Have you ever experienced a miracle? A true miracle?
There seems to be two components to religious faith: the philosophical/doctrinal, containing “truths” around which values and thinking are organized to affect attitudes and behaviors; and the miraculous, in which something reaches into our universe from somewhere else and creates a disturbance or aberration contrary to natural law. The first without the second is simply philosophy, and the second without the first is simply superstition [1]. Within religion, I think the one explains and justifies the other.
Personally, I’m more interested in the miraculous. My value system certainly matters more in my daily life, and debating the philosophies of men is interesting and enlightening, but also ultimately unfulfilling. We’re taught in the church that we have a God out there who loves us, knows the thoughts and desires of our hearts, and is actively involved in a plan for our happiness. That’s a beautiful thought. But so’s Santa Clause. I want evidence that He’s really there. I don’t want to just worship a god of my own construction in my own mind. I want to know that God’s real. If I know God’s there and I have some basic evidence to extrapolate from, I’m happy to contemplate and debate His motivations and nuances. But I want that basic evidence to start from.
A lot of people don’t believe in miracles (or God), because they’re not reproducible. I get that. I’m an engineer, and I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been presented with data that simply can’t happen. When I challenge it, they usually respond with “Well, we took the measurements and we have empirical evidence” and I respond with “You need to check your setup and measure again.” [2] Always, the impossible data is due to conditions that aren’t what you think they are (somethings not set up right or something’s broken). Engineers deal with the natural world, which follows natural laws, and we’re rightly skeptical when things don’t appear to be following them. But according to the narrative, God created the universe, and therefore lives outside it and its natural laws. Science can’t tell me about anything outside the universe or natural law, because we have no way to observe it. The only way I can know God exists is if He manifests Himself from outside. When He does, it’s a miracle.
I’ve completed listening to Eric Metaxas’ book, Miracles, What They Are, Why They Happen, And How They Can Change Your Life, last month for the second time. He’s an Evangelical Christian and fellow C.S. Lewis fan, and his take on miracles is much the same as mine: namely that the primary purpose of miracles is for God to show us He’s there and to communicate with us. Miracles aren’t primarily to relieve suffering or reward followers. If relieving suffering or granting rewards were the purpose, then God would come off looking pretty capricious, granting miracles to one and letting the other suffer. Miracles give us evidence of God, which can change our hearts and the progression of our souls through this messy earthly existence. Sometimes I think they’re given to offer us second chances.
Miracles also stand as a witness that we can look back on as we try to live life by faith. Moses parting the Red Sea is an example of that for a whole people. If it actually happened as described in the scriptures, there would have been a whole lot of witnesses and it would have had a huge impact on the people’s collective psyche. You can see how it’d be passed down through the generations with a “Remember! Remember!” God clearly could have freed the Israelites via much subtler methods, but He chose to make a splash. [3] However, many people report miracles with only themselves as witnesses (e.g., such as an overwhelming spiritual experience as part of a conversion), and these personal miracles are just as foundational to their faith. That’s why I’m so interested in miracles — I want a solid foundation to my faith.
The question, of course, with any miracle, is whether it actually happened. A real miracle should hold up to scrutiny. They’re not jokes that lose their humor if you have to explain them. They’re not magic tricks that are ruined if you figure out how they’re done. Yet in my experience, people hold their miracle stories close, only sharing them under certain circumstances. Is that because they’re afraid they’ll lose their magic upon examination? I think so, in many cases. It seems to me that almost every miracle or spiritual experience I’ve heard described could also be explained in some other way.
Here’s a personal example: My father had just purchased a new (used) car for our family, and I was thrilled because I was a high-schooler who needed wheels. The day we got it, I got permission to take my sister, brother, and a friend off to the movie theatre. It was 20-minute drive on two-lane mountain highways through northern New Mexico. I, of course, wanted to see what the car could do and was going kind of fast when I had, not a voice, but a very distinct thought, come in my mind that I should slow down. I didn’t brake, but my foot came off the accelerator. Shortly after that, I came up on an intersection where another car had slowed down and stopped at the stop sign. I could see through the guy’s window that he was looking right at me, so I didn’t think anything of it and just zipped right along. Except he pulled out right in front of me. I managed to dodge onto the shoulder, but I had had to turn so abruptly and immediately correct that I lost control and the car ended up perched on a shallow boulder, one of the tires torn sideways off the rim. We were extremely lucky no one got hurt. If I’d been going any faster, there’s no way I could have missed him — we could easily have all been killed. When the cop asked how fast I’d been going, I thought back to when I’d felt to slow down, and the speedometer had said 60. Not knowing for sure how much I’d slowed, I told the cop 55, knowing that was over the limit. He’d measured the skid marks and said there was no way I could have been going more than 45. I concluded that the Holy Ghost had warned me to slow down and had saved our lives, and it strengthened my faith. I shared that story in church.
