Boyd K. Packer, “The Test,” Liahona, Nov 2008, 88–91
Neither mobbings nor the army could turn the Saints aside from what they knew to be true.
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It is my purpose to show that in troubled times the Lord has always prepared a safe way ahead. We live in those “perilous times” which the Apostle Paul prophesied would come in the last days.1 If we are to be safe individually, as families, and secure as a church, it will be through “obedience to the laws and ordinances of the Gospel.”2
On July 24, 1849, the Saints had been in the valley two years to the day. They finally were free from years of mobbing and persecution. That called for a great celebration.
Just a few years earlier under dreadful conditions, the Prophet Joseph Smith suffered in Liberty Jail for months while the mobs drove the Saints from their homes. The words liberty and jail do not fit together very well.
Joseph called out:
“O God, where art thou? And where is the pavilion that covereth thy hiding place?
“How long shall thy hand be stayed, and thine eye, yea thy pure eye, behold from the eternal heavens the wrongs of thy people and of thy servants, and thine ear be penetrated with their cries?”3
The Prophet Joseph Smith had earlier sought direction, and the Lord told the Saints to seek redress from the judges, the governor, and then the president.4
Their appeals to the judges failed. During his life, Joseph Smith was summoned to court over 200 times on all kinds of trumped-up charges. He was never convicted.
When they sought redress from Governor Boggs of Missouri, he issued a proclamation: “The Mormons must be treated as enemies and must be exterminated or driven from the state, if necessary for the public good.”5 That unleashed untold brutality and wickedness.
They appealed to President Martin Van Buren of the United States, who told them, “Your cause is just, but I can do nothing for you.”6
I will read the final paragraphs of their third petition addressed to the Congress of the United States:
“The afflictions of your memorialists have already been overwhelming, too much for humanity, too much for American citizens to endure without complaint. We have groaned under the iron hand of tyranny and oppression these many years. We have been robbed of our property to the amount of two millions of dollars. We have been hunted as the wild beasts of the forest. We have seen our aged fathers who fought in the Revolution, and our innocent children, alike slaughtered by our persecutors. We have seen the fair daughters of American citizens insulted and abused in the most inhuman manner, and finally, we have seen fifteen thousand souls, men, women, and children, driven by force of arms, during the severities of winter, from their sacred homes and firesides, to a land of strangers, penniless and unprotected. Under all these afflicting circumstances, we imploringly stretch forth our hands towards the highest councils of our nation, and humbly appeal to the illustrious Senators and Representatives of a great and free people for redress and protection.
“Hear! O hear the petitioning voice of many thousands of American citizens who now groan in exile … ! Hear! O hear the weeping and bitter lamentations of widows and orphans, whose husbands and fathers have been cruelly martyred in the land where the proud eagle … floats! Let it not be recorded in the archives of the nations, that … exiles sought protection and redress at your hands, but sought it in vain. It is in your power to save us, our wives, and our children, from a repetition of the bloodthirsty scenes of Missouri, and thus greatly relieve the fears of a persecuted and injured people, and your petitioners will ever pray.”7
There was no pity, and they were turned away.
In 1844, while under the avowed protection of Governor Thomas Ford of Illinois, the Prophet Joseph Smith and his brother Hyrum were shot to death in Carthage Jail. Words cannot express the brutality and suffering the Saints had endured.
Now on this 24th of July in 1849, free at last from the mobbings, they planned to celebrate.8
Everything the Saints owned would come across a thousand miles (1,600 km) of desert by handcart or covered wagon. It would be 20 more years before the railroad came as far as Salt Lake City. With almost nothing to work with, they determined that the celebration would be a grand expression of their feelings.
They built a bowery on Temple Square. They erected a flagpole 104 feet (32 m) tall. They made an enormous national flag 65 feet (20 m) in length and unfurled it at the top of this liberty pole.
It may seem puzzling, incredible almost beyond belief, that for the theme of this first celebration they chose patriotism and loyalty to that same government which had rejected and failed to assist them. What could they have been thinking of? If you can understand why, you will understand the power of the teachings of Christ.
Their brass band played as President Brigham Young led a grand procession to Temple Square. He was followed by the Twelve Apostles and the Seventy.
Then followed 24 young men dressed in white pants; black coats; white scarves on their right shoulders; coronets, or crowns, on their heads; and a sheathed sword at their left sides. In their right hand, of all things, each carried a copy of the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution of the United States. The Declaration of Independence was read by one of those young men.
