Gospel Story Finder

Or choir member Kathleen Mickelsen’s experience—an experience repeated in one form or another night after night for many choir members, but this one occurred in St. Petersburg (then known as Leningrad): “Halfway through the concert, my eyes were drawn to a woman in the audience—and I noticed her eyes were drawn to me. She just melted at our singing of ‘Love So Amazing, So Divine,’ a song about Christ on the cross. We kept looking at each other through the rest of the concert—and I sang the songs as my testimony to her with all my heart.” After the final encore, while the choir members waved to the audience as they filed offstage, the woman and Kathleen forged their way through the crowd to meet, embrace, and emotionally communicate—through words, if possible, though language barriers generally made that difficult. If not, they would speak through tears, long, warm handclasps, and soulful expressions of “thank you” indigenous to each language and nation.

After opening her brownie shop in the fall of 2018, Molly quickly discovered that running a business takes more time than she had imagined. But a principle she remembers from her self-reliance class continues to bless her.
“We discussed how we’re going to have extreme demands on our time, but it will make a difference if we set aside time for the Spirit,” she says. “I have found that to be true. If I am suddenly feeling overwhelmed and stressed, I listen to the scriptures or a general conference talk while I’m working alone in the morning, and it eases my mind and gives me peace.”
That sense of peace, coupled with excited, happy, satisfied customers, keeps Molly going—even after long workdays.

“Who wants to pick the song for family night?” Dad said.
“I do!” Colby said. “Let’s sing ‘I’m Trying to Be Like Jesus’!”
Colby sang loudly: “I’m trying to be like Jesus. I’m following in His ways. I’m trying to love as He did, in all that I do and say.”
Mom began the lesson. “How can we be like Jesus?”
“We can be nice,” Colby said.
“Yes,” Mom said. “Jesus was nice. What else did Jesus do that we can do?”
“He comforted sad people,” Dad said. “He helped them feel better.”
“How can we do that?” Mom said.
Colby thought. Comfort seemed like a grown-up word. Could he really comfort someone who was sad?
The next Sunday, Colby sat next to Katy in Primary.
“My mom is sick,” Katy said. “She had to stay home.”
Colby remembered how sad his mom was when she was sick.
When Colby got home, he found some paper and a pen.
“I’m making a card,” he said. Colby drew lots of smiling faces. Dad helped him write, “Get Well.” Colby put the card in an envelope.
“Can we take this to Katy’s mom?” Colby asked. “I want to comfort her.”
Colby and Dad went to Katy’s house. Katy came to the door.
“This is for your mom,” Colby said.
A few days later, Colby heard a knock at the door. He ran to the front room. His mom was talking to Katy’s mom.
“Thank you for the card, Colby,” Katy’s mom said. “It made me feel happy.”
Colby smiled. He didn’t have to be a grown-up to do what Jesus would do. He could comfort people now!

By 9:00 her morning work was done, and she was kneeling in her chrysanthemums, acting very busy with weeding, looking for any evil little bug that would bring harm to her small, delicate beings. Her thoughts kept wandering to the events that had happened just last week.

Her morning had started as usual, but at 7:30 her phone rang and it was bad news from her daughter. Her grandson, one of those with the long hair and bad habits, had been involved in what started as a stay-out-of-Africa rally and ended in a blood bath between students with rocks, signs, and knives and a local garrison of guardsmen with their clubs, shields, and guns. The rally ended with one dead national guard member and five dead students, of which her grandson had been one.

The shock lingered long after the telephone call. She sat staring at the kitchen wall for an hour, and finally she had dragged herself down to her flowers. There she sat, trying to forget.

