West

 [FOR ARCHER'S BOOK]

It was by faith that a small band of early converts in the eastern United States moved from New York to Ohio and from Ohio to Missouri and from Missouri to Illinois in their search for peace and freedom to worship God according to the dictates of conscience.

It was through the eyes of faith that they saw a city beautiful, Nauvoo, when first they walked across the swamps of Commerce, Illinois. With the conviction that faith without works is dead, they drained that swampland, they platted a city, they built substantial homes and houses for worship and education and, crowning all, a magnificent temple, then the finest building in all of Illinois.

Persecution soon followed, with profane and murderous mobs. Their prophet was killed. Their dreams were shattered. Again it was by faith that they pulled themselves together under the pattern he had previously drawn and organized themselves for another exodus.

With tears and aching hearts they left their comfortable homes and their workshops. They looked back on their sacred temple, and then with faith turned their eyes to the West, to the unknown and to the uncharted, and while the snows of winter fell upon them, they crossed the Mississippi that February of 1846 and plowed their muddy way over the Iowa prairie.

With faith they established Winter Quarters on the Missouri River. Hundreds died as plague and dysentery and black canker cut them down. But faith sustained those who survived. They buried their loved ones there on a bluff above the river, and in the spring of 1847 they started toward the mountains of the West.

It was by faith that Brigham Young looked over the Salt Lake valley, then hot and barren, and declared, “This is the place.” Again by faith, four days later, he touched his cane to the ground and said, “Here will be the temple of our God.” The magnificent and sacred Salt Lake Temple is a testimony of faith, not only of the faith of those who built it but of the faith of those who now use it in a great selfless labor of love.

Theirs was a vision, transcendent and overriding all other considerations. When they came west they were a thousand miles, a thousand tedious miles, from the nearest settlements to the east and eight hundred miles from those to the west. A personal and individual recognition of God their Eternal Father to whom they could look in faith was of the very essence of their strength. They believed in that great scriptural mandate: “Look to God and live.” (Alma 37:47.) With faith they sought to do his will. With faith they read and accepted divine teaching. With faith they labored until they dropped, always with a conviction that there would be an accounting to him who was their Father and their God.

The power that moved our gospel forebears was the power of faith in God. It was the same power which made possible the exodus from Egypt, the passage through the Red Sea, the long journey through the wilderness, and the establishment of Israel in the Promised Land.

We need so very, very much a strong burning of that faith in the living God and in his living, resurrected Son, for this was the great, moving faith of our gospel forebears.

Behind us is a glorious history. It is bespangled with heroism, tenacity to principle, and unflagging fidelity. It is the product of faith.

Teachings of the Presidents of the Church: Gordon B. Hinckley, pp. 83-84, artwork is The End of Parley’s Street, by Glen S. Hopkinson

It's Pioneer Day, a holiday here in Utah. We celebrate the perennially strong men and women who triumphed over their trek and plotted, dug, and prospered our desert. We celebrate the miracle of the cricket-gobbling, crop-saving seagulls. I personally celebrate the organized grid system and clean angles of our cities. I make butter by shaking whipping cream, a pinch of salt, and a single marble in a cold jar and spread it on homemade biscuits to teach my kids how it used to be done. I also eat jerky on Pioneer Day, not because of any specific story but because jerky is old school and I love it. You can tie it up in your knapsack and gnaw on it for hours. Greg and I both ate some of Costco's Korean BBQ jerky before breakfast. That stuff is addictive! We sing "Come, Come, Ye Saints" more times than normal and every time we hit Archer's 3rd verse his eyes squint and he beams. I will never stop reminding that kid he's my West, that we all have a trek to endure, and that God's promises are sure.

I miss President Hinckley and the beautiful way he spoke. (Who else ever used bespangled in a sentence?) I love the succinct way he described the Mormons finally reaching Zion. Because I'm always on high-alert for snippets to do with my kids' names, I marked some special sentences in bold. I felt a little surge of pride (the good kind) when I read those lines. I know something of turning my eyes to the uncharted (but prophesied!) vision of the West. I have locked up a cozy workshop and gone for it only to meet a blizzard. I know what it feels like to be completely isolated, thousands of miles from my dream, having to trump science, time, the odds, and fear with faith. I looked above the cloudy unknown for years and focused on the one true source of my faith until I saw Him in high-definition. I feel qualified to call myself a pioneer. I hope I never forget or make light of the hardships and the miracles that preceded Archer.

Zion is real. He's wearing a dinosaur shirt and basketball shorts in the next room.