Gospel Story Finder

Because of its political stability, Ivory Coast—with about 14 million inhabitants—attracts immigrants from nations throughout Africa. Christophe Mvomo was not one of those who came hoping for a better life, but he found one nevertheless.
In his native Cameroon, Christophe, an excellent student, was selected to attend a Catholic seminary. Upon graduation, he was asked to become a Catholic seminary teacher in Ivory Coast, where most people practice ancient local religions. About 30 percent of Ivorians are Christian.
After arriving in Abidjan, Christophe learned that many young people were responding favorably to missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He grew curious when several young men, including three with whom he was acquainted, were called as full-time missionaries for the Church. Christophe had questions about this new church, and he decided to “straighten out” those who were spreading its message.
“Originally his idea was to prove the Church wrong,” recalls Sister Grace Mackay, who was then serving a mission in Abidjan with her husband, Theron. “But he had sincere questions right from the start, and he was willing to learn.”
During his visits with Elder and Sister Mackay, Christophe heard answers to questions he thought had no answers. The beauty of the plan of salvation rang true, and the meaning of the Atonement became clear.
“I became converted to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints when I was still a full-time teacher at a luxurious and selective Catholic seminary school,” Brother Mvomo wrote in his journal. “To live in accordance with my newfound faith, a year after I encountered the Church I resigned my teaching post. I lost all the privileges and other advantages inherent in my nine-year tenure.”
The challenges that followed tried Brother Mvomo’s faith and perseverance. “My wife, a grammar school teacher, divorced me,” he recalls. “Three times thieves broke into my apartment and stole all my belongings. My beautiful car was [wrecked] by a friend. Suddenly I found myself in desperate circumstances but resolved and committed to the Lord.”
In July 1993 Brother Mvomo was called as second counselor in the mission presidency. He has served well and with distinction, and he has continued to endure his challenges, which were lightened when he found a new teaching job.
“I know my Savior lives and died for me—for all of us,” Brother Mvomo says, noting that heaven’s blessings far outweigh earth’s trials. Out of gratitude for the Savior and His gospel, he says, “I must do all I can for Him.”

A major goal of Aaronic Priesthood quorums is to offer opportunity for significant service. The Aaronic Priesthood Quorum Guidebook helps train presidencies to plan and carry out such quorum activities.
For example the teachers quorum in the Grandview First Ward, Salt Lake Wilford Stake, had a project to serve others anonymously—an idea that excited even normally uninvolved quorum members. On one occasion when the ward Young Men president was digging a root cellar, the boys finished the job in the middle of the night and then left their calling cards: “The Grandview Ward Phantoms.”
They also baked bread and pies—with help from mothers—and left them on neighbor’s doorsteps. They dug out snowbound driveways and sent cards to those who were sick. Tangible rewards of service were immediately apparent to the busy teachers quorum president when one of his quorum members secretly repaired his bicycle for him, leaving only the “Phantom” calling card as explanation.

I honestly believe that when the scriptures say, “Remember, remember” (Helaman 5:12), they mean that we should not just remember Jesus Christ or remember that we once felt His Light. We must feel His Light now and feel it again and again. That is what one young man, Eric, discovered when he first read the Book of Mormon.

After moving to a new place and starting high school, Eric struggled in his classes and found it hard to fit in. He also began to wonder if he had a testimony.

“I began to seriously read the Book of Mormon for the first time in my life,” Eric said. “I read and prayed every day.”

When Eric prayed and asked Heavenly Father if the Book of Mormon is true, he was sure he was going to get an answer, but nothing happened.

Sometime later, while walking through the woods behind his house, Eric asked again. This time, he had an impression, as if Heavenly Father asked him, “Eric, what has happened in your life since you started reading the Book of Mormon and praying every day?”

Eric thought about how he had made good friends and was doing better in school. Without realizing it, the Book of Mormon had brought light and power into his life.

Then it happened.