As a boy, I was inspired by a story of courage in Nauvoo, which involved my grandfather’s uncle. In the spring of 1844, some men were plotting against the Prophet Joseph Smith. One of the leaders, William Law, held a secret meeting at his home in Nauvoo. Among those invited were nineteen-year-old Dennison Lott Harris and his friend, Robert Scott. Dennison’s father, Emer Harris, who is my second great-grandfather, was also invited. He sought counsel from the Prophet Joseph Smith, who told him not to attend the meeting but to have the young men attend. The Prophet instructed them to pay close attention and report what was said.
The spokesmen at this first meeting denounced Joseph Smith as a fallen prophet and stated their determination to destroy him. When the Prophet heard this, he asked the young men to attend the second meeting. They did so, and reported the plotting.
A third meeting was to be held a week later. Again the Prophet asked them to attend, but he told them this would be their last meeting. “Be careful to remain silent and not to make any covenants or promises with them,” he counseled. He also cautioned them on the great danger of their mission. Although he thought it unlikely, it was possible they would be killed. Then, the Prophet Joseph Smith blessed Dennison and Robert by the power of the priesthood, promising them that if their lives were taken, their reward would be great.
In the strength of this priesthood blessing, they attended the third meeting and listened to the murderous plans. Then, when each person was required to take an oath to join the plot and keep it secret, they bravely refused. After everyone else had sworn secrecy, the whole group turned on Dennison and Robert, threatening to kill them unless they took the oath also. Because any refusal threatened the secrecy of their plans, about half of the plotters proposed to kill these two immediately. Knives were drawn, and angry men began to force them down into a basement to kill them.
Other plotters shouted to wait. Parents probably knew where they were. If they didn’t return, an alarm would be sounded and a search could reveal the boys’ deaths and the secret plans. During a long argument, two lives hung in the balance. Finally, the group decided to threaten to kill the young men if they ever revealed anything that had occurred and then to release them. This was done. Despite this threat, and because they had followed the Prophet’s counsel not to make any promises to the conspirators, Dennison and Robert promptly reported everything to the Prophet Joseph Smith.
For their own protection, the Prophet had these courageous young men promise him that they would never reveal this experience, not even to their fathers, for at least twenty years. A few months later, the Prophet Joseph Smith was murdered.
Many years passed. The members of the Church settled in the West. While Dennison L. Harris was serving as bishop of the Monroe Ward in southern Utah, he met a member of the First Presidency at a Church meeting in Ephraim. There, on Sunday, 15 May 1881, thirty-seven years after the Prophet Joseph Smith had sealed his lips to protect him against mob vengeance, Dennison Harris recited this experience to President Joseph F. Smith (see Verbal Statement of Bishop Dennison L. Harris, 15 May 1881, MS 2725, Historical Department, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Salt Lake City; the account was later published in the Contributor, Apr. 1884, pp. 251–60). Dennison Harris’s posterity includes many notable Latter-day Saints, including Franklin S. Harris, long-time president of Brigham Young University.

My name is Mardi Datakasi, I’m 16 years old, and I go to Mt. Barker High, where I’m in year 11 and study maths, (Australians use the plural), English, chemistry, modern history, geography, drama, Australian studies, and biology.
I am currently the state champion and third in Australia for BMX (bicycle motocross) racing. I just returned from Holland after competing in IBF championships, where I came in sixth. This was a great experience and an opportunity to meet people from other countries, as there were 32 countries competing.
My day is very long. I get up at 5:30 A.M. to arrive at the chapel for seminary at 6:15. That’s a 20-kilometer trip. We finish at about 7:10. I eat breakfast, then go to the local fitness center and do my morning training for BMX, which includes weights and swimming. At 8:30 I leave there and walk to school. After school I train on my bike and do my homework. Every Monday and Thursday night I work at the Meadows take-away (fast-food restaurant) and get home about 10:30 P.M.
On weekends I race BMX bikes and go to church. I have just completed my third year of seminary and am a Laurel.

On another occasion I became aware that one of our outstanding seniors had failed to take one of the basic requirements in English. I contacted his department head and indicated that he would have to make up this deficiency. The next day the student contacted me and asked me to use my influence to have that requirement waived, using as justification the fact that his overall scholastic performance had been outstanding. After talking with him I was convinced that he was aware that he lacked three quarter hours of English credit but was trying to avoid the subject because he was weak in English. I said it was my responsibility to see that the requirements of the institution were met, and I could not waive the course requirement. He begged me to reconsider, but I was firm. I made arrangements for him to use a study room rather close to my office where he could study as long as he wanted without being disturbed. When he became convinced that he would have to take the class, he really buckled down, disciplined himself, and came through with flying colors.
After graduating from Utah State University he went to Iowa State University on a fellowship, and there he earned his Ph.D. degree. Some years later he returned to Utah State University on a visit. He contacted me and thanked me for being firm and insisting that he take that English class. He said it had been one of the most meaningful experiences in his life and had paid rich dividends later, both while he was a graduate student and during his subsequent employment. This experience truly illustrates how a difficult challenge can turn out to be a great blessing.

