I should probably introduce myself. And let people know where I stand in regards to the gospel of Jesus Christ. I want there to be no mistake.
I am Bryan Summers. I am 49 years old. I'll tell a little of my history and then bare my testimony. Below I'm on my favorite trail in the world. The Timberline Trail on Mt Hood.
@BlackBlessedLDS@tnsampson2@Ch_JesusChrist There have always been opposing voices. Especially in foreign countries.
The reason it still grows despite the opposition is the witness of the Holy Ghost.
The same reason Christianity grew in the first century despite the opposition.
The giveaway on Instagram is over, but I’m going to giveaway a bottle here on X to someone who likes and retweets this! (But you have to be located in the US to win)
“Kamehameha” is inspired by the warrior King Kamehameha I who united the Hawaiian islands
@GregSagers Laurel and Hardy is brilliant. And perhaps that is true. But I think in 1000 years language will be a barrier and the silents will feel more contemporary.
@libraryofgodwin one of my favorite memories was visiting Harlech castle with my preschool children and then going to the beach. Just a magical memory.
@shambalor Come to think of it 5-8 might be too many.
Though there are more Greek plays Oedipus is the one that basically stands in for all the others.
I do think there will be academic interest in the performance of actors though and for that reason movies will be invaluable.
THIS IS ALL TRUE
Before a single Mormon missionary set foot on African soil, the Lord had already gone ahead of His servants and prepared a people in secret.
In the late 1960s, in eastern Nigeria, a schoolteacher named Anthony Obinna lay down to sleep and was carried in vision into a beautiful building he had never seen.
A tall man walked him room by room through its shining halls. Years passed. Then, confined to his home during the violence of the Nigerian Civil War, Obinna opened a tattered copy of Reader’s Digest and froze.
There, in an article about a people called the Mormons, stood the very building from his dream: the Salt Lake Temple. He had never heard the word before. “From the time I finished reading the story,” he said, “I had no rest of mind any longer.”
He wrote to Salt Lake City and was told plainly that no missionaries were coming. He kept writing anyway. The Spirit would not let him stop.
He raised a chapel with his own hands, painted “Nigerian Latter day Saints” near its roof in blue letters, and gathered a congregation to a church that did not yet know they existed.
When the senior missionaries finally found his nameless street in 1978, Obinna met them at the door and said the words he had waited a lifetime to speak: “You have come at last.”
A thousand miles west, in Ghana, the same fire was burning.
One morning in March of 1964, as Joseph William Billy Johnson rose to begin his daily work, the Spirit of the Lord fell upon him and he heard his own name spoken three times out of the air: “Johnson, Johnson, Johnson. If you will take up my work as I will command you, I will bless you and bless your land.”
Trembling and weeping, he answered yes, and from that hour he could not be stopped. He walked fifty miles in a day and counted it nothing, telling himself he was following the pioneers who had died in the snow.
Persecution came.
Newspapers mocked him.
Landlords threw him into the street.
And still the gifts of God rested on him so plainly that the missionaries who came later called him the Saint Paul of Ghana, a man of healing and prophecy and dreams.
When his own faith faltered in the long silence, his deceased brother appeared to him in the night and told him not to leave, for he had chosen the only true Church, and to prove it the brother sang him a hymn Johnson had never once heard in his life: Come, Come, Ye Saints.
By the time the elders arrived, Johnson had baptized no one, held no priesthood, owned no authority anyone in Utah recognized. He had only ten congregations and a thousand souls standing ready in the rain, waiting to be brought into the waters.
This is the truth that the dreams of West Africa thunder back at us, and we forget it at the peril of our own souls.
The Restoration is a living flame, and the flame belongs to God, and God lets it fall wherever He pleases.
He answered a farm boy in a grove in New York.
He answered an african schoolteacher in a war and a metal clerk on a Ghana morning, and He did not love one of them less than another.
He spoke to them in the only language He needed: the dream, the burning chest, the voice that calls a man three times before dawn.
I've observed there are two kinds of anti-woke intellectuals: one critiques ideas and is grounded and open to being wrong. The other is obsessed. As someone who studies narcissism, the obsession is the tell — principled critique seeks truth, narcissistic injury seeks revenge.
@Februarythe31@RykerJackson97 Any movie with 3 or 4 brilliant Spielberg set pieces is a masterpiece.
Lost World is a great movie.
I can't wait for Disclosure Day.
@RykerJackson97@Februarythe31 No scene in JP3 is better than the best scenes in Lost World.
But JP3 is a more satisfying movie overall.
I'll take both.