Translating the Flesh

In the celestial room of the Provo Temple, heat coursed through my body. My skin throbbed, my intestines boiled, my bones sang a dissonant note. I had reached out to God in prayer, silently asking about a small decision, expecting to feel peace as I had so many times in the temple. Instead, it felt as though I’d touched a hot stove, my nerve endings vibrating. I stared into the painted eyes of the resurrected Jesus above me, confused that I could feel so bad in this holy place, and wondering what it meant. Was this a burning in the bosom, indicating I should move forward? Or a warning that I shouldn’t?

Discernment is an old problem, and one that’s plagued the Restoration since its infancy, from denials of Joseph Smith’s “First Vision” to contentions over Hiram Page’s seer stone.¹ In the modern era, faith-affirming stories of spiritual promptings clash with accounts of people who feel spiritually guided to leave the Church and horrific, supposedly Spirit-guided murders.² This problem is not unique to our faith tradition, but it remains confusing and painful. What is a believing person to do?