I’ve given and received priesthood blessings for almost 30 years, much more so recently, and can say without any stretch of the imagination that they truly work. Most of the time they’ve had subtle, benign results, and sometimes they’ve been more dramatic. For example, all through elementary school my daughter hadn’t missed a single day of attendance. While genetics, diet, prevention and hygiene might have had played large parts in this, grade school is still a massive, malevolent Petri dish, so I’d like to believe blessings– and the faith of my little girl– were the parts that sealed the deal.
Some of the best blessings come after abrupt needs. Thomas S. Monson gave a great illustration of this when speaking of his tour in the military:
The night preceding our Christmas leave, our thoughts were, as always, on home. The barracks were quiet. Suddenly I became aware that my buddy in the adjoining bunk—a member of the Church, Leland Merrill—was moaning in pain. I asked, “What’s the matter, Merrill?”
He replied, “I’m sick. I’m really sick.”
I advised him to go to the base dispensary, but he answered knowingly that such a course would prevent him from being home for Christmas. I then suggested he be quiet so that we didn’t awaken the entire barracks.
The hours lengthened; his groans grew louder. Then, in desperation, he whispered, “Monson, aren’t you an elder?” I acknowledged this to be so, whereupon he pleaded, “Give me a blessing.”
I became very much aware that I had never given a blessing. I had never received such a blessing; I had never witnessed a blessing being given. My prayer to God was a plea for help. The answer came: “Look in the bottom of the seabag.” Thus, at 2:00 a.m. I emptied on the deck the contents of the bag. I then took to the night-light that hard, rectangular object, The Missionary’s Hand Book, and read how one blesses the sick. With about 120 curious sailors looking on, I proceeded with the blessing. Before I could stow my gear, Leland Merrill was sleeping like a child.
The next morning, Merrill smilingly turned to me and said, “Monson, I’m glad you hold the priesthood!” His gladness was only surpassed by my gratitude—gratitude not only for the priesthood but for being worthy to receive the help I required in a time of desperate need and to exercise the power of the priesthood.
Thomas S. Monson, “The Priesthood—a Sacred Gift,” Ensign, May 2007
But, what of those times when the priesthood blessing produces a result contrary to what was anticipated? Not that it wasn’t answered, but that the answer defied expectation with a vengeance?
It had been a little over a year after my conversion when I found myself a greenie missionary in my first area. My senior companion, who had been out a year, had just lost his favorite companion to me, so he wasn’t the merriest of company. He’d ride hard on the bike from one part of town to the other and berated me if I didn’t keep up. He’d play practical jokes on me all the time, the kind a teenager plays on his pipsqueak kid brother. I used to think how grateful his family must be seeing him go on that mission.
As part of my acclimation to the area, my companion took me around to member homes to introduce me. One evening we went to the home of an elderly couple and found them distraught. They just learned the wife had inoperable cancer and had 6 months to live. With his arm around his sweetheart and tears in his eyes, the husband asked if we would give her a blessing. My companion, “Elder Chuckles,” said “Absolutely! Elder T– would love to give her a blessing.” Now, he knew I, like Elder Monson, had never given a blessing before, and he was enjoying himself immensely for the fix he just put me in. He took me aside and told me how to open and close the blessing, and said I should just say what I’m feeling for the body of it. After my companion anointed the sister, I laid my hands on her head and proceeded. I told the sister that Heavenly Father was pleased with her faith and loved her very much. I don’t remember everything I said, but I do recall blessing her that she would be spared pain and heartache, and that her spirit might lift knowing that Heavenly Father had a plan for her and His love would help her bear the burden. After I closed, the Spirit in the room was strong, surprising me a great deal. The husband and wife hugged each other and wept and we quietly excused ourselves. The following morning we got the call– the sister had died that night. One moment standing, the next, bam, down on the floor dead. My companion and I looked at each other in wonder. It was only then that we had our first personal glimpse at what a powerful force the priesthood was, and what a responsibility we had to hold it.
I was never asked to give another blessing in that area.
Since that wonderful first experience, I never had another blessing reap such a climactic result and I look forward to learning why Father chose it for my first time. I have a feeling it was to further cauterize my recent conversion.
If anyone else has a story involving a blessing with profound or a different kind of result, I’d love to hear it.
