I have to ask those who did or do give Priesthood Blessings, do you hear a voice in your head telling you what to say or how does it work. I felt like sometimes they were just trying to make me feel better since they asked for soooo much information before the blessing even began. As a Mormon I really wanted to believe it was God talking to me.
I blessed family members years ago when we were all LDS and they were healed and comforted, sometimes miraculously. God works though us even through the imperfections of Mormonism. As the scriptures teach, nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ.
When I was an LDS Priesthood holder, as a missionary, and later, I said the proper words we were supposed to say as the blessing, then, I would add words that seemed appropriate…were the words given by God? Maybe. I hoped so
I have received Mormon priesthood blessings. I have hope that they were blessed by God even though corrupt in nature…
TexanKnight, Sam, Marie:
Thank you. Whether you have the priesthood and the authority to confer blessings and administer ordinances or not, one’s faith always shows when one prays, and God works through all those who have that faith.
I believe that, most firmly.
I had an experience on my mission that kept me from leaving the LDS church for many years:
I served my mission in Taiwan, specifically the Taiwan, Taipei Mission from 1977- 1979.
Throughout my entire mission, I was stationed out in the “boonies” - the middle of nowhere. And I liked it that way - I had very little use for the bustle of the city.
One night in May of 1978, my companion and I ventured out to contact an inactive member who soon after his baptism had been called to the Elders’ Quorum Presidency. He was one of only 4 men in the branch, so… He had almost immediately gone inactive, as nearly all of the Taiwanese “converts” did back then. I don’t know about now, but I suspect it is much the same.
We rode our bicycles about 9 miles out into the country, only to find that the man and his family had moved away several months before. So we decided to head back home.
During the long ride back home, a monsoon storm came up. Now anyone who has spent any time in the tropics knows that a tropical storm can appear with little or no warning. The storm was terribly severe, with winds upwards of 100 mph and rain that seemed to fall in buckets and fell sideways due to the wind,
We had to get off of our bikes, and mine and then my companion’s blew away in the wind (we never recovered them). We both were knocked off our feet several times by the wind. My glasses were blown off my face and lost. It was very scary. We were very frightened and thought that we would perish in the storm until my companion spotted a faint light across the rice fields. We determined to try to get there and get some shelter from the storm.
We fought and crawled our way through the mud and the wind for what seemed an eternity, and finally arrived at a small cinder-block house as was common in the Taiwan countryside at that time. There were no actual doors on these structures, so we stumbled inside and were confronted by a scene I will never forget:
With the wind howling and the rain blowing through the pane-less windows, a young man and his young wife, illuminated by two kerosene lanterns, were bent over their baby, who was obviously ill. Their desperation and panic was palpable. The child was bright red with fever and gasping for breath. The parents looked at us with amazement. We were probably the first white people they had ever seen.
I felt compelled to take the child in my arms, and the parents didn’t stop me. I took that baby in my arms and prayed, begging Jesus to save this child as He had saved so many others.
Almost immediately, the baby’s fever broke and he/she (to this day I don’t know if it was a boy or a girl) appeared to be calm. I handed the child back to its mother and it suckled at her breast.
We stayed the next 7 hours or so through the storm. We tried to communicate but the noise from the storm was so loud that none of us could hear what the others were saying. So after a few minutes, we all gave up and just smiled at one another.
After the storm, we were all so tired that we could not think of anything to say or do. So the couple and their baby, now looking fine and healthy, went to bed, and we took off walking to town. About 5 hours later we stumbled into Hua Lien and reached our apartment, where we both slept through the rest of the day.
A few days later, we went out to find that family. We never did.
For years, I linked that experience to my Mormon “priesthood”. I thought that this miracle must have occurred because I possessed a power granted by my membership in the LDS Church and my ordination to its priesthood. This experience kept me in the LDS church even though I knew that their doctrines were perverse and their prophets were no prophets.
Then, in 1985, my younger brother and his family came to visit my family. My brother is an Evangelical pastor. Although I knew that he was very anti-Mormon, I was so tired of carrying this burden that I confided this experience to him and expressed my nagging doubts about the truth claims of Mormonism.
To my surprise, my brother told me something that I had never thought of: That on that stormy night, I was probably the only person for 20 miles in any direction who would have called on the name of Jesus to heal that child. That it was the name of Jesus, not any supposed priesthood of mine, that healed that baby. And I knew that it was true.
Suddenly, I felt released from all of the burdens and guilt that the LDS church had piled on me. I understood that Jesus was free to what He wants, when He wants, through whomever He wants. I understood that it had nothing to do with me and my “worthiness”, and everything to do with Him and His worthiness.
It was like the weight of the world had been lifted from my shoulders.
My wife and I had been researching Mormon origins for more than a year and some nights later I felt free to tell her that I thought the LDS church was not “true”. She said that she knew that as well. We cried a lot that night - we had lost the one thing that both our lives revolved around. But after that we left the LDS church and moved on. We finally achieved a wonderful peace and I eventually returned to the Catholic Church.
Paul (formerly LDS, now happily Catholic)
P.S.: My Apologies to those who have read this story several times before. I do not mean to be tiresome, but I thought it was apropos in this thread.
Paul I have never read this part of your history before, thanks for posting it.
Enough with the Mormon threads