the grass next to where she was weeding the flower bed.
“Sure. What’s going on?” Mom asked. She took off her dirty garden gloves.
“Today at school some kids were saying a word I didn’t know. They laughed when they said it,” Jonas said. “I think it was a bad word.”
“How did you feel when you heard the word?” asked Mom.
“It didn’t make me feel good.”
Jonas whispered the word to Mom. She told him what it meant. Jonas was right. It wasn’t a nice word.
“But why is it bad?” he asked.
“It’s bad because it’s unkind and not respectful. When we use words like that, it makes it hard for the Holy Ghost to be with us. The Holy Ghost was telling you it was bad. That’s why you didn’t feel good inside.”
Jonas frowned. “But the other kids seemed to be having fun. Why was I the only one who felt uncomfortable?”
“How do you know the other kids didn’t feel the same way?” Mom asked.
“Because they all laughed and smiled when someone said the word.” Jonas felt confused.
“Sometimes people laugh or smile when they feel uncomfortable,” Mom said. “And sometimes when they hear or say bad words a lot, it doesn’t bother them anymore. But it’s still not right to say those words. It’s kind of like these weeds. I’m pulling them out to keep the garden clean and to let good plants grow.”
“I’m glad I didn’t say the word,” said Jonas.
“Me too,” said Mom. “I’m proud of you. And I have an idea. Why don’t we make a family promise?”
“What kind?” Jonas asked.
“Let’s promise to use good words and not bad words. It can be a family pact.”
Jonas liked that idea. He and Mom shook hands. Jonas felt good about the promise he made with Mom.
“Now, how about you promise to help me finish weeding?” Mom asked. “Then I’ll promise to take you to the park.”
Jonas grinned and picked up a spade. “It’s a deal.”
As he helped Mom, Jonas felt much better. He knew promising not to use bad words was a good choice for their family.
This story took place in the USA.