“I didn’t hear a voice,” Eric said, “but the Spirit filled my heart as these words came to my mind: ‘Of course, it’s true!’ An overwhelming feeling of peace, joy, and assurance came over me. I knew I had finally found my answer.”2

For example, her husband departed for a mission to Great Britain in 1839 just 10 days after she had given birth to their daughter Alice. For the 20 months that followed, Mary Ann and their six children struggled. They suffered from illness and survived primarily on corn bread, milk, and a few garden vegetables.3 Mary Ann managed to find a little work to support her family and to care for herself and her ailing children. Yet the Lord helped them through these trials. “That is a great thing,” she wrote to her husband, to “trust in the Lord.”4

I was converted to the gospel when I was very young. Throughout my youth, I held different Church callings, and it is impossible to describe the joy I received from them. But one of the most remarkable experiences I had as a young person came the week before my mission.

I turned in my mission papers in January 1976. After some time, which seemed very long to me, I received a letter calling me to serve in the México Monterrey Mission.

Because my stake president was about to be released, he set me apart a week before I was to leave for my mission. He cautioned me about how I would need to live now that I had been set apart, but we agreed that I would continue at my job for one more week—as I had planned. I wanted to continue working as long as possible to earn more money for my mission and to help my family. As I left the stake president’s home on the Sunday evening I was set apart, I felt a beautiful warmth fill my entire body.

The next morning I got up to go to work as usual. As I entered the office building where I worked, I greeted the elevator operator and told him which floor I wanted. The operator did not answer but just stared at me. Then the owners of my company got on the elevator, and we greeted each other. After the elevator doors closed, I noticed my bosses were staring at me too. They asked me what had happened. I answered that nothing had happened.

When I walked into the department where I worked, my coworkers stopped talking and looked at me. I still could not understand why.

Later that day my bosses called me into their office. They asked me to recommend someone responsible to take my place. Then they asked why I seemed so different. I told them about my religion and my mission. They congratulated me and refused to accept my resignation. They said they would instead allow me to take leave for a year and a half so I wouldn’t lose my job benefits. And they asked me to return to work as soon as I finished my mission.

As I looked at my coworkers on my last day of work, I realized how much I loved them, even though their standards were very different from mine. María, who worked near me, asked, “What is happening to you? Why are you so different?” She said she could see a light in my countenance. “Why is that?” she asked.

Finally I began to understand the importance of missionary work from a new perspective. I had been called as a servant of the Lord, and the influence of the Holy Ghost was shining through me.

I am grateful to our Heavenly Father for that week of preparation before my mission. I am also grateful for my coworkers. They strengthened my testimony of the gospel by letting me see the importance of my calling through their eyes.

Last year, our very first nephew, Nathan, left to serve a mission in Mexico. We explained to our children that Nathan was in the MTC to learn Spanish. One evening we decided to devote a family home evening night to writing letters to him. Although we were helping the youngest, all of the other children were writing independently. At one point, Stephen, age 7, asked, “How do you spell ‘empty?’” We thought nothing of it at the time, but later as we were reviewing what the kids had written, we saw this question in Stephen’s letter: “Dear Nathan, what do you do in the empty sea?”—Meredith J., Colorado

I had been trying hard, and yet I wanted to know: “Isn’t there something more I can do?” And Elder Tuttle told me there was and that I would need the Atonement of Jesus Christ working in my life to go where I wanted to go. Elder Tuttle said he had taken a trip to South America on assignment with Joseph Fielding Smith, then a member of the Council of the Twelve. That was in the days when you went to South America by ship. Elder Smith could have used the time to rest. And he could have let Elder Tuttle rest. But he didn’t. He organized daily scripture study, sitting on the deck in those wooden slat chairs most of you have only seen in old movies. They read their scriptures together, and they discussed them, and they marked them. And so what I have written on this page, in the margins, was written by Elder Tuttle in his Doctrine and Covenants on the ship’s deck as Elder Smith taught it to him. I can only imagine who passed it to Elder Smith. And now I’m passing it on to you.