7 responses so far ↓
1 Chris Bigelow // Jan 18, 2008 at 5:23 pm
In 1994, they found a fist-sized lump in my chest. Before the autopsy—wait, I mean biopsy—my dad gave me a healing blessing, and in the middle of the night I work up with a strange warm swirling sensation in my chest. The biopsy proved inconclusive, yielding only cells with no defining characteristics. They called it Hodgkin’s by default, and I went ahead and did six months of yucky chemotherapy and a month of daily radiation. But I have no doubt that the malignancy was removed from me in the night following that blessing.
Another time, right after my mission, my dad gave me a blessing of guidance regarding what to do about a girlfriend who had sorted waited for me (if you count sleeping with 7 different men as waiting) and who, for obvious reasons, my parents didn’t like. In the middle of the blessing he suddenly sort of swooned and then started saying that I could be an instrument in the Lord’s hands for saving this woman, etc. After the blessing, my parents were both pretty shocked but couldn’t deny the revelation. So I went ahead and stuck with the gal and we soon got engaged, but then I became guy number eight and we fell apart. I wonder what would have happened if I had been totally brave and true…
2 David // Jan 19, 2008 at 5:28 pm
Thank you for sharing that, Chris, especially the unedited honesty in the second example. I think we all wince at actions we’ve taken, past and not-so-past, especially after being told we had glory trailing from our feet as we go, and endless promise in our eyes, and wonder what would have happened if we CTR’d. I know one reason I’ve recently spiked my activity in the Church– and have tried to be more conscious about my actions– is to scrub the crud I’ve left in my wake.
3 Spencer // Jan 20, 2008 at 3:17 am
I just have to say how much I enjoy and appreciate reading your blog. I appreciate your honesty, your humor, your testimony, and your experience. I keep checking your blog regularly now, ever since I stumbled upon your “Hearts of Darkness” post, which compelled me to leave a comment on your blog because you stole the words from right out of my mouth. Since then I’ve started a blog of my own, but I can already tell that I’m going to have to keep checking back often because I see, among other things, that you’re also an American Idol fan.
4 David // Jan 20, 2008 at 5:22 am
Spencer, thanks for those kind and humbling words. You really made my day. As for Idol, I thought I’d be tired of it by now, but I’m finding myself gravitate to it again. Between that show, House and Terminator, Fox has really impressed me lately. I think I mentioned once, the VP of Fox Broadcasting (a member) is an old friend, so I’m always emailing him with my little critiques and raves. I’m going to check out your blog now.
Thanks again.
5 Andy // Mar 20, 2008 at 11:28 am
David,
I wanted to thank you for the story you shared of your experience, and wanted to share my own.
Several years ago, my much loved grandmother suffered a serious embolism which landed her in the hospital. She wasn’t a very active member of the Church, but you could always count on her attending every baby blessing, baptism, confirmation, and missionary farewell/return.
As I was at the hospital, family members asked me and my cousin to give her a blessing. My cousin performed the anointing with oil, and I began to say the blessing — hoping that the Lord would see fit for me to “cure” her of this event in her life.
I was prompted by the Spirit, in a very strong, clear voice, that “You are not to bless her to get better. You may give her and your grandfather any blessings that they may stand in need of, but do not bless her to get better.” I actually had to pause and struggle with that emotion, knowing that the grandmother I loved so dearly, who helped raise me from birth, would not survive this challenge. Yet, I knew that it was definitely the Lord’s will. If it had been my will, she would have been dancing down the street the next morning.
The blessing I gave was inspired, blessing her with a love of her family, blessing my grandfather’s comfort during this time of need, but never blessing her to get better.
That night, as her health declined, I knew that I was the only family member who knew for a certainty what the final outcome would be. As she comfortably left this life, surrounded by loved ones, I felt a bit of peace come over me at that difficult time.
I didn’t share that prompting with family members until sometime after her death, but everyone I told it to understood the importance of following such a guidance.
(p.s. — Yes, I cried as I wrote most of this post.)
6 David // Mar 20, 2008 at 3:14 pm
Andy,
Thank you for sharing that powerful, personal story. The more I learn about priesthood power and the role we play as servants of the Lord, the greater my testimony flourishes. It would have the opposite effect on me if we were to just cry “Heal!” on every occasion.
7 s'mee // Aug 4, 2008 at 12:55 am
got a couple, but if you want to read them I need to e-mail them. I would prefer these experiences not being on the net.
pilokween@msn.com
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