Gospel Story Finder

Most of our missionaries come into the field because they love the Lord Jesus Christ and they desire to serve him and bring souls unto him. There are a few, however, who rationalize themselves out of a call or try to justify poor performance in the mission field—like the man who received his pay envelope and noticed that he had been shorted five dollars. He went to the paymaster and said, “You shorted me five dollars in my pay envelope this week.”
The paymaster responded, “Well, I have been expecting you. I noticed you didn’t come in complaining last week when I overpaid you five dollars.”
The fellow said, “Well, I can tolerate one mistake, but not two in a row.”

While serving as an Area Seventy in Mexico, Elder Adrián Ochoa spent a couple of days in the city of Chihuahua in counsel with the stake president and others, then boarded a plane destined for home. But after taking his seat, he received a forceful spiritual prompting that his work in Chihuahua was not finished.
The flight crew was making final preparations for take-off. “But,” said Elder Ochoa, “I knew I had to get off that plane.” So he disembarked. A series of subsequent interviews yielded important information that resolved a difficult issue and permitted the spiritual progress of a family.

An example will illustrate the kind of moral courage I mean. Some years ago a persuasive, able individual with great influence in the Senate of this nation leveraged legitimate concerns for the defense of this country for personal ambition. Some of his colleagues became concerned with allegations made against him. They decided that an investigation was required to determine whether or not his actions were justified and honorable or whether he should be censured. Discussions were held concerning who should participate in the search for truth.
A relatively unknown senator—but a good man with faith in God and unquestioned integrity—awoke from a nightmare and told his wife that he had dreamed he had been put on the committee.
She responded, “Oh, no! That would be political suicide.”
He went to the office and returned home after a long day, ashen white.
His trembling wife said, “No! You’ve been put on the committee.”
He responded, “Worse than that. I have been asked to be its chairman.”
Then, with characteristic devotion to duty, he and other valiant men began the difficult, trying evaluation of evidence to discover truth and to put an end to false practices. It was not an attack against an individual but against wrongdoing in high places. Though that action did later cost him his political career, I will ever remember him for his courage, integrity, and willingness to sacrifice personal gain for the greater good he gave this nation.

Sometimes young women have special challenges when the family isn’t complete. Last summer in Alaska, I met a Young Women president whose mother had died when she was three. She had been raised by her father, joining the Church at age 14. I asked her how she had learned to do all the feminine things, like fixing her hair and setting a pretty table. She said: “I watched my Young Women leaders! When I saw one of them who knew how to cook, I thought, I want to be just like her. Now, every time I clean my house, I think of my Laurel adviser.” So even if your own families are less than perfect, you can think about and plan for your own future family.

Mathilde Felber joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints when it was just taking root in her country, and she grew up with it.
LDS missionaries in Brazil originally labored among German-speaking members who had settled in the southern part of the country. Mathilde, from a German-speaking Swiss family, first met the missionaries in 1938 when she was only 10, and it was three years before her father finally allowed his wife and daughters to be baptized.
During Mathilde’s years as an investigator and new member of the Church, North American missionaries were frequently visitors in her family’s home. These visitors included young elders James E. Faust and Wm. Grant Bangerter, along with a number of others she can name as she browses through her photo albums.
The man Mathilde married, Enos de Castro Deus, attended meetings for five years, studying the doctrine carefully and even assisting the branch as requested, before being baptized in 1952. He would not allow himself to take on membership with anything less than a lifelong commitment, and he wanted to be sure of the truth.
Together, Enos and Mathilde helped strengthen the Church in Curitiba for three generations. She has held leadership positions in each of the Church’s auxiliaries, including 17 years in Relief Society presidencies and callings at both the mission and stake levels. He was a branch president four times, bishop twice, a district president, and a counselor in branch, mission, and stake presidencies. He was deeply involved in planning construction of the first Church building in Curitiba at a time when the Church itself was still largely unknown there. Enos passed away late last year.
“In the beginning, the Church grew very slowly,” Mathilde says. “It was difficult to baptize people here.” Now, the fruits of the gospel are seen in the lives of so many members who serve as missionaries by example that it’s much easier to talk to people about the Church.
Mathilde smiles as she recalls what happened when her daughter-in-law saw a neighbor woman peering over the fence on a Sunday morning. The neighbor excused herself by saying, “I just love to see your family going to church together!”