Except, I was a pretty good kid, and my underdeveloped teenage judgment center did kick in periodically. I knew I was speeding.
Couldn’t it just have been my sub-conscience, rather than the Holy Ghost, telling me to slow down? No way to say. But later in life it occurred to me that if I had simply continued going 60, wouldn’t I have been past that intersection before that guy could have pulled out in front of me? I’m not sure. I can’t remember exactly when everything happened. Viewing this “miracle” in retrospect, it isn’t exactly convincing [4].
The reason I was interested in Metaxas’ book is all the contemporary miracles he catalogues. He’s trying to make the point that miracles still happen, happen often, and have deep meaning for those receiving them. He wants to trust his sources, so he only shares the miracle stories of people he personally knows. Of course, many of these miracles happen in the minds of those experiencing them and are therefore hard to evaluate. Miraculous changes of heart and conversions to God are great, but I heard a stroke victim talk about how her stroke felt like a tremendously spiritual experience, and her kids talk about how her personality changed afterwards. Likewise, I’m not sure what to make of people who’ve seen an angel or had a vision, unless there was some piece of verifiable information that came with the experience.
Other miracles that I don’t find particularly convincing are the “against all odds” miracles, such as “the miracle of life”. Metaxis spends a good deal of time describing how amazing and unlikely our existence, considering how exact the physical constants of the universe had to be when they formed during the Big Bang, and the odds against the complex organization of life. It’s all interesting stuff, but straight statistical anomalies aren’t sufficient to establish a miracle. I think Richard Feynman was the one who gave the analogy “I just saw a license plate from Maine with the number 3AKK390. Do you know what the odds are of me, in California, seeing precisely that license plate just as I happened to be walking out? It’s got to be 1 in a billion. It’s a miracle!” Random, extremely unlikely, things happen all the time.
So what were the miracles in the book that impressed me? The guy who was cured of AIDS. The girl whose friends boosted her up over a “Road Closed” barrier, only for her to discover that the bridge on the other side was completely gone, yet before falling to her death, something caught her and deposited her gently on her feet back in full sight of her friends. The girl who was about to be crushed in a bicycle accident and let go of the handlebars only to have something steer the bike through a narrow gap between cars and save her life. The woman who lost a large set of important keys and desperately needed them, only to come out an find them on the middle of the windshield of the car she had just driven [5]. There were several of these miracles that had multiple witnesses.
Of course, all of these miracles happened to Christians who were looking for them, so confirmation bias might have come into play when they were recounting the “facts”. But still, my own confirmation bias makes me want to believe them. All of these miracles were important not just for the event, but for the impact the event had on those who experienced them. Which brings me to another reason why people might not share their miraculous experiences: they’re deeply personal, and they treat them as sacred.
So my interest here is to find out how many of you out there feel you’ve experienced a miracle, and if so, what category? If you’ve experienced anything you feel willing to share, please include it in the comments, but I’m not encouraging you to cast your pearls before swine.
Type 1 — intense personal spiritual experience such as an overwhelming spiritual manifestion, vision, prophetic dream, hearing a revelatory voice, or some other revelation. I’m talking about something in excess of your burning in the bosom.
Type 2 — some sort of physical intervention, such as a miraculous healing or being physically protected in some otherwise inexplicable way
Type 3 — either a type 1 or type 2, but experienced by multiple individuals in much the same way, all of whom can testify to the event.
[1] Superstition is belief in the irrational, meaning, for example, it can’t be supported scientifically. That doesn’t necessarily mean the belief is wrong.
[2] Engineers are used to these types of discussions — they’re rarely genuinely testy.
[3] See what I did there?… Red Sea?…Splash?…
[4] Though the incident was foundational to me for another reason. The guy who pulled out in front of me worked for the New Mexico Motor Vehicle Division. He hadn’t been touched. He could have just driven away. He stayed to make sure we were okay and wait for the cops. When they arrived, they took one look at me, immediately got that look of disgust reserved for teenagers, and asked this guy what happened. He said “I came up to the intersection, I looked, didn’t see him, and pulled right out in front of him. He did an incredible job controlling the car.” For a kid who was in a vulnerable spot, having just crashed the car his father bought 6 hours before, and who knew he had been speeding and felt like he had just about killed his siblings and friends, that was a tremendous act of virtue. The guy could have said anything. Nobody would have believed me. What’s more, because I hadn’t hit him, his insurance company claimed he wasn’t involved in the accident and they weren’t going to pay. He was the one who argued with them until they did. When I think of examples of honesty and integrity, he’s the first guy I think of.
