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  • Goodbye for now, Grandpa.

    This morning at 6:12am I got a phone call from my dad. I didn’t want to answer it, not just because I didn’t want to wake Jad, but mostly because I knew what his call would mean: my grandpa had passed away.

    I didn’t cry then, but I lay in my bed wishing that if I went back to sleep, the news wouldn’t be true. But, instead I slowly got up and called my dad back.

    As I spoke with my dad and mom, we shared feelings of sadness, but also joy – joy that there is a lovely family reunion going on right now with Grandpa, my aunt Betsy, my Uncle Roy, and Grandpa’s other deceased family; relief – relief that he is no longer suffering; hope – hope in the gospel of Christ that promises that families exist beyond the grave and we will see each other again.

    No, I didn’t cry then. I stayed strong as I told Jad and the kids, all at different times. Everyone was solemn and sad at the news. And then, later that morning I cried. I was so sad. I felt horrible that I didn’t get to see Grandpa one last time – we had actually planned to go see him this morning (my parents, my sister, and myself). We didn’t expect him to die so soon after going into hospice a couple days ago, but I suppose God needed him home.

    I went back to bed for a little while to ease my sadness, and was awakened by a call from Barbara, who has been a grandmother to me my whole life. She is my grandpa’s devoted and faithful wife, who we all love dearly. She is so loving and strong, and I felt peace as we spoke today.

    The rest of the day has been hard. I have been keeping myself busy, but with the feeling of loss hanging over me. Jad has been good at helping me out and doing some of the many things I had to do today for me.

    But this post isn’t about me and my needs. I write this to honor my grandpa, Marvin Thacker.

    Grandpa served faithfully in the Air Force. In November 2012 he visited Casey’s school for Take a Vet to School Day and told of his service.

    Then in November 2021, the last time we visited him and Barbara (since after that he was too ill to be around the children), he told stories of his service to my kids. It was that time together that helped Rigel know that he also wanted to serve in the Air Force. He has faithfully stuck to that dream.

    He loved talking to my kids on Facebook Messenger, and he and Jad built up a relationship over the years as well.

    He was also so giving. He has given Casey and Jad very nice clothes and shoes that they greatly appreciate. He loved collecting nice things since he didn’t have them growing up.

    Grandpa always was so humorous and never lost that sense of humor. He loved sports and was an expert golfer.

    He and Barbara sent money to each of us every birthday and Christmas our whole lives, and we always looked forward to that along with a card. My kids have enjoyed those kind gestures since they have been born as well.

    I remember as a kid travelling down to NC (we lived in VA then) and visiting their home. I remember the smell of the honeysuckle and watching old movies like “The Apple Dumpling Gang.” I remember going to buffets every time we went to eat together. I remember eating out of the candy jar – Grandpa loved candy and chocolate.

    I’m grateful that my children had some special memories with their great grandpa as well.

    Grandpa loved to travel all over with Barbara. Their love of travelling and being together always brought a smile to my face. I will truly miss Grandpa, and the outstanding pair that he and Barbara has made for all these years.

    A friend of mine lost someone very close to her nine years ago, and as a way to comfort her, I sent her this link in hopes of bringing her peace: Life Has Purpose | ComeUntoChrist (churchofjesuschrist.org). I hope this same link can bring hope and peace to Marvin Thacker’s friends and loved ones at this very difficult time.

    I adore this poem by President Gordon B. Hinckley and I hope it also brings peace and hope for the future:

    What Is This Thing That Men Call Death?

    What is this thing that men call death?
    This quiet passing in the night?
    ‘Tis not the end but genesis
    Of better worlds and greater light

    O God, touch Thou my aching heart
    And calm my troubled, haunting fears
    Let hope and faith, transcendent, pure
    Give strength and peace beyond my tears.

    There is no death, but only change
    With recompense for vict’ry won
    The gift of Him who loved all men
    The Son of God, the Holy One.

    Goodbye for now, Grandpa, until we meet again. I know you will be watching over us and never far.

  • A Mud Run to Remember

    Sometimes you sign up for something having no idea what you are really in for. That happened to me this past Saturday when I went with several members of my son, Casey’s, wrestling team, the wrestling coach and his wife, and one of their friends.