I have always loved this poem—entitled “Your Friendship Means So Much to Me” by Jean Kyler McManus—that to me describes the kind of relationship the Lord wants among His people:
Some friends are Summer friends Fragile as flowers They are delightful in life’s milder hours. . . . I love the Winter friends. . . . Sturdy as evergreen—wind-tossed They bow, but do not break Nor lose their luster in the snow and frost.14

When I was called to serve as a mission president in Arcadia, California, we brought our youngest daughter, Jessica, with us. She turned thirteen two days after we arrived. We had left a strong community here in Provo, where Jessica had been surrounded by many good friends and extended family members, so we knew the transition would not be easy for her.

The first few weeks were the hardest. We arrived in the middle of summer, so while my wife and I were extremely busy in the mission, Jessica didn’t have much to do other than miss her friends back home. One day, only about three weeks into our mission, I pulled into the driveway of the mission home after a long, busy day, and I saw that someone had written with marker on the living room window: “I hate California. I miss Utah. I want to go home.”

I went inside to find Jessica sitting alone on the couch, watching TV, and crying. I took my daughter in my arms and said to her, “Jessica, no one in this world is as important to me right now as you are. Do you think we should go back to Utah?”

“No, Dad,” she replied. “You and Mom can stay. But I need to go home.”

Later that night, my wife and I counseled together and agreed that it was important that Jessica stay with us on our mission. But we thought it would be okay if she flew back to Utah for a weekend. So we sent her to stay with some family members there, with the plan that she would fly back to California on Monday morning.

That Sunday happened to be fast Sunday, and in the evening I received a phone call from Jessica. “Dad,” she said. “I’ve been fasting today, and I have received a revelation that I should not fly back to California tomorrow. I am supposed to stay here in Utah.”

“That’s interesting,” I replied. “I’ve been fasting too, and I have received a revelation that you need to get your tail on that plane!”

Well, she did get on the plane, and she did come back to California. Within a few weeks she was befriended by the young women in our ward and in seminary. She even made some friends who accepted her invitation to learn about the gospel and be baptized.

Three years later our mission was coming to an end. As I drove into our driveway on the last day of our mission, I saw that Jessica had written with marker on the living room window: “I love California. I don’t want to move!” Jessica learned—and so did I—about the strength that is available when we gather with fellow Saints.

Looking back on this experience, I believe the Lord was preparing Jessica for other times in her life when she would need that strength.

One of those times came just a few years ago after the birth of Jessica’s first child, a precious daughter named Annie. Annie was born two months early, and she had a rare genetic disorder that caused her muscles to violently contract. This would happen sixty to seventy times a day, inhibiting her breathing, while her parents and doctors could only watch helplessly. After fighting through a short but difficult life of only four and a half months, Annie died.

Jessica later said, “My husband and I definitely couldn’t go through this hardship alone. . . . The relationships that we have with our family and friends have strengthened us through this trial.” You might say that Jessica had learned the importance of “winter friends.”

My admiration almost had no bounds one day when a young man from Murray came in to be interviewed for a mission. He’d saved $2,900 for his mission from his Marine pay in three years and nine months and fifteen days. By doing odd jobs which others wished to escape, he had $2,900 for his mission. Just a boy without a job, without a place, without a home, without somebody to keep him busy. But he caught the idea and went out and did other people’s work on the ship, and saved his money for this important thing.

My father, Evan Stevenson, was called to serve in California and Arizona in 1947. Death Valley in California was one of his areas. Within days of his arrival to his mission, his mission president announced that, from that time forward, all ­missionaries would proselyte without purse or scrip. This meant that they moved out of their apartments and sent virtually everything home. They could spend no money. They were instructed to receive meals and lodging from the people they were teaching. At the end of two or three days, they were to find new investigators or contacts both to teach and from whom they might receive meals and lodging. Can you even imagine this? Again, we express our gratitude for the faith and consecration of missionaries who preceded us.

When I was 12 years-old I lived in the city of Curitiba, Brazil. My parents had 7 children then. The year was 1969. According to my parents, at that time there was a lot of evil in the world, people were losing respect for each other, people were distorting their values, losing a sense of ethical and moral principles, and people were no longer distinguishing right from wrong. Imagine that was back in 1969! At the time my parents were seeking a religion that could help them raise a family and keep the family together through the years. It was at that important moment of decision that the missionaries knocked at our door. Certainly, those two Elders were angels sent by God in response to my parents' prayers.

