Gospel Story Finder

This truth is illustrated in the experience of two young missionaries serving in Europe, in an area where there were few convert baptisms. I suppose it would have been understandable for them to think that what they did wouldn’t make much of a difference.

But these two missionaries had faith, and they were committed. They had the attitude that if no one listened to their message, it would not be because they had not given their best effort.

One day they had the feeling to approach the residents of a well-kept four-story apartment building. They started on the first floor and knocked on each door, presenting their saving message of Jesus Christ and the Restoration of His Church.

No one on the first floor would listen to them.

How easy it would have been to say, “We tried. Let’s stop right here. Let’s go and try another building.”

But these two missionaries had faith and they were willing to work, and so they knocked on every door on the second floor.

Again, no one would listen.

The third floor was the same. And so was the fourth—that is, until they knocked on the last door of the fourth floor.

When that door opened, a young girl smiled at them and asked them to wait while she spoke with her mother.

Her mother was only 36 years old, had recently lost her husband, and was in no mood to talk with Mormon missionaries. So she told her daughter to send them away.

But the daughter pleaded with her. These young men were so nice, she said. And it would take only a few minutes.

So, reluctantly, the mother agreed. The missionaries delivered their message and handed a book to the mother to read—the Book of Mormon.

After they left, the mother decided she would read at least a few pages.

She finished the entire book within a few days.

Not long after, this wonderful single-parent family entered the waters of baptism.

When the small family attended their local branch in Frankfurt, Germany, a young deacon noticed the beauty of one of the daughters and thought to himself, “These missionaries are doing a great job!”

That young deacon’s name was Dieter Uchtdorf. And the charming young woman—the one who had pleaded with her mother to listen to the missionaries—has the beautiful name of Harriet. She is loved by all who meet her as she accompanies me in my travels. She has blessed the lives of many people through her love for the gospel and her sparkling personality. She truly is the sunshine of my life.

How often have I lifted my heart in gratitude for the two missionaries who did not stop at the first floor! How often my heart reaches out in appreciation for their faith and work. How often have I given thanks that they kept going—even to the fourth floor, last door.

In our search for enduring faith, in our quest to connect with God and His purposes, let us remember the Lord’s promise: “Knock, and it shall be opened unto you.”

Will we give up after knocking on a door or two? A floor or two?

Or will we keep seeking until we have reached the fourth floor, last door?

God “rewards those who earnestly seek him,” but that reward is not usually behind the first door. So we need to keep knocking. Sisters, don’t give up. Seek God with all your heart. Exercise faith. Walk in righteousness.

I promise that if you will do this—even until the fourth floor, last door—you will receive the answers you seek.

My best friend Emily and I were two of the six members of the Church at my high school in Indiana. At an activity, we were invited to think of someone in our lives we could share the gospel with. To our surprise, we both immediately thought of the same person—our English teacher. We were nervous to share it with an authority figure, but we decided to act on the prompting and give him a Book of Mormon. It was summer, so we sent it to him in the mail with our testimonies written on the inside cover.
When the school year started a few weeks later, we walked into his class apprehensively. But he didn’t say anything that first day. Or the second day. Or the day after that. We wondered if he was just going to act like nothing happened or if he even got our package at all, but we were too afraid to ask. Finally, about a week and a half later, he handed us a card. When we opened it, we read that he was respectful with his thank you, but we were disappointed to realize that he wasn’t interested in learning more. Though I’m still not sure why we both felt that prompting, I know that it was the right decision to act on it and send him the Book of Mormon.
Carli C., Utah, USA

Weeks later their farm sold, and her family joined several others in a small wagon train. With Brother Brigham leading the way, they started on their journey to Kirtland.
The wagons traveled slowly, and baby Anna got sick. Just when Mary Ann thought that they’d never get to Kirtland, Brother Reed ran alongside their wagon. “Kirtland’s just around the bend!”
The people urged their tired oxen on. Mary Ann bounced up and down on the wagon seat. Then she jumped down and ran ahead with the other children. As she turned the corner in the road, her heart sank. Where were all the beautiful buildings? Where was the temple Brother Reed had talked about? Kirtland was just a raw frontier town.
She plodded back to her parents. “I don’t like Kirtland,” she told them. “It’s ugly.”
Her mother smiled at her. “It’s just not finished yet. It’ll be beautiful some day. We’ll help to make it so.”
Brother Reed came and took Mary Ann by the hand. “Come with me.” He took her along a dirt road past a store and around the corner to the edge of a field. “This is where we will build the house of the Lord. When it is finished, it will be shiny and white and wonderful! It will be a fit place for the Lord.”
Mary Ann felt that sweet feeling she now recognized as the Holy Ghost. Maybe things weren’t what she expected, and maybe it would be hard to build a home again, but she knew that her family was doing what was right.
She looked at the field. It might be a long time before the temple was built, but it would be a temple of the Lord!

