Martin Gassner Finds the Church
My great-grandfather Martin Gassner was changed forever because a humble branch president answered the Savior’s call. In Germany in 1909, times were tough and money was tight. Martin worked as a welder in a pipe manufacturing plant. By his own admission, most paydays ended in drinking, smoking, and buying rounds at the pub. His wife finally warned him that if he didn’t change, she would leave.
One day, Martin’s coworker met him on the way to the pub with a crumpled religious booklet in his hand. He had found it on the street and told Martin that he felt something different after reading the pamphlet entitled Was wissen Sie von den Mormonen?, or What Do You Know About the Mormons? I’m certain that title has changed.
An address stamped on the back was just legible enough to decipher where the church was located. It was a considerable distance away, but they were moved by what they read and decided to take the train that Sunday to investigate. When they arrived, they found that the address was not the church they expected but a funeral home. Martin hesitated—because, really, a church in a funeral home sounded a little too much like a package deal.
But upstairs, in a rented hall, they found a small group of Saints. A man invited them to testimony meeting. Martin was touched by the Spirit and was so impressed by the simple, fervent testimonies that he bore his testimony. And it was there, in that most unlikely place, that he said he already knew it must be true.
Afterward the man introduced himself as the branch president and asked if they would return. Martin explained that he lived too far away and couldn’t afford the weekly trip. The branch president simply said, “Follow me.”
They walked a few blocks to a nearby factory where the branch president’s friend worked. After a short conversation, Martin and his friend were both offered jobs. Then the branch president led them to an apartment building and secured housing for their families.
All of this happened within two hours. Martin’s family moved the following week. Six months later they were baptized. The man once known as a hopeless drunk became so ardent in his new faith that people in town began calling him, perhaps not so affectionately, “the priest.”
As for the branch president, I cannot tell you his name—his identity has been lost to time. But I call him a disciple, ambassador, Christian, good Samaritan, and friend. His influence is still felt 116 years later, and I stand on the shoulders of his discipleship.
One day, Martin’s coworker met him on the way to the pub with a crumpled religious booklet in his hand. He had found it on the street and told Martin that he felt something different after reading the pamphlet entitled Was wissen Sie von den Mormonen?, or What Do You Know About the Mormons? I’m certain that title has changed.
An address stamped on the back was just legible enough to decipher where the church was located. It was a considerable distance away, but they were moved by what they read and decided to take the train that Sunday to investigate. When they arrived, they found that the address was not the church they expected but a funeral home. Martin hesitated—because, really, a church in a funeral home sounded a little too much like a package deal.
But upstairs, in a rented hall, they found a small group of Saints. A man invited them to testimony meeting. Martin was touched by the Spirit and was so impressed by the simple, fervent testimonies that he bore his testimony. And it was there, in that most unlikely place, that he said he already knew it must be true.
Afterward the man introduced himself as the branch president and asked if they would return. Martin explained that he lived too far away and couldn’t afford the weekly trip. The branch president simply said, “Follow me.”
They walked a few blocks to a nearby factory where the branch president’s friend worked. After a short conversation, Martin and his friend were both offered jobs. Then the branch president led them to an apartment building and secured housing for their families.
All of this happened within two hours. Martin’s family moved the following week. Six months later they were baptized. The man once known as a hopeless drunk became so ardent in his new faith that people in town began calling him, perhaps not so affectionately, “the priest.”
As for the branch president, I cannot tell you his name—his identity has been lost to time. But I call him a disciple, ambassador, Christian, good Samaritan, and friend. His influence is still felt 116 years later, and I stand on the shoulders of his discipleship.
- Elder B. Corey Cuvelier, "The Name By Which Ye Are Called," October 2025 General Conference
https://www.churchofjesuschrist.org/study/general-conference/2025/10/52cuvelier?lang=eng
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