Gospel Story Finder

As a young man I was called to serve a mission in Hamburg, Germany. At the Language Training Mission—the predecessor to today’s missionary training center—I struggled to learn the language. As the first and then the second week passed, I noticed that the others in my district were progressing much faster than I was. While they were advancing to complex concepts, my dies, ders, and dases were a disaster.
I started to become concerned—and discouraged. How could I serve a successful mission if I couldn’t communicate with the people I was called to teach?
I prayed for help and sought a priesthood blessing, which provided some reassurance. But I continued to search and struggle, and one day I felt more uptight and worried than ever. As my companion and I walked down the hallway, I stopped at a small janitor’s closet. I asked my companion to wait for me for a moment. I slipped into that tiny room and knelt down on a mop. I began to plead with Heavenly Father for some relief.
The Lord answered that prayer. I felt this thought come into my mind: “I never called you to master the German language. I just called you to serve with all of your heart, mind, and strength.”
I immediately thought, “I can do that. I can serve with all of my heart, mind, and strength. If that’s what the Lord has called me to do, I can do that.” I stood up feeling tremendously relieved.
From that point on, my measuring stick changed. I no longer gauged my progress and success against that of my companion or other members of my district. Instead, I focused on how the Lord felt I was doing. Instead of looking to the side to compare myself to others, I began to look up, so to speak, to know what He thought of my efforts.
I don’t know that I learned the language much faster or much better from that point on, but I no longer felt the concerns I once had. I knew what the Lord wanted me to do, and it was in my power to do it.
I began counseling with Heavenly Father in the morning, telling Him that I didn’t know what the day would bring but that I would do my very best. “Whatever I can learn, allow me to learn it,” I prayed, “but no matter what, I’m going to give Thee my very best today.”
At night I would pray again to report on what I had studied and what I had done. I shared with my Father in Heaven my struggles and my successes alike. I had begun to turn to Him—not to others or even myself—to validate my progress.
That lesson that I learned in a tiny broom closet more than 35 years ago has stayed with me all my life, through a number of callings and assignments. Whenever I have been asked to do something where the expectations seem greater than what I have the capacity to do, I remember that experience and say to myself, “Wait. Who called you? Who are you serving? Who are you trying to please?”

In September 2023, the De’Beauvilles made a dream trip to the Dominican Republic to be sealed in the temple. They also witnessed their youngest son’s endowment as he prepared to serve a mission to Côte d’Ivoire. This experience, considered one of the best days of their lives, marked a culmination of their devotion to the gospel and to each other. With a deep desire to continue their service, the De’Beauvilles hope to return to the temple as missionaries.

The most unique answer you have to give is your testimony about an issue. When you know a thing, say, “I know,” not necessarily, “I bear you my testimony,” though that has its place. And never say, “I know,” unless you do. When you speak the truth, the Holy Ghost will confirm your words to those who are pure in heart. Then they will feel the truth as well as hear it. This is such a sweet, lifting, convincing experience. Once, on our mission, we were teaching a wonderful, young family. We were giving the lesson that explains the mission of the Savior. I always loved to give that lesson because the Spirit was usually strong in verifying our testimonies.

The young father asked at the beginning, “How can we know that what you’re telling us is true? It all sounds so good, but how can we be sure?” We explained, as best we could, how the witness of the Holy Ghost feels—a burning in the bosom, a peaceful, right feeling; an ‘aha’ experience, like “I-seem-to-have-known-that-all-along.” Then we proceeded to teach of the Savior’s mission and its application in our lives.

When it came my turn to tell them how I felt about Jesus, the Spirit was strong and unmistakable. I could see that they felt it, too. I realized then, and have known ever since, that such a witness is essential to bring complete understanding. No amount of logical argument can equal that beautiful moment of recognition that the Spirit alone can bring.