My father is now 77 years old. He says that the most important decision he has ever made was his choice to embrace the gospel of Jesus Christ. According to him, the gospel helped him to become a better father, a better husband, a better son, a better professional, a better citizen, finally, a better son to Heavenly Father.

I believe that seeing the fruits of the gospel in my family motivated me at the right time to accept the call to serve a full time mission. I wanted to bring to others the same feeling of joy and spiritual fulfillment our family received through those two young missionaries.

Children provide some of the best examples of how to administer Christ’s love. After spending a long, hot day at an amusement park with my three nieces (ages six, ten, and eleven), my brother, my husband, and I found ourselves in line for a much-anticipated water ride. As the kids were most excited about this ride—and we did not want to disappoint—we all hopped into the end of the line for what was projected to be a ninety-minute wait.

After fifteen minutes of attempting to keep ourselves and the kids entertained, it was clear that we had lost their attention and that they were bored. Instead of turning to complaining, the kids instinctively turned their attention to the other people in line. It did not take long for my three nieces to make friends with three teenagers who were standing in line right in front of us. Soon all six of them were laughing, talking, and joking together. Even after what had turned into more than two hours of standing in line, the kids never complained because they were focused on someone else.

Without having spent time talking with the teens, we would never have learned that the woman accompanying them was not their mother. The teenagers were with their aunt, who had taken the kids away for a weekend after their mother’s funeral. All three teenagers were now learning what it was like to be orphans.

Gratefully, that day three little girls in a long line at an amusement park showed me how to truly minister to and uplift those around me. How many people who are figuratively in line next to you have “hands [that] hang down” or “feeble knees” that need strengthening? You never know what hardships or difficulties others are experiencing, and you never know the impact your interactions will have on them. Turning your focus to other people can have a healing effect that helps lift burdens and mend broken hearts. But sometimes doing good requires taking off your headphones, putting down your smartphone, and interacting with a huge smile.

Over 25 years ago, while serving as bishop of the Aix-en-Provence Ward and working for Seminaries and Institutes, I met Sophronia, who had come from Tahiti to study in France. She was a young adult with solid gospel knowledge, having grown up in the Church. It was therefore disconcerting when she came into my office to announce she would no longer be attending church. I hoped it would be temporary but, indeed, she carried out her wish, and I never saw her again. For more than 20 years, Sophronia led a life distant from the gospel.
In 2024, when my wife and I arrived on our mission in Tahiti, we were delighted to see her again—and even happier to learn she had returned to the Church two years earlier. She shared what prompted her return:
“You have to know that throughout my time away from the Church, I kept my testimony of the gospel and had a deep desire for my daughter, Kahaili, to grow up as I had—in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I wanted her to know that God lives, that He loves her, and that He has a plan for her to return to live with Him and her family if she kept His commandments. Yet I didn’t want to return to church myself. Quite contradictory, wasn’t it?
“Kahaili occasionally attended meetings with my mother, but this sporadic attendance wouldn’t adequately prepare her for baptism. In 2022, when Kahaili was six and a half, I realized we only had a year and a half to prepare. I say ‘we’ because this process meant I would have to become involved personally, not relying on my mother or anyone else.
“I asked her, ‘Kahaili, do you want to be baptized when you turn eight?’
“Without hesitation, she replied, ‘Yes, Mom, I want to be baptized!’
“Her enthusiasm amazed me, and in that outpouring of fervor, I found the courage to make the sacrifice and return to church.
“We attended that first Sunday alone. But soon after, my husband, Cyril (although not a member of the Church), joined us, feeling his place was with us. When Kahaili expressed her desire for her father to baptize her, I responded with a forced smile, ‘Well, ask your daddy. You never know!’—not believing for a moment it could happen. Her father replied, ‘If I can, my daughter, I will.’”
The Lord then intervened in Cyril’s life. His conversion came through reading Ether 12:4: “Wherefore, whoso believeth in God might with surety hope for a better world, yea, even a place at the right hand of God, which hope cometh of faith, maketh an anchor to the souls of men, which would make them sure and steadfast, always abounding in good works, being led to glorify God.”
This scripture about hope becoming an anchor resonated deeply with Cyril as he recalled nearly drowning in the Tuamotus lagoon years earlier. While he was fishing, his boat had drifted away when its anchor came loose. Despite swimming desperately to catch up, he grew exhausted. Miraculously, the boat’s anchor caught on a coral formation, stopping the boat so he could reach it. Cyril still describes this as a miracle that saved his life.
Like a rebirth, Cyril was baptized on March 28, 2024—his 50th birthday. The following month, he baptized Kahaili. The crowning moment came on April 12, 2025, when Sophronia, Cyril, and Kahaili were sealed in the Papeete Tahiti Temple. We had the privilege of attending this sacred ceremony.
I share this story to testify that there is always hope when family members stray from the Church. Even if it takes a quarter century, through faith in Jesus Christ, a miracle is always possible.

