Gospel Story Finder

Consider this tender example. It was fast Sunday as Vance and I knocked on the door of a small, humble home. We and other deacons in the quorum had come to expect the words “Please come in,” yelled warmly in a thick German accent loud enough to hear through the door. Sister Muellar was one of several immigrant widows in the ward. She couldn’t answer the door very easily, as she was legally blind. As we stepped inside the dimly lit home, she greeted us with kind questions: What are your names? How are you doing? Do you love the Lord? We answered and shared that we came to receive her fast offering. Even at our young age, her meager circumstances were readily apparent, and her faith-filled response was profoundly touching: “I placed a dime on the counter earlier this morning. I am so grateful to offer my fast offering. Would you be kind enough to place it in the envelope and fill out my fast-offering receipt?” Her love of the Lord lifted our faith each time we left her home.

Zulma sat on one of the church benches and smoothed the skirt of her school uniform. Colored light shone through the stained-glass windows, and a cross stood at the front of the chapel. Zulma went to a church school, so she went to worship services twice a day with the other students. Zulma liked her church. She loved Jesus and loved to learn about Him.
She sat quietly as the priest began to talk. But today something felt different. Suddenly a new thought came into her mind and heart: There is more truth out there.
Zulma scrunched her eyebrows. More truth? What did that mean?
The thought came again. There is more truth.
Zulma closed her eyes and focused on what she was feeling. She had learned lots of good things at church. But now she wondered if something was missing. Maybe there was more that God wanted her to know. But how could she find it?
Later she talked to her older brother, Alberto, about her thoughts.
“You think there’s more truth out there?” Alberto asked.
Zulma nodded. “I want to learn about other churches,” she said.
“OK,” Alberto replied. “I’ll go with you!”
For several years, Zulma and Alberto visited different churches. After one church service, Alberto said, “That church taught good things.”
Zulma agreed, but they still felt like something was missing, so they kept searching.
One day Alberto raced up the steps to their house. “I found the church we’re looking for!” Alberto said. He gave Zulma a big hug.
Zulma’s eyes got wide. “Where? How?”
“My friend met some missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” Alberto said. “I listened to them, and I believe what they taught!”
Zulma and Alberto were so happy that they danced all around the house. But then Zulma got some bad news. Mamá didn’t want her to meet with the missionaries. “You’re only 12,” Mamá said. “You’re too young.”
Since Alberto was older, he was allowed to keep meeting with the missionaries. A few weeks later, he was baptized.
Zulma kept asking Mamá again and again if she could learn from the missionaries. Finally, Mamá said yes.
When the missionaries taught Zulma, she felt warm in her heart. One of the missionaries had a hard time speaking Spanish, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was how good Zulma felt. When she learned about Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon, she knew she had found the truth she was looking for!
Zulma wanted to be baptized. But what would Mamá say? Zulma was so happy when Mamá said yes!
On the day of her baptism, Zulma dressed all in white. She knew God loved her. She knew He knew her. And she knew that He had helped her find His restored Church!
Here is Zulma as a young girl in Uruguay. On the right is a photo of her today with her husband, Elder Walter F. González of the Seventy.

“I found it! Here it is!” yelled Dan as he waved the small wooden stake in his hand. The team rushed to reassemble around him. “It was under this clump of rabbit brush,” he excitedly explained. “It only took us four minutes to find this one; we still have a chance to win. Let’s get moving.” With that Dan stationed himself on the exact location where he’d found the stake that was now securely lodged in his back pocket. He and the others examined their map and began looking for stake number four.
As they headed off in the correct direction, Nancy, one of several girls on this team, explained what they were doing. “We’re orienteering. The object is to follow a pre-set trail that has several checkpoints. We use a map and our compasses to find each checkpoint. We pick up the marker left at each point and try to make the best time possible on the whole course. We’ve got to beat four other teams to take first place … Hey! Watch out for that rabbit hole! You almost stepped in it. That’s part of the fun of this—we all have to stay alert because you never know what’s going to happen next.”