One summer our young family traveled 2,000 miles (3,200 km) across the country for my husband’s new job. We were excited for our new adventure, but we felt very far from our home, our families, and everything else we knew. We pulled up to our new home during a downpour, and in an attempt to protect our home’s newly laid carpet, we unloaded the truck with umbrellas overhead and sheets underfoot. We knew that heavy rains had been causing basements to flood, and we nervously kept an eye on ours after everything was unloaded.
All seemed well that night, and with our three young children finally asleep, Greg and I hurriedly made our bed. We were both exhausted, and falling into bed sounded so good. For some reason, though, Greg felt that he should unpack another box.
“Please,” I said, “let’s just go to sleep. We can unpack in the morning.”
He shook his head and headed to the basement. After a few moments, I heard him scream. Panicked, I ran to the basement only to be met by a miniature flash flood. We stood there shoulder to shoulder as cold rainwater began pooling around our ankles. Instantly we snapped into action and began dragging box after box up the steep staircase. I felt completely and hopelessly lost, my tears mixing with the floodwater on the floor.
I called the only member of the Church we knew in our new ward, Brother Lindsay Sewell, to ask for instructions on running our sump pump to drain the water. Brother Sewell gave some quick advice, and then I went back to work trying to save our belongings. At midnight, the doorbell rang. Pulling the door open, I was met by Brother Sewell, his arms laden with a fan, a wet vacuum, and a plate of chocolate-chip cookies.
“Sounds like you guys could use some help,” he said with a bright smile. Suddenly, I didn’t feel so far from home.
All through the night, Brother Sewell stayed with us, trying to conquer the flood. When the water level in the basement rose to more than a foot (30 cm) deep, he suggested that we call the fire department; they brought large pumps that eventually solved the problem.
The next morning Sister Sewell and other members of our new ward arrived with food, extension cords, and more vacuums. We were overwhelmed by their goodness. In the end we saved all of our belongings.
I am so grateful to be a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. No matter where I go, I have brothers and sisters waiting with open arms to welcome my family and to help in times of need.

Some time ago, Sister Haycock and I accompanied President and Sister Kimball, President and Sister Tanner, and others on a visit to the Holy Land for the dedication of the Orson Hyde Memorial Gardens. While there, we visited a number of places held sacred in the memory of Christians, and particularly Latter-day Saints, because we were walking where Jesus walked.
We visited the Garden Tomb, and after sitting with President and Sister Kimball inside the tomb, we came out into the sunshine and beauty of the garden. The cameramen who recorded the trip were anxious to get pictures of President Kimball walking in the garden, but I was concerned because the path was paved with flagstones, making it rough and uneven underfoot. I cautioned President Kimball to be careful and not fall. He responded quietly and with dignity: “Don’t worry, Arthur. I am used to walking on holy ground.”

I will tell you of an experience I had before I was a General Authority which affected me profoundly. I sat on a plane next to a professed atheist who pressed his disbelief in God so urgently that I bore my testimony to him. “You are wrong,” I said, “there is a God. I know He lives!”
He protested, “You don’t know. Nobody knows that! You can’t know it!” When I would not yield, the atheist, who was an attorney, asked perhaps the ultimate question on the subject of testimony. “All right,” he said in a sneering, condescending way, “you say you know. Tell me how you know.”
When I attempted to answer, even though I held advanced academic degrees, I was helpless to communicate.
When I used the words Spirit and witness, the atheist responded, “I don’t know what you are talking about.” The words prayer, discernment, and faith, were equally meaningless to him. “You see,” he said, “you don’t really know. If you did, you would be able to tell me how you know.”
I felt, perhaps, that I had borne my testimony to him unwisely and was at a loss as to what to do. Then came the experience! Something came into my mind. And I mention here a statement of the Prophet Joseph Smith: “A person may profit by noticing the first intimation of the Spirit of revelation; for instance, when you feel pure intelligence flowing into you, it may give you sudden strokes of ideas … and thus by learning the Spirit of God and understanding it, you may grow into the principle of revelation until you become perfect in Christ Jesus.” (Teachings of the Prophet Joseph Smith.)
Such an idea came into my mind and I said to the atheist, “Let me ask if you know what salt tastes like,”
“Of course I do,” was his reply.
“When did you taste salt last?”
“I just had dinner on the plane.”
“You just think you know what salt tastes like.” I said.
He insisted, “I know what salt tastes like as well as I know anything.”
“If I gave you a cup of salt and a cup of sugar and let you taste them both, could you tell the salt from the sugar?”
“Now you are getting juvenile,” was his reply. “Of course I could tell the difference. I know what salt tastes like. It is an everyday experience—I know it as well as I know anything.”
“Then,” I said, “assuming that I have never tasted salt, explain to me just what it tastes like.”
After some thought, he ventured, “Well-I-uh, it is not sweet and it is not sour.”
“You’ve told me what it isn’t, not what it is.”
After several attempts, of course, he could not do it. He could not convey, in words alone, so ordinary an experience as tasting salt. I bore testimony to him once again and said, “I know there is a God. You ridiculed that testimony and said that if I did know, I would be able to tell you exactly how I know. My friend, spiritually speaking, I have tasted salt. I am no more able to convey to you in words how this knowledge has come than you are to tell me what salt tastes like. But I say to you again, there is a God! He does live! And just because you don’t know, don’t try to tell me that I don’t know, for I do!”
As we parted, I heard him mutter, “I don’t need your religion for a crutch! I don’t need it.”
From that experience forward, I have never been embarrassed or ashamed that I could not explain in words alone everything I know spiritually. The Apostle Paul said it this way:
“We speak, not in the words which man’s wisdom teacheth, but which the Holy Ghost teacheth; comparing spiritual things with spiritual.
“But the natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God: for they are foolishness unto him: neither can he know them, because they are spiritually discerned.” (1 Cor. 2:13–14.)

