Chpt 2. Chpt 3. Chpt 4. Chpt 5. Chpt 6. Chpt 7. Chpt 8. Chpt 9. Chpt 10. Chpt 11.
This is about my experiences with the divine. I have had a lot of them and learned a lot of important lessons. The Lord has been good to me. The voice of the Lord (or rather an angel of His) sometimes speaks to me and blesses me. Miracles and spiritual experiences have been frequent. But I have always wanted a visible and a tangible gift from God which I could use to show the way His grace has blessed my life. Then perhaps some may see the value of seeking Him as I have; of perceiving the scriptures as I do. At times I feel so alone. As delightful as spiritual experiences are, they can’t replace the bonds of family and friends. As close to me as much of my family and friends are, unless they also have interaction with the divine, they won’t grasp the meaning and value of my experiences. So, I want to share with others the relationship I have been given and hope that through obedience and passion they might experience the same. The proof of what has been given me still escapes me. I’ve no proof. All I can offer is a simple story of how rich my life is because of God. I share it because in December of 1994 the voice of my Life Guide (LG) said, “Make yourself known.” I thought of all Lord has done for me and knew telling this story would be good. The experiences I have teach valuable lessons of spiritual truth.
Chapter 1
I didn’t die and meet Christ. I wish I had; but that story’s been told. I’d rather claim I met Christ while living, but that hasn’t happened yet. I don’t know where I am being led. But I’m not lost. Following the Lord brings its own kind of comfort and security.
Some may discount what I say and the way I put things because I was raised Mormon. My perception is obviously tinted Mormon. I’m biased. I can’t nor want to hide that. But it doesn’t give me any particular advantage. No religion or circumstance places one person closer to God than another and most of us can translate religious experiences of others into our own understanding such that they still have meaning for us. However this is understood, it will show gratitude for the great mercy God has shown me.
This account focuses on how I have been led by divine intelligence. I’m not really going to go into everything that happened to me. I want the emphasis to be on what God has been teaching me and where He has led me.
I was lucky to have parents with high ideals. Perhaps their principles were not always impressed upon me in the most perfect manner, but I managed to make them mine. Certain absolutes were taught: Never steal, lie, covet, waste, or speak evil of others. On the same level with these were: never leave the refrigerator door open or the lights on. (If these weren’t done the criminal had to be discovered!) Always give a little more than is expected. Pay bills and stay clear of debt. Women are equal to men though different. (Except mom, of course, she was more equal than men.) Curiosity and ingenuity were prized.
When I was about four years old my father got a job in Washington state. After a few months he moved us all there from Utah. About that time, I had a vivid colorful dream. I still remember clearly: Its evening and I am outside with my family saying good bye to some neighbors. I am standing with my brother a few feet away and I look up at the sky and see a beautiful train filled with animals crossing the sky. I turn to my younger brother Brandt and point it out to him. He thinks it’s interesting. I am excited and I try to point it out to everyone else, but nobody is interested in looking up. They are more interested in their conversation and ignore me. So, I watch it with my brother. This dream was so strong and vivid that I spoke of it several times to my mother. She gently instructed me that trains have to stay on the ground. She pointed out that we left Utah during the day, not the evening. I brought my brother Brandt to her to prove to her we had really seen it. At first, he backed me, but then he admitted that he hadn’t seen anything. It wasn’t until just recently that I learned the interpretation from a popular disc jockey named Charles McFee nicknamed the Dream doctor. A lady called with much the same dream as mine. Charles pointed out to her that looking at a parade in the sky which no one else could see represented an appreciation and awareness of divine things which others do not perceive. That seems to have been the case with me all my life.
Our home wasn’t a perfect home or always peaceful, but righteousness and God were spelled with capital letters. At least that’s the home I grew up in. My other seven siblings grew up in varying versions of the same home. Listening to us talk my parents doubt we had all shared the same address.
When I was seven or eight, I had remarkable dream. In the dream I was just waking up in the bottom bed of the bunk beds in my oldest brother McCune’s and my room, but I was an adult. As I lay there awake, I felt something was very different. I got up and discovered that I was now resurrected. My body felt wonderful. There was something left in the bed from the change; I disposed of it and went downstairs. I knew this was the last time I would be with my family, and wanted them to know how much I loved them. I went into the kitchen where my wife was cooking and several of my children were eating. I began to chat and joke with the children. After some good laughs, I began to express my love to them. My wife could now see something was different about me. The children followed me into the living room, where I seriously but caringly encouraged them to seek righteousness and to love each other. The more I expressed my love to them the more I found myself growing brighter and floating off the floor. The dream ended as I expressed again how I dearly I loved them and then passed through the ceiling carried up by the love I felt.
Because of this I have always anticipated death rather than feared it. This dream made death unreal. During later periods of deep depression, no thought of suicide ever occurred, for I knew death would not change a thing. Suicide is like hitting your toe with a hammer because your head hurts. It may distract you from the headache for a moment but in the end, it just adds to the pain and problems.