“Thanks, Mom and Dad,” I yelled as I headed for the front door, the keys to the family car jingling in my hand. “Don’t wait up for us—it’s a double feature, and the second movie isn’t over till nearly midnight.”
Dad gave first me and then my cousin Sandi the piercing look for which he was famous in our family. “Listen, I don’t like you girls staying out late all by yourselves. Why don’t you go to an earlier movie?”
I rolled my eyes. “Dad, you’re so old-fashioned. Sandi and I are hardly babies.” We had finished our first year at Ricks College, and Sandi had come to spend the summer in Rockford, Illinois, with my family. We had jobs at a local factory, and we felt pretty responsible and grown-up. I said so to my dad.
It didn’t help much. He still quizzed us. Which theater were we going to? What movies would we see there? Were we coming straight home afterward? Finally he sighed and said, “Your mother and I will be awake when you come home, so check in with us no matter how late it is, all right?”
“Yeah, Dad,” I said, resigning myself to the inevitable.
The movies were comedies, and when we walked out of the theater late that night Sandi and I were laughing and repeating our favorite funny lines. We got into the car and headed toward home.
Even at midnight there was a lot of traffic on the main streets of Rockford, so I turned onto a side street, taking a shortcut in order to avoid most of the traffic. A battered brown car followed us around the corner. I drove three blocks and then turned onto a deserted street. The brown car turned too, close behind us. I made several other turns, leading us toward home through the back streets. When I looked into the rearview mirror, the lone man in the car waved at us and yelled something obscene.
Although it was a hot night, we quickly rolled up the windows and locked all four car doors. We decided that if we ignored the driver of the brown car he would probably lose interest. But instead he moved his car closer to ours, driving nearly bumper to bumper. Then he pulled into the middle of the street and edged his car toward ours, forcing us toward the curb. By now we were getting pretty panicky.
As I neared an intersection, Sandi said tensely, “Turn right—quick!”
I did, and with a left turn at the next light I entered the main stream of nighttime traffic. Maybe in all the noise and confusion our pursuer would lose sight of us or forget whatever crazy ideas he had.
He didn’t. At every light he was there behind us, leaning out his window to yell lewdly. He was obviously drunk, but he was persistent. Even in the bright lights of Rockford’s busiest street, we were scared.
Finally we reached Fairview Boulevard. My house was only half a block away. We turned the corner, and he followed us, only inches behind our rear bumper.
I pulled to a stop in front of my house. The front sidewalk seemed miles long. Worse yet, the porch light was off, and no light showed from any of the windows. And the brown car had already pulled to a stop behind us. Sandi checked to make sure the car doors were locked.
I got a sick feeling deep in the pit of my stomach. “Sandi, we’ve got to say a prayer,” I said.
“I know. What do you think I’ve been doing all the way home?”
We were both silent for a split second, each pleading for the Lord’s guidance. I guess I was hoping for a miracle. But the stranger was out of his car and running toward us, yelling and cursing. There was no chance of getting past him, so Sandi and I sat in the locked car. The stranger grabbed the handle of my car door, then tried the door behind me. When he found the doors were locked he began pounding on the windows and trying to pry them open. He was shouting threats, and his angry drunken face was only inches from mine.
Suddenly good sense returned to me, and I pressed on the horn, making long blasts of jarring noise. Within seconds the light went on in my parents’ bedroom. Mom appeared at the window. Light from the front porch fixture suddenly flooded the yard, and my dad flung open the front door and ran out onto the lawn, bellowing, “Get out of here!” in his most menacing voice.
The man who had been so threatening and persistent moments before suddenly turned and ran. Leaping into his car, he drove off into the night.
A few minutes later Sandi and I sat at the kitchen table with Dad, giving a blow-by-blow description of the unpleasant incident. My mom bustled around the kitchen making hot chocolate and offering us occasional hugs as she passed us at the table.
Suddenly my newfound college independence didn’t seem so important. The kitchen was cozy, familiar, and comforting. Mom and Dad, scolding us because we had forgotten to write down the car’s license number, were pillars of strength and security. In that moment, my eyes flooding with tears, I thanked God for old-fashioned parents who insisted on waiting up until all their children came home.

A sister with Down syndrome testified at a legislative hearing in Utah to protect unborn children diagnosed with Down syndrome. She boldly stated that she and others like her had a right to live. Afterward, she stood and gestured to all the committee members and stated, “And I love all of you!”
Lisa Wilson testified at a Utah legislative hearing to protect unborn children with Down syndrome.
Photograph courtesy of Lisa Wilson’s family

One missionary, Matte Te?o, was severely burned before leaving Samoa, but he came to Hawaii anyway. Doctors feared his charred hand might need to be amputated. Many of his fellow missionaries prayed for him. While in the temple, Brother Te?o cried out to the Lord, “Touch this hand.” “Fix this hand so I can help whatever little bit I can.” He began to heal immediately. Today his hand bears no scar. He now serves as a sealer in the Laie Hawaii Temple and says, “This temple … has a powerful influence throughout these communities not only here, but throughout the Pacific” (in Christensen, Stories of the Temple in L??ie, Hawai?i, 328–330).

