I have been reading and re-reading the conference address by President Eyring "O Remember, Remember" (p. 66, Nov. ENSIGN/LIAHONA) Within his words, I see such a familiar refrain about how our remembrances of those things that are sacred and essential to our personal spiritual growth comes from our willingness and commitment to making and keeping sacred records of our progress and experiences throughout our lives.
I am humbled to have the reminder about writing down these spiritual insights, as often, though I DO keep a journal, I often 'forget' to write down those moments where I have indeed experienced the hand of God in my life or in the lives of my family members or friends.
Perhaps that close kinship with the remembrance of all things spiritual is why some people have a more intimate and closely held relationship with those beyond the veil? Could it be that those who experience the manifestations and ministrations of angels that the general body of the church only reads about is because that they have prepared themselves to stand on that hallowed ground and receive them?
Sometimes we talk ourselves out of spiritual experiences because we don't think we are ready, because we don't believe that we can indeed have them for righteous purposes, or because of perceived weaknesses that would preclude us from receiving them.
If the Father wanted us to be alone in our journey through mortality, He certainly could have arranged it. I believe these spiritual manifestations, whether the 'warm fuzzy' we get through the remembrance of something personal, sacred and significant or the ministration of angels are ways that the Father shows us, His children, the capacity that HE SEES IN US for good.
just my worth and probably plenty of change from that two cents. . .
I don't believe that I am any better than anyone else.
I feel that it is a gift for which I am truly grateful. Perhaps it was earned before I came here. I don't know.
My belief has turned to sure knowledge in many respects.
When I say "I know"... it's because I really know.
I know we came from a preexistent state.
I know that Joseph IS a prophet of God and that he continues to move forward the Lord's work.
I know that Our Saviour suffered for my sins in Gethsemanee.
I know that men named Mormon and Moroni lived here in the Americas and that they saw our day and knew our doing.
I know that there are those who have passed on who are very aware of us; that they are happy when we make correct choices and that they are pained when we make mistakes.
Remembering is the best thing we can do.
I know that millions shall KNOW Brother Joseph again and that without coming to know him, we can never truly know He who made our eternal life and progress available.
Merry Christmas
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no unhallowed hand can stop the work from progressing... the truth of God will go forth till it has penetrated every website, sounded in every ear, till the purposes of God shall be accomplished and the great Jehovah shall say the work is done
Alabamabelle, I do appreciate your thoughts. I do think that people can miss the hand of God in their lives. Also, some people tend to want to have a more scientific or of this world explanation. My family had something happen after my grandpa passed away that may seem small to many. An ink pen with the name of the small town around three hours from where I live was found in the parking lot where the Funeral service was held and found by my sister's father-in-law. I think it was from the funeral home there. There was nobody at the funeral from there according to my mom. My grandpa was in his eighties and had lived in my city since before he married my late grandpa. Some thought it was a sign that grandpa was okay. Others thought that there must have been a more ordinary cause. I know some don't really think God is a personal God in the sense that he is active in making small things come to pass.
Mahonri, thank you for sharing your testimony. I try to hold onto the witnesses of the truth that I have received through the years.
worth and probably plenty of change from that two cents. . .
