Vanity: Beware of False Prophets, False Prophecy

What I disagree with is that ALL Mormons are the same.

Fred, speaking as a former mormon, it is my experience that mormons lump everyone else in one category..."apostate"...and have done so from the beginning.

It was and IS mormons who have set themselves apart from Christians because they believe that they are "special" and it is their duty to bring every soul, living or dead, into THEIR fold.

It is just recently that the mormon church has demanded that they be recognized as "Christian" after a century and a half of denigrating everything Christian, including the Cross.

"And the face they show the world isn’t what is in their hearts".

AND how would you know that?

In my little made up religion Brock is in the safe and loving arms of the Lord Jesus Christ.

My condolences on the loss to your family.

My mommy told me.

Merry Christmas.

Posted by Reaganaut on another thread: "Mormons are at the same time exclusivists (only Mormons can go to the Celestial Kingdom and become gods of their own planet) and universalists (everyone goes to at least one of the lower levels of Heaven - they have 3). In order to get to the REAL heaven (the Celestial Kingdom) you have to earn your way there. They turn Christ into a loan shark, a perfect spiritual brother (no different than us) who competed with Lucifer to be Savior, and ‘paid’ for our sins in the the Garden (not on the cross) by sweating blood, but we have to pay Him back by our good works. Nothing is free in Mormonism."

One of the best summaries of mormonism that I have seen.

I have been led through a few churches in my days upon this earth. In one, I gave my heart to Christ, but was also tethered by certain ideologies of that church.

Many churches, Mormon and otherwise, are gathering places for appeasement to God. Some show up to talk business or show their wealth.

A true church is HOME, where your heart is comfortable in His presence.

That said, IMHO, the Mormon church may not honor Christ, but, through it and others, we sinners can find our way to Him.

No brag. Just fact.

We are all blinded by sin, until our eyes, and hearts, are opened.

I can judge no one, except someone that is blinded by hate. I have not been attacked by a Mormon, nor do I expect to. I will not vote for Romney, not because of his religion, but because he gave us RomneyCare, the predecessor for ObamaCare.

I do expect to be attacked by Muslims, who DO teach hate, or those who want to impose their power on “we, the People”.

I pray that one day we will be “one Nation, under God” again, even with our flaws.

Hers say an nothing more from disgruntled antis!

well, you nailed the Roman Catholic Church for one.

It’s a shame more people don’t realize this. Things can appear to be good, but be evil.

very sad people reject historical, orthodox, biblical Christianity for a false gospel.

Well if God's Word was their FINAL Authority - they wouldn't be misled by man and man-made teachings/doctrines. It's not sad but deliberate disobedience.

There is ONLY One Truth, Jesus, The Word.

Jesus answered, "I am The Way and The Truth and The Life. No one comes to the Father except through Me". John 14:6

there are those that think they know Jesus, but show they don’t when they reject and persecute His Body.

Willful ignorance or purposeful disinformation...

Scoutmaster
I stand corrected about Elder Cyrus H. Wheelock whom I never heard of before.

But that does not excuse how you take liberties to poison the water of how events unfolded.

The original request was not to use the internet it has been awhile sinse I check for updates. and it is not the same way you try to make it sound.

First of all Joseph Smith volunteered to report to the jail and than an anti mob started forming there was no justice to take place under such circumstances.

“Illinois anti-Mormons, perhaps assisted by old enemies from Missouri, joined with a handful of determined Mormon defectors within Nauvoo. Several had held high Church positions and, when excommunicated, fueled efforts to destroy Joseph Smith and the Church.”

There still are anti Mormons even on FR!

This is far different than how you try to spin!
http://www.lightplanet.com/mormons/people/joseph_smith/martyrdom.html

An Eyewitness Account

by Elder John Taylor

THE AFTERNOON OF JUNE 27, 1844.—I do not remember the names of all who were with us that night and the next morning in jail, for several went and came; among those that we considered stationary were Stephen Markham, John S. Fullmer, Captain Dan Jones, Dr. Willard Richards, and myself. Dr. Bernhisel says that he was there from Wednesday in the afternoon until eleven o’clock next day. We were, however, visited by numerous friends, among whom were Uncle John Smith, Hiram Kimball, Cyrus H. Wheelock, besides lawyers, as counsel. There was also a great variety of conversation, which was rather desultory than otherwise, and referred to circumstances that had transpired, our former and present grievances, the spirit of the troops around us, and the disposition of the governor; the devising for legal and other plans for deliverance, the nature of testimony required; the gathering of proper witnesses, and a variety of other topics, including our religious hopes, etc.

