Marvelous Work and a Wonder® Testimonials

Howdy, hey, I’m Robyn. I want to share my story about finding The Marvelous Work and Wonder^® (MWAW).

 

I vaguely remember the last time I went to church. It was about three years before finding The Marvelous Work and Wonder^®. I visited the bishop’s office after meetings, probably for a temple interview. Anyway, the bishop told me a story about when his beloved grandmother was a young mother. She had six small children, all very close in age. Her husband was either inactive or not a member, so she took her and her children to church every Sunday without help. They often walked many miles there in extreme winter weather. He said she never missed a meeting because of her “faithfulness to God.”

At the time, my husband drove a semi-truck over the road for work and was rarely home. Our son was an energetic, willful toddler. I had him in my early 40s and was in poor health, so I struggled to attend church regularly. I just couldn’t keep up with the demands on my body. I was miserable fighting him to sit still and be quiet, never minding that I hated disrupting everyone else. I hated chasing him all over the church building for hours. I didn’t see the point of going through the effort of being there, only to wrangle him the entire time. I get super uncomfortable when I feel like any eyes are on me, so there’s also that. Anyway, even though he called me out for not attending church every Sunday, I believed he meant well. After listening to the story, I asked myself (believing I was asking God) if my faithfulness or worth had anything to do with whether or not I attended church every Sunday. The answer was a resounding no! I nodded and smiled as if I agreed with the bishop, but that was the last time I went to church.

I’ve felt a connection to something apart from this world for my entire life. I felt like I’d been searching for something, but I didn’t know what. When I was twelve years old, I dreamed that I had woken up and immediately started searching the house for anyone, but no one was there. I went outside to see if I could find anyone out there. A heavy fog surrounded me, making it hard to see anything beyond my immediate surroundings. I sheepishly walked up and down the street, trying to see past the fog that kept getting thicker and thicker. As I wandered, scared and alone, I couldn’t help but feel the heaviness of the dream. Eventually, I gave up and made my way back through the fog, returning safely home again. That’s it. I didn’t understand the dream and didn’t think of it again until after encountering the MWAW. I’ll share more about my dream later.

To make a long story as short as possible, three years later, I came across “The Sealed Portion” on my Facebook feed because an acquaintance shared a passage from it. The passage sparked my interest, so I asked where it came from. When he told me it came from “The Sealed Portion,” I was skeptical of its authenticity, but more thrilled that this could be what I’d been searching for. I asked where I could get my hands on it.  I had no clue about the gravity of what would soon unfold before me as I dove into its pages.

I swiftly learned that the Real Truth^® destroys pride and ignorance. It challenged everything I thought I knew but was so strangely familiar that, regardless of the charges to my ego, there was no way I could deny it. It’s funny because this is how I know (believe) it’s the truth. The power of Real Truth^® is quite refreshing compared to the “All is well in Zion” bullshit that exists in the Mormon culture.

 

I’ve experienced firsthand that, unless you’re humbled enough to truly become like a little child, willing to allow the Real Truth^® to enlighten your mind and set you free from the false teachings of religion, you’re going to remain in the blindness of pride, whether it’s your own or borrowed. I barely got out of bed after the first several months of reading as many of the books as possible. The Real Truth^® is a solid slice of humble pie, and if it doesn’t drop you to your knees because of the realization of how foolish you’ve been, then you’re a better person than me. I used to think I had a pretty good grip on reality and a decent understanding of the Book of Mormon teachings, but the only thing I can say I know now is that I know nothing.

I’m one of those people who believes all things happen for a reason. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that even though my childhood was traumatic and unstable, the Mormon Church and the Book of Mormon were a predominant part of my upbringing. I endured gross abuse during the most fragile stages of early development, which had me in and out of family homes from birth until the age of nearly eleven. I was adopted twice, and both families were converts to the Mormon Church, so the Church played a role in how I processed everything that happened to me. The abuses I endured shattered my worth, so I spent the whole of my life trying to prove to myself and everyone else that I wasn’t as bad as I thought I was.

I spent a lot of time daydreaming when I was growing up. I desperately wanted to make sense of who I was, why I was here, and why my life was playing out the way it was, so diametrically unlike that of my Mormon peers, who appeared to be happy and thriving. While they were busy doing whatever they did, i.e., hanging out, having fun, playing sports, planning their futures, and figuring out who they were to themselves and the world, I felt like I had entered the Twilight Zone and wanted nothing more than to exit stage left. I just felt out of place. The best way to explain it is that I felt like someone had etched a scarlet letter on my forehead.