At the risk of having all of you lose your faith in me, I am going to tell you a story about my own life. When most of you were still in the spirit world, I signed an Edsel franchise with Ford Motor Company. Some of you may not know what the Edsel was. The older brethren know that it was one of the most disastrous national marketing mistakes ever made in the United States. Ford Motor Company spent over two hundred million dollars producing an automobile that would carry the name of Edsel Ford, the father of Henry Ford II, who was then the president of Ford Motor Company. The sales promotion, anticipation, and the excitement were unbelievable. You can appreciate what it was like, being a relatively young businessman and having all the power of the Ford Motor Company brought to bear on me to encourage me to become the Edsel dealer for Salt Lake City. I wrestled with the decision. I said to my father, who was a great man in my life, “Before I sign the franchise, I want to see the car.”

They made special arrangements for us to fly to California to see the car. Now, as I wrestled with this, I was also asking the Lord about it, asking for direction. It was a big decision; it involved a lot of money, a lot of commitment on my part. The minute my father and I saw the cars I had the distinct impression not to go ahead with the franchise. When I got away from the new car showing, the sales power of Ford Motor Company started to work on me again—they assured me the car was going to be the greatest thing that ever came into the automobile industry. And I allowed myself to drift from the promptings of the Spirit that I had earlier. I had followed the counsel of the ninth section of the Doctrine and Covenants, but I wavered from the impression the Lord had given me. I made the decision to sign the franchise, then went through the torments of the damned, almost. If we had more time, I could tell you that it is not fun to lose a lot of money fast. Regardless of what I did, it didn’t matter; I couldn’t stop the losses. Ultimately I had to sell the franchise at a great loss. This was a learning experience. I am now able to sit down with just about anybody who wants to talk about the automobile business and instinctively draw from my bank of experience to give pretty good counsel.

I can think straight now when it comes to those kinds of decisions because of what I suffered. Perhaps we need to understand that failure is part of life. We are not going to be successful in everything we do, but we never need to fail to learn the lesson and to place in the bank of our memories those things that will then cause us to become increasingly powerful and, most importantly, increasingly helpful to the building of the kingdom of God.

Today is one of those days when getting out of bed is nothing but a trial. Six o’clock is just too early for any sane soul to be up. Even the birds aren’t yet awake! And besides, it’s Sunday—a day when I should be resting from my labors. But I have to go to work, and needless to say, I’m not thrilled. But I’ll go, grudgingly. Just let me sleep ten more minutes.
My name is Jana, and that is the attitude I had on that certain Sunday morning. Even though I love my work as a nurse at LDS Hospital in Salt Lake City, I just wasn’t in the mood to be there.
I staggered into the hospital promptly at 7:05; I was supposed to arrive at 7:00. Seeing the time on the clock in the hall, I panicked and pushed the elevator button several times, only to see that the elevator was on the fifth floor and not coming down. No time to waste. I ran up the six flights of stairs. By the time I reached the top, I was exhausted—huffing and puffing, my heart pounding in my ears in rebellion against the sudden exertion. I was relieved to know that I was in a hospital and if I had a heart attack, someone could save me.
I dragged myself down the hall, passing the clerk who looked up from her work and said without emotion, “They’ve started without you.” I smiled and stumbled into the report room where all the other nurses were gathered, none of whom glanced up at me. And even if they had done so, it wouldn’t have mattered. I was still alive, and that was all I cared about.
In the meeting I received a list of patients to care for and instructions for the day. Several patients were assigned to me, each with special problems and needs. I had baths to give, bed linens to change, equipment to monitor, temperatures to check, food trays to deliver, charting to do, medications to administer, bandages to change, tubing to check, sore muscles to rub, and to top it all off, doctors to please. I had no choice but to dig right in. Unfortunately, the work was not going to get done by itself.
In the midst of all the hubbub, a voice came over the intercom, “Any patient who would like to go to church, please notify your nurse.” Oh yes, I had almost forgotten; it was Sunday. I asked each of my patients if they wanted to attend the short half-hour meeting. No one seemed interested; most were too ill or too tired. That was how I felt too. Only one little lady, Mrs. Whitmer, an arthritis and bone cancer patient, answered my question with a quiet yes. This dear woman—who was confined to bed and in pain with every movement, every touch—desired to attend the meeting.
I requested that Mrs. Whitmer be wheeled to church in her bed. Then without delay, I hurriedly prepared her for the trip, combing her hair, washing her face, and changing her gown and bed linen. She grimaced with pain at every move, but she never uttered a word of complaint. No sooner had I finished sprucing her up than the brethren came for her, and off she went. I turned my attention to other patients without giving her another thought.
The day progressed, and finally my shift was over. I could relax! Before leaving duty I checked once more on the patients who had been under my care. Mrs. Whitmer had long since returned from church and was resting calmly—and so was everyone else, thank goodness. As quickly as I had sprinted to work that morning, I sprinted back to my apartment, ending another working day.
A few days later when I was working the evening shift, just as I was ready to sign off, the call light went on in room 4. “Oh boy,” I thought. “Why do they wait until I’m ready to leave before they call for me?” But I really didn’t mind. I went down the hall and groped my way through the darkness to the patient’s bedside. It was Mrs. Whitmer.
“Jana?” she asked.
“Yes,” I answered.
She reached out and gently took my hand. In a quiet, quivering voice she said, “I just wanted to thank you for helping me get to church last Sunday. I haven’t been for awhile because I’ve been so ill, and you’ll never know how much it meant to me that day to go. When I partook of the sacrament …” There was a long pause; then in trembling words she continued: “I felt God’s Spirit, and I just knew that Christ is my Savior.” And with that she began to cry. I realized that I too was shedding some tears. This beautiful woman, as weak as she was, was stronger than I had ever been. She had a glowing testimony.
I couldn’t help but recall the times when I had only gone to church out of habit, never partaking of the Spirit, though I always partook of the bread and water. I also recalled the Sunday when I prepared Mrs. Whitmer for church and how hurriedly I had done so, as if it were a burden on me. Never would I feel that way again.
The two of us cried together that night, only for a few minutes, but it was long enough to share our souls. No other words were spoken; none needed to be. The tears and the touch of our hands had said it all.
I no longer live in Salt Lake, and I don’t know what happened to Mrs. Whitmer, but I’ll never forget her and her radiant testimony of Christ.