My dear wife, Christy, is a daily example to me of Christlike love, of placing people above tasks. Through years of selfless service, the Spirit has refined her ability to look into the hearts of others. I remember going with my wife and my mother to a large warehouse shoe store. After a few minutes in the women's section I became bored and wandered off to the men's area. When I returned, a tearful middle-aged woman was giving Christy a hug near the check-out counter. I was fairly sure my wife did not know this person and asked my mother what was happening. Mom told me that my wife noticed this stranger sitting in an aisle with new shoes on her feet but a distant look on her face, so Christy asked if she could help. The woman replied that she was too distraught to make even a simple shoe purchase decision; her mother died the previous day, that very day was her own birthday, and the following day was to be her mother's funeral. Christy assisted this sorrowing woman in trying on several pairs of shoes, advised her which looked the best, and guided her to the cash register.

I was reminded of the Bible teaching, "Lord,… When saw we thee a stranger, and took thee in? or naked, and clothed thee?… And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me" (Matthew 25:37-40).

First, in a basketball game when the outcome was in doubt, the coach sent me onto the playing floor right after the second half began. I took an in-bounds pass, dribbled the ball toward the key, and let the shot fly. Just as the ball left my fingertips, I realized why the opposing guards did not attempt to stop my drive: I was shooting for the wrong basket! I offered a silent prayer: “Please, Father, don’t let that ball go in.” The ball rimmed the hoop and fell out.

From the bleachers came the call: “We want Monson, we want Monson, we want Monson—out!” The coach obliged.

I never was a basketball star. What timing—to be a freshman at the University of Utah when All-Americans Arnie Ferrin and Vern Gardner dominated the boards.

I fared much better at fast-pitch softball. My most memorable experience in softball was a thirteen-inning game I pitched in Salt Lake City on a hot Memorial Day. The game was scheduled for just seven innings, but the tied score could not be broken. In the last of the thirteenth, with two men out and a runner on third, the batter hit a high pop fly to left field. The catch was certain, I thought. And yet the ball fell through the hands of the left fielder. For thirty-eight years I have teased my friend who dropped the ball. I have promised myself I will never do so again. I’m not even going to mention his name. After all, he, too, remembers. It was only a game.

On another occasion, while pitching a game at Pioneer Park, I was absolutely stunned to see that the other team had placed a one-armed batter at the plate. Now how does a pitcher deliver the pitch to such an opponent? I tossed a gentle lob over the plate. To my amazement, the batter knocked a single, right over the second baseman’s head. My temper flared. The next batter was a returned missionary from Mexico, Homer Proctor, six foot two and about 210 pounds. I pitched him fast, high, and inside. On the first pitch, he lifted the ball right out of the park for a home run. I shall ever remember the smile of that one-armed runner, Bernell Hales, as he passed second and third and gleefully streaked for home. I felt like crying, but I broke out laughing, as did each player on both sides. We had a wonderful time.

Later, when I was 19, I was a missionary in French Polynesia, and I had to learn to speak two languages, French and Tahitian, without the benefit of the Missionary Training Center. It humbled me to the depths of my soul. I learned that missionaries did better when they would do everything they could to learn. Even though they made mistakes, the Spirit helped them. I found that without the Spirit, we couldn’t do anything. But when we had the Spirit, the languages, as well as the missionary work, started to unfold.