Think also of all the lifetime friendships that missionaries establish with people they teach and baptize. I will never forget an experience I had in Texas. When I called one of the young men to report to the mission home for a closing interview prior to his return home, he asked if a brother he had taught and baptized might bring him in.

I was in the mission office when the two arrived. They obviously loved each other; they talked and they talked. I began to get a little impatient because I had a crowded schedule and needed to interview the boy. I pressed the young man to come in. As he looked at the new convert, the tears welled in his eyes, and he said, “Thank you so much for bringing me down.” The new convert quickly said, “Oh no, Elder, thank you for lifting me up.” What a sermon in those words, and what love expressed between the two! The friendships we establish in the mission field with companions and converts become eternal.

I sank into my seat for geometry just before the bell rang. That was close. I was still learning how to navigate the halls of my new high school. I pulled out my math homework and began rummaging through my backpack for a pencil.
“Psst … Sherilyn,” the guy behind me hissed.
I turned around to face Gary, a guy I had talked to only a few times since the beginning of the school year. We were in the same Spanish class later in the day, but I didn’t know him well.
“What?” I asked.
“Do you have your Spanish book with you?” he inquired.
A sinking realization hit me as I pictured my Spanish book where I had left it on my bedroom floor.
“Sorry, I don’t have it with me,” I replied. “I left it at home.”
“Oh, okay.”
“You know, I totally forgot to do the homework,” I remarked, frowning.
My Spanish teacher consistently checked to see if everyone had done the homework. “There goes another zero for me,” I thought. “Just what I need at the start of the year.”
“Do you want to copy mine?” he asked.
Copying homework was common at this school, and no one thought anything of it. You could walk down the halls and see people sprawled on the floor, blatantly copying their friends’ work. He was trying to be friendly, I’m sure, but I couldn’t do that. It would be dishonest, and I wouldn’t feel right doing it.
“Thanks, but no thanks. I wouldn’t really feel comfortable doing that,” I said.
He paused for a moment, smiled at me, and then he said something I will never forget: “I didn’t think you would. Actually, I didn’t even do mine.”
So what was he doing? Trying to test me? I was actually surprised that he would know enough about me to know I wouldn’t copy his work. It was only the second week of school, and I hadn’t known him the previous year.
“You’re Mormon, aren’t you?” he asked.
I said yes. We talked for a few minutes, and then our teacher started the class. I reflected on this incident for the rest of the day. I’d only talked to this guy a few times, yet somehow he knew that I, a new freshman in a school of more than 2,000, was a member of the Church. How?
Then I had another thought. What if I had accepted his offer? Not only would it have made me look stupid, because he hadn’t even done the homework, but how would that have affected his idea of how Mormons behave?
That experience made me sit a little taller the rest of the year. I knew he was watching me and that other people I didn’t even know were watching as well.

Like the Samarian women who went off to share the good news, Ralph did the same. In 2018, Ralph Desir was called to serve in the Vanuatu Port Vila Mission where he had the opportunity to share the everlasting waters of the Savior, Jesus Christ. He was blessed with many companions from diverse cultures, lived in eight different places, and learned Bislama, the native language of Vanuatu, which helped him to effectively create relationships with the people.
Elder Desir was blessed to see the gospel of Jesus Christ strengthen the people he taught as they overcame the challenges in their lives. Upon completion of his mission, he testifies of the truthfulness of the power of everlasting waters and knows how to allow those waters to continue to bless his own life and the lives of others.
Brother Desir testifies that “serving a mission was the best decision that I have made in my life. I have learned to be like the Savior and teach the gospel by example in all things. I love the gospel with all my heart, and I wouldn’t exchange my mission experiences for anything. One of the reasons I served a mission was because I knew how much it would bless my family and how much joy it would bring to my own life.”
Since returning from his mission, Brother Desir has served as first counselor in the San Nicolas Branch presidency, Aruba, and as a delegation leader for the Aruba, Bonaire, Curacao District that attended the youth conference in the Dominican Republic in 2022. He is now serving as branch secretary. He uses his proficiency in the Dutch, Spanish, English, Papiamento, and French Creole languages to continue to bless lives in Aruba and elsewhere.

