Gospel Story Finder

Elder Neil L. Andersen
Scott and Becky Dorius adopt children after 25 years of marriage.

Ian Ross of the Kentville Ward, Dartmouth Nova Scotia Stake, went the extra mile when it came to academics. Not only did he graduate first in his class, but he did it by achieving an A-plus average.
He was a natural to receive numerous scholarships and subject prizes for being the top student in biology, mathematics, and physics. he also has interests outside the classroom—he’s involved in band and basketball.
Church comes first, however. He’s a seminary graduate and has served as his ward Sunday School president. After attending a year at Acadia University, a mission is definitely in his plans.

At a ward sacrament meeting I attended recently, a sister had been invited to sing whose husband was not active in the Church. He was, however, at the meeting. The bishop wanted a very special program for this occasion. His first announcement was: “Brother X, my first counselor, will give the opening prayer.” His second counselor gave the closing prayer.

How unfortunate, I thought. The three men in the bishopric struggle with such concern over the spiritually sick, then take the very medicine that would make those people well—activity, participation—and consume it themselves in front of the needy!

President Thomas S. Monson is a great example of this principle. In January of 2005, he was presiding over a priesthood leadership conference in Puerto Rico when he demonstrated how the Savior and His servants render service through personal ministry. At the conclusion of that wonderful meeting, President Monson began to greet all the priesthood leaders in attendance. Suddenly, he noticed that one of them was watching everything from afar, off by himself.

President Monson walked away from the group, toward that brother, and spoke to him. With emotion, José R. Zayas told him it was a miracle that he had approached him and an answer to the prayers that he and his wife, Yolanda, had offered before the meeting. He told President Monson that his daughter was in very poor health and that he had with him a letter from his wife that she wanted delivered to President Monson. Brother Zayas had told his wife that it would be impossible since President Monson would be too busy. President Monson listened to the story and asked for the letter, which he read silently. Then he put it in his suit pocket and told Brother Zayas that he would take care of their request.

In this way, that family was touched by our Lord, Jesus Christ, through His servant. I believe the words of the Savior in the parable of the good Samaritan apply to us: “Go, and do thou likewise.”

From the beginning, women in the Church have been instruments in the hands of God. When the temple was being built in Kirtland, the women provided support for the workers, as President Heber C. Kimball said:
“Our women were engaged in spinning and knitting in order to clothe those who were laboring at the building, and the Lord only knows the scenes of poverty, tribulation, and distress which we passed through in order to accomplish this thing. My wife toiled all summer in lending her aid towards its accomplishment. She had a hundred pounds of wool, which, with the assistance of a girl, she spun in order to furnish clothing for those engaged in the building of the Temple, and although she had the privilege of keeping half the quantity of wool for herself, as a recompense for her labor, she did not reserve even so much as would make her a pair of stockings; but gave it for those who were laboring at the house of the Lord. She spun and wove and got the cloth dressed, and cut and made up into garments, and gave them to those men who labored on the Temple; almost all the sisters in Kirtland labored in knitting, sewing, spinning, etc. for the purpose of forwarding the work of the Lord.”

This led to our invitation to the Stevenage Mayor’s Multi-Faith Gathering 2025, held on the Covid Day of Reflection. Brother Head was asked to speak in his dual role as Chair of the Interfaith Forum and a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He shared how our faith inspires us to reach out, to build community and to serve. The response was very positive and several groups have since asked to be involved in our future meetings.
The event’s theme was ‘Coming Together’ and it truly lived up to its name. Prayers and reflections were offered for youth, for those with special needs and for the care of our planet. The words shared by friends from the Sikh, Ahmadiyya Muslim, Methodist, Jewish, Roman Catholic, Church of England and Latter-day Saint communities were moving and unifying.

And the missionaries were grateful for chances to share their testimonies. One day when they were running drills with the Russian team, an interpreter asked, “What training methods do you use?”
Elder Condie hesitated. The mission president had said the elders could practice only on Saturday mornings and play games only on Wednesday nights. They were missionaries first, so they didn’t train more than that. He wasn’t sure what to tell the interpreter about why their team did so well. Then an idea came.
“The Word of Wisdom,” Elder Condie said. The interpreter looked confused. “We don’t drink coffee, tea, or alcohol, or smoke tobacco,” Elder Condie explained. At that time lots of people drank and smoked, even athletes.
When the interpreter told the Russian team what Elder Condie said, they just stared. They were amazed at how long the missionaries could play before getting tired. Because the Mormon Yankees followed the Word of Wisdom, their bodies were healthy and strong.