How often do you say, “I love you”? Can you say it more? (Trick question. The answer is always YES!) It can be easy to forget those simple words, but saying them out loud and showing that love to your family can make a big difference.
One young woman from Utah, USA, learned this lesson when she was struggling to create a better relationship with her dad. They were having a hard time getting along, and she was praying for help and strength to know how to heal their relationship. One day, she felt like she should tell her dad she loved him. But that was something her family didn’t say very much. Their love was understood in how they acted around each other, but actually saying the words I love you was not a normal occurrence in their house. Still, she felt like she needed to do it.
She mustered up her courage, looked at her dad, and said, “Dad, I love you.” It caught everyone by surprise. Her dad looked up at her and replied with a slight catch in his voice, “I love you too.”
It was a simple step, but from that day forward, her whole family started saying those words to each other, and they’ve been saying it ever since. Of course, it doesn’t always happen exactly like that; another young woman tried it several years ago, and it took her family a couple of years to start saying “I love you” back to her (and then to each other). But she kept saying it, and she could tell it made a difference. And those changes come not just through words but also through actions!

I will never forget how happy I felt when I was baptized. My father baptized me, and my siblings sang songs for me. My mother asked if I wanted to bear my testimony, and I told her that I wanted to sing a Primary song I had learned that expressed how I felt. I sang, “I like to look for rainbows whenever there is rain and ponder on the beauty of an earth made clean again” (“When I Am Baptized,” Children’s Songbook, 103). While I sang, I felt as if my heart would come right out! I will never forget the faces of my family and how I felt that day. It was the most special day of my life.
Esther F., age 8, Costa Rica

A number of years ago I attended a branch conference that taught me a lesson I will never forget. The branch president and the first counselor had spoken. Now it was the second counselor’s turn. I glanced at him as he moved, with obvious self-consciousness, to the pulpit.
As he looked down at the congregation I let my eyes follow his. Two or three of the brethren had their eyes closed, apparently in sleep, and several mothers were unsuccessfully trying to quiet their restless children. Only the mission president, who had chosen to sit with the congregation, was looking directly and attentively at the speaker, with an expression of interest and anticipation.
“My brethren and sisters,” confessed the second counselor, blushing, “speaking in Church is very difficult for me.” He paused awkwardly. “I’m doing it today because the president has asked me to say something. I think this is the second talk I have ever given in my life, and since I don’t feel too strong in explaining gospel doctrine, I have copied down a talk from a book we have at home.”
His powerful, calloused hands fumbled in his suit coat pocket. Heavy drops of perspiration suddenly began to bead his brow; the talk was not there. Nor was it in any of the other pockets. I felt sorry for him.
“Bear your testimony.” I thought, hoping he would somehow get my message, but for him it was apparently either the copied talk or nothing. Not finding it in his pockets, he stepped from the pulpit and walked down the aisle toward the coats that were hanging at the rear of the hall.
For one moment I thought he was simply going to put on his coat and leave, but it was his talk he was after. It was there in a pocket of his overcoat. Slowly he retraced his steps up the aisle, carefully unfolding the handwritten pages as he came. Standing once more at the pulpit, he began to read nervously and with obvious embarrassment, sometimes correcting his mistakes, sometimes not.
I was uncomfortable with him, and I was uncomfortable for him. But mostly I was aware of his inadequacy. And yet, the Spirit was about to teach me a great truth.
It began with a kind of pricking inside myself that seemed to translate itself into a small voice, and for the next few minutes I carried on a dialogue with myself.
“You could certainly do a lot better,” I heard my “other self” say.
I squirmed uncomfortably but conceded that I probably could.
“If you had a chance you could certainly teach this man something,” persisted the voice. “You have a doctor’s degree from the university, you are a seventy, the district mission president …”
This voice was too frank. I looked at the audience. Most, out of politeness and embarrassment, weren’t looking at the speaker. Only the mission president was still looking intently and respectfully at him.
“It’s ironic!” the “other” continued. “The good speaker is sitting here and the poor one is up there at the pulpit.”
The discussion was becoming unbearable. I tried shutting the voice out by desperately trying to follow the talk, but the awkwardness and mistakes made it difficult.
“What are you going to learn from him?” asked the little voice, determined to keep needling me.
“I don’t know,” I answered impatiently, “but chances are I can learn something if I listen.”
“You mean you haven’t been listening?”
“No, I’ve been involved in this silly discussion, for one thing!”
“So you’ve learned nothing from him so far?”
“No.”
“And since he started to speak you haven’t contributed anything to the spirit of this meeting?”
“No …”
“Do you think this speaker needs help?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to help him?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Then do it,” said the voice. “Listen, and contribute …”
At that point I stopped the dialogue. Considerably disturbed by this silent discussion with myself, I closed my eyes and prayed earnestly to my Father in Heaven, acknowledging that I was the one who needed help, and pleading with him to let me contribute to the spirit of the meeting. “Help me,” I asked, “to listen as I ought to listen.”
Then I raised my head, looked at the speaker, and concentrated every effort to do as much as I could to see that my prayer was answered.
In the remaining few minutes of the man’s talk an unusual thing happened. For ten years one problem had bothered me, a question of doctrine. I ought to have known the answer: my experience in the Church and my study of the scriptures should have given it to me. It wasn’t anything to shake my faith or undermine my testimony, but it had eluded me for ten years. I heard my answer that day. I had often sat in conferences within the sound of a prophet’s voice, but perhaps I had never really listened until that day when the answer came to me from the second counselor. He read it falteringly, unsure of himself, but the message burned itself into my soul as if it had been etched there with fire.
I am now convinced that he taught me by the Spirit. But I am equally convinced that I would not have benefited from his talk had I not made an effort to listen by the Spirit. Above and beyond receiving the answer to the question that had bothered me for ten years, I learned that the call to listen is every bit as important as the call to speak or teach. Jesus himself taught in his native Nazareth; but hearing they heard not, and it profited them nothing.

