Gospel Story Finder

I have related before my experience with a friend who took me to his ranch. He unlocked the door of a large new automobile, slid behind the wheel, and said proudly, “How do you like my new car?” We rode in luxurious comfort into the rural areas to a beautiful new landscaped home, and he said with no little pride, “This is my home.”

He drove to a grassy knoll. The sun was setting behind the distant hills. He surveyed his vast domain. Pointing to the north, he asked, “Do you see that clump of trees yonder?” I could plainly discern them in the fading day.

He pointed to the east. “Do you see the lake shimmering in the sunset?” It too was visible.

“Now, the bluff that’s on the south.” We turned about to scan the distance. He identified barns, silos, the ranch house to the west. With a wide sweeping gesture, he boasted, “From the clump of trees to the lake, to the bluff, and to the ranch buildings and all between—all this is mine. And the dark specks in the meadow—those cattle are also mine.”

And then I asked from whom he obtained it. The chain of title of his abstract went back to land grants from governments. His attorney had assured him he had an unencumbered title.

“From whom did the government get it?” I asked. “What was paid for it?” There came into my mind the declaration of the Psalmist, boldly restated by Paul: “The earth is the Lord’s and the fulness thereof” (1 Cor. 10:26).

And then I asked, “Did title come from God, Creator of the earth and the owner thereof? Did he get paid? Was it sold or leased or given to you? If a gift, from whom? If a sale, with what exchange or currency? If a lease, do you make proper accounting?”

And then I asked, “What was the price? With what treasures did you buy this farm?”

“Money!”

“Where did you get the money?”

“From my toil, my sweat, my labor, and my strength.”

And then I asked, “Where did you get your strength to toil, your power to labor, your glands to sweat?”

He spoke of food.

“Where did the food originate?”

“From sun and atmosphere and soil and water.”

“And who brought those elements here?”

I quoted the Psalmist: “Thou, O God, didst send a plentiful rain, whereby thou didst confirm thine inheritance, when it was weary” (Ps. 68:9).

“If the land is not yours, then what accounting do you make to your landlord for his bounties? The scripture says: ‘Render unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s and to God that which is God’s.’ What percentage of your increase do you pay Caesar? And what percent to God?

“Do you believe the Bible? Do you accept the command of the Lord through the prophet Malachi? Do you believe Moses’ words to Pharaoh that ‘the earth is the Lord’s’?” (Ex. 9:29).

I said again: “I seem to find no place in holy writ where God has said, ‘I give you title to this land unconditionally.’

“I cannot find such scripture, but I do find this from Psalms: ‘Those that wait upon the Lord, … shall inherit the earth’ (Ps. 37:9).

“And I remember that our Creator covenanted in the council in heaven with us all: ‘[And] we will go down, for there is space there, and we will take of these materials, and we will make an earth whereon these may dwell’ (Abr. 3:24).

“It seems more of a lease on which a rental is exacted than of a simple title.

“This does not seem to convey the earth but only the use and contents which are given to men on condition that they live all of the commandments of God.”

But my friend continued to mumble, “Mine—mine,” as if to convince himself against the surer knowledge that he was at best a recreant renter.

That was long years ago. I later saw him lying in his death among luxurious furnishings in a palatial home. His had been a vast estate. And I folded his arms upon his breast, and drew down the little curtains over his eyes. I spoke at his funeral, and I followed the cortege from the good piece of earth he had claimed to his grave, a tiny, oblong area the length of a tall man, the width of a heavy one.

Later I saw that same estate, yellow in grain, green in lucerne, white in cotton, seemingly unmindful of him who had claimed it.