My husband, Cyrus, and I were married in the temple on May 23, 2006. Before we were married, his work in a laboratory required Cyrus to work on Sundays. He had a shifting schedule, but he usually worked from midnight to 8:00 a.m. After work he would go home to change from his uniform to Sunday dress and then go straight to church, which started at 9:00 a.m. He continued this schedule after we were married.
Sometimes I went to church alone because he was delayed at work. We always wished he didn’t have to work on the Sabbath. On the first Sunday of June 2006, we had our first fast as a married couple. We prayed in faith that Cyrus would be blessed with a job that would not require him to work on Sundays.
A few days later at about 10:00 a.m., I wondered where Cyrus was because he usually came home between 8:00 and 9:00 a.m. Suddenly a thought came to me: “He might be promoted.” Cyrus finally arrived around 11:00 a.m. As he entered our home, he said he had good news and bad news.
I told him to tell me the bad news first. He said we would soon leave Iligan, Philippines, and move to Panay, Philippines. I did not like the news at first because we loved the people in our stake. They were kind to us and treated us as their own, knowing that Cyrus and I had no family nearby.
When I asked him why we needed to move to Panay, he said it was because of the good news. His boss had interviewed him for another job located in Panay. I immediately asked him not about his salary but whether the job would require him to work on Sundays. When he answered, “No!” I was very happy. I hugged him and told him that his new job was the answer to our prayers and fasting. Two months later, Cyrus started his work in Panay.
Heavenly Father is mindful of us, and He blesses us when we exercise faith and obey His commandments. I am grateful for the principles of prayer and fasting. My husband’s job is a blessing to us. Now he has time to magnify his calling in our ward, and the only work he does on Sunday is the Lord’s work.

In Belfast, in quieter times, I had two roommates—girls of another faith whom I had met through a mutual friend. None of us had any extra money. Carol and Anne were both midwifery students, and I was saving for a postgraduate nursing course.
Our apartment was dismal, faded, and hard to bear, but we could find no other place within our means.
Nevertheless, Carol and Anne decided to call the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children and offer to give a Christmas party for 12 needy children. Of course, I agreed to help with the work and the financing as did Carol’s sister Marian.
I had seen some of the miseries of the slums. The most appalling thing I remembered was a little girl in a torn summer dress sitting on the cold, windy sidewalk molding a lump of filthy clay because she had no other toy. I could not now find and help that child, but I could try to help some others.
Our Christmas tree was two feet high, decorated with nine small glass balls, one package of tinfoil icicles, and a star we had made from the foil inside a cracker box. The room was decorated with a few streamers and a dozen balloons. The food was simple—fried potatoes and sausages, grilled tomatoes, cookies, and orangeade. Fancy food is almost unknown to ghetto children, and we were afraid they would not eat anything unfamiliar. Besides, we couldn’t afford it. The 12 gifts were small and inexpensive: a string of plastic beads, a doll’s feeding set, a young child’s picture book, small toys and games. And, remembering the girl on the sidewalk, I bought a package of clay.
The children arrived semiclean and in their best rags. Eleven, twelve, thirteen! One of the girls had come with her toddler sister, who had refused to stay at home. That presented a problem.
Most of the children stood in a group at the door, but one determined boy about eight years old examined all the gifts through the paper.
“If you don’t mind, Missus,” he declared, “I’ll have this game of blow football for me and me mates.”
Carol smiled but was firm.
“We’re giving out the presents at the end of the party. Right now we’re going to play some games.”
We played their games; they played our games. We told stories; they related past experiences. We sang songs and grew decidedly tired of the children’s favorite, “Jingle Bells.”
“Last year,” announced the oldest girl, trying hard to be sophisticated in an ill-fitting sheath and high heels much too large, “I was to a party in the Linen Makers’ Hall. Hundreds of us there was, and a tree 30 feet high.”
“Was it grand, but?” asked a slightly envious voice.
“It wasn’t, for no one had time to talk with us like these good ladies are doing.”
We served the simple food, which first brought forth cries of delight and then the silence of serious eating.
“Ye’ve left food on your plate,” objected our blow football elf to his neighbor.
“I can’t eat it, but,” she replied, “for I’ve never had this much food on me plate at once.”
“Give it here, then, for ’tis a shame to waste good food.”
He ate several children’s leavings and then conceded defeat. He could not prevent a few scraps from going to waste.
We gave him the blow football game. We gave the 12-year-old, would-be sophisticate the plastic beads.
We gave the doll’s feeding set to a seven-year-old Raggedy Ann.
“It’s no use to me, Missus. I ain’t got a doll.”
So the Relief Society lost another plastic doll. This time it was wrapped in writing paper, and we pretended it had fallen behind the tree.
“Tis the best party I was ever at,” someone announced with satisfaction. “I felt right to home.”
“Indeed it was grand, Missus,” seconded another voice. “For whenever we’uns wanted something, one of you ladies was near.”