Recently I read where an elderly man disclosed at the funeral of his brother, with whom he had shared, from early manhood, a small, one-room cabin near Canisteo, New York, that following a quarrel, they had divided the room in half with a chalk line and neither had crossed the line nor spoken a word to the other since that day—sixty-two years before! What a human tragedy—all for the want of mercy and forgiveness.

The choirmaster of St. Michael’s Church looked up in surprise at the two travel-stained young boys the doorkeeper had just brought into the room. “What’s that you say?” he asked, turning to the youngsters. “You want to sing in my choir?”
“Oh, yes, sir. Please take us into your choir and school,” both boys answered at once, their eyes lighting up and brightening their faces in spite of their tired, dusty appearance.
“You must be able to sing well to join the choir of St. Michael’s,” the choirmaster said. “But first, tell me about yourselves. What are your names, and where are you from?”
“My name is Sebastian Bach,” the younger of the two boys said. “This is my Georg Erdmann. We have come from Ohrdruf.”
“Bach. Ah, yes,” the choirmaster said. The musical Bach family, he mused. How well they are known throughout the countryside. “But tell me,” he said, turning to the boys and staring into their dusty faces, “Ohrdruf is two hundred miles away. Surely you did not walk all the way here to Lüneburg.”
“Yes, sir, we did,” Sebastian answered.
“Except when a kindly old man gave us a ride in his oxcart,” Georg added.
“Sir,” Sebastian said. “We have a letter for you from our choirmaster in Ohrdruf. He told us to come here.”
“He said that to sing in your choir would pay for our tuition and lodging at St. Michael’s,” Georg added.
“Yes, that is so,” the choirmaster said, “and you must sing well, or Elias Herda would not have recommended you. But now you must have food and rest. Tomorrow we shall hear you sing.”
Sebastian and Georg ate heartily the soup and bread that were placed before them. When they finished, they sat wrapped in blankets before a warm fire. Soon they were sound asleep.
The next morning, when the choirmaster saw how easily they could read music and heard what clear, beautiful tones they sang with, he was delighted. “Yes, indeed,” he said, nodding his approval. “We certainly have a place for such fine voices in our choir.” Turning to Sebastian, he said, “Even for a Bach, your musical training has been superior.”
“My brother Christoph taught me a lot the last five years,” Sebastian told him. “When my parents died, I went to live with him in Ohrdruf.”
Sebastian’s home had been in Eisenach, Germany. Like almost all the other male Bachs, his first name was Johann. His family was very musical, and there was always much singing and music-making in their home. In fact, once a year all the Bach relatives gathered together for a three-day music fest.
When Sebastian went to live with his brother, Christoph taught him to play the clavier, which was a forerunner of the piano. Christoph taught him to play other musical instruments, too, and it was the organ that thrilled Sebastian the most. He loved to sit in church and listen to the music flowing from the mighty instrument. It was the most beautiful music he had ever heard. Now that I am in the choir school, I want to learn to play the organ better, he thought.
Sebastian eagerly began his new life at St. Michael’s. There were other lessons to study, but he was happiest when it was time for music. When his voice changed and he could no longer sing in his fine soprano tones, he played the violin and other instruments in the church orchestra. He spent countless hours practicing the music of the great masters and learning from them. Many, many years later Johann Sebastian Bach would be considered one of the greatest masters of music, but today he was just a young boy eagerly learning all he could from the opportunities he found before him.
One of those opportunities was that of studying the organ with the accomplished Georg Böhm, organist of St. John’s Church in Lüneburg. Sebastian loved to send the music echoing through the church, sometimes softly, sometimes loudly. Melodies began to flow through his mind, and he wrote them down.
During his lifetime Sebastian became famous as an organist. Most of the music he wrote was played or sung in churches. But although he wrote a vast amount of music, very little of his work was published in his lifetime. It was not until Mozart, and later Beethoven, heard the music of Johann Sebastian Bach and taught it to their students and presented it to the world that people realized what a great genius Bach was. March 21, 1985, will be the three hundredth anniversary of his birth. Today, Johann Sebastian Bach is still bringing joy to those who listen to his beautiful music.