“What does ‘Families Are Forever’ mean?” Mia asked. She moved her game piece across the board. She and her best friend, Zoey, were playing a game in Zoey’s living room. On the wall was a picture that said, “Families Are Forever.” Mia liked the sound of that.
“It means that even after you die, you’re still a family,” Zoey explained. She put down a card and moved her game piece.
Mia looked around the room. It looked normal. There were couches, tables, pillows, and a TV. But Zoey’s house felt a little different from her own. “Do you have a forever family?” Mia asked.
Zoey looked up from the game with a smile. “Yes! My mom and dad were married in the temple. So we can be together forever.”
“Is that why your house feels different?” Mia asked.
Zoey looked confused. “Different?”
Mia didn’t know how to explain the feeling in Zoey’s house. It was happy and warm. But that sounded silly to say. “Never mind,” she said. “Let’s keep playing.”
That night Mia couldn’t stop thinking about Zoey’s forever family. She loved the feeling in Zoey’s house. Mia’s family was going to move to Ontario, Canada, in a few days. She wondered how their new house would feel.
“Mom, Zoey’s house feels so happy,” Mia said as Mom tucked her into bed. “I want our new house to feel like that.” Mia thought about how much she loved Mom, Dad, and her little brothers. “I want our family to be forever.”
Mom listened quietly. “I do too,” she said.
The next day, Mom called Zoey’s mom. She found out that Zoey’s family went to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
“I want to go to that church,” Mia told her parents while they packed. Their house was almost empty now.
“Zoey’s mom said she could help us find their church in Ontario,” Dad said as he taped up a box.
Mia smiled and felt a flutter in her stomach. Maybe their new house could feel as warm and happy as Zoey’s!
Once they were settled in their new house, Mia’s family started going to church. The people there were very nice. Everyone called each other “Brother” and “Sister.” Mia went to Primary with her little brothers. She liked singing songs and reading the scriptures.
Soon two young women came to Mia’s house. Their names were Sister Justin and Sister Ramos, and they were missionaries. They told Mia’s family about Heavenly Father, Jesus, and the Book of Mormon. Mia loved hearing about the gospel. Even her brothers sat quietly and listened!
Mia told Sister Ramos and Sister Justin about Zoey’s house. “I want a forever family like Zoey’s.”
“We’re all part of Heavenly Father’s family,” Sister Ramos said. “And we can be sealed to our families in the temple too.”
Soon Mia’s family decided to be baptized.
Zoey and her family drove all the way to Ontario for the baptisms. A year later, they came back again. This time it was because Mia and her family were being sealed in the temple!
The day of the sealing, Mia stood outside the temple with her family, dressed in white. They were all smiling from ear to ear. Mia felt warm and peaceful inside. It was a feeling she had first felt at Zoey’s house, and she wanted to keep it with her forever.

I went to a Young Women activity at a beach, where we all took 20 minutes to silently ponder and meditate. I sat on a rock, listened to the crashing waves, and saw the serene sunset. But I was disappointed to find that even after 20 minutes, I still had not been able to find reverence. My distracted mind was too busy turning its wheels. I was consumed with my college application process. I was having trouble getting into my school of choice, and I felt like I had forgotten to breathe every once in a while.
When I realized I was having trouble feeling calm, I began praying for peace and relying on the Lord more. Instead of reciting a wish list in my prayers, I tried to remember that the Lord’s will was more important than my own. I prayed for what the Lord wanted to happen, not what I wanted to happen.
I felt more at peace over the course of the next few months and saw miracles in my life. I realized the Lord was trying to show me that He loved me. The peace I felt helped me to know of His love. I know that it is possible to find reverence despite our everyday distractions. If we seek peace and reverence, then we can more fully usher in the feelings of love that come from our Heavenly Father.

In 1976 I was the elders quorum president in my campus ward, and he was the high council advisor. He was already successful in his plastics business. I even remember him slipping me a personal check for $1,000 with these simple instructions: “Use this to help those who are in need in your quorum.” They were never to know where the money came from.
After a year of working with him in that ecclesiastical setting, I was surprised one day when he asked me to come to his office. There I was in plush, professional business surroundings—me, the son of a truck driver—when Jon invited me to join his company working in marketing and sales. I was honored. Sister Rasband and I had been praying for meaningful employment after graduation. Like many of you, I had a young family, and we were living on meager funds.
Jon explained that he was not interested in my academic credentials—which were not stellar—but that he had seen my strengths of leadership and character that were a good fit for his business. Those traits he observed were a strong work ethic and an ability to juggle the pressures of family, education, work, and Church service. I learned that they were his best traits.
I immediately responded that his offer was an answer to prayer and that I would love to join his company after graduation in the spring. My college degree was so important to me, my wife, and my parents.
He smiled and then said, “I need you now.” Next week, he explained, he would be in Troy, Ohio, at one of his packaging plants to negotiate with a major customer. If I wanted the job, I needed to be with him as the new account manager. That was it. The job was next week in Troy, Ohio, or no job at all.
That night, after seeking counsel from loved ones and friends, Sister Rasband and I prayed earnestly for direction. My dear wife, Melanie, was inspired with our answer. “Isn’t this what people go to college for, to find an opportunity like this one?” she asked.
We agreed that it was. The Spirit confirmed our decision, and we took the job in Ohio.
I left the campus of the University of Utah just two semesters short of receiving my degree. Eleven years later I was surprised and humbled again when Jon Huntsman appointed me president of his global corporation, with thousands of employees and billions in revenues—and still without that college degree! I am not recommending any of you skip that last, important step in your education.