    I did look at the website to see what the Rugged Maniac was, and I did feel pumped up by the wrestling coach’s wife, thinking we would run as a mom group and have a great time in the rear doing our best. So, I went.

    I wasn’t too nervous until we got in the line about ready to start. We all stretched and did some jogging in place to warm up. And then it was finally time to start. It wasn’t so bad at first – a light jog, a very simple obstacle. But then it got harder – a lot harder.

    I found that I was the slowest out of the three of us moms. My legs were the shortest, so that did not help me with my stride or with a lot of the obstacles that seemed to be made for people with giant legs.

    The other moms were encouraging and rooted for me for the most part. They didn’t always wait for me, which made me feel extra slow, and I always was the last out of the three to do an obstacle, but I kept trucking along.

    We three muddy moms

    I am not very athletic at all, so you may be wondering, with my slowness and all, how I did. Well, I can say that I did the entire 5k and all 25 obstacles (though at times not exactly as designed – the modified version, if you will).

    Yep, I did it. I didn’t think I would. In fact, a couple times I thought I was going to die. A couple times I was about to give up. One time I even started tearing up because the other moms in my group left me behind. What helped me get through?

    It might seem strange to say, but I really felt like there were angels along my path – angels on earth. I wasn’t expecting that in a competitive, hard-core race like this that people would ever slow down to help others. But they did. They helped me.

    At one point, we had to climb up to a platform (one of the moms gave me a boost because it was really high with no steps) and then go down a fire fighter’s pole. That one was called the Pole Position. The pole was far enough away from me on the platform that I was scared to death that my legs wouldn’t reach and I would fall. The other moms in my group rooted for me. They told me I could do it, but I just didn’t feel it. I couldn’t just go back, though, since the platform had no steps. Then I heard a man’s voice who said something like, “It’s okay. You can do this. I’ll do it with you. Okay, ready? On the count of three, we jump on and slide down. One, two…” And you know what? His voice and his promise to go at the same time as me calmed me enough that I was able to accomplish the task. I was so grateful for him.

    Another time, we had to do a very difficult obstacle where we had to run and jump onto black squares on the water. They were tied together but they moved around a lot. That one was called the Frog Hop. The squares were unfortunately spread out enough that I knew I couldn’t jump from one group to the next without falling in the water. So, I just jumped in the water, hoisted myself (super gracefully) onto one of the squares, jumped into the water, and did it again. Unfortunately, the last time I jumped in the water, the water was too high for me to hoist myself out back onto dry ground. I knew I couldn’t get out. But, there was a very nice young woman who jumped back into the water and gave me a leg up. I was embarrassed, but she was more than happy to help. I can’t remember, but I think the other two moms in my group pulled my arms too. There was no way I would have gotten out without that help.  

    The absolute hardest obstacle for me was this very high angled rope ladder that you had to go up, over and down. It was called Vertigo. I was scared to death. I went a little less than halfway up, really felt like I was going to fall, and started going back down as I said, “I can’t do this.” I kept hearing voices say I could do it, and my son and his friends had finished by that point and were there to cheer me on. I wasn’t so sure, but then a lady who was at the very top said she would wait up there and talk me through my climbing. She was so kind and patient. She talked to me and smiled at me every step of the way. She told me how to get myself over to the other side and then she talked to me until I got down. I mean, what an angel!

    Coming down with my angel next to me. See how she is talking to me?
    I was mentally exhausted after getting off that rope obstacle. The next one was a relief but I was so tired I had to go slowly.

    Another thing that really helped was the fact that even though many of the obstacles freaked me out, some of them did not bother me that much or at all, like crawling under barbed wire, jumping over fire and trenches, using my strength to pull heavy objects, getting in cold, muddy water during multiple obstacles, going down very tall slides, and being in small spaces. Accomplishing those without help gave me just enough confidence to not give up and the courage to not let me fears overcome me. Interestingly, my favorite obstacle, the Fenced In, was my favorite even though it freaked a lot of people out (it did take me a minute to figure out how to get positioned right, but after that, I loved it).

