A Mystic Encounter — 1971
— A MYSTIC ENCOUNTER — 1971 —
Following is an essay I wrote for one of my English classes at the BYU. It deals with an experience I had on my mission (I received an “A” on this paper).
I had always had a curious interest in spiritualism and clairvoyance, and this interest rapidly increased when I was called as a full-time missionary for our Church. I looked forward with great anticipation to casting out evil spirits, convincing spiritualistic mediums of the futility of their “communications with the dead”, and bringing many of these disillusioned souls to the truth. Little did I realize how seriously these people took their spiritual manifestations or how steeped they were in their mystic practices. My first real encounter with a spiritualistic medium was an unforgettable and highly emotional experience, and it abruptly brought me to a knowledge of the power of spiritualism, the reality of mediumistic communication, and an assurance that I wanted nothing more to do with either.
I was laboring at the time of this encounter in the city of Christchurch, New Zealand, which, ironically enough, is noted for its abundance of “spiritualist churches” and mediums. My missionary companion and I were both relatively new and inexperienced, and we were equally unprepared to deal with psychics. Fortunately, though, we were enthusiastic to promulgate our beliefs and convince many of the errors of their ways.
The day of this particular encounter had been an especially discouraging one for my companion and me. That morning, the husband of one of our most promising investigators had torn up our pamphlets and literature, thrown the shreds at our feet, and ordered us not to step foot on his property again. We had tracted with absolutely no success for the rest of the morning and afternoon under a blazing, summer sun. Needless to say, our enthusiasm and spirit were somewhat dampened. It was under these unfavorable conditions that I encountered a confirmed spiritual medium for the first time.
My companion and I forced ourselves to smile as we knocked on the next door, expecting the same curt reply we had already received a thousand times that day. The man who answered the door was rather unkempt in appearance, oddly courteous, and willing to listen to our door-approach. Much to our surprise, he invited us into his house to talk more about our religion — so we thought. With revived enthusiasm, we went in to meet our fate.
As he led us to the sitting room, I became acutely aware of the odd and uncomfortable atmosphere of his house. All the shades and curtains were tightly drawn, the windows were closed (even though it was a stifling, humid day), and the bulbs in the light fixtures were of such low wattage that all the rooms were dark and dingy. Grotesque figurines and ornaments sat menacingly on the tables and shelves, and an abundance of unwatered flowers gave the rooms a sickly, funeral-parlor smell. A tangible feeling of eeriness prevailed.
Despite our uneasy feelings, my companion and I proceeded to present our discussion to this man with as much zeal as we could muster under the circumstances. He sat with a queer, evil grin on his face as we talked, but answered all of our questions with surprising accuracy and understanding. Despite his seeming interest in our presentation, my uneasiness became more and more intense. I could see that my companion was upset by the surroundings and the atmosphere also. About five minutes after we had started, the man interrupted us and arrogantly stated, “Boys, as you began your discussion, I invited one of my friends from the realm of the dead to join us. He is sitting just to the right of you and has been giving me the correct answers to your questions. I don’t believe anything you’ve said so far, nor does our guest, but for the sake of entertainment and experience in spiritual communication, we’ve played along with you thus far. Carry on; this is an interesting spiritual exercise.”
That was the only impetus my companion and I needed to vacate the premises. Memories of bad experiences with evil spirits that other missionaries had related to me flashed through my mind as we hurriedly gathered up our teaching material. The futility of continuing our presentation under those circumstances was obvious, and my missionary instinct told me that the wisest thing to do was to leave. We politely (if shakily) excused ourselves, walked/ran to the front door, and burst out into the welcome daylight and freedom.
Because of the intense feelings of evil and darkness I felt at the time, the atmosphere, and the actions and words of this mystic, I have no doubt that an evil spirit was in the room and that it was communicating with our host. This experience emphatically pointed out to me the reality and nearness of evil spirits, and their anxiousness to associate with and influence those who desire their company. Because of this and similar encounters, I have since learned how to more effectively handle those types of situations, but I have had and always will have the memory of that first spiritualistic encounter as a strong emotional stimulus to avoid them.
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