3 Second, the prophet. Our prophet continues to testify of Jesus Christ. When President Hinckley was here in Atlanta, I listened to his words and felt the Spirit strongly. Afterward, I got to give him a picture and shake his hand. He said thank you to me and continued to shake other people’s hands. When I looked into his eyes, I knew that he was a prophet of God. The day I met him will be one I will remember forever and will share with my children.
In the April 2000 general conference, President Hinckley gave a whole talk on his testimony of Jesus Christ. He said:
“He is my Savior and my Redeemer. Through giving His life in pain and unspeakable suffering, He has reached down to lift me and each of us and all the sons and daughters of God from the abyss of eternal darkness following death. He has provided something better—a sphere of light and understanding, growth and beauty where we may go forward on the road that leads to eternal life. My gratitude knows no bounds. My thanks to my Lord has no conclusion.
“He is my God and my King. From everlasting to everlasting, He will reign and rule as King of Kings and Lord of Lords. To His dominion there will be no end. To His glory there will be no night.
“None other can take His place. None other ever will.”*
When President Hinckley bears testimony of Jesus, I believe in Jesus, because I know he speaks the truth.

On another occasion, Emily Williams, widowed, not yet a member of the Church, residing in Michigan, saw her baby girl become very ill and after many days heard the doctor tell her that all hope for the baby’s recovery was gone. Hearing that Joseph Smith was in the area visiting his cousins, she sent for him to come and administer to her child. The Prophet came with his father and kneeling down by the little girl laid hands on her head and promised her that she would recover. Emily reports that “the child turned over, her fits left her and she went to sleep and was completely healed the next morning.

My wife, Cathy, shared with me an experience she had recently with inspiration from the scriptures. Our oldest son, who is in the military, was being deployed to the Middle East. Cathy was extremely worried about him. At night sleep was difficult for her, and during the day she was continually unsettled. One day as she was studying the Book of Mormon, the thought came into her mind to turn to the chapters in Alma concerning the sons of Helaman (see Alma 53:20–21; 56:45–48; 57:21–27; 58:40). As she read, peace came into her mind and heart. She felt calm. She knew all would be well.

“Dad loves to take his grandchildren on an imaginary lion hunt, where they all try to find a make-believe lion. First, they pretend to sit on the seat of a car. Then when they arrive at the airport, they climb invisible steps to get on the airplane. Once inside the plane, everyone fastens his safety belt and leans way back in his chair as the plane takes off. When the plane lands, everyone comes down the stairs and walks over to a jeep. They climb in and, because the jeep ride is bumpy, everyone joggles up and down.
“When the jeep stops, everyone jumps out and gets an imaginary rope and gun to put over his shoulder. They wade through long grass and reeds—swish-swish-swish. They come to a bridge and everyone crosses over it—clump-clump-clump. Then they come to the place where the lions are, and they throw their ropes up around a rock to secure them. They all climb up the rope to get into a cave so they can creep up on the lion. The lion roars—GRRRR!! All of the brave lion hunters run out of the cave, slide down the rope, go clumping over the bridge, run swishing through the reeds, take off their ropes and guns, get back into the jeep, and take the bumpy ride back to the airport. Finally they arrive back home safe and sound after a great trip!”