I should like to share with you tonight an experience and tell you a story regarding keeping the Word of Wisdom. When I was president of the Edmonton Branch in Canada, I was in charge of our priests group. We used to meet in the basement of an IOOF Hall, which had dirt walls and a dirt floor. One of the priests, named Max, was playing on the school basketball team. He was the only member of the Church on that team. The other boys, naturally, had no qualms about using tea, coffee, or tobacco, and sometimes using alcohol. Max, of course, kept the Word of Wisdom strictly. He used to tell the boys about the Word of Wisdom and the evils of breaking it, and he told them that the Lord had promised that they should run and not be weary, and walk and not faint, if they kept the Word of Wisdom. He assured them they would be better basketball players if they refrained from the use of these things. He was one of the top players, and the boys respected him. It was not long until all of them were keeping the Word of Wisdom.
A few weeks ago I was in Houston, Texas, and was met there by this young man and his family. He told his family of the times we used to meet in the basement of the IOOF Hall and of some of the things he remembered that I had taught them. Then I told the family of his experience with and influence on the basketball team, emphasizing that people always respect one who will live up to his standards, and that he will benefit greatly thereby. Max now is the head geologist in one of the big oil companies in Houston.

“Did I ever tell you about the Missouri snake?” Grandpa asked.
“No,” said Emily. She sat down on the cool grass to listen.
“One day, my brother Lee and I were out playing by a rock pile, when we saw a snake, a great big one. Mom had told us to stay away from snakes because one might be poisonous, and we were scared. Lee and I started throwing rocks at it. We threw so many that we moved nearly the whole rock pile!” he said.
“Did you kill the snake?” Emily asked.
“I don’t know,” Grandpa Charles laughed. “We never did get brave enough to go and see.”

The last experience I’d like to share came when I passed the bar exam. A salty old trial lawyer approached me and said, “Bob, you can’t be a successful, effective trial lawyer and an active member of the LDS Church at the same time.” I considered others who were successful in their law practices and active in the Church, and I determined to be active in the Church. My decision didn’t affect my success as a trial lawyer. In fact, it enhanced it because I had balance in my life. I was trying to do what the Lord had asked me to do, and He gave me additional strength, understanding, and help.

On a rainy Saturday morning prior to a Kolwezi district conference in 2013, President Ellie Monga, Counselor in the Lubumbashi Democratic Republic of the Congo Mission and Elder Jeffrey Wright, the mission finance secretary, welcomed two strangers at the mission office. Their clothes were muddy, and they were exhausted. They arrived pushing a single, beat-up bicycle and carrying a parcel that was wrapped in a torn and dirty plastic.
President Monga and Elder Wright inquired about their journey and learned that these two tired pilgrims, Brothers Yumba Muzimba Paul and Muba Wa Umbalo Delphin, had arrived from Kinkondja, a city located 600 kilometers (375 miles) north of Kolwezi. They had departed eight days earlier as part of a larger group that was traveling to attend the district conference. En route, most of the group fell sick and decided to return to their homes—but these two brothers were determined to complete the journey by themselves, taking turns between pedaling the bicycle and riding on the back. They said that they had travelled the last three days continuously through the night without stopping and without food—and after a tire went flat, they pushed the bicycle through the rain along the muddy roads. Their bicycle was broken, and these brothers had no money for tools or parts. They had not eaten for three days. They did not know how they would fund a return to their homes.
Brother Paul and Brother Delphin explained that they represented the roughly 60 Saints living in the Kinkondja area and had come to bring tithing from those Saints and to attend the district conference. This came as a surprise to President Monga and Elder Wright as there was no officially organized Kinkondja branch of the Church. Elder Wright recorded in his journal, “It was my honor to receive [the tithing envelopes]. It was my honor to process them.” Elder Wright continued, “I have never felt like I had handled such sacred money before in my whole lifetime.”