In 1835, Newel traveled to Ohio to help build the temple and to receive temple blessings. At Kirtland, he boarded with his good friends Hyrum and Jerusha Smith. There he met and fell in love with Lydia Goldthwaite Bailey, whose belief in Joseph Smith was equal to his.
A few years previous, Lydia’s husband had deserted her, and both of her children had died, so her family sent her to Canada for a change of scenery. In late 1833, while staying with the Nickerson family, she heard Joseph Smith preach and saw his face “become white and a shining glow seemed to beam from every feature.”3 This witness of the Spirit converted her. She then moved to Kirtland. On 24 November 1835, Joseph Smith performed Newel and Lydia’s wedding at Hyrum Smith’s home. The ceremony was the first marriage performed by the Prophet.4

A young woman once came to me and asked if we could talk. I said, “Of course. How can I help you?”
She said, “I just don’t get grace.”
I responded, “What is it that you don’t understand?”
She said, “I know I need to do my best, and then Jesus does the rest, but I can’t even do my best.”
I said, “The truth is, Jesus paid our debt in full. He didn’t pay it all except for a few coins. He paid it all. It is finished.”
She said, “Right! Like I don’t have to do anything?”
“Oh, no,” I said, “you have plenty to do, but it is not to pay that debt. We will all be resurrected. We will all go back to God’s presence to be judged. What is left to be determined by our obedience is how comfortable we plan to be in God’s presence and what degree of glory we plan on receiving.”

We were all sitting around talking in the lobby of the meetinghouse when a girl walked in carrying a page torn from a magazine.
“Can you believe this?” said the girl, incredulously, holding the magazine ad so her friends could see. “Look at this picture. If anyone believes this, they’re crazy.”
The two nearest her took the page, looked at it briefly, and started snickering. Soon all the girls crowded around. This group of girls, between the ages of 18 and 20, had one thing in common. They were all employed as nannies in the Boston, Massachusetts, area. I had asked them to talk about their reasons for choosing to become nannies and what they had learned about the experience. Now I had to see what they were laughing at.
I looked over their shoulders at a full-page ad. The copy said something about the exciting opportunities awaiting girls who wanted to become nannies. The picture was of a pretty young girl in a frilly dress, seated on a couch with a poodle lying beside her on the cushion. A black baby grand piano was behind her. Seated at the girl’s feet were two perfectly groomed children smiling up at her as she read from a storybook.
“That isn’t how it is,” said Leslie Bentall, a former nanny. “You walk around in sweat pants with your hair pulled back while kids in dirty diapers pull you in all directions. The homes are often not as nice as they are made out to be. You’re asked to do child care, but then you’re made to wash walls and clean windows, do carpools, and baby-sit every night of the week.”

I remember visiting a friend in southern India. This man worked as an accountant in a cement plant. His salary was meager. His house was small; it would fit into the front room of many homes. But his heart was large and overflowing. Out of a great love for others that came from his understanding of the gospel of Jesus Christ, he built a school with his own hands on a piece of ground he bought from his savings. It was a simple, rough building; but studying there were some 400 poor children, each being brought out of the darkness of illiteracy into the light of learning. What this act of love has meant and will mean in their lives is beyond calculation.
Through this one man’s efforts, there were established five small branches of the Church in the rural villages of southern India. The members constructed three or four little buildings, neat and clean. Over the door of each was a sign, in both English and Tamil, that read, “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” The floors were of concrete and without benches where the people sat together as we met, shared our testimonies, and partook of the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper.
Someday, someone will write the story of the Church in India. That story will be incomplete unless there is a chapter on my friend who lost himself in the service of others.2

My favorite talk was by Elder Clayton. I liked his story about the girl who survived. I thought that was really cool that she walked so far and was so young. The girl looked around and saw a light. Elder Clayton related that to the gospel. It is kind of like looking for the iron rod.
Simon S. age 8, Pennsylvania, USA

