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Miracles/evidence Of The Divine


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Mine is a pretty common story for my age group. Started out as Agnostic, but leaning towards a mean vindictive God. I was invited by a friend to go a Institute class, and had more questions than I started with. Slowly read, and pondered about what I'd seen and heard. Read the BoM cover to cover still couldn't make up my mind. then through a series of prayers, mostly about the Priesthood Ban, got my answer. I haven't looked back once in the last 43 years, and don't regret it for a second.

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I've told this experience previously, but it's been a while and there's enough new people... so I want to share it again...  my experience is like bluebell's...

 

This took place while I was still an inactive member, but even in my inactive days I prayed often, read my scriptures, and deep down still had pieces of my testimony... Every year wherever I was... no matter where... it was home to my childhood home and my parents and sister for Thanksgiving... they all lived in So Cal and I had moved to San Fran and then here to the central Oregon coast... so every Thanksgiving my husband and I would head for So Cal and "home."

This one year the weather was pretty bad and chains were required as we headed down Interstate 5 through the Siskyous... a mountain range on the Oregon/Calif border... there was periodic snow/ice on the ground.  We had the type of chains that were like cables.... we had just crossed the summit and were heading down a very curving part of the highway.  Suddenly we heard this loud noise and it became hard to steer.  We were on a curve but my husband was able to get the car to the side of the road and hugged as close to the mountain as possible. 

It was very dangerous because cars were going pretty fast and coming around the curve.  My dh had a bad cold, but he got under the car to see if he could free the chain, which had snapped and wrapped around the axel... tight...  He worked and worked but it would not budge. 

I was becoming concerned because dusk was quickly setting in and we were not only in danger ourselves, but we were a danger to others.  No matter how he tried he just couldn't get the chain free.  It was getting colder and darker by the minute.  His hands were bleeding from the chain.   I considered flagging down a truck driver who would have a CB (this was before cell phones were widely available) and be able to call for help.  In desparation and near tears I stepped around to the other side of the car and just silently cried out... Father, Father, help this good man!! Please!!... A few seconds after I finished my prayer I heard him let out a whoop... the chain had fallen apart and he was able to unwind it from the axle.  In just a oouple minutes we were on our way... and I breathed a prayer of gratefulness... I never told him what had happened... but I was filled with such gratitude for prayers heard and answered... it would be several more years until I reactivated... but once I did, like TSS, I've never looked back...

 

GG

 

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It's all of the little unlikely "coincidences" and impossibilities that cumulatively, over time, create a firm testimony that there is a God and that he is very aware of us and what our needs are.

 

In 1978, my brother and I decided to go to northern Wyoming for Thanksgiving and visit our grandfather. Being Eastern boys, we knew that serious snow didn't come in November, so we headed out in our van without snow tires or any other preparation. By the time we got to South Pass in Wyoming, a blizzard was blowing and the temperature was somewhere below zero. It was cold in the van, and we noticed that the fan wasn't blowing very hard and that our headlights seemed to be unusually dim. We realized, with some anxiety, that it looked like our alternator had failed, we still had 200 miles to go to get to our destination, and we were in the middle of nowhere in a blizzard. After some serious prayer, we turned everything unnecessary off in the van (electrical) and kept going. We were bundled up with everything we had and it was still cold. We managed to make it about 200 miles on just what was in our battery, and when we finally pulled in front of grandfather's house, the van died. The next morning, we found out it had hit 27 below zero. We had to get both the alternator and the battery replaced; it would no longer hold any kind of charge. Both my brother and I look back on that as evidence of God's protecting hand in our lives, getting us to our destination in safety when we should have been stranded somewhere in Wyoming in a dangerous situation. I have no idea how far you can really get on only your battery at night when you are using your headlights, but I don't think it's 200 miles.

 

We've seen God come through for us in our family far too many times to doubt that He is there.

Edited by jwhitlock
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Ive had alot of little experiences. But two stand out as very miracluous.