When I turned 12, my beloved father, Moise Kouassi Avana, passed away, leaving behind my mother, my three siblings and me. I was devastated and did not anticipate the pain and emptiness his passing would leave in my life. I mourned my father every day, yearning for the truth about whether I could see him again, until I was introduced to the restored gospel by a fellow student, Laure, in high school.
In a religious debate with classmates, Laure boldly stated, “There is only one true Church upon the surface of the earth.” Intrigued, I approached her immediately, asking, “Where is this church you spoke about? I challenge you to accompany me there this Sunday to see if what you proclaimed is true”.
On October 3, 2010, the first Sunday of the month, I went and was warmly welcomed. I felt what I later recognized to be the Holy Ghost. Subsequently, I attended church multiple times, received teachings from full-time missionaries about the plan of salvation, and learned of the possibility of seeing my father again by embracing the restored gospel.
One day, I knelt in prayer, something I had never done, and poured out my heart to my Father in Heaven. In response, I received a personal testimony that the Prophet Joseph Smith was truly called of God, and that the Book of Mormon is powerful evidence of the Restoration. This experience set me on the path of conversion, and on October 31, 2010, I was baptized and confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I received the promise that I would be reunited with my late father if I kept my covenants and prepared to perform proxy baptism for him in the temple.
At the end of 2014, I read Doctrine and Covenants 31:2–3 that states. “I will bless you and your family . . . and the day cometh that they will believe and know the truth and be one with you in my church.
“Lift up your heart and rejoice, for the hour of your mission is come; and your tongue shall be loosed, and you shall declare glad tidings of great joy unto this generation.”
I knew that I had to fulfill the priesthood duty by serving a full-time mission. I informed my siblings and my mother of my desire to serve. My mother initially opposed the idea and threatened to disown me if I left. Through prayer and fasting, she eventually relented. I was called to serve in the Accra Ghana Mission, and the promise of seeing my father again became a reality after he was baptized by proxy in the Accra Ghana Temple.
In 2016, one night while on my mission, after praying and falling asleep, I had a dream in which a tall man dressed in white, whom I couldn’t clearly see, appeared to me. As he drew nearer, I realized it was my father. His presence filled me with immense joy, and he imparted many teachings to me, instructing me to write them down. The next day, as I reviewed my journal, I found that much of what he had taught me was recorded therein. My joy was full of the truth that many of the things he shared lightened and eased my progress on the covenant path.
Upon completing my mission, countless blessings such as entering the new and everlasting covenant of marriage, serving in the missionary training center and the temple, and having an eternal family served as evidence of the fulfillment of the plan of salvation in my life, as well as in the lives of my wife and children. Being able to baptize my mother and seeing my older sister join the Church in the same year, 2023, attested to me of the truth that Heavenly Father always pours His blessings and fulfills the promises He makes to His covenant-keeping children.
I am grateful to the young boy, Joseph Smith, who without hesitation, prayed to a loving Father in Heaven. That prayer led to the reopening of the heavens and brought on earth the gift of the restored gospel to all of God’s children, which gospel turned my heart to my parents. I am looking forward to being sealed to them for eternity. I know that Heavenly Father loves me and has made all truths available to me and to the rest of my brothers and sisters through the Atonement of His Only Begotten Son, even Jesus Christ. These truths and blessings in my life are the anchor of my testimony and my faith in the Lord. I know without any doubt that the Book of Mormon is true, and we have a living prophet, chosen by God, on earth.

Michael gazed at the tiny, soft bed of straw. “I am glad that baby Jesus will have a soft, warm bed for Christmas Eve,” he thought.
For the past week Michael had carefully tucked little pieces of straw into this tiny manger, one piece at a time. Michael thought that it just might be the best Christmas he ever had because now he was old enough to understand what Christmas was all about.
A week ago Mom had given a family home evening lesson about the true meaning of Christmas. She said that Jesus Christ was the greatest gift Heavenly Father gave to the world. Then she presented each child in the family with a small, empty manger and a tiny figure of the baby Jesus.
“For the next week you will each have a chance to give a present back to Heavenly Father,” Mom said.
“How can we do that?” Michael asked.
“Your gift to Heavenly Father will be to serve others,” she said. “Each time you do a good deed or help another person, you may add a piece of straw to your manger. The more kindness you show to others, the softer the manger will be on Christmas Eve.”
“I hope I can get more straw in my manger than anybody else!” Michael thought.
The next day Michael started working to collect straw.
“Mom, can I help you sweep the floor?” Michael asked, when he saw her cleaning the kitchen.
“I’ll help you find your teddy bear,” he told his little brother when he cried for his lost toy.
“I want to shovel some snow too,” he said when his dad went outside to shovel the driveway.
Within a few days Michael’s little manger looked very different. It was stuffed full of straw! But Michael noticed a change in himself too. He started to enjoy doing kind things for others because he knew it was what Heavenly Father wanted him to do. Sometimes he even forgot to add a piece of straw to the manger when he helped.
Michael decided that doing nice things made him feel good inside. On Christmas Eve, as he stood by the soft lights of the Christmas tree, Michael gently laid his tiny baby Jesus in the manger, which was now overflowing with straw.
Michael knew he had done the best he could to show his love for Heavenly Father and Jesus. This was the best Christmas ever.

