LDS inspiration

  Jeanine Elsholz @JeanineElsholz “I testify that wickedness is rapidly expanding in every segment of our society. It is more highly organized, more cleverly disguised, and more powerfully promoted than ever before. Secret combinations lusting for power, gain, and glory are flourishing. A secret combination that seeks to overthrow the freedom of all lands, nations, and countries is increasing its evil influence and control over America and the entire world. I testify that the church and kingdom of God is increasing in strength. Its numbers are growing, as is the faithfulness of its faithful members. It has never been better organized or equipped to perform its DIVINE MISSION. I testify that as the forces of evil increase under Lucifer’s leadership and as the forces of good increase under the leadership of Jesus Christ, there will be growing battles between the two until the final confrontation. As the issues become clearer and more obvious, ALL mankind will eventually be re...

  Kirk Rollins @nicoraytruth · 1h Day 3 back at ward This was my third Sunday back in the ward. Fast Sunday. No assigned talks. The pulpit stays open and whoever feels moved gets up. Nothing is scripted, and that is the point. A sister stood. She told us about her twin sister. A brain aneurysm. The first surgery was successful and the family let out its breath. The second surgery was not. She told us what her family went through. The whole time she spoke I wanted to walk up to that pulpit and put my arms around her. I wanted her to know she is loved. And when she sat down I found tears running down my face. I had not planned on them. Something about watching another human being suffer that much. I do not know why it moved me the way it did. It just did. Underneath the tears I kept thinking one thing. This is when a testimony becomes real. Not in the good years. Not when the bills are paid and the children are healthy and the calling is going well. A testimony becomes real ...

  Kirk Rollins @nicoraytruth Here is what I dream. I dream that the generational estrangement of my family can be healed in the temple. Not talked about. Not forgiven in some vague way that costs nothing. Healed. I dream of kneeling at that altar with the names no one alive can explain, my grandparents and their silence, the aunt, the cousin who carried the damage in his body, the faces in North Carolina I was never allowed to know, and that through those ordinances, through that strange mysticism of water and oil and a whispered name, something would move that no court and no apology and no deathbed ever could. Some nights I hate the ones who cut the cord. I hate them for the thin table, for the half empty circle around my son, for the suspicion I still carry the darkness of estrangement is in me too. And I love them, every one, in the same breath, and I have stopped trying to make those two things agree. So what I am asking for is not my love. My love is too small, it a...