During one of these conversations Dr. Richards remarked: “Brother Joseph, if it is necessary that you die in this matter, and if they will take me in your stead, I will suffer for you.” At another time, when conversing about deliverance, I said, “Brother Joseph, if you will permit it, and say the word, I will have you out of this prison in five hours, if the jail has to come down to do it.” My idea was to go to Nauvoo, and collect, a force sufficient, as I considered the whole affair a legal farce, and a flagrant outrage upon our liberty and rights. Brother Joseph refused.

Elder Cyrus H. Wheelock came in to see us, and when he was about leaving, drew a small pistol, a six-shooter, from his pocket, remarking at the same time “Would any of you like to have this?” Brother Joseph immediately replied, “Yes, give it to me,” whereupon he took the pistol, and put it in his pantaloons pocket. The pistol was a six-shooting revolver, of Allen’s patent; it belonged to me, and was one that I furnished to Brother Wheelock when he talked of going with me to the east, previous to our coming to Carthage. I have it now in my possession. Brother Wheelock went out on some errand, and was not suffered to return. The report of the governor having gone to Nauvoo without taking the prisoners along with him caused very unpleasant feelings, as we were apprised that we were left to the tender mercies of the Carthage Greys, a company strictly mobocratic, and whom we knew to be our most deadly enemies; and their captain, Esquire (Robert F.) Smith, was a most unprincipled villain. Besides this, all the mob forces, comprising the governor’s troops, were dismissed, with the exception of one or two companies, which the governor took with him to Nauvoo. The great part of the mob was liberated, the remainder was our guard.

We looked upon it not only as a breach of faith on the part of the governor, but also as an indication of a desire to insult us, if nothing more, by leaving us in the proximity of such men. The prevention of Wheelock’s return was among the first of their hostile movements.

Colonel Markham went out, and he was also prevented from returning. He was very angry at this, but the mob paid no attention to him. They drove him out of town at the point of the bayonet, and threatened to shoot him if he returned. He went, I am informed, to Nauvoo for the purpose of raising a company of men for our protection. Brother Fullmer went to Nauvoo after witnesses. It is my opinion that Brother Wheelock did also. We all of us felt unusually dull and languid, with a remarkable depression of spirits. In consonance with those feelings, I sang a song, that had lately been introduced into Nauvoo, entitled, “A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief,” etc.

The song is pathetic, and the tune quite plaintive, and was very much in accordance with our feelings at the time, for our spirits were all depressed, dull, and gloomy, and surcharged with indefinite ominous forebodings. After a lapse of some time, Brother Hyrum requested me again to sing that song. I replied, “Brother Hyrum, I do not feel like singing;” when he remarked, “Oh, never mind; commence singing, and you will get the spirit of it.” At his request I did so. Soon afterwards I was sitting at one of the front windows of the jail, when I saw a number of men, with painted faces, coming around the corner of the jail, and aiming towards the stairs. The other brethren had seen the same, for, as I went to the door, I found Brother Hyrum Smith and Dr. Richards already leaning against it. They both pressed against the door with their shoulders to prevent its being opened, as the lock and latch were comparatively useless. While in this position, the mob, who had come upstairs and tried to open the door, probably thought it was locked and fired a ball through the keyhole. At this Dr. Richards and Brother Hyrum leaped back from the door, with their faces towards it. Almost instantly another ball passed through the panel of the door, and struck Brother Hyrum on the left side of the nose, entering his face and head. At the same instant, another ball from outside entered his back, passing through his body and striking his watch. The ball came from the back, through the jail window, opposite the door, and must, from its range, have been fired from the Carthage Greys, who were placed there ostensibly for our protection, as the balls from the firearms, shot close by the jail, would have entered the ceiling, we being in the second story, and there never was a time after that when Hyrum could have received the latter wound. Immediately, when the ball struck him, he fell flat on his back, crying as he fell, “I am a dead man!” He never moved afterwards.

