To Nathan, the Prophet

So, Nathan and I were cast as Joseph and Emma Smith for Youth Conference last weekend. He looked A-MAZING. I looked like a pioneer version of Cher crossed with a Hasidic Jew. Nevertheless, it was a really wonderful experience.


Dear Nathan,


You were a highly believable and very compelling Joseph. Unexpectedly compelling. 


I happened upon you teaching a workshop to a gaggle of teenagers in the morning. You were all kneeling in a circle with Joseph at the helm, and you were glowing. And the kids were listening to you with such intensity as you testified about your experience in the sacred grove, and even at a distance, barely hearing your words, the Spirit hit me like a truck full of bricks, ran me clean over. I picked myself up and blinked hard. I couldn't tell if it was really you or an apparition of Joseph Smith himself come down to testify.


I came and joined the circle after a while and you asked if I had anything to add. Words started pouring from my mouth that I hadn't plan to say. I hadn't planned to say anything. The words were these:


Joseph Smith had no money, no education, no great ambition to become someone of note, and yet he changed the course of the world. All he had to offer is what we all have to offer - an obedient heart, a desire to know what is true, and faith that God exists and that He hears and answers our prayers. Those offerings are more powerful and impactful on society than any amount of money, education or talent. I needed to hear that.


As the day progressed you were arrested by anti-Mormon mobsters on horseback. Snatched right out of the lunch pavilion, still chewing your sandwich. I jumped up and watched them drag you out. I was filled with a fraction of the emotion that the real Emma must have felt as she watched her husband being carried off to Liberty Jail.


By night-time Kirtland had been burnt to the ground and you led the whole group of us a mile down a torch-lit path through the woods to Illinois, which was a big outdoor amphitheater. As we filed in "Nearer My God to Thee" was played on the violin and a reverent silence had come over everyone. We watched you pace the stage and give your final instructions to the Saints - you knew your martyrdom was fast approaching. As you willingly marched off to Carthage I was moved to tears. Not only because they were taking you, but because in that moment I knew again that these were REAL people, REAL experiences. Joseph REALLY was a prophet led by God to restore His church. He was persecuted and hounded and eventually killed by men working for the devil himself.


I can't tell you how I felt, walking along beside you that night, along that rutted road after it was all over. What a sweet strength I felt, in you, in myself, and all around us. It was like one of those dreams where you're filled with some extravagant feeling you might never have in life.