Next came 24 young women dressed in white, blue scarves on their right shoulders and white roses on their heads. Each carried a Bible and a Book of Mormon.
Almost but not quite as amazing as their choice of patriotism for a theme was what came next: 24 aged sires (as they were called) led by patriarch Isaac Morley. They were known as the Silver Greys—all 60 years of age or older. Each carried a staff painted red with white ribbon floating at the top. One carried the Stars and Stripes. These men were a symbol of the priesthood, which was “from the beginning before the world was”9 and had been restored in this dispensation.
The Saints knew that the Lord had told them to be “subject to kings, presidents, rulers, and magistrates, in obeying, honoring, and sustaining the law.”10 That commandment, revealed then, is true now of our members in every nation. We are to be law-abiding, worthy citizens.
The Lord told them, “I established the Constitution of this land, by the hands of wise men whom I raised up unto this very purpose.”11
And in another verse, the Lord told them that “it is not right that any man should be in bondage one to another.”12 They were therefore antislavery. This was a very sore spot with the settlers in Missouri.
And so on that day of celebration in 1849, “Elder Phineas Richards came forward in behalf of the twenty-four aged sires, and read their loyal and patriotic address.”13 He spoke of the need for them to teach patriotism to their children and to love and honor freedom. After he briefly recited the perils that they had come through, he said:
“Brethren and friends, we who have lived to three-score years, have beheld the government of the United States in its glory, and know that the outrageous cruelties we have suffered proceeded from a corrupted and degenerate administration, while the pure principles of our boasted Constitution remain unchanged. …
“… As we have inherited the spirit of liberty and the fire of patriotism from our fathers, so let them descend [unchanged] to our posterity.”14
One would think that, compelled by force of human nature, the Saints would seek revenge, but something much stronger than human nature prevailed.
The Apostle Paul explained:
“The natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God: for they are foolishness unto him: neither can he know them, because they are spiritually discerned. …
“… We have the mind of Christ.”15
That Spirit defined those early members of the Church as followers of Christ.
If you can understand a people so long-suffering, so tolerant, so forgiving, so Christian after what they had suffered, you will have unlocked the key to what a Latter-day Saint is. Rather than being consumed with revenge, they were anchored to revelation. Their course was set by the teachings still found today in the Old and the New Testaments, the Book of Mormon, the Doctrine and Covenants, and the Pearl of Great Price.
If you can understand why they would celebrate as they did, you can understand why we have faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, in the principles of the gospel.
The Book of Mormon teaches, “We talk of Christ, we rejoice in Christ, we preach of Christ, we prophesy of Christ, and we write according to our prophecies, that our children may know to what source they may look for a remission of their sins.”16
And so today in these strangely perilous times, in the true Church of Jesus Christ17 we teach and live the principles of His gospel.
Three things about that 1849 commemoration were both symbolic and prophetic: first, that the young men carried the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence; next, that each young woman carried the Bible and the Book of Mormon; and finally, that the old men—the Silver Greys—were honored in the parade.
After the program they had a feast at makeshift tables. Several hundred gold-rush travelers and 60 Indians were invited to join them.
Then they went back to work.
President Young had said, “If the people of the United States will let us alone for ten years we will ask no odds of them.”18
Eight years to the day after the 1849 celebration, the Saints were in Big Cottonwood Canyon to celebrate another 24th of July. Four horsemen rode in to report that an army 2,500 soldiers strong was on the plains. The army of the United States, commanded by Colonel Albert Sydney Johnston, was ordered by President James Buchanan to crush a nonexistent Mormon rebellion.
The Saints broke camp and headed for home to prepare their defenses. Rather than flee, this time President Young declared, “We have transgressed no law, and we have no occasion to do so, neither do we intend to; but as for any nation’s coming to destroy this people, God Almighty being my helper, they cannot come here.”19
My great-grandparents buried a child on the trail from Far West, when they were driven to Nauvoo, and another at Winter Quarters, when they were driven west.
Another great-grandmother, a teenager, was pushing a handcart along the south banks of the Platte River. They sang:
We’ll find the place which God for us prepared,
Far away in the West,
Where none shall come to hurt or make afraid;
There the Saints will be blessed.20
Across the river they could see the sun glinting on the weapons of the soldiers of the army.21
In St. Louis my great-grandmother bought a little enameled pin of the American flag. She wore it on her dress for the rest of her life.
Neither mobbings nor the army could turn the Saints aside from what they knew to be true. A settlement was negotiated, and the Utah War (later called Buchanan’s Blunder) was over.