 

I went to sparring class and got seriously injured. My opponent accidently kicked the back of my hamstring and it kind of collapsed (I dont know how else to describe it). I was in excruciating pain. I had no insurance. I didn't want to go to the doctor and pay out money i didn't have to get it looked at. I was hoping that it would just heal over time. But the pain wasnt getting much better. I was injured on Thursday. I went to Church on Sunday. I was the Assistant executive secretary at the time. It was a busy day and i was limping around trying to help the Bishop with interviews during sunday school. We finished the interview list and i thought i should go to Priesthood. I sat there and within a few minutes the Spirit washed through my body down my leg and the pain was gone. After the Spirit touched my leg, I was just alittle sore getting used to walking normally again. It truly was amazing.

 

Another time happened when we were trying to convince a young man to go on a mission. One sunday, he point blank said he was never going on a mission. A few of us prayed for him to change his mind, two days later he had decided he had to go on a mission despite his parents not being initially supportive and having some other issues with the doctors before he could go. It was quite amazing.

 

God is there. He loves us. I think He would bless us more with tender mercies if we let him. And im sure He does more than we recognize.

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  • 2 weeks later...

...Then i thought to pray.  I said a quick prayer telling God that I needed to get the door locked and could not do it by myself.  I let Him know that this was essential for my peace of mind that night, even though the chances of me and my family being murdered that night because the door wasn't locked were probably slim.  Then i said Amen, pulled up on the door handle quickly and turned the bolt.

 

It slid in like butter.  

 

It took one quick pull and about 1 and 1/2 seconds for the dilemma to be completely solved.  I was so overcome with gratitude to know that He had heard my prayer, and intervened, even though it was more likely a trivial thing.

 

And just as an epilogue on the topic, i have since then tried again to lock the door myself.  I tried for a good five minutes just last night because hubby was already upstairs in bed and i didn't want to have to ask him to come back down again.  

 

I still can't do it.   :)

That is a very sweet story, and I love it, but I gotta tell you that you NEED to get the door fixed.

I'd come over and do it for you, but unfortunately I don't think that's practical. Your hubby can do it -- if he tries -- or you can find a handyman in your ward to fix it.

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That is a very sweet story, and I love it, but I gotta tell you that you NEED to get the door fixed.

I'd come over and do it for you, but unfortunately I don't think that's practical. Your hubby can do it -- if he tries -- or you can find a handyman in your ward to fix it.

 

We'll get it fixed don't worry.  I've never seen anything that my husband can't fix, he's just got a lot on his plate right now.  :)

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... she would bare her own testimony ...

 

All these naked testimonies in Church ... :huh:  It's scandalous ... scandalous, I tell you!! ;):D

 

OK, listen up, people: one bears one's testimony in Church; under certain circumstances, one might bare ... um ... other things, but ... never in Church ... if you get my drift! :unknw:  Just sayin'!

 

Sincerely,

 

Kenngo1969, Captain of the Homophone Division of the Grammar Police

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When I was ten or eleven, my sister and I were busily trying to finish the chores before midnight on Saturday.   We were talking about how we could ever know whether God lives and whether He knew us as we took the trash outl, when in an instant there was a full and absolutely stunning display of the Northern Lights.   I knew instantly that He'd been aware of our conversation and had granted us that assurance.   Later I learned that such displays were uncommon that time of year in my geographical location, and I have never seen them come on in the same way ever again.  

 

And as I have lived my life, I can see how He would have known how much I needed to know that He did rule the universe then and throughout.  Knowing that absolutely and with power has quite literally been a lifesaver in many many ways over the years.   (And I love the Northern Lights.)

Edited by rpn
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Miracle on Sandtown Rd...