Actually, my wife and I visited Paradise earlier this year—Paradise, California, that is. As it happened, our scheduled visit there came less than 40 hours after our daughter departed from this world. We, along with Elder Kevin W. Pearson and his wife, June, were bolstered by the Saints of the Chico California Stake. We learned of their great faith, their ministering, and the miracles that occurred even amidst their devastating losses from the most destructive wildfire in the history of California.
While there, we spoke at length with a young police officer, John, who was one of many brave first responders. He recalled the thick darkness that descended upon Paradise on November 8, 2018, as flames and embers raced through the town, devouring property and possessions like a scourge and leaving nothing but piles of ash and stark brick chimneys.
For 15 hours, John drove through an impenetrable darkness that was streaked with javelins of threatening embers as he helped person after person, family after family escape to safety—all at the peril of his own life. Yet during that strenuous ordeal, what terrified John most was his all-consuming question: “Where is my family?” After many long, terrifying hours of anguish, he finally learned of their safe evacuation.
The account of John’s concern for his family has prompted me to speak today with those of you who may ask when approaching the end of your mortal life, “Where is my family?” In that coming day when you will complete your mortal probation and enter the spirit world, you will be brought face-to-face with that heart-wrenching question: “Where is my family?”
Jesus Christ teaches the way back to our eternal home. He understands our Heavenly Father’s plan of eternal progression better than any of us. After all, He is the keystone of it all. He is our Redeemer, our Healer, and our Savior.
Ever since Adam and Eve were expelled from the Garden of Eden, Jesus the Christ has offered His mighty arm to help all who choose to follow Him. Repeatedly, scriptures record that despite all kinds of sins from all kinds of people, His arms are outstretched still.2
The spirit in each of us naturally yearns for family love to last forever. Love songs perpetuate a false hope that love is all you need if you want to be together forever. And some erroneously believe that the Resurrection of Jesus Christ provides a promise that all people will be with their loved ones after death.
In truth, the Savior Himself has made it abundantly clear that while His Resurrection assures that every person who ever lived will indeed be resurrected and live forever,3 much more is required if we want to have the high privilege of exaltation. Salvation is an individual matter, but exaltation is a family matter.
Listen to these words spoken by the Lord Jesus Christ to His prophet: “All covenants, contracts, bonds, obligations, oaths, vows, performances, connections, associations, or expectations, that are not made and entered into and sealed by the Holy Spirit of promise … are of no efficacy, virtue, or force in and after the resurrection from the dead; for all contracts that are not made unto this end have an end when men are dead.”4
So, what is required for a family to be exalted forever? We qualify for that privilege by making covenants with God, keeping those covenants, and receiving essential ordinances.
This has been true since the beginning of time. Adam and Eve, Noah and his wife, Abraham and Sarah, Lehi and Sariah, and all other devoted disciples of Jesus Christ—since the world was created—have made the same covenants with God. They have received the same ordinances that we as members of the Lord’s restored Church today have made: those covenants that we receive at baptism and in the temple.
The Savior invites all to follow Him into the waters of baptism and, in time, to make additional covenants with God in the temple and receive and be faithful to those further essential ordinances. All these are required if we want to be exalted with our families and with God forever.
The anguish of my heart is that many people whom I love, whom I admire, and whom I respect decline His invitation. They ignore the pleadings of Jesus Christ when He beckons, “Come, follow me.”5
I understand why God weeps.6 I also weep for such friends and relatives. They are wonderful men and women, devoted to their family and civic responsibilities. They give generously of their time, energy, and resources. And the world is better for their efforts. But they have chosen not to make covenants with God. They have not received the ordinances that will exalt them with their families and bind them together forever.7
How I wish I could visit with them and invite them to consider seriously the enabling laws of the Lord. I’ve wondered what I could possibly say so they would feel how much the Savior loves them and know how much I love them and come to recognize how covenant-keeping women and men can receive a “fulness of joy.”8
They need to understand that while there is a place for them hereafter—with wonderful men and women who also chose not to make covenants with God—that is not the place where families will be reunited and be given the privilege to live and progress forever. That is not the kingdom where they will experience the fulness of joy—of never-ending progression and happiness.9 Those consummate blessings can come only by living in an exalted celestial realm with God, our Eternal Father; His Son, Jesus Christ; and our wonderful, worthy, and qualified family members.
I feel to say to my reticent friends:
“In this life, you have never settled for second best in anything. Yet, as you resist fully embracing the restored gospel of Jesus Christ, you are choosing to settle for second best.
“The Savior said, ‘In my Father’s house are many mansions.’10 However, as you choose not to make covenants with God, you are settling for a most meager roof over your head throughout all eternity.”
I would further entreat my reticent friends by saying:
“Pour out your heart to God. Ask Him if these things are true. Make time to study His words. Really study! If you truly love your family and if you desire to be exalted with them throughout eternity, pay the price now—through serious study and fervent prayer—to know these eternal truths and then to abide by them.
“If you are not sure you even believe in God, start there. Understand that in the absence of experiences with God, one can doubt the existence of God. So, put yourself in a position to begin having experiences with Him. Humble yourself. Pray to have eyes to see God’s hand in your life and in the world around you. Ask Him to tell you if He is really there—if He knows you. Ask Him how He feels about you. And then listen.”
One such dear friend of mine had limited experiences with God. But he longed to be with his departed wife. So he asked me to help him. I encouraged him to meet with our missionaries in order to understand the doctrine of Christ and learn of gospel covenants, ordinances, and blessings.
That he did. But he felt the course they advised would require him to make too many changes in his life. He said, “Those commandments and covenants are just too difficult for me. Also, I can’t possibly pay tithing, and I don’t have time to serve in the Church.” Then he asked me, “Once I die, please do the necessary temple work for my wife and me so that we can be together again.”
Thankfully, I am not this man’s judge. But I do question the efficacy of proxy temple work for a man who had the opportunity to be baptized in this life—to be ordained to the priesthood and receive temple blessings while here in mortality—but who made the conscious decision to reject that course.
My dear brothers and sisters, Jesus Christ invites us to take the covenant path back home to our Heavenly Parents and be with those we love. He invites us to “come, follow me.”
Now, as President of His Church, I plead with you who have distanced yourselves from the Church and with you who have not yet really sought to know that the Savior’s Church has been restored. Do the spiritual work to find out for yourselves, and please do it now. Time is running out.
I testify that God lives! Jesus is the Christ. His Church and the fulness of His gospel have been restored to bless our lives with joy, here and hereafter. I so testify in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