I was baptized in 2012 and attended a branch in the Ipoméia Brazil District. Since 2014, I have been really engaged in family history. It started with the invitation from Elder Neil L. Andersen of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles at RootsTech to do baptisms for my own family names. I felt really committed to do family history, knowing that if I “knocked,” it would be “opened” (see Matthew 7:7).
Now I have many more generations, pictures, documents, and, most important, more family stories, which is awesome. Having this information, I wrote a book with pictures and dates from my family history. This project helped me contact my nonmember family members and gave me the opportunity to share my testimony that families can be eternal.
This work has helped me stand in holy places, stay active in the Church, and accept the calling to serve the Lord on a mission.
I have a testimony that the work of salvation done by this Church on both sides of the veil is true and inspired by our Heavenly Father. Before my mission, I had the opportunity to do baptisms for my ancestors, and now as a missionary I have the opportunity to baptize people who are alive and want to change their lives forever.

It is significant to note just what took place at the time of the passing of President Harold B. Lee. President Romney had been called to the hospital and as they talked, President Lee, realizing that he might be incapacitated for some time, said to President Romney: “President Tanner is away, and I want you to take over and carry on the affairs of the Church.” President Kimball, who came in later, offered his services to President Romney. However, immediately upon the announcement of President Lee’s passing, President Romney turned to President Kimball and said: “You, as the president of the Quorum of the Twelve, are now in charge. I am at your disposal and prepared to do anything I can to help.”
This was entirely in keeping with the order of the Church and is a great example of how the Church is never left without a presidency and how smoothly it passes from one to another. Immediately President Kimball, as president of the Twelve, became the presiding authority of the Church.

My mission president also had a great influence on me. I was so enthusiastic about serving my mission that all I wanted to do was teach and baptize people. But he had the wisdom to take me on assignments where I would learn about Church procedures and administration. Later, when I was called to serve in leadership positions, such as a young bishop, I was truly grateful to him for giving me those experiences.