[5] There were good reasons given why they couldn’t have just slid down from the roof.
Wheat & Tares 
My best scriptural answer is that those who live all common or have willingly sacrificed their all have access to miracles and the rest of us get scraps like dogs at the table. I do not believe that exacting obedience to lesser laws brings miracles.
There are blessings that come for living the lesser laws, just not the miraculous. Look at the stories of Alma vs Limhi. God delivered one with a miracle and in the other someone was sent. This is one of three sequential paired stories, each pair has one story with a miracle and in the other there is divine help, but not miraculous.
Among the Nephites after they had all things common it records the disciples working great miracles among the people.
Effectively if we love the things of this world more than the things of God, then we only get the things of this world – a perfectly just outcome.
Miracles only come rarely outside of this paradigm.
“A real miracle should hold up to scrutiny. They’re not jokes that lose their humor if you have to explain them. They’re not magic tricks that are ruined if you figure out how they’re done. Yet in my experience, people hold their miracle stories close, only sharing them under certain circumstances. Is that because they’re afraid they’ll lose their magic upon examination? I think so, in many cases.
I disagree. Miracles do happen. They aren’t widely shared, I suppose, because of this sort of thinking. Those who experience miracles don’t expose them to mocking.
Ji, your comment is the type that bloggers struggle with because it makes it unclear if the post is poorly constructed or if you’re a poor reader. I agree that people keep miracles to themselves to keep them sacred. In fact, I made that explicit near the end of the post.
“Which brings me to another reason why people might not share their miraculous experiences: they’re deeply personal, and they treat them as sacred.” This is the most common reason, I think.
Wanting a miracle to create a more solid conversion is a normal desire, but I don’t think it works that way. The only times I’ve had any experiences that might be classified as miraculous (according to these definitions) were never in contexts where I was seeking confirmation of religious truths. There were much more pressing issues (like, with you and your car, it was about preservation of life).
But I disagree with the first commenter that lack of miracles is solely because of unbelief. Believing, even when the miracles don’t seem to come, is important. The story of Thomas teaches us that. Essentially, what made one of those experiences so sacred to me was because it gave me a level of understanding about *why* those blessings and prayers had seemingly gone unanswered for over a decade. The “miracle” wasn’t about fixing the problem – it was helping me understand in an unmistakable way just what the problem really was.
Martin,
I quoted your words.
On one hand, miracles seem to be an outdated explanation for scientific phenomena or sensationalized experiences. The lack of “grand miracles” affecting large groups today is because any such claim would have to pass scrutiny of a large group of people with cell phones and a higher base education.
On the other hand, miracles were used “back then” to get the stone rolling and are used now only in the most personal/sacred of contexts. They are not predictably used in a particular situation, however.
Either way (or perhaps there’s other explanations that aren’t contained here), I don’t think miracles should be used as a foundation for belief. Even those who believe in God would be the first to say that belief begins with faith…to believe in something that by definition cannot be proven empirically. Faith is a choice, not a conclusion. That’s a Givens kind of approach I suppose…
…and of course that’s just my limited viewpoint. The beauty and frustration with miracles in particular and faith in general is that it depends so deeply on our individual perspectives and experiences. We could see the exact same thing and only one of us could walk away having experienced a miracle. I say this with a hope that we can be a little less critical of different viewpoints on the subject.
The scriptures teach that miracles, signs, and like things come because of faith, our faith, or someone else’s faith.
A few scriptures about faith and miracles.
D&C 63:9 behold, faith cometh not by signs, but signs follow those that believe.
Ether 12:12 if there be no faith among the children of men God can do no miracle among them
Mark 6:5-6 And he could there do no mighty work, save that he laid his hands upon a few sick folk, and healed them.
And he marvelled because of their unbelief.
2 Nephi 27:23) For behold, I am God; and I am a God of miracles; and I will show unto the world that I am the same yesterday, today, and forever; and I work not among the children of men save it be according to their faith.
I answered never to all three poll questions.
However, there was a time when I might have answered once or twice to the type one question. On two occasions I “knew” I was getting a calling before it was given to me. In the first case I dreamt about it and in the second case it was just a feeling that caused me to start studying certain things.