We are guided by the same revelations and led by a prophet. When the Prophet Joseph Smith died, another took his place. The order of succession continues today.
Six months ago at general conference, Thomas S. Monson was sustained as the 16th President of the Church, just five months before his 81st birthday. He succeeded President Gordon B. Hinckley, who died in his 98th year.
The senior leaders of the Church will virtually always be seasoned by decades of preparation.
President Monson is ideally suited for the challenges of our day. He is sustained by two counselors and the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles—all prophets, seers, and revelators.
That same Lucifer who was cast out of our Father’s presence is still at work. He, with the angels who followed him, will trouble the work of the Lord and destroy it if he can.
But we will stay on course. We will anchor ourselves as families and as a church to these principles and ordinances. Whatever tests lie ahead, and they will be many, we must remain faithful and true.
I bear witness of God the Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, that They live, that Thomas S. Monson is called of God by prophecy.
“The standard of truth has been erected; no unhallowed hand can stop the work from progressing.”22 Today the sun never sets on congregations of the Latter-day Saints. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.
1. See 2 Timothy 3:1–7.
3. D&C 121:1–2.
4. See D&C 101:86–88.
6. Martin Van Buren, quoted in Eliza R. Snow Smith, Biography and Family Record of Lorenzo Snow (1884), 77.
9. D&C 76:13.
11. D&C 101:80.
12. D&C 101:79.
16. 2 Nephi 25:26.
17. See D&C 1:30.
21. See “By Handcart to Utah: The Account of C. C. A. Christensen,” Nebraska History, winter 1985, 342.
Hello everyone! Well, some of you might not know this yet, but we are finally pregnant! Well, It's been that way for a while now. I am 5 1/2 months pregnant, and we just found out we're having a BOY! It's kind of strange how we make such a big deal out of a fuzzy image of a baby's anatomy, don't you think? Anyway, I wanted to share that. He is due to come into our family on December 21st, right on our anniversary! Please send him lots of birthday presents because, as a Christmas baby, he is doomed to poor birthday experiences for the rest of his life. J/K about sending the presents. Well, not really. . .
I am a firm believer in the GIGO principle (You know, garbage in, garbage out) and watching a lot of violent movies tends to result in violent or angry behavior. Starring in very violent movies probably has an even greater impact on a person's demeanor and actions. For example, consider the actor playing in the lead role of California's governor. He has decided to hold over 200,000 people hostage. He is doing this by cutting the wages of all state employees to the federal minimum wage of $6.55 per hour until the state legislature passes a balanced budget. His tactic may prove effective as the members of the legislature are becoming more open to compromise. However, I do not believe that he did this to actually achieve a balanced budget. I think that after wielding computer enhanced super-human strength for so many years, Arnold Schwarzenegger was starting to feel out of place as just a normal run of the mill politician. I think he just needed to get a fix of politically enhanced super human strength and did so at the expense of the citizens of California.
This is pretty much the talk I gave in sacrament today. I was asked to speak with Trevor Chadwick and Dustin Willard. It was Trevor's homecoming. I thought you might like to read it
Love, Mom
I. Welcome Elder Chadwick home.
Privileged to speak with him today.
I have great admiration for him.
I've watched him grow, he has always been obedient, thusly righteous, he has always shown his love for the gospel, and he has been willing to serve.
II. My son Michael is also serving the Lord on a mission. In many ways he is like Trevor.
As he writes home we are told of his love for the work and his enthusiasm for the Gospel.
II. why are Trevor and Michael such great missionaries?
Their greatness lies in their attitude.
III. I will tell you of Michael and some of his experiences thus far.
When Michael was called as a missionary, as all who are called he had several interviews withe the Bishop and Pres. Loveridge. He was always willing to be obedient and follow the directions of his Priesthood leaders.
President Loveridge asked him to cut his hair-Michael cut his hair
President Loveridge gave him a high code of conduct to live. Michael willingly lived accordingly.
President Loveridge gave him a reading list. Especially emphasizing the daily reading of the scriptures. Including the other books on the list, this may have been Michael's greatest challenge. He set a goal, putting himself on a reading schedule. I think he read all that was on the list.
As we all know we are promised that if we diligently study the scriptures on a daily basis we will grow spiritually. We could see this promise fulfilled through Michael. His testimony grew rapidly. His love and understanding of the scripture greatly increased. He memorized scriptures. He asked questions about the scriptures. His understanding of the scriptures greatly increased. His desire to live a good life increased. He didn't want to argue, tease, fight, or offend anyone. I believe he was experiencing the "Mighty Change" referred to in Alma 5:14.