Within my first few days of arriving in the Dominican Republic, my companions brought me to visit a man by the name of Amado. During that visit, we talked about the plan of salvation and the opportunity he will have to see his wife again, who had passed away. The Spirit was strong during that conversation. His daughter and a few of his grandchildren were there, testifying of the joy they had felt through living the gospel. They testified of temples and the ability to be with our loved ones after this life, through the sacred ordinances of the temple.
During the following months, we returned to visit Amado weekly. We talked about the Restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ, and that this gospel has the power of God so that we can take the necessary steps and make promises that will help us return to live with God. We taught him about the priesthood, the power of God here on earth. We explained that God loves us so much, that He gave us another testament of His Son, Jesus Christ: The Book of Mormon. Little by little we taught him about the truths of Christ and His doctrine.
He questioned why we believe this Church is the only true Church on the earth. We invited him to come to church with us to experience it for himself. He enjoyed it but missed the comfort of his usual church. We invited him to pray and sincerely talk with God to ask Him which church is His. Amado prayed and received an answer in a way that he could not doubt that Jesus Christ had restored His Church on earth again. He continued attending church with us. We invited him to enter the waters of baptism and make a covenant with God through the proper authority. When we invited him to be baptized, he asked us if he would be able to see his wife again if he were to get baptized in a different church other than where the two were married. We testified of the perfect love of God and His plan that makes it possible for everyone that has passed on to be able to accept the gospel of Jesus Christ, and that being baptized is our responsibility. We have the opportunity to be baptized in the name of and for our ancestors, so that those people who no longer have their bodies can still enter into the kingdom of God.
Amado wanted this. He was baptized by his grandson, and it was a very special day. Everyone who attended the baptism felt the Holy Ghost testify that the step he took that day was correct and was ordained of God. In the following visits, Amado testified to us that he knows that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints is God’s church, and that he knew we were called by God to help him understand this. He had told many previous missionaries to go and preach to the people who didn’t know God, because he already knew God and didn’t need the missionaries. I learned even more that God places us where He needs us and that we can be instruments in His hands through our obedience and the love we have for Him and His children.

“Bookworm! Bookworm!”
Katie pretended she didn’t hear Brian and Matt yelling. She hugged her books to her chest and walked faster, but the taunts still rang down the hall. “Bookworm! Bookworm!”
She felt her face getting hot, and she wanted to turn around and scream at them. Instead she half ran, half walked the rest of the way to the school library door, pulled it open, and slipped inside. She could still hear Brian and Matt laughing.
“Hi, Katie,” said Mrs. Reid. Katie thought it was funny for the librarian to be named Mrs. Reid.
“Hi,” said Katie softly, looking at the floor.
“What’s the matter, Katie?”
“Oh, just Brian and Matt. They were being mean again and calling me dumb names like ‘bookworm.’”
Mrs. Reid began to laugh. Katie looked up at her in surprise, and a sick feeling started in her stomach. “It isn’t funny!”
“Sure it is,” said Mrs. Reid, trying to stop her laughter. “I thought a bookworm was a squiggly bug that eats novels. And I have never ever seen you with your mouth full of pages!”
Katie looked down at the books in her arms and started to smile a little as she thought, What would those boys think if they saw me chewing up books and spitting out the covers? Aloud she said, “Mrs. Reid, you are the silliest grown-up I’ve ever met!”
“Sure,” said Mrs. Reid. “That’s one reason you like me. Now, can I show you my favorite book for this week? Or are you still reading the Black Stallion?”
“No, I finished it. It was as good as you said it would be!”
While Mrs. Reid went to get the book she had saved, Katie sat by one of the desks and looked at the new bulletin board. It said, BE KIND TO YOUR BOOKS.
Just last week Katie’s dad had said almost the same thing. Katie’s brother, Sam, had dropped his scriptures on the lawn after church. Dad had put his hands on his hips and said, “Samuel Jacob Rotheree, please take better care of my favorite books!”
Katie knew why they were Dad’s favorite books, even though they didn’t have shiny pictures on the covers like Mrs. Reid’s did. It was because they told about Jesus.
Mrs. Reid came back waving a new novel. “Wait until you read this, Katie!”
While Mrs. Reid was checking out the new book, Katie leaned against the desk. “Mrs. Reid,” she asked, “do you know about Jesus?”
Mrs. Reid looked surprised. “Well, sure. But I don’t think about Him much. Why?”
“Oh,” said Katie. “I just wondered.” She took the book and left the library. How could anyone not think about Jesus much?
That night when Katie was ready for bed, Dad came in to hear her say her prayers and tuck her in.
“Dad, Mrs. Reid says she doesn’t think about Jesus very much.”
Dad sat down on the edge of her bed. “Who is Mrs. Reid?”
“The school librarian. She’s really nice. She always saves her favorite books for me, and they’re good ones too. But she said she doesn’t think about Jesus. I thought everyone thought about Him.”
“Do you think about Jesus?”
“Yes.” Katie looked at the picture of Jesus she had hung on the wall. “I love Him because He is so kind.”
Dad squeezed her hand and smiled. “Why else do you love Jesus?”
Katie squinted her eyes and thought. “Well,” she said slowly, “because I like to read stories about Him—like when He went to see the Nephites and blessed all the little children.”
“I wonder if Mrs. Reid knows that story.”
Suddenly Katie felt excited. She sat straight up in bed. “Yeah, Dad! What if she doesn’t know that story? Can I take her a Book of Mormon?”
Dad was really smiling now. “Sure—that’s a good idea. I’ll tell you what, Katie. I have a brand new copy of the Book of Mormon that you can give her. I’ll get it for you.” In a few minutes he came back with a blue Book of Mormon that had a picture of the Angel Moroni on the cover. He suggested that Katie write her testimony in the front of it.
For a long time Katie chewed on the end of her pencil and tried to think of what to write. Finally she carefully wrote:
Dear Mrs. Reid,
This is my favorite book because it tells about Jesus. Jesus is Heavenly Father’s Son, and I love Him. I hope you love Him too. I love you, Mrs. Reid.
Your friend, Katie Rotheree.
When she finished writing, she felt warm, happy, and sleepy. Dad hugged her tight and said, “I’ll wrap it for you.”
The next morning Katie walked slowly to the library. She wondered if Mrs. Reid would like her present. Katie was so nervous that she almost didn’t want to give it to her anymore.
Brian and Matt came around the corner and saw her. “Hey! It’s the bookworm!” Matt sang out.
Katie ran to the library. Taking a deep breath, she walked right up to Mrs. Reid and held out the Book of Mormon.
“Good morning, Katie,” said Mrs. Reid. “What’s this?”
“My favorite book,” said Katie. “I want to give it to you so you can read it too.”
The librarian unwrapped the package, opened the book, and read what Katie had written. Then she closed the book and looked into Katie’s eyes. “Thank you,” she said softly. “I’ll read it. And, Katie, I love you too.”
The warm feeling Katie had had the night before came back, only stronger. She felt as if she could hug the whole world.
The warning bell was ringing as Katie waved good-bye to Mrs. Reid and went back out into the hall.
“Hi, bookworm,” said Brian as he and Matt walked past her.
Katie felt so good that she just giggled. Brian and Matt looked surprised. “I am a bookworm!” she said. “Do you want to see me eat books?”
Brian and Matt looked at her, then at each other. Suddenly all three of them were laughing and hurrying together down the hall to class.