BUT… The first one was being deacons quorum president in a small group where I would soon be on of the few older deacons. I took it very seriously, but it’s a real stretch to call the dream a miracle. More likely the dream happened because I had been thinking about the high likelihood of the calling.
The second one was ward mission leader, and while it’s much harder to predict a priori, I had been given hints prior to the calling. And I actually hadn’t predicted the calling, but after the fact I found my studies to have been appropriate. Take from that what you will.
I enjoyed your article, and strongly agree with the premise of C. S. Lewis (and others) that miracles are not to accomplish the thing accomplished but rather to teach us something. Lewis’s example of the wedding where Christ turns water into wine is a perfect example. God could have given the family a little extra money along the way without His hand being seen or He could have made for a bumper crop of grapes or He could have had a few people sick or out of town for the wedding or He could have had a few of them drink themselves into a stupor a little bit sooner. In short, there are countless ways He could have arranged for there to be enough wine for all the guests through either naturalistic (or natural-appearing) means. Instead He chose a miracle — the only reason can be that the point of the miracle isn’t to accomplish the end goal but instead (in this case) to both testify of the Savior and to teach of the Sacrament and other symbolic lessons.
Which brings another reason why miracles are not shared — oftentimes personal miracles are personal because they are crafted to teach the individual. I have experienced all three of your categories in your poll, but the most important miracle I ever experienced was a moment with just me and the Lord — me begging for help and Him giving it (more than I asked). It would take me a half hour to give you enough context to understand the miracle, and lifetime to walk you through what it taught me, but though it perhaps wouldn’t make the pages of any book but my journal it means far more to me (both in the feelings it creates and the lessons that it has taught me) than the ‘flashier’ sort of miracles (though those are equally real and important). It was solitary, wholly internally, utterly unproveable, and yet unquestionably miraculous such that it stands beside (or above) my experiences with miracles external, proveable, and experienced with others (that better match the traditional views of a miracle).
In His Perfect Plan, we can correctly deduce that He also perfectly frames His miraculous intervention — private to teach the one or the few, public when necessary. There is nothing special about me that “earned” me the right to have experienced the miracles that I have seen which means that God can reach out to anyone through miraculous means to give each and every one of His children what they need.[1] If they (like me) are experiencing miracles, presumably it is because we need these particular miracles in our lives. If others are not experiencing miracles, presumably it is because a loving God recognizes that they don’t need those same miracles to accomplish whatever He has planned for them (think Mother Teresa). So when the Lord reaches down to the one with a miracle, there is little reason to share unless prompted by the Spirit.
[1] In my experience — and of course it is always hard to project out from individual experience — the Lord is fairly quick to provide intervention to remind us that He loves us (though that may just be a quirk or deficiency with me that makes that necessary for my growth). There are, of course, also those who actively are striving to keep God at a distance — from personal experience I can sadly say that when I kept the Lord at a distance miracles stopped — though I expect that to be the exception rather than the rule. But even then, sharing a personal miracle is either sharing a lesson personally crafted to you to someone who God has chosen to teach another way (maybe through different miracles, different types of miracles, or even through no miracles at all) or throwing pearls before swine (sharing with those who actively want God out of their lives). Regardless of the listener, there isn’t a huge upside to sharing the miracles personally experienced unless prompted by the Spirit.
A Miracle Story:
My college roommate and relative “Tom” was popular, athletic and attracted plenty of female attention from the hottest girls. For some reason he was causally dating this Catholic girl, “Cathy” and pretending to be a lapsed Catholic. She was average in appearance, tall and fit, yet still somewhat beneath him socially. She also stuttered bad enough for that to be a deal breaker for most guys. Otherwise she was a kind, patient and unselfish person.
Tom thought that he deserved some reward for this “service project” with Cathy and he was taking a few indecent liberties with her that the righteous Mormon girls at BYU where he had previously attended would not give him. I warned him that the good Mormon boy was still going to have to repent for the sins of the pretending lapsed Catholic boy.
One night Cathy came to our apartment rather emotionally upset. I was in the next room but could still hear the conversation. She informed Tom that she was pregnant and of course he was the only possible father. Tom was speechless, in shock. Cathy left into the night. Is that how it ends I thought?
Tom flew into a rage after she left telling me she had ruined his life, how could she be so stupid; she was a pre-nursing student. (I didn’t ask him how he could be so stupid). He would face excommunication, his family would find out. She was never going to get an abortion and this was never going to go away. How was he supposed to find a decent hot Mormon wife with this albatross hanging around his neck? I had nothing to tell him. I handed him his car keys and suggested he drive down to Liberty Park and wander around there alone thinking and maybe praying about it.
