Miracles for Paying Tithing

 

Tithing—Putting God First

By Elder Jorge T. Becerra

Of the Seventy

I recall a powerful experience I had many years ago that taught me how to put God first in my life. As a young married father, I was called to serve in a branch presidency. Elder Clinton L. Cutler of the Seventy came to speak to our branch. After the meeting, I had an opportunity to talk with him.

Sensing that I had something on my mind, he asked, “Is there something bothering you?”

“Yes,” I replied, “I am having financial difficulties in my business. I have fallen behind in my payment of tithes and offerings.”

He then asked, “Do you have anything of value?”

I don’t recall what else he said. I pondered his question for many days. The only thing I had of value was a car that I needed in my efforts to grow my business. However, I concluded that I should at least make an effort to sell my car, so I cleaned and polished it and placed an ad to sell it.

I want to be clear that Elder Cutler did not ask me to sell my car. This came to me after pondering and desiring to put God first.

A few days later, a man came to the house to see the car. He seemed interested; he drove it and came back to discuss the details. He gave me his business card, and I realized he represented a car dealership. I was nervous about what would surely happen next—the haggling back and forth over the price.

He asked me, “How much do you want for the car?”

I told him I needed a precise amount. I had calculated what I needed to pay off the loan on the car and pay my tithing.

He then said very calmly, “OK, I will come back in a few days with a check.”

He thanked me and left. I could not believe it. No arguing, no haggling, no negotiating.

A few days later, he came back with a check for the amount I had requested. I was surprised and amazed as he drove off with the car. I deposited the check and paid my tithing.

As I contemplated what had occurred, I realized that I did not have a car to continue with my business. While I was thinking about what to do, a friend called me and said, “Jorge, you like my car, don’t you?” At that point I would have liked any car! He reminded me that his wife was having twins and that he needed to buy a larger vehicle and wondered if I would be willing to take over his car payments. It was a miracle!

Sun's Rays Reflected off the Buildings

 

Follow the Prophet; He Knows the Way

By Elder Michael John U. Teh

Of the Seventy

Follow the Prophet; He Knows the Way

By Elder Michael John U. Teh

Of the Seventy

When we follow the teachings and examples of prophets, seers, and revelators, we are following our Savior, Jesus Christ.

Follow the Prophet

To the rich young man, Jesus said, “Sell all that thou hast, and distribute unto the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven: and come, follow me.” The young man did not know that the path he was asked to tread would lead him to “treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt.”

I am grateful for teachings received over the years that have helped me better follow the Savior. For my purpose today, I simply would like to focus on one. As the Primary song goes, “Follow the prophet; he knows the way.”

In October 2024, President Dallin H. Oaks gave the following counsel: “Following Christ is not a casual or occasional practice. It is a continuous commitment and way of life that should guide us at all times and in all places. His teachings and His example define the path for every disciple of Jesus Christ. And all are invited to this path.”

Gospel Culture

My parents were born in the Philippines, but both of them had Chinese ancestry. Like almost everyone else in the Philippines, they embraced the predominant faith of my native country. So, our family enjoyed a healthy mix of different family, ethnic, and religious practices and traditions that influenced our daily lives.

When my parents joined the Church, little did they know that they were embracing yet another set of values and traditions—even the gospel culture, based on the plan of salvation, God’s commandments, and the words of living prophets. Over time, as our family strived to fully embrace the gospel, my parents discovered that some of our well-loved traditions were not consistent with gospel culture. It became apparent to them that they needed to make a choice.

And so began the difficult undertaking of weeding our family of traditions and cultural practices that were contrary to gospel culture. You could just imagine the immense pressure they received from family and friends to hold on to certain traditions even though they were contrary to the gospel.

I am so grateful that my parents exercised faith and chose to keep their covenants. It was a long and difficult process. Even when I left to live on my own, they were still working on it. Although our family was still not perfect, we had come a long way. This experience taught me that embracing gospel culture simply meant keeping our covenants.

President Oaks taught:

“The gospel of Jesus Christ challenges us to change. ‘Repent’ is its most frequent message, and repenting means giving up all of our practices—personal, family, ethnic, and national—that are contrary to the commandments of God. The purpose of the gospel is to transform common creatures into celestial citizens, and that requires change. …

“The traditions or culture or way of life of a people inevitably include some practices that must be changed by those who wish to qualify for God’s choicest blessings.”

The Strengthening and Enabling Power of the Atonement of Jesus Christ

A few weeks ago a stake president in Japan felt that we should visit a man diagnosed with cancer. Despite his going through treatment, the cancer continued to spread. In these situations, I struggle to find the words to say. So, for days I pleaded for the Lord’s help. I pictured the man to be downtrodden and devastated. I anticipated that he would ask why the Lord gave him this trial. I imagined that he would be hopeless and perhaps even a little angry. The day of the visit arrived, and I was still at a loss. When we finally met, I was completely astonished. What stood before me was not at all the man I had imagined. His countenance was bright and happy. There was no bitterness, and he never asked why.