MT Zion, Baptist Church...founded by mine and a couple other families (all still related to mine) around 1835. It is easy to tell when or what families found a Church. The closer to the building families are buried, the more common the founding families. Even though adopted into the Lee family, I was so young I never knew another father than the one who raised me. He was a minister ordained in this Church, his Father, his Father's Father. I was unusually drawn to knowing all I could about being a minister, began taking Bible courses by mail at 11. Every Sunday was spent in Church and then off to Grandma's...right next door to have Sunday dinner and all the Uncles (many also ministers) where impromptu revival meetings, testimony meetings, Church signings would break out. My brothers, sister, cousins would find somewhere else to be (usually playing softball in a huge field between my house and grandma's) while my cousin Randy and myself would lie down on the floor feet in the air, elbows firmly planted on the floor as we watched in awe of what we were seeing. By 16, Randy had got "the call" (as we call it) and I asked my Dad, will I ever get "the call"? He hinted to me that I have gotten it long before at age 11...but time passed, Military Service came and at 19, in Glenville, GA (Near FT Stewart where I was stationed, already married at such a young age...still am to same woman) I received a call...to go to Germany (West Germany back then)...so I thought before I go, I would approach the Pastor at Westside Baptist where I attended to do a little "Preaching", over the next few months before being sent oversees; I was not sure Germany had Baptist Churches and knew even if the did...they would not be English speaking (BTW...one could agree that the ones in the Deep South were not either :).)

In Germany I was given a BoM by a neighbor (another great miracle to discuss later)...the little I will speak of that day is this; Her name was Peggy Spencer, never met her until that very moment. She was another Army Wife who had met my wife Pamela Lee (not the famous one...but even better the one I love). She had come up to see Pam and I was packed and getting ready to go on maneuvers with my unit for a few days. I answer the door bags in hand (he husband who would later baptize me was going on the same exercises) I yell, "Pam, door"...Pam slows me down yelling "don't you leave the apt without a kiss"!!! Peggy says, "Pam, I just wanted to give you a book, I have to get back before Spencer leaves"...trapped between the two, my wife asked, "what kind of book is it?" She replies, "a religious book"...my wife tells her, "give it to Bill, he'll have it read before he gets home".

I don't have time to talk so I reach for it, to place it in the top of my duffle bag. Upon touching it, I was overcome by a wonderful feeling. I looked at the name of it...did not recognize the name of it. I walked over too my 5th floor apt window to take in enough breath to ask what it was...she tried to explain, but time was not on her side. So I put it in my duffle bag and picked up the officer I was driving for our five hour drive in one of the worst snowstorms I had ever been in, in my life! All the while thinking about the book that I knew nothing about.

Now back to the first miracle...with my background and my Dad, Mother, Grandparents all knowing that one day I would enter into the ministry of my boyhood or some other Baptist Church the news that I have converted to the LDS Church was quite a shock! Though my parents did not understand my choice, they knew my heart. Three years passed without much talk, as phones were too expensive and letters so long trying to discuss...three and one half years after joining the Church, I cam home with my wife and two children from a four year tour in (then) West Germany. My Dad and I talked much of doctrine and faith over the next month, but then it was off to my next assignment at FT Benning, GA. Through the years many in my extended family, did not understand and many were unwilling to try. My wife's family even worse. Then on June 3, 2005, tragedy struck when my father died after a long illness. I go with my brothers, sister and Mother to the funeral home. My Mother is telling the funeral director what kind of service she wants, and turns to me and says and your father and I want you to Preach! I tell her Mama, I am the baby of the family...every excuse I could think of came flooding into my mind. June 6, 2005, other than a testimony meeting when young was the first time in 27 years my voice was ever heard in the Church my fathers had founded. Uncles, Aunts, Cousins, leaning in to see what I would say...it beats me what came out, but the ice was melting, tears, laughter, love and family (the extended ones) that I had missed at so many Sunday dinners was returning...I had never left; no one knew what to say in most cases.

Fast forward to March 24, 2014...a few weeks ago. Same funeral home, same brothers and one sister...now I am an orphan. Funeral director asks what kind of service do you want. Well we want Bill (me) to speak...he looks at me and asks do you want to speak, I reply...No I don not!! My sister reaches over takes my hand (she being the oldest) yes, he will speak. The dam breaks...not me, I had to keep it together. After the funeral family, now old friends, kept me eating and laughing for hours at dinner that was served at Church...all knew I was a Mormon. My Ward worked with my childhood Pastor in providing food and drinks...one of two remaining Aunts told me that she wanted me to speak at her funeral...I looked her in the eye and said "Dara, I love you and not a chance". She pulls me close and whispers..."you'll do it". I whispered back, "yes em"...she whispers back..."good boy".