    For whatever reason, I was cool with this. I remember doing this as a teenage a long time ago. Maybe that’s why.
    A little scary but also fun. And really, once you are up you have no choice but to come down!

    The stations of water (though few and far between), the encouragement and instruction from the volunteers, and the little prayers I said throughout the race, even if they were just as short as a “Please God, give me strength.” Or “Please help me through this,” also helped get me through.  I did a lot of those prayers.

    As I said before, I was the slowest person in our wrestling group. I probably needed the most help. But I did it, and I know it was because of the love and kindness of God and His children. It wasn’t me. I couldn’t have done it alone.

    The end of the last obstacle – a huge slide into cold, muddy water. Scary but exhilarating.

    We had a break after we ran to get “cleaned up” and refuel with food. Then we got to be volunteers for a while. I was at one of the obstacles with one of Casey’s friends, the Rinse and Repeat. I truly loved being able to encourage, instruct, and be a sounding board for the runners coming through. I thought about how much I had appreciated that help. It gave me a greater appreciation for the event as I saw people of all shapes, sizes, athletic abilities, and confidence. I saw so many emotions, and I realized that the Rugged Maniac experience was different for everyone. Everyone’s reasons for being there were different, but I hope everyone who participated was glad they did it.  

    All of us tired and muddy, but we did it.

    Am I glad? Well, I have endured many days of intense soreness and very ugly bruises due to participating (my soreness is just now about gone after 6 days), but I absolutely am glad that I did it. I conquered some of my fears. I realized I can do harder things than I give myself credit for. I built friendships. And most importantly, I saw the good and helpful nature of many children of God that day. And that made it worth all the bruises, mud, and soreness over and over again.

  • Granddad’s Organ Miracle

    I was going through old papers on my desk today, and I was so happy to come across the story my Granddad told about the Washington, DC Temple Dedication in 1974.

    I read it, and tears came to my eyes. I felt that I needed to share it with each of you to show that miracles are real.

    The paper he wrote is entitled “Washington DC Temple Dedication Music,” and the top right of the paper has a drawing of the Washington DC Temple.

    He began with a synopsis of the situation and then wrote his experience in his own words. Here is the entire paper from beginning to end, as written by my beloved granddad, Clifford D. Jordan:

    The dedication of the Washington, D.C. temple was held in November of 1974 in the Solemn Assembly Room on the seventh floor of the temple. This room accommodates approximately 1300 people, with overflow facilities to handle a total of 4200. All sessions of the dedication were filled to capacity.

    The Richmond Virginia Stake Music Committee was given the honor of furnishing the music for the second dedicatory session. Frances James and Clifford D. Jordan were called to select and train an eighty-voice choir from throughout the states of Virginia and West Virginia.

    Individual auditions were required. The allocation for the Richmond Virginia Stake was twenty voices–five in each part.

    The musical selections during the service were:

    “I Know That My Redeemer Lives” (choir)

    “An Angel From On High” (choir)

    “Bless This House” with special words (solo by Betty Butterworth)

    “Hosannah Anthem” (choir and congregation)

    In early August 1974, I received official notification of my calling as organist for the Second Dedicatory Service of the Washington Temple on November 19, 1974 at 1:00 P.M. Detailed instructions were included relative to my responsibilities which included forty-five minutes of prelude/postlude music, and service music. The model number and specification of the Allen organ to be used were included. It was recommended that I try to find one of these organs in the Richmond area and familiarize myself with the instrument. Advanced preparation and practice was a must, as I would only have thirty minutes of use of the organ prior to the dedication. This included rehearsing with the soloist, Betty Butterworth.

    I immediately began my search for this organ, and found the exact organ in Corley’s Music Store on Cary Street in Richmond. After explaining my needs to the store manager, I was delighted to learn that the instrument would be available at any time during normal business hours.

    During the next three months I practiced almost every Saturday morning. The main purpose of this practice was to learn and memorize the geography of the console (location of stops, couplers, pre-set pistons, and tone characteristics for solo and blending purposes). This is the major concern of all organists, as no two consoles are alike and stop tones vary from instrument to instrument. A well-trained organist with strong manual and pedal technique cannot play effectively until he is totally familiar with the organ. This particular organ model had two manuals with approximately sixty stops, and was quite versatile.