Good morning, brothers and sisters. In 1897 a young David O. McKay stood at a door with a tract in his hand. As a missionary in Stirling, Scotland, he had done this many times before. But on that day a very haggard woman opened the door and stood before him. She was poorly dressed and had sunken cheeks and unkempt hair.
She took the tract Elder McKay offered to her and spoke six words that he subsequently would never forget: “Will this buy me any bread?”
This encounter left a lasting impression on the young missionary. He later wrote: “From that moment I had a deeper realization that the Church of Christ should be and is interested in the temporal salvation of man. I walked away from the door feeling that that [woman], with … bitterness in [her heart] toward man and God, [was] in no position to receive the message of the gospel. [She was] in need of temporal help, and there was no organization, so far as I could learn, in Stirling that could give it to [her].”

My husband’s only sister, Eveline, was not a member of the Church and had been writing to us about serious family problems. We worried about her depression and about our helplessness in coming to her aid.
I began to pray for her, and Peter and I went to the temple, seeking inspiration. My heart sought direction: How could I help my sister-in-law? The answer came from the Spirit: Write to Eveline about the Book of Mormon, bear your testimony, and send the missionaries to her house.
Peter remained hesitant about sending the missionaries, but I knew that it was what the Lord wanted me to do. I composed my letter the next morning and mailed it.
A few days went by with no response from Eveline. I began worrying and fretting. She had been offended, I told myself; she had hated the letter. I became so afraid of her response that I asked Peter to call her. She shared her story over the phone.
The day my letter arrived had been an especially bad one for Eveline. The problems weighing her down had seemed overwhelming, and a television show she was watching about depression and suicide didn’t ease her turmoil. She finally found relief when her son came home from school for lunch. He brought in the mail, which included my letter.
As Eveline began to read, the Spirit touched her soul. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She had been praying for someone or something to help her in these hard times, but she hadn’t known whether her prayers were being heard. Now, through this letter, she knew that her Heavenly Father really cared about her. She was overjoyed.
She told me that the peace she felt from the Spirit was so overwhelming that she didn’t know what to do or how to respond to my letter. I then challenged her to begin a daily study of the Book of Mormon, which she proceeded to do. One week later I telephoned Church leaders in the city where she lived and asked that missionaries be sent to her home.
Through her study of the Book of Mormon, and with the help of a wonderful missionary couple, Eveline found her life changing. She absorbed the missionary discussions, began living the Word of Wisdom, and noticed her marriage improve. She began to feel at peace with herself.
That happiness spilled over and affected the lives of her family. Of course, Eveline’s daily problems hadn’t disappeared. But her perspective had changed. With Christ at the center of her life, she became a new woman.
Peter never thought he would see the day when he would have the opportunity to baptize and confirm his only sister. Giving such a priceless gift to one we love so much has brought us joy beyond our expectations. The Book of Mormon was the answer.