This has been longer than I thought and with my back problems I must type on an IPAD and my thumb always hits the "m" key between words...so I hope the Spirit will covey what I am trying to say and the Spirit will allow you to overlook spelling errors. In short the miracles in my life and the life's of others are what keep me showing up...even though I get on so many nerves...here and at Church. The miracle I speak of tonight is that once my family, my friends see the changes in my life, the faithfulness and love that each of us have, for one another in my own family...through the Spirit of God, all things are possible.

Night all...

Your brother in Christ

Bill (Pa Pa) Lee

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#1. get a large hammer

#2. make sure the door is locked

#3. hit the lock a few times really hard

#4. call your husband

#5. show him the newly 'fixed' door

Had to laugh, because something very similar to this happened in my family.

My parents bought a rather expensive dining room set -- the only reason I think it was expensive is because I heard them arguing about the monthly payment for a few years -- and its quality was evident in how long it lasted.

Except for one of the chairs.

For some reason, the glue they used, or the fit of the parts caused that it would loosen up and become wobbly. Mom would eventually notice and take the chair to Dad, and ask him to fix it. Dad would mess with the chair for a hour or two (or three) until it was tight again, but it was beginning to annoy him greatly. This went on for a number of years, until one fine day.

I was in the garage with Dad and he was doing something, I don't remember any longer what it was, but Mom came out to the garage with that chair in hand. She set it down in front of him, and said "Don, this chair needs fixing again." He looked at the chair, looked at her, and looked at the chair again. I could tell that his annoyance had reached a state, and he suddenly appeared to have reached a decision. He took the chair by its back, picked it up way over his head and brought it down with all the force he could muster, smack dab onto the garage floor. The chair hit the floor, and its component parts flew off violently in all directions. My Mom stood there, open-mouthed in shock, and looked at Dad. Turning to her gravely, he spoke in tones of finality.

"There," he said, "It's fixed."

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  • 2 weeks later...

This is very minor, but very relevant to me.

Learning about Mormon values can lead one to consider examining their source.

It would seem that such a source is the Book of Mormon.

However being of a cynical nature I've consistently chosen to not try to read it.

My reasoning is: I like the values I see, the works are wondrous that these people do, they exhibit all signs of being great Christians in terms of their charity, lifestyles and all the messages of their leadership. So, why take a chance of reading something which might seem unlikely or lead me to doubt?

In addition there are many sources available of those who dispute these writings, and even though I also avoid them, I can't help but fear that I too might become a doubter should I examine the book.

So again, logic would say to be content seeing the works as evidence, the leadership talks as profound, and the people as overwhelmingly of good character; while not risking it all by delving into something which can lead to a different outlook.

It stands to reason that if the source is questioned, then all that is based on that source is questionable.

 

And so I've remained, 'neither hot nor cold' in this respect.

 

I even "friended" my old Mormon workmate from years before (and now many hundreds perhaps thousands of miles away) and messaged him about my doubting mind in this respect.

 

That night I decided to watch a random episode on BYuTV.

The film I chose was "Be a Light Unto the World" a talk by Mr. Monson.

By the name, I reasonably suspected that this would be about exemplary expectations in lifestyle and behavior.

How deeply moved I was to hear Mr. Monson elaborating on the nature of Doubt about the Book of Mormon.

It seemed so unlikely that I would randomly have chosen a lecture which was addressing, in detail, gently and with reason, the very same, identical, issue which I was pondering.

 

It was humbling to realize that he was speaking  to young college students, while I am a middle aged adult.

And that many terms whose understanding by these youth he took for granted, I did and do not at all understand.

 

Nonetheless, the examination of this aspect of faith was most clear, timely and directly relevant to me.