One day, when Sister Gurney and Sister Sasaki came to teach a lesson to Andrea, they told her that Theresa was going to be baptized and asked her if she would also want to get baptized. Andrea told the sisters that she would pray about it. She had experienced the influence of the Holy Spirit in the past and said that if she had that same feeling when she prayed about joining the Church, then she would be baptized. If not, then the answer was “No.”
She later shared her experience, “When I prayed about baptism, I had this eagerness; I became so anxious to do it. I discussed it with my husband because he was waiting for me to be ready, so we could get baptized together. I said, ‘Let’s continue to pray.’ So, we did, and I kept having the eagerness.”
Andrea’s husband, Wusu, was going to be leaving in two months, so when they attended Theresa’s baptism, they told the missionaries that they wanted to be baptized right away. The whole family spent the next three weeks learning about the gospel, and on June 4, Wusu, Andrea, and Patricia, their oldest daughter, were all baptized, and then confirmed members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Martin Pratt was a talented professor, but he had one strange notion—he believed that religion was only for weak-minded men and silly women. Martin’s wife, Nell, loved him, for he was a fine husband. His hobby was growing beautiful flowers.
In the Pratt’s neighborhood lived a young boy named LeRoy, who delivered newspapers to them and sometimes stopped to visit. Mrs. Pratt reminded him of his grandmother, who had died just the year before.
“Dad,” LeRoy asked one day, “what’s an atheist? Martin Pratt says he’s one.”
“I doubt that a real atheist even exists, son,” his dad replied.
“But what is an atheist?” LeRoy persisted.
“An atheist is a person who denies the existence of God.”
“Mr. Pratt says our universe is like a big automatic clock that was wound up long, long ago and that we don’t need a Heavenly Father to look after it.”
“Actually, LeRoy, nothing could be further from the truth. Perhaps one day Martin will change his mind. At least we can hope.”
But something happened to Martin Pratt before he had a chance to change his mind. One morning when he heard that a hailstorm was coming, he rushed out into his garden to pick his dahlias and was stricken with a fatal heart attack.
The day after the funeral LeRoy delivered the newspaper to Mrs. Pratt and saw her rocking in her chair, looking very lonely. LeRoy got off his bike and went up on the porch and sat down next to her. “Don’t feel bad, Mrs. Pratt. Someday you’ll see Mr. Pratt again. He’s gone to live with Heavenly Father now—just like my grandma.”
Mrs. Pratt shook her head sadly. “No, LeRoy,” she said, “I will never see him again. Martin was a very wise man, and he always told me there is no such thing as a Heavenly Father. So when a person dies, that is the end.”
“But do you believe that, Mrs. Pratt?”
“Yes. If Martin said it was so, it must be true.”
LeRoy finally went home, wondering what he could do to cheer her up. Each day after that when he delivered the newspaper to Mrs. Pratt, he hoped to see her smile again but her eyes were always red. When she took the paper, she just mumbled, “Thank you.”
One afternoon when LeRoy’s mother gathered her last chrysanthemums, LeRoy spied a little tree cricket perched on one of them.
“Mother, can I take this flower to Mrs. Pratt?” he asked.
“Of course! Why don’t we fix her a bouquet.”
With eyes shining, LeRoy knocked on Mrs. Pratt’s door. When she saw him holding the beautiful flowers, she invited him in.
“I brought you some company, see!” LeRoy pointed to the little cricket. “He’ll sing for you in the night and make you happy.”
“Oh, LeRoy, you’ve been so kind to me. But I don’t think I’ll ever feel happy again.”
“Yes, you will,” he quickly replied. “Heavenly Father made lots of things to make you happy, like this little cricket.”
As she turned her gaze on the pale green insect, LeRoy eased toward the door. “Good-bye,” he said softly and closed the door behind him.
The little cricket sang, but Mrs. Pratt refused to be happy. When morning came, she walked out into the yard and saw the pigeons flying high in the sky. She wondered if she could ever feel that carefree again. A bird hopped among the crisp fallen leaves, chirping, “Cheer up!” But she didn’t cheer up. Instead, she went inside and closed the drapes to shut out the sun. She encased herself in such a pall of gloom that one day when LeRoy knocked on her door, she felt like not answering it. But finally she opened the door and looked mournfully at LeRoy.
“Hi!” he greeted her.
Weakly she said, “I’m too busy to talk to you today.”
“That’s all right,” he said, trying to understand her unhappiness.
“Wait,” said Mrs. Pratt. “Maybe we could have a little visit—but for only a few minutes.”
Once inside, the boy noticed that all of Mr. Pratt’s flowers were wilted.
“I bet Mr. Pratt would feel sad to see his flowers looking like that.”
“How could Martin feel sad now that he’s gone forever?” she asked gloomily.
“But he isn’t really gone,” the boy told her. “Dad said Mr. Pratt must have been terribly surprised when he found that out.” LeRoy paused a moment. “I know he’d want his flowers watered if he could see them all wilted now. Can I help you water them?”
“Thanks, LeRoy,” she said, “but I’ll take care of them.” After he left, Mrs. Pratt looked thoughtfully at the pitiful plants. Slowly she opened the drapes and then went for a pitcher of water.
At Christmastime LeRoy arrived at Mrs. Pratt’s door, holding a small flowerpot in one hand. The other hand he kept hidden behind him.
“I made this Christmas tree for you in school today,” he announced. “It’s a peach twig trimmed with gumdrops.”
“Come in,” she said as she set the pot in the center of the table.
Shyly, he handed her another package.
Removing the ribbon and paper, she was startled to see a gold-framed picture of Jesus, finished in soft brown tones.
“It will look pretty by your reading lamp,” he suggested.
As she placed it there, she felt strangely moved. “Thank you,” she said softly.
As springtime approached, LeRoy shared with her the first apricot blossom. Then just before Easter he asked, “Can you go on an Easter walk with me next Saturday? There are things down by the creek I’d like to show you.”
Mrs. Pratt hesitated. Then she said, “I suppose so.”
Saturday morning as they walked down the grassy slope together, they saw buttercups and wild larkspurs and watched the burnished metallic-green tiger beetles scurry through the grass. Meadowlark songs rippled on the sun-sparkled air.
Later they sat in the shade of the cottonwoods to eat their lunch at the creek’s edge. They dropped colored Easter eggshells into the water and watched them float like little boats. Mrs. Pratt gave the boy a chocolate rabbit.
“Thank you,” he said. Then he added, “I like Easter eggs and bunnies, but most of all I like the real Easter on Sunday when we celebrate the resurrection of Jesus. My dad says that because of what He did for us, everyone will be resurrected, including my grandma and Mr. Pratt. And we will never die again.”
“I want to believe you, LeRoy, but I can’t believe that what your father tells you is true.”
“You can find out if it’s true, if you want to.”
“How?”
“Well, you can pray, and then you’ll know for sure.”
“How can I pray when I don’t know how or to whom I would be praying? That would be pretty foolish, wouldn’t it?”
“Then I’ll pray for you, Mrs. Pratt. We can kneel here on the grass together. The trees and bushes are thick, and no one can see us.”
He patted a soft place in the grass for her. She waited for a moment then knelt beside him.
“I’ll pray first so you’ll know how,” he said. “Praying is just talking to Heavenly Father.” Slipping his hand into hers, he bowed his head and closed his eyes. “Dear Heavenly Father, Mrs. Pratt is so lonely. Please let her know You are there, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.” LeRoy raised his head slightly. “Now it’s your turn,” he said. “Just ask Heavenly Father what you want to know.”
The hand that held his was trembling. Her eyes were closed, but tears were beginning to form on her lashes. “Oh, please, Father in heaven—if there is a Father in heaven—touch my heart that I may know. Is there truly a resurrection? Will I see Martin again?”
Suddenly Mrs. Pratt was crying, and her tears wet LeRoy’s hair. She held him so tightly he could hardly breathe. When he began to sniffle his own tears, he fumbled for a paper napkin beside him.
Releasing him, she said, “Heavenly Father has spoken to my heart. Oh, LeRoy, what you have said is true. I will really and truly see Martin again. I know it.”
Once more she bowed her head, and with tears streaming down her cheeks, she whispered, “Heavenly Father, thank you. Thank you so much!”
Softly she arose, and taking LeRoy by the hand, they silently climbed the grassy slope together.