    On the evening of November 18, my wife (Lois), the soloist (Betty Butterworth), and I entered the Solemn Assembly Room at the appointed time for our allotted thirty minutes of practice on the organ. I felt thoroughly prepared, and looked forward to one of the most spiritual and exciting occasions in my life. I quickly discovered that the organ was not the same instrument on which I had practiced so many hours. In fact, it was twice the size–with three manuals and at least 150 stops, couplers, and pre-set pistons. The potentials of this magnificent instrument were limitless, and for fifteen minutes I studied, tested, took notes, and did everything possible to learn what I could in a short time. The last fifteen minutes were spend with the soloist.

    Due to the many organists following me, it was not feasible to utilize pre-set pistons. There would be no time to do this prior to the service. Therefore, I had to rely solely on manual manipulation of the stops for desired sounds. This meant knowing where to find them instantly as I played. I knew this would be impossible of myself as the console was far more than I could absorb in a few minutes.

    I returned to the hotel extremely troubled, knowing that I needed help and a lot of it. I got on my knees and fervently prayed to Heavenly Father that He would bless and help me as I played the next day, that I might be able to play at my optimum level and know where to find all the needed stops for the glory of His Holy Name. The same prayer was repeated during the night and the next morning.

    I went to the organ the next day very nervous and insecure. After I sat down at this huge and complex console, I repeated my same prayer. I looked up at the console, and a miracle happened! The console was no longer complex to me. I knew exactly where every stop was located and the anticipated tonal quality of each. I performed far beyond my natural mental and technical ability, because I performed under the guidance of the Spirit of the Lord.

    At the conclusion of the dedicatory service, the eighty-voice choir and congregation of 1500 plus joined together in singing the “Hosannah Anthem” (The Spirit of God). During the singing of this hymn, I heard a multitude of singing voices encircling me–which was not coming from the congregation! Tears were flowing down my face so rapidly that I could not see the music. I knew I was surrounded by a heavenly choir!

    This is my testimony of prayer, faith, and truth.

    -Clifford D. Jordan

    ***************************************************

    Once I posted this blog post, I got comments from people who were there:

    From my beloved Nana, and Granddad’s wife, Lois Jordan:  

    Cliff was on his knees off and on the whole night before.
    He played so beautifully at our session of the dedication. There were several of us in the choir that heard those “extra” voices.
    The man recording the music for all the sessions contacted Cliff to apologize for the poor recording of the music for our session. All the others came out perfectly except that second session on the first day. He said he felt it was not meant to be heard outside the Temple for it was the best of all the music presented and he had recorded all sessions each day. These are my most vivid memories.

    From my lovely mother, and Granddad’s daughter, Laura Thacker:  I never tire of this beautiful story. I attended that solemn assembly as a young girl. No one would have ever known Dad hadn’t been playing that kind of organ for years. The music was perfect.♥️

    From a family friend, Debbie Spivey: Your Grandfather was so amazing and talented! I was at that dedication and I remember your mom and dad sharing this experience. There was no doubt that the music was so glorious that day!

     

     

  • Because I know what’s best for you

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    I was home with my two little ones by myself one night, and my 4-year-old was winning a debate at the dinner table. He was refusing to eat his dinner, no matter what bribes – or threats – I threw out.

    In desperation, I finally screamed out: “I’m in charge and you NEED TO LISTEN TO ME!”

    I was taken aback when his little voice, rather than arguing, simply asked, “Why?”

    My voice caught a little when I answered, “Because I know what’s best for you.”

    When I said it, I felt like a huge hypocrite – no, the biggest hypocrite in the world.

    It was time for self-reflection.

    I inwardly asked myself, “If I really know what’s best for my son, does that include yelling, screaming, and demanding impatiently that he do something?”

    My second question rolled off the first, “What is my real goal – to fill tummies and warm hearts, or to be right and obeyed?”