The strength of the Church in Brazil is not just the number of members but also their dedication to the gospel. For example, Gelson Pizzirani, a retired airline administrator, was offered a challenging and lucrative job: help build a new airline in Brazil. At the same time, he and his wife, Míriam, were called to preside over the Brazil Brasília Mission. There was no question what to do. Since their baptisms as teenagers, they have dedicated their lives to the Church. Prior to their marriage, Brother Pizzirani was called to serve as a branch president. He was called to be a stake president at age 25 and accepted numerous other callings, including Area Seventy. Sister Pizzirani has served in stake and ward Relief Society, Young Women, and Primary callings. She expressed her feelings concerning the blessings of the gospel: “My life has been profoundly blessed because I have tried to keep the commandments. For every commandment I keep, I receive a blessing.”6
After finishing their mission in Brasília, their plan to settle down at home was interrupted by a short-term call to serve as president of the Brazil Campinas Mission. After a few months rest, they accepted a call in 2013 to be president and matron of the Recife Brazil Temple. One of the missionaries who baptized Brother Pizzirani was recently called with his wife to serve in the Recife Temple, where missionary and convert will serve together.
The example of the Pizziranis giving up career opportunities to serve the Lord is impressive but not unusual among the faithful members in Brazil.

Bishop Brown’s office is neat and orderly, qualities that are reflected in the man who sits behind the walnut desk. Occasionally he looks up from his work at the things that make his office a special place. From his desk he can see a replica of a Japanese warrior’s helmet that sits on the end table next to the couch. This gift has special meaning to the bishop because it came from his son Stephen who is serving a mission in Japan. The Bishop’s furniture sits on light, earth-colored carpeting. His draperies are olive green and match the couch. The colors of the room are clean and comfortable. As Bishop Brown sits at his desk, he can see to his right a beautiful little marble sculpture of a child. He had commissioned it in Italy while he was touring Europe during the time he was responsible for translation and distribution. The sculptor-artist was almost blind and quite elderly, and Bishop Brown was not sure that he would ever receive the sculpture. However, about two years after he had commissioned the piece, a young elder, returning from Italy, entered Bishop Brown’s office with the statue in his arms. He had hand carried it all the way from Italy. It is a beautiful and delicate carving of a young child, and there is a standing joke in the Bishop’s office that in case of fire, Carolyn, his secretary, is to grab the statue first and then run for cover. On another table to the right of the Bishop’s desk is a clock that allows one to tell the time anywhere in the world. It is symbolic of the concern and interest Bishop Brown has for young people all over the world. Besides pictures of his family and the First Presidency, there is on the wall to his left a very special plaque that was lettered by his son-in-law Steven Soderborg and mounted and finished by his daughter Joanne. The plaque reads, “1 Nephi 13:41–42: ‘There is one God and one Shepherd over all the earth, and the time cometh that he shall manifest himself unto all nations.’” [1 Ne. 13:41–42]

I will never forget the day my mother taught me how to love a mean lady.
She was my neighbor, and I was afraid of her. She had long white hair that stuck out everywhere, and she was missing some teeth. Her name was Maggie.
We lived in a yard of seven little cottages. (In England, a yard is a tiny street.) Because there was only one way out of the yard, we had to pass Maggie’s cottage every day on the way to school. If she saw us, she would come to her door and shake her fists and shout. We couldn’t understand a word she said, but she seemed angry and scary. Everyone ran past Maggie’s house or tried to avoid it.
Everyone, that is, except my mother. She seemed to be the bravest person in the world because she wasn’t afraid of Maggie one bit. She even went into her cottage! If Maggie was sick, Mum took her dinner. If Maggie was lonely, Mum went and talked with her. Mum said that sometimes she even understood what Maggie was saying.
One day I was walking home from school when I saw Mum in the yard with Maggie. Maggie’s clothes were hanging on our washing line. As usual, Maggie was pointing and shouting. Then she stomped off.
“What’s wrong?” I asked Mother. “What was she saying?”
“Oh, I’ve done her washing for her, and she says it isn’t clean,” Mum said.
I gasped. Mother’s washing was always very clean. “How could she say that? She’s so ungrateful! You should never help her again!”
Mum turned to look at me, and I could tell that she was thinking carefully about what to say. Finally, she said something that I will always remember.
“Love, I don’t do things for her so that she’ll be grateful. I do them because she needs me to do them.”
Mum went on to explain that Maggie hadn’t enjoyed the same good things in life that we had. Sad things had happened to her that made it hard for her to think and act properly. She needed people to show her love and care, and not pay attention to how different she was.
I realized that Maggie was a very important person. She was one of the “least” that Jesus spoke about when He said, “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these … ye have done it unto me.”* Not only did Maggie need us to help her with everyday work, Heavenly Father also needed us to show her that she was loved. When we unselfishly served Maggie, we served Heavenly Father too. My mother understood this, and I’m glad she took the time to teach me.

