Joseph Smith's life and death

I haven't blogged for a while but I have some thoughts I want to put down and this is as good a place as any.

I just finished a class at BYU about the Prophet Joseph Smith from birth to death, 1805-1844. It was taught by Susan Easton Black. Her depth of knowledge and love of the prophet are evident. It was a treat to go to class twice a week, especially since we opened with prayer and a hymn. I loved sitting in a room of young voices harmonizing a beautiful hymn. Today's was "A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief" sung by John Taylor in the room Joseph was eventually shot in, hours before he died.

Susan spent Monday and today going through the last days and final hours of Joseph's life. It was heart-wrenching. I've been to Nauvoo and Carthage and pictured, as she spoke, two brothers - Joseph and Hyrum, leaving Nauvoo for the last time, going to Carthage, hoping against hope their lives would be spared. Yet, some of Joseph's last words were, "I go as a lamb to slaughter." He knew what was ahead for him. He tried to tell Emma goodbye but she brushed it off, thinking he would be back that night. His friends John Taylor and Willard Richards were with him his last night and day. A kind jailer allowed them use of his bedroom rather than putting them in the jail. John Taylor, a wonderful tenor, sang "A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief" - all seven verses, then sang the seventh verse again:

"Then in a moment to my view
The stranger started from disguise.
The tokens in his hands I knew;
The Savior stood before mine eyes.
He spake, and my poor name he named,
"Of me thou hast not been ashamed.
These deeds shall they memorial be
Fear not, thou didst them unto me."

How fitting those words are for Joseph, one who was chosen to usher in the restoration of the Church in these latter days and who suffered so much during his life because he loved the Lord and did the job required of him. 

I picture four men, friends, two brothers, talking the hours away, waiting, listening to a growing mob chanting and singing outside the window. Susan shared the final moments with us, how the mob stormed the room, pushing in, shots flying. She told how Hyrum was shot and killed first, how John Taylor took four bullets and crawled under the bed for refuge, how Joseph, perched in the windowsill was shot in the back and fell out, landing near an open well. There is a part I had never heard that was so hard to hear that I can't type the words. I know those who shot Joseph will be judged for a prophet's death. And many in the mob believed that by ending Joseph's life, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints would fade away. How wrong they were! How glorious it is that the Church, because of the truthfulness of the gospel, survived, endured and thrived. And that it is a refuge for so many who have the faith to know the truthfulness of the gospel. I love it.

I am deeply grateful to Joseph Smith. I don't worship him; I worship Jesus Christ. But Joseph was divinely chosen and did the work that needed to be done to start the journey for many saints, some who are ancestors of mine and Riley's - saints whose faith remained strong as they faced their own tribulations. I am also grateful for Susan Easton Black and her knowledge and love of Joseph. I'm not sure what prompted me to take this class this semester but I am changed for the better because of it.