When my family first moved to Italy, I was in eighth grade and was extremely shy. I had a hard time making friends with people at school, and I was the only Church member in my grade. At lunchtime I felt so utterly alone that I ate as quickly as I could and rushed to the library to study or work on the computer.
This habit went on for months until one day I started studying at a new table. There was nothing that made this table particularly different from those around it, but the decision to sit at it changed my life. When I looked at the bookshelf by it, I saw the Book of Mormon. I was so excited to see something familiar. I decided to study the Book of Mormon each day during my lunch period.
Even though I didn’t have any friends in school, I soon learned that I could rely on Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. I could feel myself becoming happier as I gained a testimony of His Church. Because I knew I was keeping the commandments, I gained more confidence in myself. Soon I tried out for the school play, and I gained the friends I desired and prayed for.
As I look back on that difficult first year in Italy, I am grateful there is “opposition in all things” (2 Nephi 2:11). Through this and other challenges, I was able to learn that the Church is true and also the greatest life lesson of all: Jesus Christ lives.

Around my 14th birthday, I learned about some of these blessings. I noticed different behavior on the part of my parents. Considering what I observed, I asked, “Are we going on a mission?” The shock on my mother’s face confirmed my suspicion. Later, in a family council, my siblings and I learned that our parents had been called to preside over a mission.
We lived on a beautiful ranch in Wyoming. From my perspective, life was perfect. I could come home from school, complete my chores, and be off hunting, fishing, or exploring with my dog.
Shortly after learning of the calling, I realized that I would have to give up my dog, Blue. I confronted my father, asking what I should do with Blue. I wanted to emphasize the unfairness of what God was requiring. I will never forget this response. He said, “I’m not sure. He probably cannot go with us, so you had better ask Heavenly Father.” That was not the response I had anticipated.
I began reading the Book of Mormon. I earnestly prayed to know if I had to give my dog away. My answer did not come in a moment; rather, a specific thought kept penetrating my mind: “Don’t be a burden to your parents. Don’t be a burden. I have called your parents.”
I knew what Heavenly Father required. That knowledge did not reduce the pain of giving my dog away. However, through that small sacrifice, my heart softened and I found peace in seeking Heavenly Father’s will.
I thank my Heavenly Father for the blessings and happiness I found through the scriptures, prayer, the Holy Ghost, and a worthy earthly father who embraced his role as the principal gospel teacher of his children. They were leading me, guiding me, and even walking beside me to help me find the way—especially when I had to do something difficult.

Elizabeth kicked an empty coconut shell down the dirt road. She frowned as it rolled away. Today had not been a good day.
Not at all!
Lagi said something mean to her at school. Later, the other kids laughed when she did a math problem wrong in front of the class. And then her art project got ruined.
“It’s not fair!” Elizabeth said. Who invented bad days anyway?
Elizabeth plucked a pretty hibiscus flower. At least that was one good thing today. Even on a bad day in Samoa she could find beautiful flowers all over.
She twisted the pink flower into her hair and walked home.
“Talofa!” Dad said. “How was your day?”
Elizabeth looked down. “Not good.” She walked past the noisy pigs in their yard and sat next to Dad on the porch.
Dad sat and listened as she told him all about her hard day.
“I’m so sorry,” Dad said, hugging her. “I’ve had days like those. Want to know something that helps me?”
She nodded. “Yes, please!”
He started singing a song that Elizabeth knew well. Dad sang this beautiful love song to Mom all the time.
She laughed and pushed on his shoulder. “Daa–aad!”
He grinned. “I’m serious! Good music helps me feel better. And, speaking of music …”
Elizabeth knew what he was going to say. It was time to practice piano.
More than anything, Elizabeth wanted to learn piano so she could play songs in church. She already loved singing with her family. Especially with Dad. But playing piano was harder. Her fingers had to work to find the notes.
“I don’t know if I feel like practicing today,” she said.
Dad stood. “Try to think about what you’re playing. Hymns can help us feel closer to God.”
Then he took off his sandals and went inside to help with dinner.
Elizabeth took off her sandals and went inside too. Dad chopped vegetables while Mom stirred the stew.
The sheet music for “Fa‘afetai i Le Atua” sat on the keyboard. Elizabeth loved this Samoan hymn. It was all about giving thanks to God.
Elizabeth turned on the electric keyboard and started playing. “Think about what you’re playing,” Dad had said.
So she did. She thought about all the things she was thankful for. Her family. Her house. Music. Beautiful Samoa.
Her fingers started to find the notes more easily. After a while, her feelings began to change. She felt peace. Elizabeth smiled. She was feeling the Holy Ghost!
The sound of chopping stopped. Dad started humming. He stood next to her and began to sing.
She kept playing, and Mom joined in too. Elizabeth kept thinking about all the ways God blessed her and her family.
At the end, Dad leaned down and asked, “Feeling any better?”
“Yes!” she said. “You were right. Good music did make my day better!”
What helps you feel better on hard days?