Although there were only three LDS seniors in her graduating class of 800, Karen’s senior government class was given the privilege of hearing four oral presentations on Church subjects. Karen spoke on the United Order, Mike Miller on the nutritional aspects of the Word of Wisdom, and Mark Forsyth on Church government. The bonus came when a nonmember friend, impressed by her visit made prior to the dedication of the Washington Temple, and with help from her LDS friends, reported on the Mormons as temple builders.

One day while upset with his younger brother, our nine-year-old loudly complained of his brother’s faults. This had happened many times before, and it had troubled me, but this day I felt inspired to try a more positive approach to solving the problem. I sent my son to his room and told him not to come out until he had written down ten nice things about his younger brother. When he emerged with the list, his attitude had changed. Looking for the positive had crowded out his negative thoughts and feelings.
We have since used this form of discipline frequently and have found it an effective way to maintain an atmosphere of love in our home. And learning early in life to look for a person’s good qualities will make our children happier and better prepared to get along with others in the future.

Last year I met an inspired bishop and his wonderful wife. On a recent Saturday morning, they were driving to their son’s baptism and suffered the tragic and sudden loss of their darling two-year-old daughter, Tess.

The next morning their ward members gathered for sacrament meeting filled with compassion, also suffering over the loss of this perfect little girl. No one expected the bishop’s family to be at church that morning, but a couple of minutes before the meeting started, they quietly entered and took their place.

The bishop went to the stand and walked past his usual seat between his counselors and sat down instead between his priests at the sacrament table.

During that anguished and sleepless night before of searching for understanding and peace, he had received a strong impression of what his family most needed—and what his ward most needed. It was to hear the voice of their bishop, their ward Aaronic Priesthood president, their grieving father, pronounce the promises of the sacramental covenant.

So, in due course, he knelt with those priests and spoke to His Father. With the pathos of that occasion, he pronounced some of the most powerful words that anyone is ever allowed to say out loud in this lifetime.

Words of eternal consequence.

Words of ordinance.

Words of covenant.

Instruction that connects us to the very purposes of this life—and to the most magnificent outcomes of Heavenly Father’s plan for us.

Can you imagine what the congregation heard in that chapel that day—what they felt in the words that we hear every Sunday in our chapels?

“O God, the Eternal Father, we ask thee in the name of thy Son, Jesus Christ, to bless and sanctify this bread to the souls of all those who partake of it, that they may eat in remembrance of the body of thy Son, and witness unto thee, O God, the Eternal Father, that they are willing to take upon them the name of thy Son, and always remember him and keep his commandments which he has given them; that they may always have his Spirit to be with them. Amen” (Doctrine and Covenants 20:77).

And then: “O God, the Eternal Father, we ask thee in the name of thy Son, Jesus Christ, to bless and sanctify this [water] to the souls of all those who drink of it, that they may do it in remembrance of the blood of thy Son, which was shed for them; that they may witness unto thee, O God, the Eternal Father, that they do always remember him, that they may have his Spirit to be with them. Amen” (Doctrine and Covenants 20:79).

This good father and mother testify that that promise has been fulfilled. They do, in fact, to their everlasting comfort, “have his Spirit to be with them.”

I served in the Tokyo North Mission. I worked hard there. It was so wonderful! While serving, I met a nice and wonderful young man. I had many opportunities to hear his testimony. Each time, I was filled with the Spirit so much. It caused me to think of my future. I wished that I could marry someone like him.

A month after my mission was finished, I was prompted to write a letter to him. I decided to send the letter by express mail. The letter was just to say thanks. I didn’t expect an answer from him because I thought he didn’t know who I was. However, soon I got a letter from him sent by express also. This is what he wrote: “Your letter ignited a fuse in my heart. I am thinking about marriage. Please go on a date with me.” I was so surprised! This was his first letter to me, and I wept quietly. At that time, I decided to get married to him. After three months, we married.