As a boy, I used to talk about God and His Son together with those who were interested. I thought I was close to God, so in the fourth grade I tried to prophesy who would win at foursquare and the other games we played. I embarrassed myself and my mom got a note asking her to tell me to quit preaching to the rest of the kids. I stopped preaching, but I never stopped wondering about Christ and righteousness. How did it work? How does one come to do the miracles Christ did? He said those who believed in Him would do the same and more.
When I was about 8 or 9, I dreamed I went to empty the dishwasher and discovered there were no spoons in it. When I woke, I got up to do my morning job of emptying the dishwasher. I was surprised; though the machine was nearly full, there were no spoons. From then on, I was ready to take my dreams more seriously. (Mom had removed them all to set and breakfast table. But it still was a prophecy come true to me.)
School was fun until the sixth grade when other children started to grow much faster than I. I retreated into books and by the end of the 7th grade had a 12th grade reading vocabulary which further isolated me from my classmates. I wasn’t particularly intelligent. I just developed in books while the rest grew good at sports.
I was about 11 or 12 when a reoccurring nightmare came upon me. I was sick with the flu or pneumonia and stayed home from school. Three times during the next two days I woke sweating and stressed from a horrible dream of two giants of great mass and force colliding and fighting each other unceasingly. I couldn’t bear the contention and ran between their legs crying out to them to stop. I tried to push them away from each other, but they were so great they didn’t even notice me. There was awful rancor and anger. Wills of fury fought endlessly. There was no sense to either side. Peace could only be found if the other gave in. The third and last time I had this dream I tried for a while to stop the fighting, but then turned my back and sadly walked away from them.
My parents are fine individuals. I don’t think they were unusually contentious. Their friends will all speak of them with great respect. Mom and dad were leaders with high standards in and out of the church. But all marriages have ups and downs. The problem may have been me. Contentions and arguments are more deeply felt the more one loves joy and peace. I was too sensitive.
About two months after I turned 13 (December), my dad told me that the 10-speed bicycle I had been saving to buy with his help had been bought by someone else; I believed him, but my thoughts were suddenly set swirling by a voice which came into my mind just after my dad spoke. It said, “It’ll be there.” I knew it meant the bike would be by the Christmas tree Christmas morning. What it said implied that my father might be lying or deceiving me which was unthinkable: Dad was infallible to me. He couldn’t have less than perfect integrity. Well, the bike was there Christmas morning. It was no surprise. In fact, because of my lack of reaction, I was asked if I was surprised. I assured them I was pleased to have the bike. But I wasn’t thinking about the bike. I was disappointed. It opened the door to finding other weaknesses in my parents. It was the beginning of the conflicts with them which became so terrible later. But much later, I came to be glad that there was a source of knowledge and truth I could trust.
It also taught me how very clear prophecy from God can be. I had expected some vague impressions which would grow clearer as I became a better person. But there was no mistaking this crystal-clear voice inside my mind. I believed then there was someone unseen whom I could trust, even more than my father. It was years before I heard it again. Now I count on it to participate in my life though it’s independent of my will. In fact, it’s often most distant when I seek it most. Quite often it rebukes me and refuses to give me what I want. It’s never been wrong. Sometimes I am left puzzled by it; much of what it’s told me is yet to come true. I did finaly ask it his name. He said to call him Grant. I think of him as my Life Guide, LG. Both his words and times of silence have come to mean a lot to me.
My teenage years became increasingly dark and depressing. As an escape I got an aquarium and put it at the head of my bed where I peered into it for hours a day. Later I got another one and kept it upstairs. They were good therapy for me. I loved the fish I had. I felt as bad when one died as I did well when one bred. It was life, complete with births, relationships, conflicts, friendships, and deaths. As a hobby it consumed too much time and money, which I was all too glad to give it. My love for fish lives in me still. I once had a tank which held 240 gallons. It was beautiful, but I was giving more to it than my children so I sold it.
I dreaded every day of High school. I was so depressed I couldn’t remember my next class. I was small for several years: I grew slower than the other kids did. I was beat up a couple of times for being weird. I was weird: I loved the piano, not baseball; aquariums, not motorcycles; science, not wrestling, and God, not the profane. Even the rainy weather in western Washington was against me. There was no sunshine during junior high. At seventeen, over my dead body, I was sent to Hawaii to pick pineapples; my parents needed a break. It was hard; I was weaker than most the guys and had nothing in common with them. I was miserable, but that was normal. I didn’t know life could be anything else. The fun that the others had was a mystery to me.
One incident there drew a little attention. Of the sixteen of us on a work team, several got together to play a joke on three of us. They gave one a single stick of exalt gum and to another they gave three. The first fellow urinated two or three times. The second had to visit the bushes about five times. I chewed five sticks. I was fed so many because the first three had no effect on me.
They teased, “Hey Castleton, feeling fine? Do you need a break?”
I said, “No why should I?”