When Gordon and Del [Spencer’s brothers] put up hay … they would pitch it up on the wagon and Spencer would tromp it down. The older boys liked to reach the wagon at the same time, both with huge forks of hay. One would pitch his hay on top of Spencer, knocking him down, then the other would add his load. They would laugh while Spencer picked himself out, infuriated, threatening terrible punishments when he grew up . …

Occasionally he would enjoy a minor revenge. One hot Monday afternoon, hearing the Primary bell across the fields, Spencer said, “I’ve got to go to Primary.” As Spencer told the story years later: “They said, ‘You’re not going to Primary.’ I said, ‘If Pa were here, he’d let me go to Primary.’ Any they said, ‘Well, Pa is not here, and this is one time you’re not going to Primary.’ Gordon was seven years older than I was and Del was five . … They kept throwing the hay up and it all piled in the center of the wagon. They said, ‘What’s the matter with you up there?’ There was no sound. They looked off across the field and I was halfway to the meetinghouse.” (Pages 37 and 38.)

One 92-year-old great-grandmother has produced several hundred blankets for the victims. In her case, both the creator and receiver have been blessed. As her son admired her handiwork, she asked, “Do you think anyone will ever use one of my blankets?” A letter from a young mother in Louisiana answers that question:
“I live in Louisiana, and I go to a local health unit for my children. While I was there, they gave me some outfits, diapers, wipes, and two beautiful baby blankets. One blanket has a yellow backing with footprints and handprints on the front, and the other blanket is tan with zebras. They are beautiful. My four-year-old loves the zebra one, and of course my seven-month-old can’t say much. I just wanted to say thank you to you and your Church members for your generosity. God bless you and your family.”

Ethan has also felt the power of the Holy Ghost, which has strengthened his testimony. Ethan, who is the eldest of four siblings, tells of a time when his youngest sister was baptized. “We were living here in Pennsylvania when she was baptized, and we drove up to the Susquehanna River, where Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery were baptized,” Ethan says. “My sister was baptized in that place. That experience reaffirmed what I knew—that baptism is the only way to return to Heavenly Father. It is the gate to eternal life.”

To become consistently charitable is a lifelong quest, but each act of love changes us and those who offer it. Let me tell you the story of a young woman I met recently. Alicia, as a teenager, had drifted far from the Church, but later she felt stirrings to return. She often visited her grandfather in a retirement home on Sundays. On one of those days she decided to attend the Latter-day Saint meetings there. She opened the door and found a Relief Society meeting, but no empty seats. As she was about to leave, a woman motioned to her and scooted over to make room for her on her chair. Alicia said: “I wondered what the woman would think of me. I was covered with body piercings, and I smelled of smoke. But she didn’t seem to mind; she simply made a place for me at her side.”
Alicia, heartened by this woman’s charity, returned to activity. She has served a mission and is now sharing that same kind of love with other women. The elderly sister who shared her chair understood that there is a place for every woman in Relief Society. Sisters, we gather for strength, but we bring with us all our weaknesses and imperfections.
Alicia told me something I will never forget. She said: “I only do one thing for myself when I go to church: I take the sacrament for me. The rest of the time I watch for others who need me, and I try to help and nurture them.”