It seemed impossible for Pat and Peggy to make any friends in the strange big city where they had just moved.
One night Father noticed their sadness. “Let’s have a party,” he suggested.
At first Pat and Peggy were delighted. They talked excitedly of ice cream and cake and big red balloons, but then they stopped. “Who can we invite to a party?” they cried. “We don’t have any friends.”
Father’s eyes twinkled as he answered, “Oh, we won’t worry about inviting friends right now. Let’s have an Enemy Party. We’ll just invite all those unfriendly boys and girls in your class at school and see what happens.”
That is exactly what Pat and Peggy did. Almost everyone came who was invited, and when they left, they all said it was the best party they’d ever attended.
Even though everyone had a wonderful time, Pat and Peggy never had another Enemy Party. They no longer knew anyone to invite, because suddenly they had only friends at the new school!

In the Locality File, Rebecca found that Rebecca Burdick Winters had an article written about her in the July 19, 1958, Deseret News. It was on a microfilm and was titled Lonely Grave of a Pioneer Mother. Reading it, she learned that in August 1852, Rebecca Winters and her family were traveling by wagon train to Salt Lake City. When deadly cholera invaded the wagon train outside Scotts Bluff, Nebraska, Rebecca helped care for the sick, and she watched her friends die until she herself was stricken with it and died.
As the family prepared to bury Rebecca’s body, a band of starving Indians rode into the camp, demanding food. When told that there was no food to spare, they became desperate and threatened to kill the pioneers.
Hiram Winters explained to the Indians that there was a terrible sickness among the wagon train. When the Indians failed to believe him, he removed the blanket from Rebecca’s body. The Indians quickly fled, leaving the pioneers to bury their dead in peace.
Rebecca’s lonely grave was marked only by an old metal wagon tire inscribed Rebecca Burdick Winters, Age 50.
Years later a survey party for a railroad discovered the wagon tire that marked the grave. The railroad track was to have gone over it, but the officials decided to reroute it around the grave of the brave pioneer mother.
The article went on to tell about Gideon and his family. Then Rebecca found a paragraph about Rebecca Burdick Winters. It said that in 1902 her descendants, in loving memory, erected a monument made of Salt Lake granite beside Rebecca’s grave. In 1964 a national patriotic organization erected another monument by the grave, naming Rebecca Burdick Winters “The Pioneer Mother of America.”

