Following the False Traditions of Our Fathers.
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  • Understanding Divine Inspiration as Practiced by Mormons

    “HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT YOUR INSPIRATION IS FROM GOD?”.

    by Apostolic Chaplain Insanad Rigdon

    My ex used to get inspiration from God or somewhere to do such silly things as join Amway, Shaklee, NuSkin, and even some more ridiculous get rich schemes. He even got a revelation to shave his moustache because he thought that was the last holdout between himself and progression in the hierarchy of the church, namely to be called to be bishop, even though the ward leaders barely trusted him with the divine calling of “Assistant Parking Lot Coordinator”.  That God, he’s such a joker. Always messing with people’s grand delusions of glory and fame.

    Once someone claims that their inspiration is from GOD, then who are we to argue? You can’t prove a negative I suppose, and if God isn’t answering back, then there’s no way to prove it was a joke.

    The harder question then would seem to be, “What determines the validity of someone’s vision or confirmation over another?”

    Say some young buck comes home from his mission all hot and horny and ready to do his duty and start propagating. He sees a hotty in his BYU institute class and sure enough, she bats an eye his way. He goes to the temple and while meditating needily in the Celestial room he gets the inspiration that SHE is to be his celestial companion.  WHOOO WEEEE!!!

    That would be fabulous, except that God forgot to tell her the same message and like some Shakespearean comedy the silly minions of love fairies are playing some nasty tricks. She is secretly, madly, head over heels in love with her Professor, who happens to be married already to his second cousin and together they have nine kids and live in a split level in the flat ugly part of Linden.

    The Professor is secretly in love with one of the young beautiful and nice dressing return missionaries, and I’m not talking a sister, but according to GOD’s Plan, it’s a forbidden love, besides he’s already married to his second cousin and together they have nine kids and live in a split level in the flat ugly part of Linden.

    The first hot horny returned missionary is chasing the young virgin in his institute class, she’s chasing her Art History professor, and he’s wishing he could chase the boy in the Abercrombie and Fitch t-shirt that paints the most fabulous hibiscus pictures. Instead, every night he bows his head, shuffles home in his 1978 Pinto to his second cousin wife with the nine kids who live in a split level in the flat ugly part of Linden.

    The guy in the t-shirt is in love with the horny missionary who is in love with the virgin who is in love with the Art History teacher who is in love with the guy in the t-shirt, and around it goes. The second cousin wife with the nine kids is in love with scrapbooking since she’s long given up any hope of getting her husband interested in anything more exciting than procreative sex, which they already did nine times and she’s about worn out, so she buys fancy scissors and glues stuff, all day, every day.

    Now if God really wanted to give some divine inspiration, he’d have told the art history teacher to avoid the shock therapy that BYU instigated in the 70s and 80s and just follow his heart rather than acquiesce to marrying his frumpy but sweet second cousin.

    He’d convince the returned missionary that with a little creative effort he could release the demons of horny neediness and not be in such a big dang hurry to get married to the first thing he set eyes on.

    He’d inspire the lovely young virgin to exercise her options a bit and play the field till she was totally ready to settle down and find the perfect man who could devote his whole life to her and their dreams, instead of lusting after the married teacher who has nine kids and lives in a split level in the flat ugly part of Linden and drives a 1978 Pinto because BYU wages are just so paltry and nine kids are a lot to provide for, especially when your second cousin wife is spending every last dime on crappy scrapbooking stuff.

    He’d send some sort of message to the beautiful stud that paints hibiscus to pursue his art dreams in a more progressive town like Sedona, where he could wear pink shirts without having to conceal his “eccentricities.”

    NOPE, that God, he’s a joker. He lets the returned missionary think he got a revelation, the virgin believes that if she is just a little more attentive she’ll sway the Art History teacher from his wife and nine kids, and the Art Teacher just weeps in his closet for the loss of all that he ever really was inside.  The second cousin keeps cutting out little thingys and gluing because she’s blissfully happy making nine-layer photo frame pages while her kids stew in their diapers and beg for some real attention.

    I don’t know where I was going with this. Hopefully not to the flat ugly part of Linden to a split level while riding in a 1978 Pinto. Hey, maybe I’ll head to Sedona and see if I can make a deal with that hot artist who paints hibiscus.  That would be true inspiration.