I’m having the same problem right now and I’m in the middle of solving it. My mom gave me some great advice. I don’t know about you, but I can sometimes get offended pretty easily. She told me to stop that. She also said that most people aren’t going to stay your friend if you do that sort of thing. I have made a few friends since that talk. It really helped me to understand a lot of things.
Leah Puckett, 12,Grand Junction, Colorado

I was one of 12 high school students selected from Fairfield College in Hamilton, New Zealand, to participate in a program called Project K. The first part involved a three-week wilderness adventure, including canoeing, exploring caves, rock climbing, mountain biking, and sleeping and cooking our meals in all sorts of conditions. We spent most of our days in torrential rain and cold.
Sometimes spirits were low, and there were tears of frustration. We learned about teamwork and endurance. We encouraged each other through the challenges that came to us every day. One person chose to go home—it was just too much.
Halfway through the adventure, we got to write a letter home. As I wrote my letter, the tears welled up as I expressed my love and appreciation to my family. I realized just how much I missed the simple things in life like family prayers, scripture reading, family home evening, seminary, and attending church. I was saddened because I couldn’t picture my baby sister’s face in my mind.
I was thankful that I’d brought my pocket-sized Book of Mormon with me. I would sit inside my bivouac and read by flashlight. Everyone was pretty tired after each day, and they’d just go to sleep. After a day or so, more of my companions became curious about what I was reading. They became interested when I told them about the stripling warriors, Nephi and Laban, Ammon, and especially Nephi and his broken bow. Everyone could relate to the challenges of the wilderness.
By the end of our adventure, every night before sleeping, all 12 of us would huddle under my bivouac and listen as I read from the Book of Mormon. I know that the prophets of old were able to speak to us all on those cold, dark, rainy nights. I know that I gained strength to endure the difficult challenges during that time. I never felt the need to cry or to quit. I owe that to prayer and my pocket-sized Book of Mormon.

Sig Verano had emigrated from his native Colombia, South America, to California, in 1963. Ana, the girl he was growing to love, was temporarily left behind while he began preparing to support himself, and possibly a family, in his new country.
He had received only three years of formal schooling in Colombia and spoke little English. In Los Angeles, California, his first job was making hats at the minimum legal wage, so he studied newspaper advertisements looking for something that would pay more. He spotted a training course for a “machinist.” The pay looked good, and in South America, a maquinista—train engineer—had regular employment, so he enrolled.
Sig did well in the course, but inquired after some time when they were going to get to the “big machines.” Be patient, he was told—that would come after the training. Toward the end of the training, he still had not seen a train engine. One day, he asked a co-worker how much they would travel in their future jobs. “What does travel have to do with this work?” the co-worker replied. After some confusing discussion, Sig finally asked, exasperated, “Will you please tell me exactly what we are learning?”
But Sig’s new job as a machinist was enough to provide the support he and Ana would need. They had continued their courtship by mail and were married by proxy in 1964. She emigrated to the United States in 1965. Edison, the first of their children, was born in 1966, followed by Julie in 1968 and Marbell in 1972.