About a month after first stepping into the Angoulême chapel, I decided to be baptized. I was 18 and didn’t need parental permission. But when I called my family in Australia with the joyous news, I was shocked and disappointed to discover they had a negative attitude about the Church and opposed my desire to be baptized.
This weighed heavily on my heart. Should I go ahead against the wishes of my family, whom I loved dearly? Or should I delay baptism until I returned to Australia, where I faced the possibility of greater opposition?
Matthew 19:29 helped me make the decision: “And every one that hath forsaken houses, or brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or children, or lands, for my name’s sake, shall receive an hundredfold, and shall inherit everlasting life.” Was I willing to put the Savior first—even before my family? The answer was yes, and on December 16, 1989, I was baptized and confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. My remaining time in France was filled with a peaceful joy I had never known before.

With the onset of World War II, gasoline rationing prevented the Eyring family from making the 17-mile (27-km) drive to the New Brunswick Branch for Sunday meetings. As a result, the family received permission to hold meetings in their home, in Princeton, New Jersey. Hal would joke that he never missed a Primary meeting there—an achievement that wasn’t too difficult considering that Primary was held only once in their home.
President Eyring often reflects on the beautiful spirit in the sacrament meetings held in this small branch, made up of his family and occasional visitors. He didn’t mind that his family were usually the only ones who attended or that he and his brothers constituted the branch’s entire Aaronic Priesthood. But as the boys began entering their teenage years, their mother was eager for the family to live among a larger concentration of Latter-day Saints.
In 1946 Henry was enjoying his success and work at Princeton. He had won numerous honorary doctorates and most major awards in chemistry. Given his diligent scientific work with world-renowned scientists, he had an excellent opportunity to be considered for a Nobel Prize.
At about this time Henry received a call from A. Ray Olpin, president of the University of Utah, inviting him to be the dean of the graduate school there and continue his research in chemistry. His wife, Mildred, left the decision up to Henry, but she reminded him of a promise he had made to her years earlier. Henry had promised to move his family closer to Church headquarters when the boys got older. When Henry turned down the offer, Mildred, who had grown up in Utah, asked him to pray about his decision and gave him a letter to read when he arrived at his laboratory.
Upon reading the letter, in which Mildred expressed her disappointment, and after praying and pondering, Henry called President Olpin, saying he would accept the position after all to build up the university’s science department. His apparent sacrifice in leaving Princeton turned out to be a blessing for him and his family. One such blessing was Hal’s willingness to follow his father’s example when he faced a similar crossroads years later.

The gospel came into my life at an opportune time. I was 14. It came at the hands of a senior missionary couple, Glenn and JoAnne Haws, who lived every single word they taught me. They took me under their wing.
My mother didn’t share with us that she was a member of the Church. I just remember seeing some extra scriptures on her lamp desk. When Elder and Sister Haws came to fellowship and teach her, they said, “Don’t you want your daughter to know what you know?” I was baptized on May 21, 2000.