It was late at night, and the house was dark and quiet. I knelt beside a fold-out camp cot, my bed while visiting at my sister’s house. My arms rested on the rough woolen blanket of the bed, and I closed my eyes, pouring all my effort into a fervent and determined prayer.
I was there because I had to learn the truth. I needed an answer to my prayers.
My search for the truth had begun almost a year before. At that time, I was a senior in high school, active in my own church, and happy with my family and my life. I didn’t know the Lord had greater things in store for me.
My sister and her husband had joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. They were filled with missionary zeal and had come to visit us, hoping to share the joy they had found. My family and I were not receptive. We were very happy just as we were. But we did agree to accompany them to the Los Angeles Temple Visitors’ Center for a tour.
That was the beginning for me. The story of Joseph Smith and the translation of the Book of Mormon sounded terribly far-fetched, and yet, I thought, “If this is true, what an incredibly wonderful thing!”
So I decided to do a little research. Throughout that year, in my English class, we were assigned to write a series of research essays on a topic of our choice. I decided to compare and contrast my religion with the Latter-day Saint faith. My research included attending several ward meetings, interviewing members of the Church, reading the Book of Mormon, and writing many letters filled with gospel questions to my sister.
Although I was active in my church, I never felt the personal connection with God that the LDS people I met seemed to possess with such ease. As I spoke with them, I realized it was their understanding of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ that gave them such profound faith. I felt not envy but a great desire to believe and understand that what they testified to me was true.
After eight months, my sister invited me to visit her during my Easter vacation. I agreed, and we spent a week baking and laughing, cleaning and visiting, and discussing gospel principles. I didn’t realize it then, but the Spirit dwelt in that house. I was amazed at her ease in answering my questions. No matter what I asked, no matter how complex, she gave me a good understanding of that principle. I felt her love for me, and I felt God’s love for me. I did not know whether Joseph Smith was a prophet of God, but I desperately wanted to know.
So there I was, kneeling on the cold, hard floor, my eyes tightly shut, begging the Lord to answer my prayer, to tell me whether Joseph Smith was a prophet of God. I felt if I could just know that, then everything else would fall into place. It would follow that he translated the Book of Mormon, that he received the revelations in the Doctrine and Covenants, and that he helped establish the Lord’s Church on the earth.
As I prayed, I felt loving arms surround me. I felt great warmth and joy flood my heart. And I heard a voice in my mind say, “Yes, Joseph Smith is a prophet of God.”
I wept for joy as I knelt there, feeling infinitely important to my Heavenly Father, important enough that He would listen to my stumbling, pleading prayer and answer me with such tenderness and compassion.
Grateful for the answer to my prayer and rejoicing in the truth I had found, I decided to be baptized. The only snag was that I had not had lessons from the missionaries yet. I contacted the missionaries, and they came immediately to teach me. The doctrines of the gospel were “as the dew from heaven distilling” (see Hymns, no. 149). I had not known of the Savior’s great love for me. I felt unworthy and began fervently to repent of the things I had said and done and thought that were out of harmony with the Lord’s teachings.
The change was gradual, but after six weeks of learning and praying and striving, I was baptized. I felt such overpowering joy, such purity as I came out of the water, that I knew my sins were forgiven, and I was worthy to be given the gift of the Holy Ghost.
Although the night I had prayed so fervently was long ago, because I knelt in faith before the Lord and received an answer from Him, I have a great testimony of prayer and of a loving Father in Heaven, a testimony that our Savior lives and loves us and that the Holy Ghost is always there to guide, strengthen, and comfort all who seek Him.