Imagine a 17-year-old boy walking through a school. He passes by two young women he knows. Each young woman hands him a piece of paper. The first hands him an envelope with a heart-shaped sticker on it, and the second hands him a flyer with an image of a red cross on it. Without reading either one, he starts thinking about asking the first girl to a dance and giving the second girl a donation for recent flood victims. He has a different reaction to the images because each one holds a different meaning for him; in other words, they are symbols.

After he left school, Géoffroy kept working hard. Soon he had a farm of his own.
Then one day he saw a friend who was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. His friend gave him a Book of Mormon. Géoffroy read the Book of Mormon and prayed. He felt warm and peaceful inside and knew for sure that the Church is true.
He already knew what to do next. He worked, prayed, and relied on God. First he got baptized. Then he shared his testimony with those around him. Some of his friends got baptized too. What started as a small group of members soon grew into a branch. He was helping the Church grow in Benin!

One evening, years ago, my wife and I sat alone together. The children were all asleep in their beds, and we were waiting for the birth of a new little baby. My wife, big with child, was sitting by the table. We were talking softly together, knowing that the baby would arrive that night. The lights were dim, and there was a feeling of love for each other and for the baby that was to come. I remember looking at my wife—she was in a rocking chair, her eyes closed, her pale white hands spread across her full waist. The sweet feeling in the room grew and persisted. It was very powerful. I said to her, “Do you feel this all around us?” and she replied, “Yes.” It was lovely being with her there then. It was a sweet closeness, a unity I can hardly describe.

“Can you tell?” I said. “We shall have a son.”

“I know,” she replied. “It will be a boy.”

And then for me the veil parted, and I saw our son, standing, waiting, a few feet from the chair my wife was rocking in. He was tall and well formed, taller and larger, it seemed to me, than the room allowed. There was power about his person, great power and goodness and patience and love. I said, “Do you see him there standing beside you?”

Again there swelled that sweet feeling of closeness and unity. She looked at me, confident, a small smile on her lips. “I don’t need to,” she said. “I know he is there.”

Roger Chung Tien is a grandfather from Tubuai in the Austral Islands. He said, “Cleaning up my daddy’s grave brings back many memories to me. I miss him but know he lives in me through all the strong teachings he taught me. I am grateful and blessed to know that I will see him again with our Heavenly Father and His Son Jesus Christ through the Resurrection.”

Perhaps the most memorable pioneer stalwarts were the Saints who made the journey in handcart companies. These companies brought nearly 3,000 pioneers west between 1856 and 1860. In 1856, two handcart companies, with 1,075 pioneers under the leadership of James G. Willie and Edward Martin, left later in the year than planned, and they encountered early winter storms in present-day Wyoming. Peter Howard McBride, then but a boy of six years, was a member of the Martin Company. His father, after helping push handcarts through the icy river, died in the snow and freezing cold that night. Peter’s mother was sick; his older sister, Jenetta, watched out for the younger children. Her shoes had worn out, and her feet left bloody tracks in the snow. On the banks of the Sweetwater River, the wind blew their tent down during the night. Everyone scampered out as the snow covered the tent—everyone except little Peter. According to his account: “In the morning I heard someone say, ‘How many are dead in this tent?’ My sister said, ‘Well, my little brother must be frozen to death in that tent.’ So they jerked the tent loose, sent it scurrying over the snow. My hair was frozen to the tent. I picked myself up and came out quite alive, to their surprise.”

In our eagerness, it is possible to misinterpret our desires as inspiration. Dr. Carlfred Broderick, a retired professor of marriage and family counseling at the University of Southern California and a former stake president, wrote of an amusing experience which occurred as he greeted his oldest daughter returning home after attending Brigham Young University. “‘Daddy, Daddy,’ she cried as she ran to give me a hug, ‘Guess what? Eight boys had it revealed to them that they were to marry me, and that’s more than any other girl on our floor’” (One Flesh One Heart, 1986, 21).
Of course they had not all been inspired to marry her, and she had no obligation to the feelings of any of those young men unless she herself wished to accept a proposal of marriage and received a spiritual reassurance on her own.