Just recently, I had very similar experiences with members living in Korea. My intention was to minister to others. However, at the end of my visits, it felt like I was the one being ministered to.

Jesus Christ strengthened each of these individuals to endure their trials. As President Oaks has taught: “Our Savior experienced and suffered the fulness of all mortal challenges. … He therefore knows our struggles, our heartaches, our temptations, and our suffering, for He willingly experienced them all as an essential part of His Atonement. And because of this, His Atonement empowers Him to succor us—to give us the strength to bear it all.”

Ye Are the Light of the World

Two years ago we were asked to live in Hong Kong, known for its tall buildings. Our apartment building was dwarfed by much taller buildings around it. So, I was prepared to live in the shadows. Imagine my delight to wake up and see the rays of the morning sun shining through our windows. This simple experience filled my soul with immense joy and gratitude.

When I finally got my bearings, I was so confused. Our windows were not facing east. How did we ever get the morning sun? Upon further investigation, I learned that the sun’s rays were being reflected into our apartment by the tall building in front of us. I was reminded that when we strive to follow the Savior, He will use us to bless others. Through our example and service to others, they will feel the Savior’s love for them.

Bound to Christ (The Rock of Heaven) Through Covenants - Analogy of the Climber

 

Anchored to Christ

Bound to the Rock of Heaven, every setback becomes part of the ascent.

---

By Edward B. Rowe (BA ’92) in the Winter 2026 issue

Confidence Born of the Spirit

Let’s begin with a few words about confidence. What is your confidence based on? It’s easy to look for confidence in all the wrong places. If our confidence is based on what we believe others think of us, our ability to get likes and followers on social media, our physical appearance, our ability to do something better than others, how much money we make, or whether we accomplish a host of other things the world praises, then our confidence will be shallow and fleeting. It will be based on things we ultimately cannot fully control.

There is another type of confidence, however, that is available to us. President Russell M. Nelson declared, “When we make and keep covenants with God, we can have confidence that is born of the Spirit.”1 Confidence that is born of the Spirit is a confidence instilled in us by God. It’s a confidence that is not subject to the conditions of our lives because it’s rooted in Christ through sacred promises made and kept with Him.

Our Covenantal  Relationship with the Lord

How then does making and keeping covenants give us this type of confidence? To help answer this question, I’d like to share an analogy.

Picture a climber standing at the bottom of a vertical granite face. The climber’s goal is to reach the summit. Gravity makes scaling the cliff difficult, even perilous. The path is rarely straightforward. It’s discovered one reach, one foothold, and one careful step at a time.

Anchors have been driven securely into the hard rock, laying out a path to assist the climber. The climber can secure himself with carabiners that he clips to the anchors as he ascends. Because the anchors are in solid granite, they will hold.

Although the climber who is anchored to the rock doesn’t fall to the ground, he often slips and even finds himself detached from the rock and suspended in the air. In climbing, this is not failure—it is part of the process. When overcoming an especially difficult part of the climb, the climber analyzes the route and knows that multiple attempts may be required. In climbing, they call this “projecting” a route—trying again and again and at times slipping until persistence and learning enable the climber to overcome his obstacles. Because the climber is clipped to anchors, each slip is temporary and each attempt safe. The climber can be confident in the solid anchors that prevent him from plummeting to the ground as he navigates his ascent.

In this analogy the summit represents exaltation—reaching Heavenly Father’s presence in His highest glory. Gravity represents opposition that is essential to His plan—the many trials and temptations that come with life in a fallen world. Slips and falls symbolize our sins and flawed efforts as imperfect climbers striving to learn how to overcome life’s many challenges. Slips and falls are also inherent to His plan. The anchors are God’s covenants—promises we make in sacred ordinances to help us and to guide our path. The carabiners symbolize our personal choices to make and keep those covenants—to connect ourselves securely to the rock. And most importantly, that Rock is Jesus Christ.2

The vital truth of the analogy is this: Only by directly engaging and, when we slip, reengaging with the Rock can we progress toward the summit. Indeed, Heavenly Father designed His plan so that we could rely upon and continually interact with Christ and His Atonement to ascend. Christ Himself declared:

I am Messiah . . . , the Rock of Heaven . . . ; whoso cometh in at the gate [whoso enters into covenant] and climbeth up by me shall never fall. (Moses 7:53)

Bound to the Rock of Heaven, every setback becomes part of the ascent. Every slip is recoverable. Every step forward brings us closer to the summit. Without our connection to Christ, unanchored and “free climbing,” our mistakes could prove fatal. Most importantly, when we are anchored securely, through our direct and repeated interactions with the Rock, our very natures change because of the climb. We become more perfected climbers.