I was raised in a wonderful but less-active family. I wasn’t accustomed to hearing testimonies borne of the truthfulness of the gospel within my home. So even though I grew up in Salt Lake City, Utah, in a predominantly Latter-day Saint environment, I didn’t grow up in a typical Latter-day Saint family. We didn’t hold family home evening or gather for family prayer. Many of the Church practices that my friends were used to were a little foreign to me.
By virtue of this home environment, I was probably one of the least likely to stand and bear my testimony in front of a large seminary gathering. I was also a rather shy 15-year-old, so I was quite surprised when I found myself standing at a microphone in front of 300 seminary students. But I was comfortable because of what I felt deep inside. Even today, I still remember the overwhelming prompting by the Spirit to stand and bear my testimony in that seminary meeting.
I don’t remember the exact words I spoke, but I will never forget the burning in my heart, the sure witness I received that the Church is true. I remember well the feeling of the Spirit of the Holy Ghost that descended upon me as I bore witness to the truthfulness of this Church.
Before that day I believed the Church was true. I liked the Church. I thought it was good, and I participated in it. But at that defining moment in my life, I knew the Church was true. I couldn’t deny it, and no one could take that testimony away from me.
Since that day in seminary, I have shared my testimony thousands of times. I remember some of these other occasions, but none have been quite so dramatic for me or have been so influential in shaping my future as that first instance when I was a teenager. One of the reasons this event made such a lasting impression on me is because I was about the same age as the Prophet Joseph Smith when he saw Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, and learned that he would be instrumental in restoring the true Church to the earth.
The experience of bearing my testimony and gaining a sure witness was a turning point in my life in many ways. When instruction comes from the Lord to you, it is the greatest thing you will ever learn. Because of this testimony, I wanted to serve, to become a better student, and to develop better social and personal skills. My desire to learn more about the scriptures was greatly increased. I had more purpose in life. I knew that as I kept myself worthy, I would be permitted to preach the gospel.
I also realized that God knew who I was. That was one of the really important things that surprised me and changed me. I was His son! Once you know who you are, you want to be better. There comes a power in that knowledge—a power you can get only through the inspiration of our Heavenly Father.
As I look back on this experience, I believe that Heavenly Father wanted to give me an opportunity to develop some attributes and skills so He could work with me a little easier. I think He also wanted to get me thinking about serving a mission, which was not something that was encouraged in my home. As a young teen, I hadn’t thought much about a mission. But through my testimony experience, I knew for the first time that I wanted to serve a mission. Many other experiences reinforced that desire, but that was the first instance that I knew I wanted to go. I knew my Father in Heaven wanted me to serve a full-time mission to share what I now knew with His children.

Adoption. Just before Christmas of 2004 we heard about a little girl who needed to be adopted. All of us children put on our Christmas wish list that we wanted a little sister. On December 11, our wishes came true when my younger sister came to live with us. That is the best Christmas gift I have ever had.Carolyn R., Arizona

Once I had a treasured friend, Hyrum Adams, who seemed to experience more of life’s troubles and frustrations than he could bear. Finally he lay in the hospital, terminally ill. I knew not that he was there.
Sister Monson and I had gone to that same hospital to visit another person who was very ill. As we exited the hospital and proceeded to where our car was parked, I felt the distinct impression to return and ask whether Hyrum Adams might be a patient there. Long years before, I had learned never, never, to postpone a prompting from the Lord. It was late, but a check with the desk clerk confirmed that indeed Hyrum was a patient.
We proceeded to his room, knocked on the door, and opened it. We were not prepared for the sight that awaited us. Balloon bouquets were everywhere. Prominently displayed on the wall was a poster with the words “Happy Birthday” written on it. Hyrum was sitting up in his hospital bed, his family by his side. When he saw us, he said, “Why, Brother Monson, how in the world did you know that this is my birthday?” I smiled but I left the question unanswered.
Those in the room who held the Melchizedek Priesthood surrounded this, their father and my friend, and a priesthood blessing was given.
After tears were shed, smiles of gratitude exchanged, and tender hugs received and given, I leaned over to Hyrum and spoke softly to him: “Hyrum, remember the words of the Lord, for they will sustain you. He promised, ‘I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you’” (John 14:18).