“When the children awoke on Christmas morning in 1849, not a doll was to be found in all the land, no, not even a stick of candy, or an apple was found in the cabins. But the children and their parents were happy for all that. They were glad that they still had a little to eat, and prospects before them in their new homes were beginning to grow brighter every day. But, if there were no dolls or toys for the children, the fathers and mothers could not forget Christmas, and before the day was over they all had a jolly time.
“In the evening they met at the cabin of John Rowberry. This was the house where the first meetings were held. There they had an old fashioned dance to wind up the day, and it was the merriest crowd that ever met in a Christmas gathering. … But the great drawback was music. Not an instrument of any kind was to be found. Cyrus Call was a very good whistler and he whistled tunes while the merry pioneers danced.”

Sarah Tolman, in Kate B. Carter, comp., Treasures of Pioneer Heritage, 6 vols. (1952–57), 4:197–98.

A few years ago, Elder David A. Bednar asked the following questions as part of his remarks: “Do we only know about the Savior, or are we increasingly coming to know Him? How do we come to know the Lord?”
As I studied and pondered, I came to the stark realization that what I know about the Savior greatly outweighed how much I really know Him. I resolved then to put forth more effort to know Him. I am very grateful for the scriptures and testimonies of faithful men and women disciples of Jesus Christ. My own journey over the last few years has taken me down many roads of study and discovery. I pray that the Holy Ghost will convey to you today a message far greater than the inadequate words that I have written.
First, we need to recognize that knowing the Savior is the most important pursuit of our lives. It should take priority over anything else.
“And this is life eternal, that they might know thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom thou hast sent.”
“Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.”
“I am the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life.”
Second, as we are increasingly coming to know the Savior, scriptural passages and the words of the prophets become so intimately meaningful to us that they become our own words. It is not about copying the words, feelings, and experiences of others as much as it is coming to know for ourselves, in our own unique way, by experimenting upon the word and receiving a witness from the Holy Ghost. As the prophet Alma declared:
“Do ye not suppose that I know of these things myself? Behold, I testify unto you that I do know that these things whereof I have spoken are true. And how do ye suppose that I know of their surety?
“Behold, I say unto you they are made known unto me by the Holy Spirit of God. Behold, I have fasted and prayed many days that I might know these things of myself. And now I do know of myself that they are true; for the Lord God hath made them manifest unto me by his Holy Spirit; and this is the spirit of revelation which is in me.”
Third, an increasing understanding that the Atonement of Jesus Christ applies to us personally and individually will help us know Him. Oftentimes it is easier for us to think and speak of Christ’s Atonement in general terms than to recognize its personal significance in our lives. The Atonement of Jesus Christ is infinite and eternal and all-encompassing in its breadth and depth but wholly personal and individual in its effects. Because of His atoning sacrifice, the Savior has power to cleanse, heal, and strengthen us one by one.
The Savior’s only desire, His only purpose from the very beginning, was to do the will of the Father. The will of the Father was for Him to assist in “[bringing] to pass the immortality and eternal life of man” by becoming our “advocate with the Father.” Hence, “though he were a Son, yet learned he obedience by the things which he suffered; and being made perfect, he became the author of eternal salvation unto all them that obey him.”
“And he shall go forth, suffering pains and afflictions and temptations of every kind. …
“And he will take upon him death, that he may loose the bands of death … and he will take upon him their infirmities, that his bowels may be filled with mercy, … that he may know according to the flesh how to succor his people according to their infirmities.
“… The Son of God suffereth according to the flesh that he might take upon him the sins of his people, that he might blot out their transgressions according to the power of his deliverance.”
I would like to share a simple experience that illustrates the struggle we sometimes have to embrace the personal nature of the Lord’s Atonement.
Years ago, at the invitation of my file leader, I read the Book of Mormon from cover to cover and marked the verses that referenced the Lord’s Atonement. My leader also invited me to prepare a one-page summary of what I learned. I said to myself, “One page? Sure, that is easy.” To my surprise, however, I found the task to be extremely difficult, and I failed.
I have since realized that I failed because I missed the mark and had incorrect assumptions. First, I expected the summary to be inspiring to everyone. The summary was meant for me and not for anyone else. It was meant to capture my feelings and emotions about the Savior and what He has done for me so that every time I read it, it will bring to the surface wonderful, poignant, and personal spiritual experiences.
Second, I expected the summary to be grand and elaborate and contain big words and phrases. It was never about big words. It was meant to be a clear and simple declaration of conviction. “For my soul delighteth in plainness; for after this manner doth the Lord God work among the children of men. For the Lord God giveth light unto the understanding.”
Third, I expected it to be perfect, a summary to end all summaries—a final summary that one cannot and should not add to—instead of a work in progress to which I can add a word here or there as my understanding of Jesus Christ’s Atonement increases.
As a young man, I learned a lot from my conversations with my bishop. During those tender years, I learned to love these words from a favorite hymn:
I stand all amazed at the love Jesus offers me,
Confused at the grace that so fully he proffers me.
I tremble to know that for me he was crucified,
That for me, a sinner, he suffered, he bled and died.
Oh, it is wonderful that he should care for me
Enough to die for me!
Oh, it is wonderful, wonderful to me!
The prophet Moroni invited us: “And now, I would commend you to seek this Jesus of whom the prophets and apostles have written.”
President Russell M. Nelson promised that “if [we] proceed to learn all [we] can about Jesus Christ, … [our] ability to turn away from sin will increase. [Our] desire to keep the commandments will soar.”
On this Easter Sunday, just as the Savior came forth from His stone grave, may we awake from our spiritual slumber and rise above the clouds of doubt, the clutches of fear, the intoxication of pride, and the lull of complacency. Jesus Christ and Heavenly Father live. I testify of Their perfect love for us. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