I've since looked for that video. It is not readily found on the site and is under a category that I'm surprised I selected at all.

 

This is not a 'miracle' on the level of most, but surely seems a providential event and one which I am grateful for and which allows me to contemplate inspired words.

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Two years ago, my Mother was in kidney failure and was given just a few days to live.  (She lived two more months.)  I was her caregiver and living at my brother's house to be with her.  Because she lived longer that the Doctor had thought we moved her to my home so I could take care of things at home as well as my Mother.  In the move, we bagged up her morphine, etc. (she was on hospice) and brought them with us.

 

A few weeks later she was in great distress and pain.  I went to get her meds and they weren't where I thought I had put them for safety.  I looked everywhere in my house and couldn't find them anywhere.  I have several grandchildren in and out of my house and I knew I had put them somewhere where they couldn't find them.  I had done such a good job of doing that I couldn't find them, either.

 

My mom was in such pain and I was sick at my neglect.  I asked my husband to join me in a bedroom for prayer.  He said the prayer and begged the Lord to bring to my mind where the meds were.  When we said Amen, I knew where to look.  I didn't hear a voice or see anything, I just knew where to go.  I went into a bedroom, into a chest of drawers, second drawer on the left, in a bag (I had even forgotten they were in a bag!) and there they were!!  I still am amazed I put them there.  I never would have put them there....but, I did.

 

I went to my Mother's bed and quickly put the syringes under her tongue and gave her the dose.  She received instant relief.  I shared my experience with her.  She thanked me for sharing and then told me she had prayed, also.  She said, "I know I am His daughter.  I know He loves me and didn't want me to suffer any more than I had to."  It strengthened her already strong testimony of her relationship to our Father in Heaven.

 

I know He answered my prayer and blessed me to know where to go look for the meds so I could help my Mom. (I never did remember putting them there.)  

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As some of you know my dad was born and raised in Germany and his first 13 years of life was the depression and WW2. Hitler came into Power a month after he was born. His city of Augsburg was bombed twice, 80,000 people left homeless in the 2nd attack. He wasn't one of those left homeless. He was a member of a Church and he asked his Mom once something like if God is love why are their bombs dropping from heaven? So after the war he was critical of life and religion and somehow he was searching for a new Church and found ours. So, skepticism was a theme in our household and my very active Mom was kind of the mediator between my church going then quitting skeptical dad. He is still to this day hard hearted towards people in power unless they show kindness to others, it's just the way he is.His skepticism or unwilling to accept things has rubbed off on us. I always believed there was a God but can't pinpoint a time when I fully believed in God, maybe it's always been there who knows. One story I'll share. I was in Glendora, California in the mission field and it was a tiny area. We could track the perimeter in one afternoon. It was the summer of 1999 and it was hot and we taught no one, got yelled at constantly, got in bashes constantly and basically the world was against my companion and I. because of idiot missionaries in the past we had to report our day half hour by half, and our mission rule was to be out from 930-930, no exceptions at all. I LOVED my comp. I had so that was going for us!! anyhoo, one day we got into about a dozen arguments and we had this lady try to drive us off the road with her SUV thingy. Basically I hated life. I was trying to go to bed and I was thinking, praying to myself, thinking why is this so hard? why does life suck the will to live and I was thinking of calling it quits on the mission and give up and become a junior comp. who did nothing and basically ride out the mission, I had about 8 months left. So, I never had a vision or anything but it literally felt like Joseph Smith's prescence was there in my room and just telling me it's true, keep going, don't quit and it was a powerful experience and one that I will never, ever forget

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San Fernando. Though oddly, my first area actually overlapped Arcadia.

 

what???!!!! oh man! Was Steven E. Snow your mission president? I recall catching two of your sisters in our area once, and we asked them if they were lost and they said they were looking for the Burbank Airport, and we were like well, the Burbank Airport isn't going to be found tracting around here! oh well! I think I stole a baptism from another mission as well! I have some other stories of that mission as well, all good though!! I never served in Arcadia though, which was fine by me as one of the wards was where the MP was!

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