Heavenly Father granted my desire regarding my marriage which I had been worried about before my mission. So, I want to say to you as the Spirit said to me: “Don’t worry about your future. Peace be unto your soul.” Heavenly Father really loves you. Heavenly Father really knows your needs.

An example of true love and inspired teaching was found in the life of the late James Collier, who had, through his personal efforts, reactivated a large number of brethren in Bountiful, Utah. I was invited by Brother Collier to address those who had now been ordained elders and who, with their wives and families, had been to the Salt Lake Temple to receive those eternal covenants and blessings for which they had so earnestly strived.

At the banquet honoring this achievement, I could see and I could feel the love that Jim had for those whom he had taught and rescued and the love they had for him. Unfortunately, Jim Collier at that time was afflicted with a terminal illness and had to persuade the doctors to allow him to leave the hospital to attend this final night of recognition.

As Jim stood at the pulpit, a large smile came over his face. With emotion he expressed his love to the group. There wasn’t a dry eye to be found. Brother Collier quipped, “Everyone wants to go to the celestial kingdom, but no one wants to die to get there.” Then, lowering his voice, Jim continued, “I’m prepared to go, and I will be there waiting on the other side to greet each of you, my beloved friends.”

Jim returned to the hospital. His funeral service was held just a short time later.

Zina Diantha Huntington Young first encountered the Book of Mormon when she was 14 years old and living in Watertown, New York. She later wrote, “One day on my return from school I saw the Book of Mormon, that strange, new book, lying on the window sill of our sitting-room. I went up to the window, picked it up, and the sweet influence of the Holy Spirit accompanied it to such an extent that I pressed it to my bosom in a rapture of delight, murmuring as I did so, ‘This is the truth, truth, truth’” (see Ensign, March 1984, 37).

In 2008, Charlotte was invited to interview for a position at Brigham Young University–Idaho. In the Rexburg Idaho Temple, she felt the Lord’s prompting to bring her family to the United States.

The decision to leave France was very difficult. Coming into a new culture in Rexburg was also challenging. While most people welcomed and helped the Passe family, at times Charlotte felt that some did not understand why she was working at the university rather than being home with her children.

When their daughter Amélie hesitated to attend Church, Charlotte told her: “Amélie, I go to church to take the sacrament and remember my covenants. Those [who do not understand our situation] do not affect my testimony.”

Charlotte taught her children the important distinction between the Church (with a capital C) and the church (with a small c). She said, “The Church is the Lord’s institution with His prophets and apostles. It will never fail us. The church is the members, and none of us is perfect.”

Her family could have chosen to stop attending because of these challenges, but Charlotte knew that being part of a covenant people means being a covenant person—someone who is faithful to the covenants she has made with the Lord.

While doing her best to be a full-time mom, Charlotte helped with homework and homeschooling as Laurent advanced in his English proficiency. In one journal entry, she wrote, “There is too much work, and trying to take care of my house and my family at the same time makes it a great burden.”

But she moved forward, writing that the Spirit had told her in her prayers: “You must continue working. It will not stop right away. Make the most of the good income you receive to prepare yourself and your home … for what is coming.”

I grew up in Norway. The nearest temple was in Stockholm, Sweden, an 8- to 10-hour drive away. Needless to say, any trip to the temple took careful planning and deliberation. Our stake planned two visits to the temple for the youth each year; several wards would rent a bus and go to the temple for a weekend. It was fun to go with other youth, but my family and I wanted to go to the temple together sometime.

So one year we decided to go to Stockholm during our summer vacation. It was a great experience, and it soon became a pattern for our summers. We would camp at a campground close to the temple. Each morning we would get up early for a baptismal session with other families from Norway who had come to the temple. Afterward we would play football and go swimming at the campground.

These summers are sacred memories for me now. Although we didn’t live close enough to the temple to go there each month, it was always a special occasion when we could go. And even though the car ride was long and tedious, the Lord blessed us for our sacrifice. The spiritual experiences I had at the temple helped me develop my love for the temple and its ordinances. They also brought us closer together as a family.