    At that moment of anger and annoyance, the answer was clear. In my impatience, I had forgotten the real goal – the goal that would actually be what was best for him – and moved to the selfish goal of satisfying my pride.

    yelling

    I realized that night that Rigel just wanted to know why he had to eat his dinner before willingly doing it.

    In my church’s General Conference this past weekend, I heard a message from Carole M. Stephens that completely affirms my feelings that night.

    As she spoke of her granddaughter, Chloe, who had taken her seat belt off so many times, that she had to stop on the side of the road, unable to go any further, I was first so impressed and inspired by her continued patience with this small child, only a year younger than my Rigel.

    After unsuccessfully re-buckling her granddaughter several times, and bribing her to keep her seat belt fastened, Sister Stephens prayed for guidance on what to do. She got the impression to teach her.

    After expressing that wearing her seat belt would keep her safe, and that it would make her grandmother upset if her sweet granddaughter got hurt, Chloe finally understood:

    “Grandma, you want me to wear my seat belt because you love me!”

    After that, she kept her seat belt on.

    Sister Stephens counseled, “We have rules to teach, guide, and protect children. Why? Because of the great love we have for them. But until Chloe understood that my desire for her to remain securely fastened in her car seat was because of my love for her, she was unwilling to submit to what she considered a restriction. She felt her seat belt limited her freedom.”

    I really think that is why our kids don’t listen to us sometimes. It is because they don’t see a need to do something, or because they think that by doing it, they can no longer do what they want.

    If our children see that we truly want what’s best for them, and decide what is best based on our love and concern for them, they will obey so much more willingly.

    I know I am not the best mother. I have so much work to do to become the gentle, patient, tender mother I know my children need me to be. The simple experience I had with my wise son, Rigel, followed by this simple and tender message from Carole Stephens, has helped me refocus on a way that I can be a more worthy mother, wife, friend, and daughter of God.

    Rigel, I promise you and your brothers that I will try harder to show you that I love you when I ask you to follow a rule. I truly do want what is best for you.

     

    love

  • My Greatest Fear

    How to Kill a Bug in Only 30 Steps:

    1. See it on the ledge of your stairwell, jump backwards, and scream!
    2. Run as far away from it as you can.
    3. Ask your four-year-old if he will kill it.
    4. When he looks at you in horror and says no, you realize you must kill it.
    5. Breathe deeply.
    6. Say a prayer that the experience won’t be scary and that you will be unharmed.
    7. Grab the vacuum from the hall closet and run upstairs as fast as you can, veering away from where the bug was.
    8. Make sure the bug is in the same spot. It is.
    9. You plug in the vacuum, and thoughts of how the bug is just sitting there minding its own business, and that it is one of God’s creations, run through your mind.
    10. You are reminded bugs do not belong in the house, especially ones that are big and ugly, and you start to extend the vacuum hose.
    11. You realize that may not be good enough, so you run to the laundry room and grab the first spray bottle you see: Windex.

    12. You approach the bug and spray the Windex on it like a mad woman.
    13. As the blue liquid starts to roll down the wall of your stairwell, the bug slowly starts to walk away.
    14. You pick up the vacuum hose up again, trying to build courage to get close enough to the bug that the vacuum hose will suck it into its dark abyss.
    15. Meanwhile, your toddler has come up the stairs and is happily playing right near the bug of death.
    16. You scream frantically at him to get out of the way and near you. Why doesn’t he realize danger is right above his head???
    17. He looks at you like you are strange, but finally comes to you.
    18. You ask your 4-year-old one more time if he would like to come kill the bug.
    19. He fearfully says that he wants to get in his jeep and drive to Daddy so he can come home and kill it.
    20. Taking that as a no, you tell yourself that you have to do this. You can do this.
    21. You spray more Windex for good measure, and the bug slowly inches itself further away from you.
    22. You very carefully take the vacuum hose, and inch it as close as you can to the bug, still on the stair ledge.