I always look forward to the priesthood blessings my dad gives us before the school year because they give me strength and peace for the year ahead. I remember being scared when I was going into middle school for the first time because we had just moved. In my blessing I was promised that if I chose the right and was kind to everyone around me, the Lord would watch over me and bless me.
That year I tried to reach out to others and choose the right. I began reading the Book of Mormon, and throughout the year I was filled with peace. I knew the Lord was keeping His promise because I was doing what I was supposed to be doing. At the end of the school year I knew it had been a hard year, but I had tried my best, and the Lord had kept his promise.
I am so thankful I have a dad who can give me priesthood blessings. Those blessings have strengthened my testimony because I have been able to feel and see them working in my life. Knowing that the Lord is able to work through my dad to speak and help me has strengthened my relationship with my Heavenly Father and my earthly father.

Sunday was Eli’s birthday. He was four years old.
In four more years, you will be baptized.
And four years after that, you will be a deacon and you will be able to pass the sacrament.
Later, Mom helped Eli change from his pajamas into his church clothes.
Do deacons wear superhero pants to church?
No. Deacons wear nice pants.
Do deacons wear superhero shirts to church?
No. Deacons wear white shirts and ties.
I want to wear a white shirt and nice pants. I want to dress like a deacon.
Mom helped Eli put on his nice pants, a white shirt, and a tie.
At church, Eli folded his arms as he watched the deacons pass the sacrament.
When a deacon brought Eli the sacrament, Eli took a piece of bread and then handed the tray to Mom.
Mom smiled at Eli. He was happy to help. He couldn’t wait until he could be a deacon.

Many potent examples show how people must still learn to think correctly. I have a friend who, after he was married in the temple, drifted away from the Church. He was an airline pilot. As time went on, one of his companions, who was also a member of the Church, said, “Look, friend, you’re not helping me any. I used to live like you, but I’ve changed. I’m in the bishopric now, and everything I do to try to build up the Church you tear down. I want you to change.”

Because my friend respected this man, he began to change his ways, went back to church, and began to become active. He said, however, that he still had one vice: he liked to gamble. He played cards with the other pilots when he was away from home, and he was good at it. He hated to give it up because he won quite a bit of money; but, he said, “One day as I went to pay my tithing, I thought, ‘Let’s see—how do I pay tithing on this money I won gambling?’” That solved the problem for him.

Let me know describe what has happened to me, as I've tried to share the gospel. After I finished business school and began working, in imperceptible increments I began to feel the Spirit less and less in my life. I was serving as a counselor to Bishop Bowen, and was spending a lot of time and energy to magnify that assignment. I was praying and studying the scriptures regularly - and yet despite my doing all these "right" things, I just felt that the Spirit was not with me as much as I had felt it before.

Then we moved to Washington where I was to work as a White House Fellow All of a sudden, we lived and worked and commuted with new people, and I found myself with many more opportunities to discuss the gospel with my new friends. I realize now that in Boston I was not meeting new people, and had already attempted to share the gospel with most people I knew. In short order two of my colleagues accepted my invitation to come to our home and take the missionary discussions.