My daughter Norma says the following about the way Relief Society has been a blessing in her life: “When Darren and I were newly married and expecting our first baby, we were living in a small college town. We were both full-time students with very little income. Our nearest ward was in a town about 30 miles [48 km] away, and our only means of transportation was an old car that didn’t work most of the time. When the sisters in the ward discovered our circumstances, they immediately joined together to arrange for one of them to always give us a ride to and from church on Sundays and for other Church activities. Some of the sisters lived in other towns and drove 20 or 30 miles [32 to 48 km] out of their way just to pick us up. Additionally, many of the sisters would invite us to their homes for nice family dinners after church. No one ever made us feel like a burden to them. I will never forget the true love and charity that the Relief Society sisters extended to us during that short but challenging time in our lives.”

Just as he was ready to enter high school, another opportunity presented itself, one Corey was more than prepared for. He was a great swimmer. He had a good singing voice, and his grades were excellent. Why not try for admission to one of the most prestigious preparatory schools in New South Wales? He also had a little luck on his side. “I applied for a scholarship at King’s School. I took a test and performed a piece of music. At first there were no scholarships available at all, but at the school they thought they would have me do the tests and offer me a scholarship for the next year. On the day that I did my tests and performed, another person was offered a scholarship and withdrew. I took his place. I was at King’s School the next four years.” As it turned out, he was also the only Latter-day Saint student attending there.

During my senior year of high school, I moved from Green Bay, Wisconsin, to Prior Lake, Minnesota, which was a challenging transition. I found myself in a situation akin to a teenage drama, complete with bullies and a loss of confidence. My faith in the Church was wavering, and doubts about my ability to serve a mission were growing. I'm grateful that a missionary in my local ward mentioned how amazing the teachers were at Ricks College and how fun it was to associate with students who shared similar values. That information alone prompted me to apply.

On the first day at Ricks College, I met Triston Morgan and Nick Graham. Unaware of my recent high school struggles, lack of self-confidence, and wavering testimony, they extended a simple, Christlike gesture. They included me and became my friends.

We were rough around the edges to be sure. To an outsider, our dorm might not have seemed like the best place to gain a testimony. However, I observed their scripture study and regular church attendance. We had discussions about the gospel. Seeing their plans for a mission inspired me to deepen my own testimony and commitment. Within a few months of arriving in Rexburg, I found myself in my dorm room, on my knees, praying to know if the Book of Mormon was true. One year later, I was serving a mission in Ecuador. Their kindness, love, friendship, and positive example played a crucial role in my life, and for that, I'm so grateful.

As a nurse anesthetist in the US Navy Reserve during the COVID-19 pandemic, I was mobilized and assigned to the emergency field hospital at the Jacob K. Javits Convention Center in New York City, providing frontline care during the peak of the city’s COVID-19 outbreak.
As I began my duties, many concerns filled my mind. I was especially worried about caring for patients and combating this debilitating virus.
I felt like Nephi, being “led by the Spirit, not knowing beforehand the things which I should do” (1 Nephi 4:6). This thought helped me to trust in Heavenly Father and pray often that I would hear His voice, follow His instructions, and give the best care I could to my patients.
During my first night providing care, a patient was admitted in critical condition. As my colleagues and I began to assess his status, I quickly discovered that he could communicate only in Spanish. I was the only one there who spoke Spanish, having learned it on my mission to Venezuela.
As I began speaking to the patient, he asked if everything would be OK. I reassured him, telling him that he was receiving the best care possible. I sensed a degree of trust and comfort in his eyes. Throughout the remainder of the night, I visited his bedside often, making assessments and providing updates. Within a few days, his condition improved markedly and he was discharged.
During my assignment, I met many patients who primarily communicated in Spanish. My ability to speak to them offered them relief and reassurance during their recovery.

Marcus Robb, 15, Perth. For Marcus, seminary and the scriptures were the key to educational freedom. When he was diagnosed with a reading impairment known as dyslexia a few years ago, he was four years behind in his reading level. Fortunately, that’s when he began seminary, where his teacher emphasized the scriptures. “I decided I would read them,” he says simply. He began waking at 4:50 each morning to read for 40 minutes. It was tough at first. But now, after one year, he is reading on a level with his peers.