Just a few weeks ago, I was working on my family history with a consultant by my side and another helper on the phone. On the computer screen before me was a problem beyond my mortal power to solve. I saw two names, sent to me by the wonders of technology, of people who might be waiting for a temple ordinance. But the trouble was that the names were different, but there was a reason to believe they might be the same person. My task was to determine what was true.
I asked my consultants to tell me. They said, “No, you must choose.” And they were completely sure I would discover the truth. The computer, with all its power and information, had left me the blessing of staring at those names on a screen, evaluating the available information, seeking other research, praying silently, and discovering what was true. As I prayed, I knew with surety what to do—just as I have in other situations when I needed to rely on heaven’s help to solve a problem.

Monday evening the family went to the chuck wagon races at the Calgary Stampede. President Benson watched with the keen eye of a lifelong horseman as the chuck wagon teams careened around the track in a cloud of dust and tangle of wagons, horses, and outriders. A constant stream of LDS Scouts who were visiting from the nearby international jamboree came to shake the Apostle’s hand, and he graciously turned away from the spectacle to greet them warmly. Afterward there was a stage show honoring Canada, and then the night became noon as fireworks blossomed in new constellations overhead. The family laughed and joked and cheered. The best part of the evening was just being together.

But Te Oranoa M., age 17, from New Zealand has a different take on things. "What inspires me about this scripture," she says, "is that it doesn't say they are lost forever."

What an incredible insight! And it's one that comes from personal experience. "I, myself, fell away from the Church," she says, "but I have been able to come back."

Te Oranoa grew up in the Church and talks about gaining her own testimony and even setting spiritual goals. "But that testimony grew cold," she says.

In some ways, she found common ground with Amulek, particularly in the way he described himself to the people of Ammonihah: "I did harden my heart, for I was called many times and I would not hear; therefore I knew concerning these things, yet I would not know" (Alma 10:6).

For Te Oranoa, that scripture hits close to home. "Just like Amulek, I knew all these spiritual things, and the Spirit was telling me to do certain things, but because I was being a bit stubborn and a bit prideful, I wouldn't do them. Afterward, my testimony kind of faded away."

In the end, Amulek's story would become more than merely familiar to Te Oranoa. It would also become a turning point on the road back.

Even during the time when her faith had grown cold, she could still remember sweet experiences from before. Te Oranoa never forgot how she'd felt when attending the temple with her youth group or going to a youth conference.

"There was a pattern," she says. "I'd feel really good when I came to church, but I didn't feel good when I missed church."

There finally came a day when Te Oranoa decided to see if she could connect with those good feelings again. The first thing she did was to read through recent general conference addresses.

An October 2016 general conference address, "Learn from Alma and Amulek," by President Dieter F. Uchtdorf, Second Counselor in the First Presidency, woke something in Te Oranoa's soul. She recognized a lot of her own life and feelings as President Uchtdorf described how Amulek's faith had faded. She also remembered more strongly than ever the happiness she had enjoyed when her faith was stronger. Instantly, she wanted to make some changes.

"I was hoping to find something to reignite that fire of my testimony," she explains, "so I read President Uchtdorf's talk, and yes, I felt on fire!"

Te Oranoa's path back to faith hasn't always been easy, but there is a particular light at the end of the tunnel that keeps her going: the hope of an eternal family.

"Families can be together forever," she says. "That's my biggest dream, my biggest hope in life. Whenever I want to learn about something, or I find a doctrine hard to understand, I try and relate it back to eternal families. For example, why is Jesus Christ's Atonement important to me? For one thing, I need His Atonement in my life so I can be worthy to enter the temple and be sealed to my family for all eternity."

It's perhaps worth remembering that the people in Lehi's vision who fell away after tasting the fruit did, in fact, still taste it. They must have known of its goodness, even if only briefly. And they can discover it again. That's the hope Te Oranoa clings to, for herself and for others.

"You don't have to keep going down those forbidden paths for the rest of your life," she says. "You can turn back to the Lord whenever you want."