"He Maketh me to Lie Down in Green Pastures

 

Finding Green Pastures

By Julia Selden Ditto (BA '01) in the Spring 2024 Issue

• 
• 

How four restless cows became reminders of grace and peace.

Illustration by Brooke Smart

It was a phone call I never wanted but often received: “Julia, are you missing some cows?”

Every time I got some variation of this phone call, I would run over to the kitchen window, look down the hill into the pasture where our four belligerent cows resided, and groan in agony. The field was usually empty, indicating that yes, I definitely was missing some cows.

My husband, Logan, and I moved our six kids from the suburbs to 17 acres of farmland back in 2016, hoping to give them room to roam and more opportunities to “do hard things.” “Hard things,” in our minds, meant things like hauling rocks from one end of the yard to the other, helping to install acre after acre of electric fence, and—as mentioned—taking care of the four insolent cows.

But even though the care and keeping of the cows was meant to be a character-builder for our children, they became much more of a thorn in my side than anyone else’s. That’s because they always seemed to escape when the kids were at school and Logan was at work, leaving me the lone ranger responsible for corralling them back into the pasture. This was an activity I was not particularly good at, as my many bruises and one banged-up four-wheeler prove.

“Why do they keep getting out?” I complained one day after another agonizing roundup on the prairie. I couldn’t understand: the fence seemed strong, but the cows were somehow motivated enough to get through even barbed wire and electricity.

“If their bellies are full, they won’t try to get out anymore.”

“Well, what are you feeding them?” replied a hardy cowboy neighbor who had come to help us corral the cows. “If their bellies are full, they won’t try to get out anymore.”

I carefully observed the area where the cows had been grazing throughout the fall and winter. They had eaten down all of the grass, and our kids had been feeding them hay—copious amounts, in my opinion—for the past few months. But if the cows were searching for greener pastures, maybe it wasn’t enough.

A little while later Logan opened the gate to our neighboring pasture and let the cows wander in. The grass hadn’t been touched for an entire season, so it was dark green and reached all the way to Logan’s shoulders. The cows immediately started munching.

Over the next several weeks, I noticed something every time I glanced down toward the pasture to do my frequent check for escaped cows: more often than not, the cows were lying down.

In their previous pasture, they were constantly roaming and frequently reaching over the fence in search of more food to satiate their hunger. But in the new pasture, food was everywhere. There was no need to push against the fence in a futile search for something more. They were content, comfortable, and safe right where they were.

I remembered a scripture as I watched the cows lying peacefully among the tall grass: “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures” (Ps. 23:1–2).

I thought of my own green pastures and of Jesus Christ as my shepherd. Because of Him I don’t need to wander into unsafe territory or desperately look for something to bring me peace and contentment. His grace is right there in front of me.

But just because our cows have everything they could ever need or want in their new pasture, I’m not so naive as to think that they will never try to escape again. They are, after all, belligerent cows, just like we are willful humans who become blind, at times, to the paradise in front of us.

When I’m in those moments of escape—when I’m pushing against what I know is best for me—I try to remember my cows. And that’s when I realize that I need to turn my will over to Him and allow Him to lead me to those green pastures of rest.

Julia Ditto is a columnist and mom of six who loves podcasts, chocolate, and baby animals.

Santa Knew His Language

 (This story made me cry!)

My Christmas Miracle

By Rob Simpson

Liahona Dec 2025

I’ll never forget how God helped me bless one of His precious children one winter’s night.

Many years ago, I got a phone call from a good friend who had been hired to play Santa Claus at a local mall. He wasn’t the real Santa Claus but was just one of his helpers. He explained that he needed someone to take his shift. He asked if I would substitute for him for just one night. I have to admit that this job was perfect for me. I always enjoy making children smile, so I gladly agreed.

The evening arrived, and I soon found myself in a small back room at the Eastview Mall. I changed into that familiar red suit, those polished black boots, and that white beard. I needed quite a bit of extra padding to make everything fit. But with a little effort, the Santa makeover was complete.

As I walked through the mall to get to my place, I was delighted to see how excited the young children were to see Santa. Even adults couldn’t help but smile and wave.

Once I sat down, the gate to the workshop opened. A long line of parents and children kept coming in. All but the very shyest children climbed up on my knee, and I listened patiently while they told me their Christmas wishes.

I was having a terrific time. It was great to interact with all the young children who looked at Santa with such wide-eyed wonder. I am proud to say that I really played up the role. I perfected my “Ho, ho, ho!” and even managed a laugh or two that made my belly shake like a bowl full of jelly.

A woman brought a small boy to me. “Excuse me,” she said. “He just wanted to come and say hello.”

I invited him to sit on my lap, but she declined, explaining that he didn’t speak English.

“He’s from Belgium,” she said. “He speaks French.”