This time, I would like to humbly add a comparison inspired from an area in the field of my professional preparation. I am referring to the world of civil engineering. From the beginning of my university studies, I dreamed of the day when I would complete the requirements to be qualified to take the class that would teach me how to design buildings and other structures that could then be considered “anti-seismic.”

The day finally arrived for my first class on this subject. The first words from the professor were the following: “You are surely anxious to begin this course and learn how to design anti-seismic structures,” to which many of us eagerly nodded our heads. Then the professor said, “I am sorry to tell you that this is not possible, for I cannot teach you how to design a building that is against, that is ‘anti-’ or that is opposed to, an earthquake. This makes no sense,” he said, “because earthquakes will occur anyway, whether we like it or not.”

Then he added, “What I can teach you is how to design structures that are seismic-resistant, structures that can resist the forces coming from an earthquake, so that the structure remains standing without suffering any serious damage and can then continue offering the service for which it had been conceived.”

Although more than 40 years have passed since that first class in seismic-resistant engineering, I perfectly remember the moment when I began to acquire a deeper, more complete understanding of the vital importance that this concept would be present in the structures that I would design in my future professional life. Not only that, but even more important—that it would be permanently present in the edification of my own life and in those over whom I might exercise a positive influence.

Joanne, a young Church member, married a man who everyone thought was unworthy of her. He was addicted to alcohol and reckless with money. Almost immediately, the marriage had difficulties. But Joanne seemed to possess the magic of being happy.
As the years passed, instead of becoming bitter and defensive, Joanne became even more patient. Her children were reared tenderly, and she taught them to be loving and kind with each other, with her, and with their father. Five of the eight went on missions and all were married in the temple. Miraculously, the year before her husband’s unexpected death, he accepted the gospel and was baptized.
What caused such a marvelous change?
Joanne’s sister says, “Joanne never allowed her children or anyone else to talk negatively about their father. Sometimes he would come home at two or three in the morning, and my sister would wake all the kids and say, ‘Your daddy is home! Come, kiss him, love him!’
“When the children grew older and questioned their father’s actions, she would say, ‘Honey, don’t judge your dad. He doesn’t have the gospel yet. All we can do is love him and forgive him. He is a good man, and he is head of this family.’”
But was she happy?
“To her family, to us, to everyone,” says Joanne’s sister, “she radiated happiness. But I’m sure she suffered. I also know how badly she wanted her husband to join the Church.”
Joanne talks about staying with a man many women would abandon:
“I never considered turning away from my love for and loyalty to my husband. He was a very good man, even though he did foolish things. He loved people. He helped others in need. We sometimes had a person, even whole families, live with us because my husband knew that they were out of work and needed someplace to go.
“We had great, genuine love in our family. I know that he loved me and the children and that he was proud of us. The good example of our children brought him into the Church. It was the happiest day of my life when he was baptized.” They were married twenty-eight years before that happened.