I met Regis Carlus for the first time in 1995 in France. He was not a member of the Church. His daughter, Charlotte, was being sealed in the Bern Switzerland Temple the next day, and he had written, asking if he could stop by my office to meet me. He had heard that I often inquired about him, and he was perplexed as to why.
I knew and admired his two young adult children, Charlotte and Morgan, who had been baptized a few years earlier in 1991 while I was serving as president of the France Bordeaux Mission. After meeting Charlotte and Morgan, my wife, Kathy, and I were amazed at their goodness.
Morgan wrote me recently about his baptism and making covenants, saying: “Before [I found the gospel], I was an 18-year-old atheist, yearning for real happiness but not knowing where to find it. The Holy Ghost touched my heart so strongly that I didn’t want to disappoint my Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ. That’s why I have kept my baptism and temple covenants and have worked to be someone who honors those covenants.”1
For Charlotte, her decision to live a life consistent with God’s law began even before joining the Church. Many years later, her daughter Amélie told me that when Charlotte was a teenager, “she felt different from her friends. Her friends drank alcohol, smoked, and did not keep the law of chastity, but Charlotte did not feel the desire to do any of these things.”
Regardless of their circumstances, when the opportunity came, Morgan and Charlotte chose to make covenants with the Lord and have been transformed because of it.
Following their baptism, Charlotte went to the United States for a master’s degree in language and literature and was endowed in the temple. Morgan served a mission in England.
I marveled that these two college-age students were so willing to follow the Savior. And I had hoped to hear that their parents would follow their example.
After being called as a General Authority and assigned to serve in the Europe/Mediterranean Area Presidency, I received Mr. Carlus’s request to meet and hoped that he would follow his children into the restored gospel.
As I anticipated meeting Mr. Carlus, I thought of the Lord’s promise to “gather [Israel] in from the four quarters of the earth” (3 Nephi 16:5) in the latter days. He would establish a covenant people who would “come unto the knowledge of the fulness of my gospel” (3 Nephi 16:12). In our dispensation, He said, “Zion shall flourish, … and she shall be an ensign unto the people, and there shall come unto her out of every nation under heaven” (Doctrine and Covenants 64:41–42).
While the voice of the Lord is unto all people (see Doctrine and Covenants 1:4), the Lord said that in the latter days His covenant people would be “few” relative to the entire population of the earth but “that the church of the Lamb, who were the saints of God, [would be] upon all the face of the earth” (1 Nephi 14:12). These Saints, bound by covenants to God (see Doctrine and Covenants 82:11), would stand in holy places and not be moved (see Doctrine and Covenants 45:32) as they prepared for the Second Coming of the Savior (see Doctrine and Covenants 45:43–44).
Nephi describes the covenant people of the last days: “I, Nephi, beheld the power of the Lamb of God, that it descended upon the saints of the church of the Lamb, and upon the covenant people of the Lord, who were scattered upon all the face of the earth; and they were armed with righteousness and with the power of God in great glory” (1 Nephi 14:14).
Unfortunately, there will also be those “who will not hear the voice of the Lord, neither the voice of his servants” (Doctrine and Covenants 1:14).
When Charlotte’s father was a university student in the 1960s, the missionaries had taught him the gospel. He was drawn to the restored Church and felt the power of the Book of Mormon. He decided, however, that joining a small, American-based church would not help his professional career.
Now, as I greeted Mr. Carlus and exchanged pleasantries that day in 1995, he asked why I had demonstrated such an interest in him.
After praying with him, I told him that these few minutes with him might be the only time in this life that I would see him. I complimented him on his remarkable daughter and son and told him I respected him immensely for raising two righteous children.
Then I spoke to him of the purposes of the Savior in restoring His gospel upon the earth, the role of the priesthood, the importance of family and the sealing power, and the gathering of a covenant people across the world.
I told him I felt that when the missionaries taught him as a university student, his righteous destiny was to join the covenant people of the Church. I asked that he not be offended as we read two verses that I felt applied to him.
Together we read in Alma about those “called and prepared from the foundation of the world … on account of their exceeding faith and good works; in the first place being left to choose good or evil; therefore they having chosen good, and exercising exceedingly great faith, are called with a holy calling … while others would reject the Spirit of God on account of the hardness of their hearts and blindness of their minds, while, if it had not been for this [for they were on the same standing] they might have had as great privilege as their brethren” (Alma 13:3–4).
I politely shared with Mr. Carlus that I believed he had been prepared to be with us, and when he refused because of the appeals of the world, the Lord continued to bless him with two choice spirits to be his children. They embraced the covenant path meant for his family. Then I invited him to accept the invitation he had been given 30 years before.
Regis Carlus did not join the Church in this life, but his children had chosen the covenant path, and they have remained on the path.
Laurent and Charlotte with their first two children, Amélie and Valentine (center); on a hike in Utah (left); with their family in Rexburg, Idaho, in December 2008 (right).
The next time my wife and I saw Charlotte and her husband, Laurent, was in late 1998 in Salt Lake City, Utah, where Charlotte had returned to the University of Utah for a PhD in comparative literature.
Charlotte and Laurent were on the covenant path, but we learned that their finances were tight. Charlotte and Laurent would fill cracks in their apartment to keep out the cold air. They dressed their three children in warm clothes because they could not afford to heat their apartment. Their daughter Valentine had been born at home because they could not afford insurance or the hospital.
Financial challenges continued after they returned to France. Adequate employment was difficult for both Charlotte and Laurent. On one occasion, Charlotte asked a friend what they should do when they did not have enough money to feed the children and pay tithing. Her friend advised, “Pay your tithing first, and if you need food, go see the bishop.”
They faced other challenges too. Charlotte’s mother had opposed her baptism, her marriage, and her spiritual choices after she joined the Church. This opposition continued, but Charlotte trusted the Lord, nurtured her testimony, and kept her covenants.
In 2008, Charlotte was invited to interview for a position at Brigham Young University–Idaho. In the Rexburg Idaho Temple, she felt the Lord’s prompting to bring her family to the United States.
The decision to leave France was very difficult. Coming into a new culture in Rexburg was also challenging. While most people welcomed and helped the Passe family, at times Charlotte felt that some did not understand why she was working at the university rather than being home with her children.
When their daughter Amélie hesitated to attend Church, Charlotte told her: “Amélie, I go to church to take the sacrament and remember my covenants. Those [who do not understand our situation] do not affect my testimony.”
Charlotte taught her children the important distinction between the Church (with a capital C) and the church (with a small c). She said, “The Church is the Lord’s institution with His prophets and apostles. It will never fail us. The church is the members, and none of us is perfect.”
Her family could have chosen to stop attending because of these challenges, but Charlotte knew that being part of a covenant people means being a covenant person—someone who is faithful to the covenants she has made with the Lord.
While doing her best to be a full-time mom, Charlotte helped with homework and homeschooling as Laurent advanced in his English proficiency. In one journal entry, she wrote, “There is too much work, and trying to take care of my house and my family at the same time makes it a great burden.”
But she moved forward, writing that the Spirit had told her in her prayers: “You must continue working. It will not stop right away. Make the most of the good income you receive to prepare yourself and your home … for what is coming.”
In 2016, Charlotte learned that she had breast cancer. With treatment, her cancer went into remission but returned in 2019. She continued to serve and strengthen others until she passed away in April 2021, at age 50.
Charlotte had joined the covenant people at age 20 in Montpellier, France. And while she would quickly say that she was far from perfect, she treasured her covenants and stayed on the covenant path for the remaining 30 years of her life.
During her struggle with cancer, Charlotte wrote in her journal: “I am so thankful, so grateful for the Holy Ghost and the ability … to receive personal revelation. I do not know what I would do in my life without it. I would be lost.”
When I read her words, I thought of President Russell M. Nelson’s counsel to all of us on the covenant path: “In coming days, it will not be possible to survive spiritually without the guiding, directing, comforting, and constant influence of the Holy Ghost.”2
Connie Ruesch Cosman was a sister missionary in France as Charlotte entered the covenant path. They remained friends, and Connie came from Arizona to help care for Charlotte in her final two weeks of mortality. Sister Cosman wrote: “Charlotte never doubted and would do whatever the Lord asked of her. She sought for her own answers and received them. She continues to be an immense example for me and others.”
The day following Charlotte’s passing, her brother, Morgan, wrote to me, “I horribly miss her; we were very close.” He then spoke of a spiritual experience that came to him in the first night following her passing.
“[I know] she is happier than ever,” he said, adding that his spiritual experience “strongly confirmed what I already knew, and it healed my broken heart.”
When we choose to fully embrace the covenants God offers along the covenant path, our life is transformed. Alma referred to our being “spiritually … born of God” (Alma 5:14). The Savior called this transformation being “born again” (John 3:3). And He said we become “children of the covenant” (3 Nephi 20:26). It is the same covenant that He made with Father Abraham: “I will establish my covenant between me and thee and thy seed after thee in their generations for an everlasting covenant, to be a God unto thee, and to thy seed after thee” (Genesis 17:7).
As children of the covenant, we see our life through the perspective of our Heavenly Father’s plan. We work to be obedient and increase our faith in Jesus Christ. We pray constantly. We know our weakness, but we have hope. We seek to let God prevail as we face our challenges, and we continually repent and never give up in our efforts to become more like the Savior.
As the Lord’s servant, I promise that His grace and goodness will redeem us as we keep our faith in Him and do our very best to keep our covenants with Him.