The culminating event was an area-wide broadcast with the theme “Becoming A Temple-Ready People.” During the broadcast nearly 50,000 members participated face-to-face and online. During the event, members of the Philippines Area presidency and their wives presented Elder and Sister Bednar with impressions from Church leaders and members throughout the country who had attended various events where the Bednars had spoken. Elder Bednar had invited these leaders and members to share three things: (1) What did they hear? (2) What did they learn? and (3) how can it help them change?
With this format, a wondrous outpouring of the Spirit was felt as the Philippine Saints gathered together to learn anew and be edified by a modern-day apostle.

Some time ago a young man said to me, “Why do we have so many laws and rules and regulations? Why can’t we just be free to do what we want to do? The Church teaches that man is that he might have joy, and that the greatest gift of God to man is free agency.”
I tried to explain to him that everything in the universe, and the universe itself as organized by a divine Creator, is governed by laws, known as the laws of nature; and that we must have laws of the land, or of man, so that we might have order and protect the rights of mankind and punish those who infringe on the rights of others. I gave him several examples of what I was referring to. Then we talked at some length about the laws of God and how important it is that we keep his commandments.
Without going further into the details of our conversation, I should like today to deal with the majesty of law as it affects mankind. For the sake of this discussion let us divide it into three subheadings: First, the laws of nature; second, the laws of man, or the laws of the land; third, the laws of God as they pertain to our salvation and exaltation.

Julie and I are also part of an online group in which family members, friends, and missionaries can share their scripture each week and occasionally include a related thought or testimony. Being part of a group makes it easier to be consistent. My high school daughter and a group of her friends use social media and text messaging to share scriptures with each other.

Laura was having a lot of fun at the Primary activity. She liked being with her Primary friends.
But then Tyler came up to her and said, “Your dad is ugly. He wears glasses.”
Laura frowned and didn’t say anything.
“My brother said your dad is bad at basketball,” Tyler said. “He’s a geek!”
Laura felt tears coming to her eyes, so she ran out into the hall. She sat down, wrapped her arms around her knees, and cried.
Why was Tyler being so mean? she thought.
Laura looked up to see Sister Morris walking toward her.
“What’s the matter, Laura?” Sister Morris asked.
Laura took a deep breath and told Sister Morris what had happened. Sister Morris frowned.
“That was not very nice of Tyler to say those things,” Sister Morris said. “I will talk to him about treating others kindly.” She gave Laura a hug and held out a cookie. “Would you like a treat?” she asked.
Laura shook her head and wiped away her tears. “No, thanks.”
“How about if you come back to the activity and find someone else who would like a cookie?” Sister Morris said. She handed Laura the cookie.
Laura followed Sister Morris back to the Primary room. She liked to make other people happy. Laura looked around. She wondered who would want the cookie. Whitney, a new girl in Primary, was standing by the wall. She looked a little nervous.
Laura walked over to Whitney and held out the cookie.
“This is for you,” she said.
Whitney took the cookie and gave Laura a big smile.
Laura smiled back. Her tears were all gone. She felt much better.

Samantha,* a girl in my first-grade class, was kind of mean. She would step on people’s heels, yell at them, and even hit them. Nobody liked her. Nobody played with her. Sometimes other kids told lies to get her into trouble. I didn’t like her at first, either, but I always defended her when I knew someone had lied to get her in trouble.
In second grade, her desk was next to mine. She kept on being mean, so she was moved away from the other kids. I felt sorry for her and offered to help Samantha with her schoolwork. The teacher let me.
Then Samantha’s baby brother died. That’s when I learned that she has a hard life. She had lived in another state, and her father had drinking problems. When she moved, one of her cats died and another ran away. Then her two dogs died. One day in class, she started crying because she missed her baby brother. I went over to her, and I got to help her that day.
At Christmastime, I drew her name for our gift exchange. Mom and I prayed about what to give her. We gave her a small nativity set, and she really liked it. She became nicer to everyone, and soon everyone wanted to sit by her.
For Valentine Day, we gave each other the same card. We didn’t plan it that way.
She moved away at the end of second grade. That was the last time I saw her. I miss her. Sometimes I even cry a little bit. My teacher thanked me for helping Samantha and said that I had changed her life. I feel good that I chose the right.