Brother Joseph as he drew nigh to Hyrum, and, leaning over him, exclaimed, “Oh! my poor, dear brother Hyrum!” He, however, instantly arose, and with a firm, quick step, and a determined expression of countenance, approached the door, and pulling the six-shooter left by Brother Wheelock from his pocket, opened the door slightly, and snapped the pistol six successive times. Only three of the barrels, however, were discharged. I afterwards understood that two or three were wounded by these discharges, two of whom, I am informed, died. I had in my hands a large, strong hickory stick, brought there by Brother Markham and left by him, which I had seized as soon as I saw the mob approach; and while Brother Joseph was firing the pistol, I stood close behind him. As soon as he had discharged it he stepped back, and I immediately took his place next to the door, while he occupied the one I had done while he was shooting. Brother Richards, at this time, had a knotty walking-stick in his hands belonging to me, and stood next to Brother Joseph a little farther from the door, in an oblique direction, apparently to avoid the rake of the fire from the door. The firing of Brother Joseph made our assailants pause for a moment. Very soon after, however, they pushed the door some distance open, and protruded and discharged their guns into the room, when I parried them off with my stick, giving another direction to the balls.

It certainly was a terrible scene. Streams of fire as thick as my arm passed by me as these men fired, and, unarmed as we were, it looked like certain death. I remember feeling as though my time had come, but I do not know when, in any critical position, I was more calm, unruffled, energetic, and acted with more promptness and decision. It certainly was far from pleasant to be so near the muzzles of those firearms as they belched forth their liquid flames and deadly balls. While I was engaged in parrying the guns, Brother Joseph said, “That’s right, Brother Taylor, parry them off as well as you can.” These were the last words I ever heard him speak on earth.

Every moment the crowd at the door became more dense, as they were unquestionably pressed on by those in the rear ascending the stairs, until the whole entrance at the door was literally crowded with muskets and rifles, which, with the swearing, shouting, and demoniacal expressions of those outside the door and on the stairs, and the firing of the guns, mingled with their horrid oaths and execrations, made it look like pandemonium let loose, and was, indeed, a fit representation of the horrid deed in which they were engaged.

After parrying the guns for some time, which now protruded farther and farther into the room, and seeing no hope of escape or protection there, as we were now unarmed, it occurred to me that we might have some friends outside, and that there might be some chance of escape in that direction, but here there seemed to be none. As I expected them every moment to rush into the room—nothing but extreme cowardice having thus far kept them out—as the tumult and pressure increased, without any other hope, I made a spring for the window which was right in front of the jail door, where the mob was standing, and also exposed to the fire of the Carthage Greys, who were stationed some ten or twelve rods off. The weather was hot; we all of us had our coats off, and the window was raised to admit air. As I reached the window, and was on the point of leaping out, I was struck by a ball from the door about midway of my thigh, which struck the bone and flattened out almost to the size of a quarter of a dollar, and then passed on through the fleshy part to within about half an inch of the outside. I think some prominent nerve must have been severed or injured, for as soon as the ball struck me, I fell like a bird when shot, or an ox when struck by a butcher, and lost entirely and instantaneously all power of action or locomotion. I fell upon the window sill, and cried out, “I am shot!” Not possessing any power to move, I felt myself falling outside of the window, but immediately I fell inside, from some, at that time, unknown cause. When I struck the floor, my animation seemed restored, as I have seen it sometimes in squirrels and birds after being shot. As soon as I felt the power of motion I crawled under the bed, which was in a corner of the room, not far from the window where I received my wound. While on my way and under the bed, I was wounded in three other places; one ball entered a little below the left knee, and never was extracted; another entered the forepart of my left arm, a little above the wrist, and, passing down by the joint, lodged in the fleshy part of my hand, about midway, a little above the upper joint of my little finger. Another struck me on the fleshy part of my left hip and tore away the flesh as large as my hand, dashing the mangled fragments of flesh and blood against the wall.

My wounds were painful, and the sensation produced was as though a ball had passed through and down the whole length of my leg. I very well remember my reflections at the time. I had a very painful idea of becoming lame and decrepit, and being an object of pity, and I felt as though I would rather die than be placed in such circumstances.

It would seem that immediately after my attempt to leap out of the window, Joseph also did the same thing, of which circumstance I have no knowledge only from information. The first thing that I noticed was a cry that he had leaped out of the window. A cessation of firing followed, the mob rushed downstairs, and Dr. Richards went to the window. Immediately afterward I saw the doctor going towards the jail door, and as there was an iron door at the head of the stairs adjoining our door which led into the cells for criminals, it struck me that the doctor was going in there, and I said to him, “Stop, Doctor, and take me along.” He proceeded to the door and opened it, and then returned and dragged me along to a small cell prepared for criminals.

