I was sitting on my bed one teenage afternoon in the early 90s wondering if there was a God and a Christ. I had been reading Will and Ariel Durant again, which always unsettled me.
A voice, if voice is the right word, came into my mind. It seemed angry. The voice communicated something like this: “We have always been with you. This is the slightest taste of our absence.” Then it left, and I felt horrid. I felt dropped. Words fail me, but it really was an awful experience, like your inner ear all of a sudden giving out.
Then the presence I hadn’t realized was there returned, and that was the end of that. I felt enormously relieved.
If I sometimes seem to see a God who is a little less patient and sweet than many do, its because he’s always been a little less so with me. I found that out. I also found out that he was there.
I could go on to tell how I got my testimony of the Book of Mormon and family and divinization and many other things, but there’s little to tell. At some level I always felt that either God had the audacity to want to make Gods of men, or there was no God. The rest was just detail and time.