Watching Michael go through this process increased my testimony in the promises given us from the Lord. President Loveridge had given him the keys to to grow spiritually and be ready for his mission. If we all followed the same advice we would all grow in the same way. Michael was a living example of the success of that process. Thank you Michael for your willingness to obey!
Occasionally I hear returned missionaries complain about their experience in the MTC, not Michael, he had prepared himself to enter therein. He loved and embraced his experience there, and in that holy place he continued to grow spiritually and was instructed further specifically, on how to be a good missionary. He hummbly excepted the advice given him there.
He has been in the field about 5 months now and is loving his mission. He is still determined to be obedient, he is living the mission rules, and is an example to his fellow missionaries. He understands what it takes for the gospel to flourish. How do I know this? By his admonishments to his family. In one letter he stated in one letter :Don't forget to read your scriptures and be real good member missionaries and do your home/visiting teaching and pray morn&night and study preach my gospel and go to the temple and...all those things the church has always had to make sure the ward/branch doesn;t become worthless.
I want to leave you with my testimony of the Gospel and missionary work. It is a work that blesses so many. I honestly think it is the hope of the world. I am reminded of the scriptures Gal.3:8, and Gen. 22:18. I know that the Gospel has been restored to the earth. That the Priesthood has been restored, which is God's power on earth. I know that we have living Prophets and Apostles on the earth. I'm grateful for my local leaders and their sacrifices. President Loveridge has blessed our family in many ways . In the name of Jesus Christ. Amen
Hey, It's Laura. This is an essay I wrote that convinced my English teacher that I should pursue writing. I also put a link to my blog on the side of this page for anyone to check at their leisure. Here's my essay called "Explosions":"I seriously never even knew what your voice sounded like."
And this is after growing up our entire lives on the same farm road, only a half-mile apart; after attending the same nursery, primary, and Sunday school classes for thirteen years. To say that I was shy as a child feels like an understatement.
But it's not like I didn't have good reasons. My mom dressed me only in D.I. clothes, I lived at the very end of a three mile, dead-end, farm road (Rebecca was my closest neighbor), and I attended a private school fifteen miles away, with a bunch of rich kids, who lived in rich neighborhoods, very far away.
But I guess those things don't speak to the real root of the problem, the insurmountable catalyst resulting in my shy behavior: chronic urinary tract infections hacked at my immunity starting at age four. I felt like an alien attending kindergarten with a portable I.V. strapped to my arm. I used to imagine that my portable I.V. was a fish while I was in the bathtub. The draining sack of medication floated in what seemed to me, such a buoyant and graceful way on the surface of the water among the bubbles. This inspired me to draw a picture of a fish on each new sack of medication. Once a boy in my kindergarten class approached me and pointed to the sack. "What's that?" I just couldn't get the words out," Oh. . . it's a fish . . . uh, I mean . . . really a bag with medicine . . ." He walked away giggling.
Incomparably worse than that-- was the enduring embarrassment of peeing my pants on a fairly regular basis. In the case of urinary tract infections, you simply don't experience the sensation of needing to use the bathroom until it hits you all at once and you think you're going to explode. It's like no matter how hard you try to hold it, you could still use a count-down as some kind of prediction method. You feel like you need to go and you may as well start counting: "10 . . . 9 . . . 8 . . . 7 . . . 6 . . ." And you erupt at "1" no matter what location you're in. It could be the playground, your desk, the hall, your chair during primary class, wherever. I always felt guilty at having some adult clean up after my "accidents" but the harassment from my peers often seemed unbearable.
The worst of all was someone I called my “evil twin” but her real name was Kelsey Frazier. We were born in the same hospital, on the same day, within the same hour. We also shared the similarities of curly hair and blue eyes. She would, however, not share her half of the primary classroom with me.
“Hey, Rebecca, Emily, come sit over here . . .” and she would prance to the corner of the room near the window. “. . . but Laura can’t sit over here. Nobody who pees their pants gets to sit with us.” I didn’t say a word or even look in her direction. I thought of possible retorts, like, "Your dumb!" or "You're ugly!" but I think of them too late, and I know they're not very clever.
So I just hold it in.