In March of 1886, Elder Lorenzo Snow, then 71 years of age and a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, became the most prominent LDS leader to be incarcerated for the practice of plural marriage. He entered the Utah Territorial Prison in Sugar House, Utah, convicted under the federal anti-polygamy Edmunds Act, which was passed in 1882. For those persecuting the Mormon people for their religious practices and beliefs, this was considered a great victory.

Lorenzo Snow joined the Church in 1836 in Kirtland, Ohio, along with his sister Eliza R. Snow. As an early member of the Church he served missions in Ohio, Illinois, and Kentucky before beginning extensive missionary service in Great Britain. Brother Snow arrived in the Salt Lake Valley in 1848, and in 1849 he was called as a member of the Quorum of the Twelve. After returning from additional missionary service in Europe, Elder Snow was called to preside in Box Elder County. Eventually he settled his large family in Brigham City, where he happily remained until he became president of the Church in 1898.

This peaceful period was interrupted in November 1885 when he was arrested for the practice of plural marriage. A non-Mormon jury convicted him, and he was sentenced in January to 18 months in prison.

While awaiting sentencing, Elder Snow spoke to a group of Saints in Brigham City:
I go to prison with the full assurance that I can serve God and His purposes—magnify my calling, and prove to the world, my faith and sincerity in the principles I have taught, during fifty years, among many nations—that Jesus is the Son of God—that He has revealed His Priesthood, and the fulness of the ancient Gospel, and established His Church by revelation. . . .
. . . In a few days I must leave family, kind friends and associates with whom I have spent so many pleasant hours in “The City I love so well”—proceed to Ogden—receive my sentence, then retire to private life, within my prison walls, for “The word of God and testimony of Jesus.” [JD 26:365–66, 368]

It would be easy to understand if Elder Snow entered prison embittered and resentful of a government that convicted him for practicing his religious beliefs. Certainly a natural reaction would be to withdraw and suffer in silence the long months of incarceration that lay ahead. This was not to be the case with Elder Snow. Accepting his lot, he immediately went about helping his fellow prisoners. He organized classes in reading, writing, math, and bookkeeping. One prisoner recorded:

Some six weeks ago Apostle Snow, feeling a deepening interest in the school, kindly volunteered to give two lectures a week on grammar. A class of fifteen members was organized and has since been under his kind and able tutelage and it has brought new life into the study and his lectures are looked forward to with the warmest interest. His able, kind, and genial manners have found way into the hearts of the entire school. [H. T. B. Grey, in “The Penitentiary School,” Utah Journal, 14 July 1886, 1]

Rudger Clawson, a fellow Mormon polygamist convicted in 1884, said this about his time of incarceration with Lorenzo Snow:

He was considered an excellent authority on doctrinal points, and his views were frequently sought; as we sat around the table during the long hours of the evening, he often discoursed interestingly upon matters pertaining to the past, present, and future conditions of man. I shall ever look back to those hours—hours passed in prison—as among the most profitable of my life. [Prisoner for Polygamy: The Memoirs and Letters of Rudger Clawson at the Utah Territorial Penitentiary, 1884–87, ed. Stan Larson (Urbana, Illinois: University of Illinois, 1993), 128]

Elder Lorenzo Snow is another example of someone turning an impossible situation into an environment of learning and faith, replacing fear and hatred. He lived the words of the Lord included in the Doctrine and Covenants and adopted as the theme for this Campus Education Week:
And as all have not faith, seek ye diligently and teach one another words of wisdom; yea, seek ye out of the best books words of wisdom; seek learning, even by study and also by faith. [D&C 88:118]