“No reason. Want some more gum?”
“Sure, soon as I get done with this piece.”
We all worked closely together, so it was easy for them to see I didn’t get the runs like the other two. I didn’t know what all the teasing was about, that the gum was unusual, or why those other two kept going to the bushes. I did think the friendly gesture of offering me gum was a little out of character. If I appeared naive, I was. It never occurred to me that they would play a trick like that on me.
After a while the guys became quiet and left me alone. A couple of days later one of them came to me and told me about the gum. He asked me if I always kept the Word of Wisdom (Mormon health standard) and I told him I did. (I never smoked or drank.) My mother strongly recommended that I stay away from pop drinks, and I did. Is that why I was not affected by the ex-lax they gave me? Did the Lord know of my obedience and therefore fulfilled His promise?
Back home in Washington I was troublesome to my parents and they sent me to live in upstate New York with my Uncle Craig McCune. At Craig’s I soon felt as if I was in heaven: he used no criticism or coercion on me. At school I won respect from both teachers and students. I learned the hard way about gangs and was knocked out once, but I was happier than I had been in years. I had friends who thought like me. The rough, tough, and vulgar logging camp mentality of my small hometown was far from here.
In a very grateful mood and remembering the voice I had heard at 13, I prayed to the Lord, asking Him whom I shall marry. It seems strange now that I would be focused on such a question, but I was. He didn’t respond as I hoped. I gave up asking and turned my mind to other things as I got ready for bed. A name suddenly sounded in my mind. It was gone in a flash. I could only recall the sound of the last syllable of each of the two names. The first name had a strong ‘EE’ sound and the last name had a ‘und’ sound to it as in ‘Jean Lund’. I sat praying and thinking about it, but I couldn’t recall more than that and the voice didn’t come back, so I went to bed.
By Christmas I was called home. I didn’t want to return, but dad told me that my abrasive personality had worn out my welcome. I knew I had hurt my aunt’s feelings a couple of times and agreed to return. Dad arranged for me to get my high school diploma from a junior college. College was fine. I was just glad I didn’t have to go back to my old high school. (They weren’t bad: my values and goals made me an alien among them.) Mom was at the Grays Harbor College taking classes too and was a great help and influence. I couldn’t understand her being upset by one A- until I found out it was her first one. That made me try harder. Mom later taught the very classes she had taken. She was a great teacher: everyone liked her. On the weekends I got together with three friends: Buddy, Chris and Judy. At first, we had a good time. Both girls liked me, which amazed me since I always thought Buddy was more open, fun and had a nice car. I was glad that Judy and Chris were such close friends. But the fun wasn’t to last. One night Buddy, Judy and Chris were at Chris’s home, Judy became possessed by Buddy’s old dead girlfriend, Patsy. Through Judy she angrily spoke to Bud. Full of hatred, Patsy blamed Buddy for her fury and loss of life. Patsy came whenever Buddy was alone with the two girls. It was real to Buddy for he had been very close to his girlfriend before her accident. He was certain it was Patsy. It destroyed the group and the good times we had. Each kept in touch with me, but not each other.
Months later I asked Judy to tell me what happened. She told me a terrible presence had come into her and taken control, leaving her helpless in a corner of her mind. I asked her if she had fought it. She said no; nor had she thought to call upon Christ. She was too frozen with fear of the evil presence to act. I understood this better later after I too was visited.
In the fall I worked a few weeks for a potato farmer in the Brady valley sorting mounds of potatoes. A coworker needing a ride home asked me if he might smoke. I said sure and he lit up a joint of marijuana. I was surprised, I thought he wanted a cigarette. He invited me to try it. I said no. He said he wouldn’t tell anyone. (With God knowing all, I have never understood why that would make any difference.) But I still said no. He was done by the time we reached town. He stubbed it out in the car ashtray and got out.
That was the closest I had ever been to the use of illegal drugs. Delighted with the experience, I was dying to tell my younger brother Brandt. I took Brandt somewhere in the car and asked him to look in the ashtray. He did and just as I was about to tell him what had happened, I saw on his face a look of serious condemnation and deep disappointment. I almost laughed. He obviously thought I had smoked the joint. How could anyone think such a thing! Brandt solemnly told me that it was his duty to tell dad. I laughed and told him to go ahead. He didn’t ask me a thing; he wouldn’t say another word to me. If he had, I would have told him about it. Dad and I did not always get along, but there was no question that Dad trusted me.
When we got home, he went straight to Dad. I stood behind a nearby doorway and listened to dad’s reaction. Dad thought Brandt didn’t have all the facts. Dad sent for me and I came in trying to be serious, but I felt like laughing. I explained what had happened and dad asked me not to let people smoke in his car anymore. I agreed. It turned into a laugh on Brandt. I teased him about it for a long time. I liked to pretend I was high around him. It was a lot of fun. It wasn’t until I learned that we see ourselves in others that I understood why Brandt drew the conclusion he did. He naturally thought I had done what he would have done.