    23. He tries to flap his (he has wings?), and you are glad the Windex has weighed him down so he can’t fly away.
    24. You bravely move the hose one more inch and watch the bug disappear into the black hole.
    25. You scream and turn off the vacuum, watching the hose fall to the ground.
    26. You ask yourself, is the bug really gone? What if he comes out the other end?
    27. After a quick scan, you realize that it is really gone, and slowly put everything away.
    28. You clean up the Windex from the ledge, wall, and carpet, because in your panic attack, you accidentally spilled some on the stairs.
    29. You look one more time to make sure the bug is gone.

    30. You reassure your 4-year-old and yourself that the bug really is gone and it is safe in your home once again. Your toddler continues to play happily as if this traumatizing experience never happened.

    So, there you have it: a mere 30 steps to killing a really ugly, brown, flying, and large bug.

    I realized these steps this morning before going downstairs for breakfast. I am not exaggerating the steps I took. I am really that scared of huge bugs in my home.

    I think my fear came from my dad chasing me with dead bugs when I was a kid. I used to hide in the bathroom with the door locked until he gave up. He still occasionally tries to do the same thing, but now I just get angry and yell at him, and then run away.

    Yes, I am a little crazy, in case you couldn’t tell before.

    As I was pondering these moments later, I realized firstly, that I am a little over-dramatic, but secondly, that there are way scarier things that I could actively fear.

    In general, though, despite the increasing violence, decreasing morals, more intolerance in the name of tolerance, and a push to remove God from our nation, I do not live my life in fear.

    I attribute that to my faith in Jesus Christ and my relationship with Him and my Heavenly Father. Because of this faith that I have, I do my best to keep God’s commandments, fulfill my roles as a woman, mother, wife, sister, teacher and friend as best I can, and strive to make my home a holy place. Because I do that, in partnership with my husband, God is my partner too.

    I have the Holy Spirit abundantly in my life helping me see truth, recognize falsehoods, remind me of what spiritual knowledge I have, and help me look at the eternal perspective. This life will be full of experiences that will test my faith, and that of my husband and children, and bring hurt and suffering to us. As long as we keep God first in our family, we will be able to endure those things and come out of them better people. We will also be able to withstand the temptations and deceitfulness of Satan.

    Will my fear of bugs ever go away? I am thinking it may not, but that is okay. Bugs are a part of life, and I can’t completely control their presence in my home. But, I can control the presence of many other things in my home that could either strengthen or dampen faith, bring the Spirit or drive it away.

    My realization of this control, and the implementation of it in my home, is what makes something simple like bugs my greatest fear. I’ll take it.

  • You Aren’t Weird, but Your Beliefs Are Part 3: How I Know Joseph Smith was a Prophet

    In my last post I left you with an image of a 14-year-old farm boy who prayed and saw a vision of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ Himself told Joseph that His church did not exist on the earth and not to join any of the existing churches.

    This boy would be prepared to become a prophet of God, and restore Jesus Christ’s church to the earth -the church He established when He was on the earth – a living church, with continuing revelation for the benefit of all mankind.

     

    God has always called prophets in his own due time to testify of Jesus Christ and His gospel, to help people  know God’s true character, and to denounce sin, warning of its consequences.

    The Lord has said to beware of false prophets. That is what I hear most often when people tell me that Joseph Smith couldn’t have been a prophet. It is true that there have been and will be false prophets on the earth. There are now. Jesus tells us how to know if one is a false prophet (Matthew 7:15-20):

    Beware of false prophets, which come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ravening wolves. Ye shall know them by their fruits. Do men gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles? Even so every good tree bringeth forth good fruit; but a corrupt tree bringeth forth evil fruit.  A good tree cannot bring forth evil fruit, neither can a corrupt tree bring forth good fruit. Every tree that bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn down, and cast into the fire. Wherefore by their fruits ye shall know them.
     Notice where Christ says a corrupt tree cannot bring forth good fruit. To know if Joseph Smith was a false prophet (a corrupt tree), we must look at his fruits. What was he like? What did he do from the day of his vision at 14 years old to the day of his martyrdom when he was only 38?
    First and foremost, regardless of intense persecution from prominent religious leaders, peers and members of his community, Joseph never once denied that he had seen a vision. He wrote:
    It caused me serious reflection then, and often has since, how very strange it was that an obscure boy, of a little over fourteen years of age, and one, too, who was doomed to the necessity of obtaining a scanty maintenance by his daily labor, should be thought a character of sufficient importance to attract the attention of the great ones of the most popular sects of the day, and in a manner to create in them a spirit of the most bitter persecution and reviling. But strange or not, so it was, and it was often the cause of great sorrow to myself.