After returning from his mission to Scotland, he married his college sweetheart. On a cold morning in January 1901, he and Emma Ray Riggs arrived in a horse-drawn buggy at the Salt Lake Temple, there to be married in covenant before the Lord. So well were the promises of love and honor kept between them that over sixty years later, their suite in the Hotel Utah was affectionately referred to by some as the bridal suite. “Sixty-nine years is none too long for a honeymoon,” they agreed, “especially when you are planning to be married forever.”

What do you do when you are asked to wear an immodest costume. We actually had that problem in my dance class. It didn’t fit properly. We had it fixed so my shoulders were covered. I was so happy that I can represent who I am and people can see that by the way I act and the way I dress.

As I was preparing to be baptized in eastern Argentina in December 1955, my branch president advised me, among other things, to ask forgiveness of those I might have offended, pay any debts, and return anything I had that didn’t belong to me. I admitted to him that I had owed a debt for half a bicycle for more than 20 years.
When I was 18 years old, I had worked part time as a photographer. I earned very little—just enough for food and to help my parents a bit. I had longed to have my own bicycle ever since I was a small boy, but we never seemed to have the money to buy one.
Luckily, my brother knew the Zuzci family. They were selling a very nice bicycle for a reasonable price. I had to pay half the money before getting the bike, and I could pay the rest later. When I had saved the first half, I went to their house and bought the bike.
To tell the truth, I had no intention of ever paying the rest of the money. I was poor and lived in humble circumstances; the Zuzcis were rich and enjoyed a fine home. I thought they would soon forget about the small amount of money I owed them.
As the years went by, I continued my education, became an optical technician, and eventually bought my own optical shop. My financial situation greatly improved. But I always avoided passing by the Zuzci house. My conscience was not clear about that bicycle!
Later in life, I felt a great desire to search for God. Now I had found Him and wanted to join His Church.
I was 38 years old when I made my way to the house I had avoided so many times. When the door opened, Mrs. Zuzci stood before me.
“Good morning, Mrs. Zuzci. Do you remember me?”
“Yes, Mr. Blanc. How could I forget you?”
“Then you remember,” I said, “that I still owe you money for a bicycle I bought 20 years ago.”
“I remember, Mr. Blanc—as if it had happened yesterday,” she answered.
I told her of my decision to be baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. “I ask your forgiveness,” I said. “I know that 20 years have gone by. I am willing to pay whatever you feel the debt is worth today.”
I could see tears forming in Mrs. Zuzci’s eyes. She said I was doing a beautiful thing and forgave me my debt. Then we both wept. What a beautiful spirit we felt to finally have the issue of the bicycle debt resolved!

When I was little, I was afraid of water. Even though people told me I didn’t need to worry, I was scared. The missionaries told me that Jesus Christ was baptized to set an example, and I could feel my fear go away. When I was baptized, I felt a great joy.
Sarah T., age 11, Île de France, France

My dear brothers and sisters, this is, as our missionaries would say, an awesome situation. At this time, I want to thank my parents for the good example they set for me. There was one time in my life—and my mother, who I imagine might be listening, doesn’t know this—when the love I knew she had for me saved me. I knelt down one night to pray, as she had taught me. I was about to throw away everything that I had. As I started praying, I started thinking of her and of the love that she had for me. As I cried and prayed—and it took most of the night—I was so grateful that I knew that she loved me.

I loved Primary. I can still remember those beautiful Primary songs we sang. When I was about 11, my friend Billy fell off a horse and died from his injuries. Our Primary class sang “I Know That My Redeemer Lives” (Hymns, number 136) at his funeral. Those words burned deep into my soul. I knew Billy was all right, and I knew what we were singing was the truth.