In the early days of the Church, the initial focus was on two “simple” things – the Book of Mormon and the calling of a new prophet. The earliest missionaries didn’t “teach about” the Book of Mormon much; they gave someone a copy and asked them to read it. They didn’t give them selected passages to teach specific doctrines; they had them read it cover to cover, while praying about it as they read.

Reading Moroni 10:3-5 came at the end of over 500 pages of reading about God’s mercy to the people in those 500 pages. It came after reading over 500 pages where Jesus and The Father are mentioned well over 1000 times, in pages that reflect on the mercy of God from Adam and Moses through their day on to ours.

If I could change one thing about our missionary “program”, it would be to encourage our members to invite people to attend church with them and read the Book of Mormon cover to cover – only introducing them to full-time missionaries after they had expressed interest in learning more. As I read Preach My Gospel, the central message I get is that there are certain things that need to be accepted prior to baptism, but understanding and believing in God’s grace and mercy and turning to Him with a sincere heart and open mind is what converts – not being “taught the discussions”.

I’m _so_ with you re: the Moroni Challenge. There is so much more to it than read a couple verses, say a quick prayer and see if you don’t feel good. It is a scripture profoundly misused.

~

I’m remembering my most powerful memory of sensing God’s mercy and grace: when I recognized these feelings at the time they “spoke” to me in a way that felt completely different. I knew I had been touched and changed, or was being touched and changed. It was funny that it kind of felt like it was happening, yet had already happened, at the same time. I still can’t quite explain the odd sensation of timelessness but feeling very “in the moment.” I felt hope. I felt rescued, or that I’d be okay, even while the tide of grief dominating this time of my life didn’t go away.

Even now I don’t have any rational certainty of the memory, or that even if the experience was “external” to me. Neither do I really feel any doubt it. However, it seems that it was so precisely what I needed at the time that I should desire to doubt it. It’s like I don’t care either way because doubt, as a tool, and an old friend, wouldn’t lead me to any real conclusion about what happened. I had a distinct experience, or perhaps it’s better said … an impression. I was touched in a new way, and led me to feel less alone and more connected with my own humanity, inside and outside of me. I sensed a compassion I associated with God. But God felt just beyond me, out of reach, but not far away — just enough to make me want to stretch further my spiritual pursuit after the experience or impression subsided.

I remember at the time trying to picture in my mind’s eye from where these feelings and sensations were coming, really working to “externalize” it, trying to make it seem visible in my mind even as clear as a dream, in order to, somehow, prove to myself that it was “really” happening — either “just as a dream” or as something outside myself. But I couldn’t find anything clear to focus on with my mind’s eye as I felt these impressions upon me.

All I have is the memory of how I felt. My understanding about it since hasn’t become more clear. Yet I have a peace with not really overworking it more than that. There’s been a drive and longing to pursue my heart, and faith, ever since. A passion. Yet I still haven’t fully healed from my sadness and anger about that time in my life. Somehow this fuzziness of detail keeps it still existing in my present, living enough to keep me hopeful and still in pursuit. Maybe, someday, it will be a memory I look more “back upon.”

And I add my voice to those above about Fathers mercy and Christs atonement. I was humpty-dumpty, and only the Prince of Peace could put me and keep me back together again.

Prayers of gratitude could be helpful in remembering. When Alma the younger saw the angel he was told to remember the captivity of his fathers which thing he said he had done since then, which is evident in later writings and sermons to his people and his sons.

Valoel, third paragraph–great stuff! Thanks!

Mr.GF4E

I remember that God knows me much better than I know myself, and that his mercy is greater than I ever imagined.

This is the exact thing that kept me in the Church during my adult crisis of faith (does it ever end once it starts?). I’ve had an extremely positive experience in the Church spiritually. I remember what it was like before I took it seriously. I remember the changes the practice has brought about in me in many dimensions. I have indeed experienced manifestations and gifts of the spirit. It has brought me closer to my Savior. It appears to be leading me in a direction I want to go — towards love and divinity.

But then what do I do with the “factual” problems in history and doctrine? I decided that I had to put my own firsthand, direct experiences with God, the Gospel and Christ as primary. The journals and scraps of information we call history comes second for me. I am VERY interested in the history. I value it, but I can’t place someone else’s opinion from 150 years ago above what *I* experience today. It’s my faith too.

I’m not just talking about a dependence on warm-fuzzy indigestion (the burning of the bossom). I am a different person (reborn?) in a lot of ways. I like how I changed. It makes me happy and positive. It makes me patient and loving. I’d almost call it a righteous hedonism — it makes me feel good. So I go with it. It brings me peace and happiness, and makes the world of my family better. I am far from perfect. I can’t even say that I am a “good” mormon by a lot of members’ measuring stick, but I am far better than I was.

The Lord has been very merciful and patient with me. VERY patient. I don’t deserve it, but it is a precious gift.

Thanks for this post. I don’t think I remember enough. It’s too easy to see what I don’t have.