One of our first Young Women’s activities when we turned twelve was country square dancing in the church gym. There was a part of the dance where you had to link arms with your dance partner for a “dosie-doe,” or something like that. And everyone had to take turns being partners with everyone else. Kelsey refused to touch me, and messed up the order of the dance, confusing everyone else. After I link arms with Rebecca for our “dosie-doe,” Kelsey whispers in her ear, to set her straight, and then nobody touches me for the rest of the night.
I almost cry, but I just keep holding it in.
Just after we turn thirteen there’s a scrap-booking activity. We’re cutting things out of magazines that are supposed to represent us or our hobbies. I’m cutting out a picture of an easel and paintbrush. Rebecca’s cutting out a picture of a deer and some rainbow trout. But Kelsey’s squeezing a glob of Elmer’s glue in the palm of her hand. She waits for it to dry a little bit and she peels up the edges so that it looks like dead skin. She squeezes another glob as I stand up to grab some more magazines to flip through. “10 . . . 9 . . . 8 . . . 7 . . .” She spits in her palms as I’m sorting through the stack and starts rubbing her hands together. “ 6 . . . 5 . . . 4 . . . “As I am looking down at some pages, she walks toward me, smacks her sticky hands on both of my cheeks, and starts giggling in my face like she’s going to get away with this. “3 . . . 2 . . . 1” I explode. It isn't my bladder this time. No. It's like the whole person I am in that instant comes rushing through me and I can't keep her in anymore. It's like a dam breaking under the pressure of the water it's supposed to hold back. Everything I’d restrained for so long came out in an uncontrollable burst.
Without thinking, I push her away by thrusting both of her shoulders down as hard as I can. My cheeks burn from how quickly her hands tear from my skin. She’s on the ground now, not sitting, but all laid out. Nobody says a word. I can feel my face turn hot as I stalk out of the room. I’m scared to call my mom to ask her pick me up, so I decide to leave on foot.
I start running home, full of energy and smiling. I’m not even afraid to talk about it by the time I arrive. The person I am is flowing freely. My voice, locked away for so long is suddenly there, pouring out of my mouth. "Mom, you will never believe what happened . . . I kinda got in a fight . . ." and I go on for a half and hour without taking a breath explaining everything. I'm surprised that my mom isn't mad. She justs listens carefully and hugs me when I'm finished. "I hope it doesn't happen again, but she probably deserved it," she says. And I feel so warm, so validated.
The next time I attend Sunday school, I just can’t stop talking and I'm drawing on my sacrament meeting program and showing everyone: "This is a picture of my mom, who's a little fat--this one with the poofy hair; this is a picture of my dad, who's really fat and he has a pocket protector 'cause he's a nerd; and this is my brother, who's medium fat, 'cause he hides cake under his pillow at night. . ."
The other kids are surprised, and laughing, but Kelsey is silent. The teacher seems surprised and lets me go on for a while, but finally interjects:
"Uh . . . Laura, we really need to get on with the lesson; and maybe your family wouldn't appreciate that very much."
It was so hard to stay quiet during the lesson that I had to concentrate on keeping my top and bottom lips touching in order to stay silent.
The funny thing is, around that time, my urinary tract infections dissipated. Just as I gradually gained control over my bladder, I lost control over my mouth. I basked in the liberation of saying anything, anywhere, anytime I wanted. But I kept blurting things out and getting myself in trouble.
With my mom: “Do you really like your hair all poofy like that?”
With my brother: “Your Tetris high score is seriously only 86?!”
With my math teacher at school: “Man, this class is so boring I’d rather be doing heavy labor.”
Just like with my explosive bladder, my explosive mouth caused a lot of “accidents”, only this time no adult would clean them up for me.
She has a bit of bilirubin in her, and is hanging out in the blue lights as a precaution. Doesn't she have a lot of hair?
By request, we will post a few pictures of our local goings-on. We will also hope to soon post some pictures of our new addition. At this moment, Keriann is 9 months and 2 days pregnant, so we should have a new family member quite soon. (About 3.5 cm, 70%, and -1 for those medically oriented).
Now, onto what is happening. After 1.5 months homeless, we finally found a nice little home to rent. The children were happy to have a place to call home. While our new stomping grounds are not as warm as we have been used to, Everything around us is very pretty.
sandy shores where we can lay and accumulate actinic damage quite like Florida, but there are great tide pools, and fun places we could explore if we had kayaks (Father's day hint?)
We were recently fortunate enough to have mother visit us for a week. We enjoyed her visit very much and we think she enjoyed herself, too, although her quarters were rather spartan. Before she left, we hung out in Seattle a bit. We went to Pike's Place Market, checked out the old beach house, and went up the Space Needle.