Brother Richards was very much troubled, and exclaimed, “Oh! Brother Taylor, is it possible that they have killed both Brother Hyrum and Joseph? It cannot surely be, and yet I saw them shoot them;” and elevating his hands two or three times, he exclaimed, “Oh Lord, my God, spare Thy servants!” He then said, “Brother Taylor, this is a terrible event;” and he dragged me farther into the cell, saying, “I am sorry I can not do better for you;” and, taking an old, filthy mattress, he covered me with it, and said, “That may hide you, and you may yet live to tell the tale, but I expect they will kill me in a few moments!” While lying in this position, I suffered the most excruciating pain.

Soon afterwards Dr. Richards came to me, informed me that the mob had precipitately fled, and at the same time confirmed the worst fears that Joseph was assuredly dead. I felt a dull, lonely, sickening sensation at the news. When I reflected that our noble chieftain, the Prophet of the living God, had fallen, and that I had seen his brother in the cold embrace of death, it seemed as though there was a void or vacuum in the great field of human existence to me, and a dark gloomy chasm in the kingdom, and that we were left alone. Oh, how lonely was that feeling! How cold, barren, and desolate! In the midst of difficulties he was always the first in motion; in critical positions his counsel was always sought. As our prophet he approached our God, and obtained for us his will; but now our prophet, our counselor our general, our leader, was gone, and amid the fiery ordeal that we then had to pass through, we were left alone without his aid, and as our future guide for things spiritual or temporal, and for all things pertaining to this world, or the next, he had spoken for the last time on earth.

These reflections and a thousand others flashed upon my mind. I thought, why must God’s nobility, the salt of the earth, the most exalted of the human family, and the most perfect types of all excellence, fall victims to the cruel, fiendish hate of incarnate devils?

The poignancy of my grief, I presume, however, was somewhat allayed by the extreme suffering that I endured from my wounds.

Soon afterwards I was taken to the head of the stairs and laid there, where I had a full view of our beloved and now murdered brother, Hyrum. There he lay as I had left him; he had not moved a limb; he lay placid and calm, a monument of greatness even in death; but his noble spirit had left its tenement, and was gone to dwell in regions more congenial to his exalted nature. Poor Hyrum! He was a great and good man, and my soul was cemented to his. If ever there was an exemplary, honest, and virtuous man, an embodiment of all that is noble in the human form, Hyrum Smith was its representative.

While I lay there, a number of persons came around, among whom was a physician. The doctor, on seeing a ball lodged in my left hand, took a penknife from his pocket and made an incision in it for the purpose of extracting the ball therefrom, and having obtained a pair of carpenters compasses, made use of them to draw or pry out the ball, alternately using the penknife and compasses. After sawing for some time with a dull penknife, and prying and pulling with the compasses, he ultimately succeeded in extracting the ball, which weighed about half an ounce. Some time afterwards he remarked to a friend of mine that I had “nerves like the devil” to stand what I did in its extraction. I really thought I had need of nerves to stand such surgical butchery, and that, whatever my nerves may be, his practice was devilish.

This company wished to remove me to Mr. Hamilton’s hotel, the place where we had stayed previous to our incarceration in jail. I told them, however, that I did not wish to go. I did not consider it safe. They protested that it was, and that I was safe with them; that it was a perfect outrage for men to be used as we had been; that they were my friends; that I could be better taken care of there than here.

I replied, “I don’t know you. Whom am I among? I am surrounded by assassins and murderers; witness your deeds. Don’t talk to me of kindness or comfort; look at your murdered victims. Look at me! I want none of your counsel nor comfort. There may be some safety here; I can be assured of none anywhere, etc.”

They G— d-—— their souls to hell, made the most solemn asseverations, and swore by God and the devil, and everything else that they could think of, that they would stand by me to death and protect me. In half an hour every one of them fled from the town.

Soon after a coroner’s jury were assembled in the room over the body of Hyrum. Among the jurors was Captain Smith of the “Carthage Greys” who had assisted in the murder, and the same justice before whom we had been tried. I learned of Francis Higbee as being in the neighborhood. On hearing his name mentioned, I immediately arose and said, “Captain Smith, you are a justice of the peace; I have heard his name mentioned; I want to swear my life against him.” I was informed that word was immediately sent to him to leave the place, which he did.

Brother Richards was busy during this time attending to the coroner’s inquest, and to the removal of the bodies, and making arrangements for their removal from Carthage to Nauvoo.