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

Armed with flashlights, my brother and sister and I jumped out of the minivan and followed Dad down the trail leading to Lava River Cave. “Have fun,” Mom called. She and my baby brother had enough snacks and books to last two hours, the time it took us to hike the cave last time.
This time we felt more prepared. Dad wore a helmet so he wouldn’t scrape his head on the roof of the cave, and all of us had jackets and good hiking shoes. Flashlights shining, we entered the cold, dark cave. We crawled on hands and knees through the narrow opening until it widened and we could stand and walk.
As we plodded forward, we passed other spelunkers (cave explorers). The deeper into the cave we went, the more we saw people giving up and heading for the surface, maybe too scared of the dark to continue. But I liked the mysterious cave, as long as we had flashlights.
After a while, my brother Paul whimpered, “My flashlight isn’t working.” It dimmed and went out. A few minutes later, Crystal’s flashlight weakened too.
“Follow me closely,” Dad instructed.
“Oh no,” I mumbled. Now my flashlight was going dim! We had been in the cave for two hours. We were supposed to be finished by now.
“Bad news,” Dad said nervously. “I think we’ve been walking in a circle.” On our last visit to the cave, Dad had brought a map, but not this time. We had thought we knew the way.
We made another circle through the cave, but we didn’t see any other people who could help us. I was scared Dad’s flashlight would go out too, and we’d be left alone in the dark.
Paul began to cry.
Then it dawned on me. “We should say a prayer!”
Dad smiled. “That’s the right thing to do. I’ll say it.”
As he prayed that we could find our way out of the cave safely, I felt a calm, peaceful feeling. Soon we heard voices and saw spelunkers coming toward us with flashlights and headlamps. “Need help?” they called.
Not only did they know the way out, but they also gave my sister another flashlight and my brother a piggyback ride to the surface. When I saw sunlight again, I was so tired and relieved I collapsed on the ground.
Mom stood nearby with a camera. “What happened?” she called. “I was starting to get worried!”
As we told her our story, Dad realized something: “Our cave adventure was a little like our life here on earth,” he said.
“What do you mean?” Crystal asked.
“Well, we needed a flashlight to find our way, just like we need the Holy Ghost,” he explained. “Also, we should try to be more prepared. Today, we should have made sure we had new batteries in our flashlights, and we should have used a map to guide us.”
“Like we need the scriptures,” I said.
“That’s right. And when we prayed for help, what happened?”
“People helped us,” Paul piped up.
Dad nodded. “We need other people, like prophets and teachers, to help us find our way.”
I smiled. Grateful to be headed home, I knew I’d be grateful to return to my heavenly home someday.

One of my children came in, said that Brother Newton Hall’s folks were out of bread. Had none that day. I put … our flour in sack to send up to Brother Hall’s. Just then Brother Hall came in. Says I, “Brother Hall, how are you out for flour.” “Brother Millett, we have none.” “Well, Brother Hall, there is some in that sack. I have divided and was going to send it to you. Your children told mine that you were out.” Brother Hall began to cry. Said he had tried others. Could not get any. Went to the cedars and prayed to the Lord and the Lord told him to go to Joseph Millett. “Well, Brother Hall, you needn’t bring this back if the Lord sent you for it. You don’t owe me for it.” You can’t tell how good it made me feel to know that the Lord knew that there was such a person as Joseph Millett.