During my high school years, the Mormon teachings on eternal families became my driving force. I saw it as my “saving grace” and the only way to “prove” myself to be “good enough,” someone deserving of God’s love and worthy of belonging somewhere in this mad world and hopefully in the better world yet to come.

My adoptive parents raised me to be a typical Mormon. My first adoptive father baptized me when I was eight. Under my second adoptive mother’s direction, I attended all four years of young women’s girls camp, earned all the young women’s program awards, participated in baptisms for the dead, and graduated from seminary. I can’t help but think she hoped all these church activities would help me heal, and I was happy to do anything if it pleased God. A couple of years after I graduated high school, I got married and sealed in the temple to my not-so-eternal companion. I fulfilled many church callings as a young mother, including serving in the presidencies of the young women’s and primary programs. All-in-all, these things should testify to my devotion to the church and the Mormon God. It wasn’t until my fall from grace and the demise of my fourteen-year-long temple marriage that I left the mainstream church.

In short, the reality of the failure of my temple marriage was heartbreaking because I’d wrapped so much of my “worthiness” into temple marriage. As a result, I started to question things I’d never thought to ask before. As the next decade and a half raged on, my Mormon blinders began to fade, and I became vulnerable to new experiences that, in the end, prepared me to accept a new reality, one founded on the Real Truth^®. 

 

If someone had told me at any point in my life that there would be a day when I would no longer believe the Mormon Church was the “only true church” and that the Mormon God was a delusion, I would have laughed it off and called them crazy. I believed my standing in the church directly correlated with my standing with God. I convinced myself that living the standards of the church was the only way to earn redemption from not only whatever great pre-earth “sin” condemned me to this god-forsaken world but from every perceived mistake I’ve made while here. As it turns out, my devotion to the church prevented me from finding the peace and happiness I expected to enjoy by doing everything the church required me to do.

 

Chasing the proverbial carrot-on-a-stick of Mormon perfection is soul-crushing! At least it was for me. It’s like I woke up one day and realized I’d never fit the mold of Mormondom, nor did I want to.

I’ve struggled most of my life to understand why people are so mean-spirited, especially those who, on Sunday, profess to love God and follow Jesus Christ. At some point, I began to recognize that people, myself included, had a weakness for conflating religion with the “true gospel.” My need to understand forced me to search for answers that would help to make sense of all my experiences, and because I spent so much time trying to reconcile the inconsistencies between what I thought I understood the “true gospel” to be and the actions of religious people (again, myself included), my perception of reality began to shift.

All my experiences culminated in one giant “what the f***” moment, so coming across “The Sealed Portion” that day on Facebook couldn’t have happened at a better time. Even though realizing the foundation I’d put so much of my faith and hope in wasn’t (exactly) true shook me deeply. Leaving the mainstream church was one thing, but letting go of my faith in the Mormon God was another. On one hand, it was brutal, but on the other, it was like returning home. Everything made sense to me for the first time in my life. The MWAW answered questions I didn’t even know I had. And even though I’d already left the church, I was still seeking truth, and it came at a time when I was at my most vulnerable. I’d just come out of an experience with a splinter group from the mainstream church that disrupted my foundation of faith. It left me despairing because I found myself, yet again, trying to make sense of how intentions to do the right thing can inadvertently produce bad results.

 

The knowledge and intelligence presented by the Real Illuminati through Christopher is the most profound and enlightening information I’ve ever encountered. The magnitude of this caused me to contemplate the whole of my life, and the dream I mentioned earlier came to the forefront of my mind as if it finally held significance. It seems strangely fitting that this dream could represent my journey through life (deceived by faith in an unseen god and unknowingly lost in unbelief), searching for something to fill a void that nothing ever satisfied—until I was awakened to the reality of my awful situation—opening my eyes to the Real Truth^® that was hiding in plain sight all along the way. I felt like I’d finally returned safely home, similar to my dream. All I needed was a true messenger to clear up the heavy fog surrounding me.

I can be reached by email at rockinrobynlea@gmail.com or by phone at +1-307-448-0115.