When he had a little leisure, he again came to me, and at his suggestion I was removed to Hamilton’s tavern. I felt that he was the only friend, the only person, that I could rely upon in that town. It was with difficulty that sufficient persons could be found to carry me to the tavern, for immediately after the murder a great fear fell upon all the people, and men, women, and children fled with great precipitation, leaving nothing nor anybody in the town but two or three women and children and one or two sick persons.—DHC, 7:99-108.

(See Daily Living home page; home page; home page; Joseph Smith home page)
http://www.lightplanet.com/mormons/people/joseph_smith/martyrdom.html

Interesting similarities. Love the quote at the top.

Like I said, I didn't remember all the particulars without checking other sources (which I did immediately after to refresh my memory).

Stolen! (hope you don’t mind)

But that does not excuse how you take liberties to poison the water of how events unfolded.

restornu, respectfully, you are changing the subject. You said I was poisoning the water because I said that an LDS member gave Smith the pistols and that there were two pistols. You accused me of not upholding the Scout Oath, of poisoning the water, and said I was wrong. You said there was only one pistol and that a guard gave the pistol to Smith.

I then cited the official LDS History of the Church (and other sources) to show you that, in fact, it was LDS Elder Cyrus Wheelock who gave two pistols to Smith. You were wrong.

I'm sorry that you never heart of Elder Cyrus Wheelock. You are now saying the original request "was not to use the internet." Nothing in your request mentions the internet. I know that many in authority in the LDS encourage members not to use the internet. It's hard to control the flow of information on the internet. For example, that's why I knew that it was LDS Elder Cyrus Wheelock who smuggled the pistols and . . . as you admit . . . you had never heard of him before.

Now, although there are many, many accounts of the death of Joseph Smith; although there are multiple accounts of the death of Joseph Smith on the official LDS.org website; although there are multiple peer-reviewed scholarly journal articles on the death of Joseph Smith; although there are both non-LDS and LDS articles on the death of Smith; although a good historian will consider multiple sources, and who those sources are, and the reasons that the source was written - you have asked me to read only one article on the death of Smith, written by an LDS president, for an LDS article, to prove the heroism and martyrdom of Smith, and accept it as the only good and true account.

Would you accept a single article written by Barack Obama's Press Secretary as the one and only, true and absolute analysis of something done by Barack Obama? Or would you like to consider multiple sources?

Consider your first quote:

Illinois anti-Mormons, perhaps assisted by old enemies from Missouri, joined with a handful of determined Mormon defectors within Nauvoo. Several had held high Church positions and, when excommunicated, fueled efforts to destroy Joseph Smith and the Church

That's paranoid, don't you think? Do you realize that William Law was one of those excommunicated? Do you know why he was excommunicated? Because his wife turned down Joseph Smith's proposal of Celestial Marriage? Because he spoke out against Smith's polygamy? He is the man who caused Smith to issue the "I count only one" statement about his wives, a month before Smith was killed, you know. Did you realize that?

No, restornu, I'm going to read many sources and do the analysis of a historian. I'm not going to read the paranoia of a single source, or a single source which clearly has as its purpose creating a martyr for LDS audiences.

Should I?

One can’t know Jesus without HIM being their Final Authority.

you might want to read Matthew 28 and see who Jesus gave His authority to.

you can’t have the head without the body.

you can be fooled and i am afraid many are, just as Jesus said would happen.

That said, IMHO, the Mormon church may not honor Christ, but, through it and others, we sinners can find our way to Him.

- - - -
MAY NOT HONOR??!?!?! They SPIT on Christ and His sacrifice on the Cross. They insult my Savior at every turn.

However, I will say this, Mormonism taught me that while I thought I was a Christian, I really wasn’t, I was just a nominal Christan. Mormonism broke my spirit, and losing my faith in Mormonism broke me enough to find the Christ of the Bible and see I wasn’t a Christian and ‘being good’ was going to just get me to Hell - nothing else.

In that way, Mormonism was a factor in me coming to Christ. However, there is no way a person can be Mormon (active believing) and be a Christian, the two are mutually exclusive. I’ve been there.

Not that it matters, I have attended many Christian churches since leaving Mormonism and becoming a Christian, and for the most part, where we attend doesn’t matter, however what the church we attend TEACHES DOES Matter. Any church that teaches works over grace (like Mormonism) should be a red flag that should be ran away from.