Before the first discussion, we were scurrying around to clean things up. I put a tape of the Choir into our stereo, and it began playing their rendition of "The Spirit of God." I was in the dining room when they began the verse,
We'll call in our solemn assemblies in spirit To spread forth the Kingdom of Heaven abroad That we, through our faith, may begin to inherit The visions and blessings and glories of God.
As I heard those words, a powerful and sweet spirit entered my heart, and I realized what had been happening in my spiritual life. With our move to Washington, I had begun again to do my part in spreading forth the Kingdom of Heaven abroad. And what I inherited as a result, were the visions and blessings and glories of God. I had begun feeling the spirit again on a daily basis. I was dreaming dreams of spiritual things, and was singing the Hymns of the Restoration as I walked to the bus stop.

I'll summarize the lesson I learned from this with a metaphor. In a war, the generals give the state-of-the-art weapons to those soldiers who are on the front lines, engaged in direct combat with the enemy. To those of their troops who work in administrative positions behind the lines, they'll give less potent tools. What had happened in my spiritual life in Boston was that I had been spending more and more time on administrative things, not on the front lines. I actually could do most things quite effectively, without needing to rely on the Spirit. But in becoming an active missionary again, I had essentially re-positioned myself onto the front lines in the war against Satan over the souls of men. Conversion comes only through the power of the Holy Ghost - which meant that I needed the Spirit with me, every day.

Hence, I called myself on a mission. God has not yet released me, and I have not asked to be released. I love my life as a missionary, keeping myself on the front lines. The image in my mind is that God, my General, stands at the door when I go out every morning; and knowing what the war is like, day after day he gave to me His most powerful weapon, His Spirit. For this I am eternally grateful.

I was having doubts about what I should study at the university. Most people spoke badly about the course that I wanted to take, so I prayed to the Lord to see if He agreed with my decision.
My answer came the following day while I was reading a general conference talk in the Liahona. I felt as though Heavenly Father was telling me He couldn’t choose for me—this was a decision that I would have to make alone. I knew that no matter what I chose, I would have to work hard to be successful.
I know that my prayer was answered. The confirmation of the Holy Ghost helped me make a decision. I’ve learned to give my best efforts and know that Heavenly Father will help me.

During Christmastime, I especially miss our little grandson Paxton. Born with a rare genetic disorder, Paxton suffered from countless health problems. Heavenly Father taught our family many special and tender lessons during the three short years Paxton blessed our lives.
My sister, Nancy Schindler, made a beautiful quilt in honor of Paxton. She called it “Name above All Names.” The quilt features 26 of the names of Jesus Christ—names beginning with the letters A through Z. The quilt reminds me of the glorious future family reunion with Paxton made possible through the Savior’s suffering, sacrifice, and Resurrection.
The quilt inspired me to begin a study of the names of Jesus Christ as revealed in the scriptures. Researching His names has become part of my personal scripture study. So far, I have identified hundreds of names for the Savior.
One of my responsibilities as a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, and as stated in the Doctrine and Covenants, is to bear testimony of Jesus Christ. The Doctrine and Covenants states, “The twelve traveling councilors are called to be the Twelve Apostles, or special witnesses of the name of Christ in all the world” (D&C 107:23; emphasis added).
Recently I was asked to speak during a sacrament meeting at Primary Children’s Hospital in Salt Lake City. I felt prompted to speak about Jesus Christ and His hopeful names. I bore testimony of the Savior as “the bright and morning star” (Revelation 22:16), a “high priest of good things to come” (Hebrews 9:11), “a God of miracles” who rose “with healing in his wings” (2 Nephi 27:23; 25:13), “The Prince of Peace” (Isaiah 9:6; 2 Nephi 19:6), and “the resurrection, and the life” (John 11:25).
At Christmastime, I like to recite the Savior’s different names as I walk to and from my office through the Christmas lights on Temple Square. I start with A, “Alpha and Omega” (Revelation 1:8); B, “the babe” of Bethlehem (Luke 2:12, 16); C, “Counsellor” (Isaiah 9:6; see 2 Nephi 19:6); D, “the Deliverer” (Romans 11:26); E, the “exalted one” (Psalm 89:19); F, “the founder of peace” (Mosiah 15:18); and so on.
Throughout this Christmas season, I look forward to memorizing more of His names and to looking for opportunities to honor His name. As you strive to make a difference this Christmas season, I hope you will make the Savior the center of your efforts and that you will bring glory to Him as you serve others in His name.