There are many today who harbor in the deep recesses of their hearts a canker, a hurt, a feeling of resentment, a dislike, or in some cases even a hate because of unpleasant experiences with past and present associations. Some have been taken advantage of in a business sense. Others have had their feelings hurt by neighbors, or relatives, or friends. A few have been lied to or had a trust of long standing betrayed. Some children, young and now grown, have been offended by harsh or dictatorial parents. Husbands and wives may have deep schisms between them caused by criticism and a resulting resentment. The list of sad experiences goes on and on—yes, it is too long. To those of you who have been nursing the wounds of hurt feelings from the past, even from the little things, I would like to tell an experience which happened some time ago.
For much of our lives, we lived in central Arizona. Some years ago a group of teenagers from the local high school went on an all-day picnic into the desert on the outskirts of Phoenix. As some of you know, the desert foliage is rather sparse—mostly mesquite, catclaw, and palo verde trees, with a few cactus scattered here and there. In the heat of the summer, where there are thickets of this desert growth, you may also find rattlesnakes as unwelcome residents. These young people were picnicking and playing, and during their frolicking, one of the girls was bitten on the ankle by a rattlesnake. As is the case with such a bite, the rattler’s fangs released venom almost immediately into her bloodstream.
This very moment was a time of critical decision. They could immediately begin to extract the poison from her leg, or they could search out the snake and destroy it. Their decision made, the girl and her young friends pursued the snake. It slipped quickly into the undergrowth and avoided them for fifteen or twenty minutes. Finally, they found it, and rocks and stones soon avenged the infliction.
Then they remembered: their companion had been bitten! They became aware of her discomfort, as by now the venom had had time to move from the surface of the skin deep into the tissues of her foot and leg. Within another thirty minutes they were at the emergency room of the hospital. By then, the venom was well into its work of destruction.
A couple of days later I was informed of the incident and was asked by some young members of the Church to visit their friend in the hospital. As I entered her room, I saw a pathetic sight. Her foot and leg were elevated—swollen almost beyond recognition. The tissue in her limb had been destroyed by the poison, and a few days later it was found her leg would have to be amputated below the knee.
It was a senseless sacrifice, this price of revenge. How much better it would have been if, after the young woman had been bitten, there had been an extraction of the venom from the leg in a process known to all desert dwellers.

A story written by Karen Nolen, which appeared in the New Era in 1974, tells of a Benjamin Landart who, in 1888, was 15 years old and an accomplished violinist. Living on a farm in northern Utah with his mother and seven brothers and sisters was sometimes a challenge to Benjamin, as he had less time than he would have liked to play his violin. Occasionally his mother would lock up the violin until he had his farm chores done, so great was the temptation for Benjamin to play it.
In late 1892 Benjamin was asked to travel to Salt Lake to audition for a place with the territorial orchestra. For him, this was a dream come true. After several weeks of practicing and prayers, he went to Salt Lake in March of 1893 for the much-anticipated audition. When he heard Benjamin play, the conductor, a Mr. Dean, said Benjamin was the most accomplished violinist he had heard west of Denver. Benjamin was told to report to Denver for rehearsals in the fall and learned that he would be earning enough to keep himself, with some left over to send home.
A week after Benjamin received this good news, however, his bishop called him into his office and asked if Benjamin couldn’t put off playing with the orchestra for a couple of years. The bishop told Benjamin that before he started earning money, there was something he owed the Lord. The bishop then asked Benjamin to accept a mission call.
Benjamin felt that giving up his chance to play in the territorial orchestra would be almost more than he could bear, but he also knew what his decision should be. He promised the bishop that if there were any way to raise the money for him to serve, he would accept the call.
When Benjamin told his mother about the call, she was overjoyed. She told him that his father had always wanted to serve a mission but had been killed before that opportunity had come to him. However, when they discussed the financing of the mission, her face clouded over. Benjamin told her he would not allow her to sell any more of their land. She studied his face for a moment and then said, “Ben, there is a way we can raise the money. This family [has] one thing that is of great enough value to send you on your mission. You will have to sell your violin.”
Six days later, on March 23, 1893, Benjamin wrote in his journal: “I awoke this morning and took my violin from its case. All day long I played the music I love. In the evening when the light grew dim and I could see to play no longer, I placed the instrument in its case. It will be enough. Tomorrow I leave [for my mission].”
Forty-five years later, on June 23, 1938, Benjamin wrote in his journal: “The greatest decision I ever made in my life was to give up something I dearly loved to the God I loved even more. He has never forgotten me for it.”