My first reaction was, “Oh, this is going to be fun!” Nine years earlier, I had served a French-speaking mission in Quebec, Canada. Although I was no longer fluent in French, I could still have a conversation with a four-year-old. So I turned to the boy and, in French, invited him to come sit with me. The woman’s eyes grew wide and her jaw dropped, but the boy beamed and jumped onto my lap.

After several delightful minutes, it was time to say goodbye because the line had steadily grown while we were talking. Still, I congratulated myself on what felt like a real Christmas miracle—just like the one in Miracle on 34th Street.

But then I did something out of character for Santa. I felt impressed to tell the boy, “Always remember that Santa loves you.” I recall instantly thinking, “What a strange thing for Santa to say!” But the boy hugged me. And then he smiled and waved and ran back to the woman.

She led him a few steps away and then stopped. She asked him to wait there and turned back to me. “I don’t know what just happened,” she told me with tears in her eyes. “But I need to tell you something.”

She explained that she was the little boy’s aunt. She had returned with him from Belgium only a few days earlier. “His mother and father were killed in a car crash,” she said. “I’m his only living relative. I have just brought him to the United States to live with me.”

Her tears began to fall more freely. “But it’s Christmas, and I simply had no idea how we were going to make it through this season. It’s supposed to be joyful and magical, but all I could feel was sorrow. I kept praying, ‘God, help us both get through this.’”

She decided to bring him to the mall. “I know it seems silly,” she continued, “but I thought that if we walked around and just looked at the stores and the holiday decorations, it would at least give us a little distraction.

“But my nephew saw you and said that he had to come see you. I told him, ‘No, honey, Santa won’t be able to understand you.’ But he said, ‘Yes, he will. I need to talk to him.’ And he literally pulled me to you.”

She looked at me again and said, “I don’t know how this happened, but thank you.”

I had been enjoying playing the coolest Santa ever. But in that instant, I knew that my being at the mall that evening was not about me at all. Instead, it was about one child who needed his own Christmas miracle.

I have no idea how many children climbed onto Santa’s lap for the rest of that night. But I’m sure their loved ones were wondering why Santa seemed to be crying.

Every Christmas, I still think about that boy. I wonder if he even remembers that night he met me and brought tears to my eyes. I’ll never forget how God led me to be just where He needed me to be one winter’s night to bless one of His precious children.

That experience continues to be a strong reminder to me that God knows and loves each of us. He knows our desires—even those expressed through the pure faith of a small child who simply wanted to talk with Santa.

The author lives in Virginia.

Aaronic Priesthood Duties

 

Divine Authority, Sublime Young Men

By President Steven J. Lund

Young Men General President

The Doctrine and Covenants explains that deacons and teachers are “to warn, expound, exhort, and teach, and invite all to come unto Christ” (Doctrine and Covenants 20:59). In addition to these opportunities, priests are to “preach … and baptize” (Doctrine and Covenants 20:50).

Well, all that sounds like a lot, but in the real world, these things happen naturally and all over the world.

One bishop taught his new deacons quorum presidency these duties. So the young presidency began to talk about what that might look like in their quorum and in their ward. They decided they should start visiting elderly ward members to see what they needed and then do that.

Among those they served was Alan, a rough, often profane, and sometimes hostile neighbor. Alan’s wife, Wanda, became a member of the Church, but Alan was, as we say, something of a piece of work.

Still, the deacons went to work, comically ignoring his insults, while they shoveled snow and took out trash. Deacons can be hard to hate, and Alan eventually began to love them. At some point they invited him to church.

“I don’t like church,” he responded.

“Well, you like us,” they said. “So come with us. You can just come to our quorum meeting if you want.”

And with the bishop’s approval, he came—and he kept coming.

The deacons became teachers, and as they continued to serve him, he taught them to work on cars and to build things. By the time these deacons-turned-teachers became priests, Alan was calling them “my boys.”

They were earnestly preparing for missions and asked him if they could practice missionary lessons with him. He swore that he would never listen and never believe, but, yeah, they could practice at his house.

And then Alan got sick. And he softened.

And one day in quorum meeting, he tenderly asked them to pray for him to quit smoking, and so they did. But then they followed him home and confiscated all of his tobacco stash.

As his failing health put Alan into hospitals and rehab centers, “his boys” served him, quietly exuding powers of priesthood and of love unfeigned (see Doctrine and Covenants 121:41).

The miracle continued when Alan asked to be baptized—but then he passed away before it could happen. At his request, his deacons-turned-priests were the pallbearers and the speakers at his funeral, where they—fittingly—warned, expounded, exhorted, taught, and invited all to Christ.

And later, in the temple, it was one of “Alan’s boys” who baptized that erstwhile deacons quorum president in proxy for Alan.

Everything John the Baptist said to do, they did. They did what deacons, teachers, and priests do all over this Church and all over this world.