While in the park, a large friendly Samoan guy approached Tom. Suddenly he put a gun in Tom’s face and demanded his wallet. Tom complied but begged for him to return some of the items in his wallet of no monetary value. The Samoan laughed and said he was not going to need any of those things where he was going and he squeezed the trigger.
Click- the gun didn’t fire. Then he laughed at Tom that he had robbed him with a gun that didn’t work. He threw the gun down and it discharged. The bullet zipped between Tom’s legs and grazed the inside of his thigh (a couple inches below his unmentionables that had gotten him into this trouble). They both looked shocked. The Samoan took the gun and kept the wallet and left.
Tom told me that time slowed down during that moment when realized he was going to die. He could see the cylinders of the gun slowly revolve into place but was frozen. His entire life passed before him. He had accomplished nothing of any significance. Yea, he was an eagle scout and scored a few points in sporting events. Maybe some of his converts on his mission stayed active. He was nearly finished with a college degree as an average student. His family and friends would miss him for a while but that would eventually fade.
His lasting legacy would be a child who would never know their father and the love of an innocent girl who had traded her virtue for nothing except an inconvenient child and they would pay the price every day for the rest of their lives.
*****
The miracle was far more than the gun. The Lord drastically changed Tom’s perspective. Tom realized that he loved Cathy and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. This was no command from God that forced him to do something difficult as punishment. It was a complete and joyful transformation. She was plenty attractive enough. Her faults were minor and her goodness was magnified in his mind. He couldn’t wait to find her and beg her to marry him. His greatest fear was that she might not agree. Tom asked me to never mention his temper tantrum, he needed to white-wash away that little bit of personal history permanently. (I have changed their names).
Tom took Cathy out to this all night diner and proposed to her and she accepted. Then he went to the police and reported the crime. Cathy bandaged his wound which was very minor. They soon caught the robber. Tom had mixed feelings about him. He wanted to thank him and forgive him as a brother and felt bad for him because now his life would be ruined for the few years he sat in prison. Tom did not make a very good witness in the trial, but good enough for a conviction.
You may conclude this miracle story as you wish. The faithful Mormon ending has Cathy converting, they both repenting and getting sealed in the temple and becoming pillars in their ward and raising up many children in the LDS faith.
The truth is somewhat messy. Tom’s family did not like Cathy. Tom realized his connection to Mormonism was mostly social and superficial while Cathy’s commitment to her Catholic faith was deep and genuine. It turns out the joke was on Tom; Cathy knew all along he was Mormon and found his pretending to be Catholic rather charming and indicative of his affection for her and she enjoyed playing along with him. It made sense for Tom to somewhat insincerely convert to her faith and play along with that instead of trying to negotiate a mixed-faith marriage.
They are not unlike quite a few other couples in churches with the wife devoted and the husband going along to please her. Tom was excommunicated from the LDS church and never came back. Repentance in the Catholic faith was easy. Tom is devoted to his wife and loves her and treats her well. Something about the process of the wedding, the pregnancy, and difficult child birth caused, or at least was coincident with Cathy’s stuttering almost completely disappearing. Motherhood rather increased Cathy’s attractiveness to where she looked better than many of the hot Mormon women Tom was chasing, after they married and bore a few children. Cathy’s genuine goodness shines through it all. Tom is truly a blessed man, especially after what he did.
The greatest miracles are the lives transformed by the Lord.
Test
Mike, it’s a beautiful story. It’s also just that type of story where one can see the Lord’s hand at work if one believes. But if one doesn’t believe, then it is just life marching forward full of coincidences and happenstances like it ever does. I find myself accepting of both.
I enjoyed reading Mike’s story. It seems likely that the thief just forgot to put a round in the chamber, an easy mistake that could have resulted in the shot that followed. The change of heart for Mike’s friend is moving.
But I can’t figure out why the thief threw the gun. That’s just bizarre.
I’m a long time lurker on this site but felt a need to post. I had a miracle happen about 9 months ago and it has been tough to share, even though several people were witnesses. I had spent 5 years in medical crisis but last winter I was in a severe decline. My local doctors had given up on a cure and sent me to NY to see a doctor doing a study. I was experiencing severe cognitive decline, brain inflammation and vision loss in addition to reduction in heart and lung capacity. My cadre of doctors had come up with a last resort treatment plan. No one seemed optimistic. Spiritually I found myself in darkness. I was going through motions but not feeling any connection to God. It was so dark.