You must be a man of patience, willing to listen and striving to understand. You are the only one to whom some can turn. You must be there when every other source has failed. Permit me to read you a few lines from a letter sent to a bishop.

“Dear Bishop:
“It has been almost two years since I desperately called you asking for help. At that time I was ready to kill myself. I had no one else to turn to—no money, no job, no friends. My house had been taken, and I had no place to live. The Church was my last hope.
“As you know, I had left the Church at the age of 17 and had broken just about every rule and commandment that there was in my search for happiness and fulfillment. Instead of happiness, my life was filled with misery, anguish, and despair. There was no hope or future for me. I even pleaded with God to let me die, to take me out of my misery. Not even He wanted me. I felt that He had rejected me, too.
“That’s when I turned to you and the Church. …
“You listened with understanding, you counseled, you guided, you helped.
“I began to grow and develop in understanding and knowledge of the gospel. I found that I had to make certain basic changes in my life that were terribly difficult, but that within me I had the worth and strength to do so.
“I learned that as I lived the gospel and repented, I had no more fear. I was filled with an inner peace. The clouds of anguish and despair were gone. Because of the Atonement, my weaknesses and sins were forgiven through Jesus Christ and His love for me.
“He has blessed and strengthened me. He has opened pathways for me, given me direction, and kept me from harm. I have found that as I overcame each obstacle, my business began to grow, enabling my family to benefit and making me feel as though I had accomplished something.
“Bishop, you have given me understanding and support through these past two years. I never would have reached this point if not for your love and patience. Thank you for being what you are as the servant of the Lord to help me, His wandering child.”