    However, it was nevertheless a fact that I had beheld a vision. I have thought since, that I felt much like Paul, when he made his defense before King Agrippa, and related the account of the vision he had when he saw a light, and heard a voice; but still there were but few who believed him; some said he was dishonest, others said he was mad; and he was ridiculed and reviled. But all this did not destroy the reality of his vision. He had seen a vision, he knew he had, and all the persecution under heaven could not make it otherwise; and though they should persecute him unto death, yet he knew, and would know to his latest breath, that he had both seen a light and heard a voice speaking unto him, and all the world could not make him think or believe otherwise.
    So it was with me. I had actually seen a light, and in the midst of that light I saw two Personages, and they did in reality speak to me; and though I was hated and persecuted for saying that I had seen a vision, yet it was true; and while they were persecuting me, reviling me, and speaking all manner of evil against me falsely for so saying, I was led to say in my heart: Why persecute me for telling the truth? I have actually seen a vision; and who am I that I can withstand God, or why does the world think to make me deny what I have actually seen? For I had seen a vision; I knew it, and I knew that God knew it, and I could not deny it, neither dared I do it; at least I knew that by so doing I would offend God, and come under condemnation (Joseph Smith – History 1:23-25).
    This persecution would only get more hateful and severe as the years went on, including being tarred and feathered, unjustly imprisoned more than once, and finally martyred (along with his beloved brother, Hyrum) by a mob of over a hundred men. This isn’t to mention the devastating persecution that the early members of the church would endure, such as being forced to leave their homes or die. My heart aches whenever I read about the awful treatment of these peaceful people just trying to follow God’s will.

    Just as the original members of the church knew it, I know that Joseph Smith was a prophet. I just know it. I could talk to you about his character, about the people who loved him, about his faith in Jesus Christ to the end, about the legacy he has left, and I could never adequately describe how I know he is a prophet – how he must have been a prophet.

    The most compelling reason I can give you as to how I know Joseph was a prophet of God, is that  I know that the Book of Mormon is true.

    The Book of Mormon
    I know that many of you have heard of the Book of Mormon. I have heard some of the things people think about it. People assume that Joseph Smith wrote it, and that Mormons use it instead of the Bible.

    What if I told you he didn’t write it? Joseph Smith was not an educated man. He was in his early 20s when he translated the book. The Book of Mormon is 531 pages. If he wrote it, he wrote it in less than three months, at a rate of about 10 pages a day – ten times faster than a professional translator copying down text already written.

    I believe as Joseph Smith said, that an angel, named Moroni, appeared to him and told him where an ancient record, written on gold plates, was buried. These plates were written by prophets living in ancient America from 600 B.C. to around 400 A.D. Joseph was given sacred instruments to aid him in the translation of the records.

     

    It is easy to find fault in this story, and call it unrealistic. However, look inside your hearts and think about what you know from the Bible. Think about the workings of the Lord – angels appearing, sacred instruments – is that so out of the ordinary?

    There were also many witnesses who saw and touched the gold plates, whose testimonies are in the beginning of The Book of Mormon. Joseph also had help translating. Many would serve as scribes to his translation, such as his wife, Emma, and Oliver Cowdery.

     

     I also recognize that many Christians believe that God is done speaking, that the last messages came from the 12 apostles, and that the only written holy records are in the Bible.

    The best way to answer this concern is in a passage from the Book of Mormon where Jesus himself said (2 Nephi 29:7-11):

    7 Know ye not that there are more nations than one? Know ye not that I, the Lord your God, have created all men, and that I remember those who are upon the isles of the sea; and that I rule in the heavens above and in the earth beneath; and I bring forth my word unto the children of men, yea, even upon all the nations of the earth?

