Chapter 1: Genesis
by Gordon B. Hinckley
WESTERN New York in the early nineteenth century was
essentially frontier territory, a place of opportunity to those for whom the
tremendous task of clearing and breaking the virgin land held no fears.
Among these was the family of Joseph and Lucy Mack Smith and their eight
children, who in 1816 came to the vicinity of Palmyra, not far from
Rochester.
They were a typical New England family of English and
Scottish extraction who prized the independence their fathers on both lines
had fought for in the American Revolution of 1776. And they were religious
folk who read the Bible and had family prayer, although like many of their
kind they belonged to no church.
This condition among the people of the frontier areas of
America became a matter of serious concern to religious leaders. A crusade
was begun to "convert the unconverted." It was carried over a vast area from
the New England states to Kentucky. In 1820 it reached western New York. The
ministers of the various denominations united in their efforts, and many
conversions were made among the scattered settlers. One week a Rochester
paper noted: "More than two hundred souls have become hopeful subjects of
divine grace in Palmyra, Macedon, Manchester, Lyons, and Ontario since the
late revival commenced." The week following it was able to report "that in
Palmyra and Macedon . . . more than four hundred souls have already
confessed that the Lord is good."
Joseph's Story
Under the impetus
of this revival four of the Smith family—the mother and three
children—joined the Presbyterian Church. Joseph Jr., then fourteen years of
age, also felt a strong desire to affiliate himself. But he wanted to be
right in so important a step, and he became deeply distressed over the fact
that although the various ministers had been united in their efforts when
the revival commenced, they disagreed sharply among themselves when the
converts began to file off to the various congregations. The more he
listened to the conflicting arguments, the more confused he became. He
reasoned that all of them could not be right, and the question as to which
was recognized by God as His church greatly troubled him. In a simple,
straightforward account, which has here been slightly abridged, he tells of
the course he took and of the remarkable events which followed:
While I was laboring under the
extreme difficulties caused by the contests of these parties of
religionists, I was one day reading the Epistle of James, first chapter
and fifth verse: "If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that
giveth to all men liberally and upbraideth not; and it shall be given
him."
Never did any passage of scripture
come with more power to the heart of man than this did at this time to
mine. I reflected on it again and again, knowing that if any person
needed wisdom from God, I did. For how to act I did not know, and unless
I could get more wisdom than I then had, I would never know; for the
teachers of religion of the different sects understood the same passages
of scripture so differently as to destroy all confidence in settling the
question by an appeal to the Bible.
At length I came to the conclusion
that I must either remain in confusion, or else do as James directs,
that is, ask of God. I at length came to the determination to ask God,
concluding that if he gave wisdom to them that lacked wisdom, and would
give liberally and not upbraid, I might venture.
So, in accordance with this my
determination, I retired to the woods to make an attempt. It was on the
morning of a beautiful, clear day, early in the spring of 1820. It was
the first time in my life that I had made such an attempt, for amidst
all my anxieties I had never as yet made the attempt to pray vocally.
Having looked around and finding
myself alone, I kneeled down and began to offer up the desires of my
heart to God. I had scarcely done so when immediately I was seized upon
by some power which entirely overcame me, and had such an astonishing
influence over me as to bind my tongue so that I could not speak. Thick
darkness gathered around me, and it seemed for a time as if I were
doomed to sudden destruction.
But exerting all my power to call
upon God, and at the very moment when I was ready to sink into despair
and abandon myself to destruction — not to an imaginary ruin, but to the
power of some actual being from the unseen world, who had such marvelous
power as I had never before felt in any being—just at this moment of
great alarm, I saw a pillar of light exactly over my head, above the
brightness of the sun, which descended gradually until it fell upon me.
It no sooner appeared than I found
myself delivered from the enemy which held me bound. When the light
rested upon me I saw two Personages, whose brightness and glory defy all
description, standing above me in the air. One of them spake unto me,
calling me by name, and said, pointing to the other, "This is my Beloved
Son, hear Him!"
My object in going to inquire of the
Lord was to know which of all the sects was right, that I might know
which to join. Therefore, no sooner did I get possession of myself than
I asked the Personages who stood above me in the light, which of all the
sects was right—and which I should join.
I was answered that I must join none
of them, that "they draw near to me with their lips, but their hearts
are far from me; they teach for doctrines the commandments of men,
having a form of godliness, but they deny the power thereof."
Reactions
As might be expected, so unusual a story caused
considerable excitement. In good faith he spoke of it to one of the
preachers who had been engaged in the revival. The boy was taken aback when
the man treated the story with contempt, telling him that such things were
of the devil, that all visions and revelations had ceased with the apostles,
"and that there would never be any more of them." Nor was this the end of
the matter for him. He soon found himself singled out for ridicule, and men,
who ordinarily would have paid little attention to such a lad, took pains to
revile him. It was a source of great sorrow to him. He continues:
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; 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. 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.
On the great problem that had perplexed him, Joseph
Smith's mind was now settled. He joined none of the churches that had sought
his interest. And more important, he had learned that the promise of James
was true: One who lacked wisdom might ask of God, and obtain, and not be
upbraided.