Line upon Line

“The greatest responsibility in this world that God has laid upon us is to seek after our dead.” Joseph Smith

As the years quietly gather behind us, our thoughts naturally turn toward those who will follow. We begin asking questions that once seemed distant. What will my children remember? What stories will my grandchildren tell? Will they know where they came from—or, more importantly, whose they are? Will they understand the faith, sacrifices, and spiritual experiences that shaped their family?

Those questions became deeply personal when I learned my cousin Paula was dying.

After hearing the sorrowful news, I called Paula. Getting straight to the point, I asked her what had happened. In a sweet, unwavering voice, she explained:

“Over the last several months I had been feeling exceptionally tired. With five children, including a two-year-old, this wasn’t surprising. It wasn’t until I began having trouble swallowing that I went to the doctor. He told me it was likely a hiatal hernia and that surgery was required. Yet during the surgery, he found I was riddled with cancer and told me I might not make it to Thanksgiving.”

Our conversation took place in September. Paula lived until the following January.

Before we ended our call, I asked if there was anything I could do for her. After a thoughtful pause, she asked, “Do you know who keeps the family genealogy?”

I smiled. My mother and I had long cared for our family’s records.

Paula asked me to send everything we had because she wanted to prepare a genealogy booklet for each of her children. She admitted she knew very little about many of our ancestors, but she wanted her children to know them. As her own life was drawing to a close, she understood something profoundly important: she could still leave her children a heritage they would carry long after she was gone.

Paula’s request reminded me that genealogy is far more than preserving names. It preserves identity.

Paula wanted to leave her children more than memories—she wanted to leave them their identity. Her final request raises an important question: How important is our genealogy to the Lord?

How Important Is Our Genealogy to the Lord?

“The scriptures are not books of stories, but a history of generations that came before ours.” Bishop James Merville

It is fitting that the New Testament opens not with Christ’s miracles or teachings, but with His lineage:

“The book of the generation of Jesus Christ, the son of David, the son of Abraham…” Matthew 1:1

Generation after generation is carefully recorded until the reader arrives at the birth of the Savior. The Lord could have opened the account of His mortal ministry in many ways, yet He began by establishing His lineage—testifying this was the long, awaited Messiah. Heaven wanted us to know that families are essential, covenants continue, and remembering our fathers—our covenant and priesthood lineage—matters.

This pattern reaches back to the very beginning.

Throughout the Old Testament and the Book of Mormon, the Lord repeatedly identifies Himself as “the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.” He is reminding Israel—including us—that He is God of families, and His covenants stretch across generations.

Soon after leaving Jerusalem, one of the Lord’s first commandments to Lehi was to obtain the brass plates. At great sacrifice, Nephi and his brothers returned to retrieve these sacred records. Why? They contained not only the law and the words of the prophets, but also “the genealogy of [their] forefathers” (see 1 Nephi 5:10–16).

As Lehi studied those records, according to Nephi, Lehi discovered he was a descendant of Joseph. That knowledge strengthened Lehi’s and Nephi’s understanding of God’s promises to their fathers and to their posterity.

“I, Nephi, received a commandment that the ministry and the prophecies, the more plain and precious parts of them, should be written upon these plates . . . And this have I done, and commanded my people what they should do after I was gone; and that these plates should be handed down from one generation to another . . .” 1 Nephi 19:3-4

The brass plates preserved far more than history—they preserved the knowledge and testimony of their covenant identity.

The Nephite record keepers understood and continued this sacred responsibility. Generation after generation, they carefully protected and handed down the sacred record. Even when little new history or prophecy was added, they faithfully preserved what had already been entrusted to them. They understood that remembering the past was part of preparing the future.

“[A]ll those engravings which were in the possession of Helaman were written and sent forth . . . these things were to be kept sacred, and handed down from one generation to another . . .” Alma 63:12-13

This pattern reveals an eternal truth: the Lord continues to work through generations.