    8 Wherefore murmur ye, because that ye shall receive more of my word? Know ye not that the testimony of two nations is a witness unto you that I am God, that I remember one nation like unto another? Wherefore, I speak the same words unto one nation like unto another. And when the two nations shall run together the testimony of the two nations shall run together also.

    9 And I do this that I may prove unto many that I am the same yesterday, today, and forever; and that I speak forth my words according to mine own pleasure. And because that I have spoken one word ye need not suppose that I cannot speak another; for my work is not yet finished; neither shall it be until the end of man, neither from that time henceforth and forever.

    10 Wherefore, because that ye have a Bible ye need not suppose that it contains all my words; neither need ye suppose that I have not caused more to be written.

    11 For I command all men, both in the east and in the west, and in the north, and in the south, and in the islands of the sea, that they shall write the words which I speak unto them; for out of the books which shall be written I will judge the world, every man according to their works, according to that which is written.


     

    It makes so much sense to me, and offers me so much comfort, that Jesus loves all people in every nation, and that He wishes all of them to have the Truth.

    The Book of Mormon does not replace the Bible. It is a book meant to complement the Bible. It is a book meant to prove that the Bible is true! It is a book meant to prove to the world that Jesus is the Christ.

    Joseph Smith, if he were the fraud that people say he was, could not have written a book like this – a book where over half of the verses refer to Jesus Christ; a book filled with heroes and prophets who showed courage, faith, love, service, obedience and integrity; a book that brings clarity to the messages of the Bible;  a book that makes its humble reader feel closer to Christ.

     

     Did you know that in the Book of Mormon, the resurrected Jesus Christ visits the people of the Americas? Did you know that He lets every person touch His hands and His feet, blesses each and every child, heals every person with an infirmity, teaches the same gospel He taught to the Israelites, and ordains 12 apostles to preach His word and carry the authority to act in His name?

    With tears in my eyes, I ask you, would a false prophet, a wolf in sheep’s clothing, bring forth a book like this?

     Would he be able to write this? 2 Nephi 25:23, 26
    23 For we labor diligently to write, to persuade our children, and also our brethren, to believe in Christ, and to be reconciled to God; for we know that it is by grace that we are saved, after all we can do.
    26 And 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.
     Or this? Mosiah 2:17
    And behold, I tell you these things that ye may learn wisdom; that ye may learn that when ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God.
     Or this? Ether 12:27
    And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.
    I could quote hundreds of passages that are just as spiritually fulfilling as these.
    However, I know that I cannot prove to you that The Book of Mormon is true. The prophet Moroni, the one who appeared to Joseph Smith, also knew this. That is why he provided a promise to those who read the Book of Mormon (Moroni 10:3-5):
    3 Behold, I would exhort you that when ye shall read these things, if it be wisdom in God that ye should read them, that ye would remember how merciful the Lord hath been unto the children of men, from the creation of Adam even down until the time that ye shall receive these things, and ponder it in your hearts.
    4 And when ye shall receive these things, I would exhort you that ye would ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, if these things are not true; and if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost.
    5 And by the power of the Holy Ghost ye may know the truth of all things.

    In the introduction to The Book of Mormon are these words:

    Those who gain this divine witness from the Holy Spirit will also come to know by the same power that Jesus Christ is the Savior of the world, that Joseph Smith is His revelator and prophet in these last days, and that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the Lord’s kingdom once again established on the earth, preparatory to the Second Coming of the Messiah.

    I have prayed, and I have received an answer that this book is the word of God, and truly is another testament of Jesus Christ. I have read it many times, and will continue to read it throughout my life, to enlarge my heart and nourish my soul.

    If you aren’t quite convinced you want to read The Book of Mormon, will you please watch this short video clip? Each time I watch it, I feel the Spirit testify truth to me. If nothing else, perhaps it will open your heart to want to find out for yourself.

    I am so grateful that Joseph Smith asked a question, and that he was willing to do what the Lord commanded him upon receiving the answer. He dedicated the remainder of his life to serving the Lord, and restoring His church to the earth. His life and death were not in vain, and he was most certainly not a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

    He was a true prophet of God.