During this time, a special stake conference was called and a member of the 12 was to speak. I prayed fervently that something someone said at the conference would speak to me and lift me from darkness, but it was an angry prayer as most had become. If God was real, I really needed a reminder. I demanded it. My expectations were low. I thought perhaps we had been brainwashed into believing in God. The conference ended, and I felt less gloomy but it wasn’t what I had hoped for. I sent my young kids to shake the hands of the visiting authorities. Their enthusiasm lifted my spirits a bit so I began to tell myself it would be okay.
Following the last stake conference session, I joined a throng of people in the lobby area because I was waiting for a temple recommend interview. We were fairly new to the Stake and I was trying to decide what to say in answer to the recommend questions. I decided to read some scriptures mentioned in the conference talks to clear my mind.
The Apostle and his wife were being whisked away to the airport for a grandson’s baptism that evening and briefly everyone in that lobby was in motion. After the entourage left, I sat in a corner reading my scriptures amongst about 8-10 other people who were waiting. The stake president, member of the 70, wife of the Apostle and the Apostle were in the parking lot loading suitcases. I knew they were in a hurry. As I sat, the Apostle returned to the lobby area. He walked in and said he had missed someone. He needed to shake a hand. He said it was mine. He walked toward me through a few lingerers, and he shook my hand and grabbed my shoulders and gave me a hug and he whispered “God loves you, Sister. He wanted me to tell you and I just couldn’t ignore the prompting.” There was only one other person in the lobby who both saw it, heard it and knew what it meant. He was the husband of a dear friend. My husband who was down the hall heard him come in and he just knew the Apostle had returned to see me.
The feeling I had was more than a warm burning, which I have felt in distant past times. It was a physical manifestation that felt like a long embrace. The physical sensation of the embrace lasted many minutes after he left. I felt like I was being tightly held. The words he spoke were heard deep in my core almost in a different voice. I heard an “I love you.” I felt giddy and overcome with emotion. I wasn’t immediately healed but I almost immediately experienced marked physical improvement. I am now what they call NED. More important to me, spiritually, I knew something. I knew God was real, heard me and loved me. I could have died in peace at that point. I have no idea why this miracle came when it did or how it did. I feel guilty that I needed a sign and it came. There were people who saw him rush in, but most had no idea what any of it meant when he headed my direction. No one could feel the sensation of the long embrace or hear the voice penetrate my soul/mind/heart. Only recently did our stake president learn why this Apostle had left the parking lot– to see me. I told the Stake President what had happened from my perspective when he came back in, and how God had answered a prayer which I had uttered in waning faith. I didn’t want to be distant from God and in that moment I felt literally held against his bosom; the distance was gone. It didn’t answer all of my questions, and I have many, but it answered some big ones. I am grateful for an Apostle who followed a prompting at the risk of being late to the airport. He likely doesn’t know how he was used that day. I am not sure why the miracle didn’t come during priesthood blessings I had received previously or from my mother’s own comforting embraces and prayers, but I was spiritually and physically healed that day. I felt it happening. I shared the miracle with my children and my husband (who was a partial witness), my friend’s husband who saw and heard, and the Stake President who didn’t know but was a partial witness. I also shared it with a couple sisters I visit teach who knew of my disease and darkness and my parents and FIL who knew of my struggles and saw the turnaround. Eventually I told a couple of angelic friends who had been with me through thick and thin. I was circumspect with my doctors who marvelled at the miraculous changes in my test results. We call it a delayed reaction to prior aggressive treatment. I just know something real happened on that Sunday.
Rockwell:
Throwing the gun was odd, I agree. Throwing a gun down doesn’t usually make it fire either, the gun expert said. What they thought might have happened is that the shooter still had his big thick finger in the trigger guard and near /on the trigger and was waving it around which caused him to accidently pull the trigger and he then dropped the gun in shock and remorse. I wrote the story from “Tom’s” perspective since his change of heart was the subject. It was also dark and he was terrified and may not recall it completely accurately. And my memory is far from perfect..
Accidentally shooting someone in contrast to intentionally pointing the gun at their head and threatening them (premeditation) then shooting them can mean a difference of many years in prison. The other explanation for the first shot not firing was that sometimes ammunition gets old or wet or is otherwise faulty. In this case his intent would have been to kill Tom. One defense was that the shooter intentionally didn’t load that first chamber and was just threatening him and didn’t really intent to shoot him unless things went south. In which case he had a second round ready to finish him off. Which contradicts what Tom heard him say. The fact that he did rob Tom and he used a gun and actually shot him (sort of) were all factors not in the shooter’s favor to say the least. So these other questions were not as crucial.