When I was set apart as one of two Sunday School teachers for our Young Adult class in Taipei, Taiwan, my bishop promised that the Holy Spirit would help me whenever I needed it. I didn’t realize then how important that promise would be.
I was among the younger members in the class, so I was nervous. It helped having a teaching partner. She would give the lesson one week, and I the next. I diligently prepared my lessons, and people told me how much they enjoyed them. I felt that everything was under control.
Then one Sunday I went to class and found that my teaching partner, who was to teach the lesson that day, wasn’t there. My face was pale as I ran to telephone her.
“I’m sorry,” she said sleepily. “What time is it? I guess I overslept.” She was still in bed, and the class should have already started!
As I crossed the hallway to the classroom, my stake president greeted me with a smile. “My wife and I would like to join your class today,” he said brightly. Too surprised to say anything, I weakly nodded my head and smiled feebly. My only thought was on the lesson, which, if I remembered correctly, was based on 3 Nephi, chapters 15 through 19. [3 Ne. 15–19]
Seven minutes of class time had passed when I walked into the crowded room. The class president offered a prayer. Then, with trembling hand, I opened the Book of Mormon. I had planned to invite class members to share their testimonies, because I didn’t know what else to do. But as I began reading the scriptures, I felt some power greater than myself helping me select appropriate verses for discussion. My tongue was loosed, in the same way the Lord had promised Oliver Cowdery: “And at all times, and in all places, he shall open his mouth and declare my gospel as with the voice of a trump, both day and night. And I will give unto him strength such as is not known among men” (D&C 24:12).
Never in my life had I felt such humility. I knew that it wasn’t me, but the Spirit, that was teaching. I felt as though I was the Lord’s musical instrument, and he was filling the classroom with beautiful harmony through me. I was so overwhelmed that I felt physically weak.
Joyfully I read with the class the profoundly touching scene when the Savior said to the Nephites: “Blessed are ye because of your faith. And now behold, my joy is full. And when he had said these words, he wept” (3 Ne. 17:20–21).
There wasn’t a sound in the room. Everyone had tears in their eyes. To me, the account we had read was more than just words. In my mind I could vividly see the Savior and those faithful disciples around him. I could sense that the Savior was close to us, and we to him.
Finally, I shared the prayer of the Savior for the Nephites when he asked that, “because of their faith, … they may be purified in me, that I may be in them as thou, Father, art in me, that we may be one, that I may be glorified in them” (3 Ne. 19:29). “Think about that,” I said to the class. “Our Savior may be glorified in us, if we purify ourselves and become one with our Lord. What bliss, and what a blessing!”
Then I wept.
This wonderful experience was a fulfillment of my bishop’s promise. It taught me that the Lord has great love for us and that the Spirit is always there to help us if we live worthily and abide by the counsel of those who preside in righteousness over us.

A missionary activity had been planned in the stake where I was serving. My companion and I were to briefly explain a gospel principle to the investigators who would attend. However, when we arrived at the meetinghouse, we discovered that hardly any investigators had come. Instead of teaching the principle as we had originally planned, we were asked to go out into the street and invite the people passing by to come and take part in the activity.
Truthfully, I couldn’t help but think, “This is not going to work.” I felt that our efforts would be fruitless—that no one would accept the invitation to just come to the activity, particularly with such little notice.
But we understood the importance of obedience, so my companion and I tried to invite people to come in. Not much later, a woman and her daughter and her daughter’s boyfriend passed by. We invited them to come in. At first they were hesitant, but finally they accepted the invitation and joined the group inside. I was surprised but very happy.
The activity started: a gospel-centered musical presentation. The activity lasted more than an hour. I worried that our guests were angry because the event lasted so long, but I had a prayer in my heart asking for everything to work out well.
When the activity ended, I approached them to apologize for taking so much of their time. Before I could say a word to them, the woman said, “Thank you. Thank you so much. It was very beautiful. Thank you.”
I was astonished; they were thanking us for the experience, and they weren’t concerned about the time. It was marvelous, and there was joy in my heart. (And to think that I had been saying that inviting people on the street wasn’t going to work!) The woman wanted to know more about the Church and to attend our Sunday meetings.
I learned something great from this experience: exercising just a little faith, even if it is nothing more than a desire to believe, can yield great fruits (see Alma 32:27–28).
This experience changed my attitude for the rest of my mission. From that time on, at each missionary activity, I would see the fruits of my labors when I went forth with hope and an eye of faith.
If we exercise faith, even when we think it cannot come to pass, we can obtain delicious fruits. What we see as impossible is not impossible for God.

One morning I said our family prayer. I asked that we could show Heavenly Father how kind we could be that day. Later I got upset with my brother and was sent to my room to calm down. When my mom came to talk to me, I told her I remembered what I had said in my prayer that morning and that I didn’t feel upset with my brother anymore. She said the Holy Ghost was helping me remember those words about being kind. I was able to make better choices the rest of the day. I’m grateful for prayer and for the Holy Ghost.
Maren E., age 5, Utah, USA