Growing up, I assumed every family treasured its history. My mother, grandparents, aunts, and uncles constantly shared stories of discovering ancestors. Family reunions were filled with accounts of those who came before us. Road trips often meant traveling dusty back roads to forgotten cemeteries, searching county courthouses through oversized record books, visiting the National Archives, or knocking on the doors of strangers simply because they shared our family surname.

Passing down family history and stories seemed as natural as passing food around the dinner table. Only later did I realize that many families have lost those connections.

Discovering the Family You Never Knew—Maria’s Story

Recently, my husband and I met John and Maria (names changed) while attending a cookout. As often happens when meeting someone new, we exchanged the usual questions. Noticing Maria’s accent, I asked where she was originally from.

Her answer softly began to unfold the story of her life.

Maria lightly stepped into her story by saying she had never known her grandparents. Although she knew her parents, they had died when she was young, and as a result, she knew very little about her family. She knew almost nothing about her people.

That was when I reached into the back pocket of my jeans, pulled out my phone, and opened FamilySearch.

With only the few details Maria remembered about her parents, I began searching. Because they came from a small village in Central America, I held out little hope of finding anything. Then, almost immediately, her mother’s death record appeared.

Maria was astonished.

She had no memory of her grandparents’ names, yet there, recorded on her mother’s death certificate, were the names of her maternal grandparents.

As we continued searching, we discovered her parents’ families were in FamilySearch. Although much work still remains to be done, Maria immediately began recognizing familiar surnames—names she had often heard relatives mention throughout her childhood. There were only a handful of names on her ancestral chart, but they were her names. She knew them!

What filled Maria’s heart that evening was more than excitement. It was deep gratitude. It was belonging. It was the quiet witness of the Spirit of Elijah. My husband and I felt it too.

Genealogy Is More Than Discovering Ancestors

For those who have never known their family, discovering even a few ancestors can awaken emotions that are difficult to describe. Why do names on an old record bring tears? Why does finding a grandfather’s name or recognizing a family surname touch the heart so deeply? Perhaps it is because genealogy is about far more than discovering ancestors. It is about discovering our identity.

As we come to know those who came before us, we begin to understand our own place in God’s eternal family. We discover that we are part of a story much larger than ourselves—a story of covenants, faith, sacrifice, and divine purpose. Family history reminds us that we do not stand alone. We belong not only to generations of earthly families, but ultimately to our Heavenly Parents, whose great work is to gather Their children across generations.

Genealogy is more than finding names. It is discovering who we are, where we belong, and whose we are.

Conclusion

Paula understood something many of us do not realize until time is running short. She knew she could not leave her children every answer, every memory, or every conversation she wished she could have. But she could leave them their story. She could leave them the names, the faith, and the heritage that had shaped generations before them.

Maria represents the other side of that same truth. She had spent much of her life believing those names were lost forever. Yet when the names of her grandparents appeared on an old death record, it was as though a small flame that had nearly gone out suddenly burned again. What began as a casual conversation became the beginning of a journey of discovery she now hopes to continue with her daughter.

One woman wanted to make certain her children would never lose their roots. The other discovered that her roots had been waiting for her all along.

Perhaps that is why the Lord has always commanded His people to preserve sacred records. Genealogy is not merely about collecting names or filling branches on a family tree. It is about preserving covenant identity. It is about ensuring that each generation knows they belong—to a family, to a heritage of faith, and ultimately to Heavenly Parents whose work has always been “to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man.”

Someday our own names will appear on someone else’s family tree. The question is not simply whether they will find our birth and death dates. The question is whether they will know our faith, our testimony, and the stories that taught us to trust God.

That may be one of the greatest legacies we can leave—not merely a genealogy, but a living witness that God remembers His children, keeps His covenants, and gathers His family one generation at a time. And because we remembered those who came before us, those who come after us will remember Him.

In the end, family history is not simply about looking backward. It is about linking generations together in Christ, so that no member of the family of God is forgotten.