Mike…I keep re reading your story. I am happy that Toms life was changed and it all ended happily for them. But I am definitely reading this from a women’s perspective. Attractive enough…nice enough..socially beneath him and then Glory Hallelujah when she birthed more children she was finally more attractive and loved more? This is exactly what our daughters are fed in every religion. My evangelical upbringing was full of these stories. I would rather my daughters remained single than to marry a man who needed a miracle from God to find them acceptable. Toms life was spared..that’s the miracle. I mean no offense. Also, my husband is a Catholic and while we have at times struggled with understanding each other’s beliefs and feelings..we didn’t marry because God told us we were acceptable enough to each other. Repentance is never easy …in any religion. It requires giving your whole heart and body and soul to Christ..never an easy thing to do. My humble thoughts on miracles? The ones I have witnessed are sacred to me and kept in my heart between God and me. Your story and this post has made me think and search far more than anything I’ve read so far. Thank you
Couldn’t it just have been my sub-conscience, rather than the Holy Ghost, telling me to slow down? No way to say.
I’m not always sure that there’s a difference. 😉
I usually try to differentiate between a strong prompting or a feeling that seems internal, and an experience that to me seems clearly external. (I use the weasel words there to satisfy the amateur psychologists, I guess.) I think that this is what you mean by excluding the “burning in the bosom.” Per Mary Ann’s comment, I think some of those promptings are miraculous in one sense of the word. Maybe it’s a miracle that I pay attention.
Anyhow, I voted “yes” to Type 1, and to Type 3. The Type 1 is a fairly common story which I won’t recount except to say that it meant a great deal to me. The Type 3 is one that I wasn’t present for, so maybe I cheated, but it occurred in our temple, and I’ve heard at least three temple workers attest to it.
When the temple was first opened, an patron came through in a wheelchair. At the veil, through some oversight, the gap through which this sister had to pass was not quite wide enough for the chair. To make a long story short, somehow the chair passed through anyway, according to three witnesses I consider credible. YMMV; I have no opinion, really. I reserve judgment on that sort of thing. But, not wishing to depend on repetitions of the miracle now that the shortcoming had been pointed out, the veil area was remodeled with a larger gap at one end to accommodate wheelchair users.
I posted above as kcleomom. Sign in issues. Not trying to hide behind my post. Apologies:)
PLEASE FORGIVE THE LENGTH OF MY POST: The following is a summary of my feelings on the subject of miracles; which I wrote to myself earlier this Fall.
MIRACLES
Where is this Great God of Comfort and Help?
In the Spring of 2018, I will turn 60 years old. I’m sure that (like everyone who has ever lived) I look back on the passage of time and wonder “how did it all pass so quickly”. At the same time I ask this fairly common “human” question, I also have to add a somewhat uncommon (perhaps even unique) query – which is “how in the world have I devoted almost half of my life to the loving, raising, nurturing….and the 24/7 management of a severely autistic child?”
I’m sure it may come as no surprise when I tell you that this is not the first time I’ve asked this question. In fact, there have been times when I have practically shouted it at the heavens; and to any God or God’s who may be inclined to listen. “What could the possible purpose be (from a loving God) to force a precious soul into a lifetime of captivity; dwelling in a broken body – with a broken mind?” And then, to “gift that child to parents in way that will slowly, inexorably grind their health, well-being and God given energy into the ground; as the demands of caring for this loved child never, ever end”.
Being the offspring of 5 generations of faithful LDS heritage, I was raised on a steady diet of stories, teachings and I suppose doctrine of how our Heavenly Father is a God of miracles; who has a keen interest in every aspect of our lives – all throughout our lives. At this point, it is important to underscore that I thoroughly internalized all of this, throughout my young life, during my missionary service for the church and in the early years of my marriage and family life.
Today, as I search my heart, my soul, my mind and my memories (yes, all of which are now nearly six decades in existence), I have to admit that I can no longer believe in a being who regularly bestows miracles on his offspring here on this planet. Nor, does everything that happens in our lives have purpose or reason for occurring. Yes its’ true, sometimes “shit just happens”. (Or, if you’re put off by the harsh reality of that statement, we can certainly say “life just happens”.)
I readily acknowledge the steady stream of testimonies, Facebook posts, faithful blogs and stories from people who express gratitude for the miracle of a beautiful morning, of finding lost car keys, an extra five dollar bill in an old pair of jeans and/or the road being cleared for a person to make their way to work on time on a busy morning. Generally, many of these minor miracles seem to fall under the description of “tender mercies”; as described by those who experience them.
Please don’t think I’m making light of these daily positive events which happen to everyone from time to time. Rather, I’m simply asking if all of these little, daily uplifting occurrences are gifts from a loving God, then where does this same loving, omniscient Being disappear too when the “big stuff” comes into a person’s life!
As I reflect on the life changing “hurricane” of having a severely autistic child (at a relatively young age) I feel compelled to mention that (on the opposite end of the life spectrum) my much loved Dad is now suffering through the cruel, debilitating, soul stealing condition of Alzheimer’s disease. So, for almost thirty years I’ve watched and cared for my beautiful little girl in a broken body with a broken mind and now I’m watching and help care for my wonderful Dad whose body and mind have become broken as well. And honestly – I just don’t know what to make of it all; particularly within the context of what I’ve been taught throughout all of my history with Mormonism and Christianity.
Over the course of decades, many Priesthood blessings have been given; by higher and higher authorities. My wife and I have fasted and prayed until “we’re blue in the face”. We’ve put names on the prayer rolls at the Temple and we’ve watched and waited….and waited…and waited…and waited for the hoped for divine intervention. Sadly, it hasn’t come – at least in any kind of way that I can recognize.
However, here is the reality of WHAT HAS occurred. My wife and I have worked our asses off (for years) to hold everything together; our family, our marriage relationship, our home, the well-being of our other children – let alone our own emotional, mental and physical health. We’ve been deeply bruised, scarred and very-nearly broken. We’ve given up on, or indefinitely postponed our own dreams and personal aspirations and have stoically forced ourselves to survive. Really, the only miracle here is that “were still standing – and that our marriage and family have survived”!
To simply say that I’m intensely proud of both my wife and I really doesn’t do justice to the depth of my feelings; which I really haven’t shared much publicly.– until now. Rather than finding divine intervention from without, I’ve discovered and found life in the strength, kindness, laughter and friendship of other human beings. Additionally, I’ve mined strength from within myself that I had not known existed. This comes, I suppose, when one must choose between giving up or simply continuing to put one foot in front of another – as long and as steadily as possible.
There is a small place, deep in my heart, where I wish I could still believe in a God who cares and is willing to help us in time of need. At rare times, I think I can perceive some order in the universe and perhaps intelligence behind it. But, more often than not, the harsh realities of life teach me something else entirely. That is:
• We (human beings) are most likely all that we have (at least in this life) – and that we must rely on each other.
• Love for each other, support for each other and acceptance for each other is of paramount importance; particularly if we want to make it through this life with any semblance of sanity.
• No one is going to swoop in and save us from ourselves and “make sense of it all”.
• This world is all that we have. We’d better become much more diligent stewards of it.
• Our time is precious – and limited. We ought to cherish each and every moment we have with those we love.
And…
• While Mormonism (and other religions as well) all make promises of comfort, assistance and relief, the only true comfort from these organizations (at least on this earth) are found in the commitment of blessings to be delivered in the “life to come”. I’m truly sorry to say, that from a day to day practical perspective – these promises don’t really help much.
4Myersgirls, for some reason, your comment didn’t record chronologically in the comment roll — it got misdated somehow, I think. Thank you for sharing it.
lefthandloafer,
It is stories like yours that have caused me ask: “how much does God really intervene in our lives?” I have a hard time believing in a God who
is picking “winners–granting “miracles” to some people, but withholding miracles/not granting miracles to others. Definitely hardships and trials are very, very unevenly divided in this world. So, at this point my tendency is to believe in a more “hands-off” God than one which allows senseless suffering of innocent people/children, yet one that will guide people to find their lost keys etc.
My current view/belief is that we agreed to subject ourselves to an unfolding of random circumstances on this earth. So, some of us are just luckier than others? If there is a God, my hope and belief is that you’ve more than earned an eternal “rest.” I also remember the Savior’s lament on the cross
“My God, My God, why hast thou forsaken me?” If even Jesus, the literal son of God felt devoid of His support during his trial, then what does that mean for us?
So very sorry for the burden you and your loved ones have endured for so many years. It doesn’t make sense to me. Not at all.
Thank you SO MUCH for your kindness, Lois. You’ve touched my heart today. And, it means a great deal to me. God bless.