My Own Miraculous Event by Michelle Johnson

Being a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, I have always felt I had a testimony of the Gospel. However, as I look back on life, it is as if I had borrowed the testimony from others to build mine. Unfortunately, I found out it was not strong enough to hold me up. The past 10 years, my testimony had been wavering, and, at times, I wondered if the church was true. I began to nit-pick at the testimonies from those I had tried to use to strength mine own. I knew I needed to learn and find out for myself. I began reading the Book of Mormon, and I attended the temple frequently along with my church meetings. It seemed to me that the more I did, the more I felt nothing. I became numb, and I was discouraged. I thought I was doing everything the Lord had asked me to do to receive some witness that the Gospel was true, that this church was the true church. I began to believe that maybe I was not worthy enough or good enough to have this blessing. Throughout my life, I had heard of many members testifying of the miraculous witness I had always wished to receive. Why couldn’t I? I became bitter and hurt. I gave up, not completely, but slowly my desire faded. 

Through those years, I struggled with many things: myself, my family, my friends, and church. I had let my hurt feelings overcome me to the point it was affecting my life. As I stated before, I never gave up completely on my faith, but I became extremely depressed. I lost myself and who I was, and I began to believe everyone around had given up on me also. 

For graduation my mother-in-law gives my children a trip to tour the church history sites. She had asked me if I wanted to go on a youth trip with my daughter, as she had gone the last two times. I told her I would think about it. As the time got closer, I tried to avoid her each time she brought it up. I didn’t really want to go. I didn’t want to be on a bus for 10 days with a bunch of annoying kids and listen to people talk about how wonderful their lives were or to hear their feelings or experiences. My husband finally convinced me to go and take the opportunity to just spend this quality time with our daughter, so that became my focus and general reason for going.

Our first stop was at the Hill Cumorah. We learned many things, and my mind started to become interested in what was being taught. As I listened to our tour guide, you would have thought my heart would have become softened. Instead, my heart was still numb and hardened. I wondered if the Gospel were really true. I had many questions, one in particular that bothered me a lot. Why did Emma not continue with the pioneers all the way to Utah? If she believed in her husband and the Gospel, why did she not carry it out? My doubt in the church began to weary me based on what I felt Emma did. 

We started our tour in the state of New York, and we would end in Kansas City, Missouri. We visited many places and learned so much information. I had expressed my concerns and feelings with the tour guide. He was full of information and answered most of my questions. Some of them he had no answers to, especially when I would ask about Emma and her decision to stay in Nauvoo. As you can see, this really concerned me. I believed a wife of the Prophet, with everything that they had gone through, would have had that belief and strength to stay with the members and follow through with them. 

After the Hill Cumorah, we traveled to the Smith Family Farm. I stood in the room where Moroni visited Joseph Smith. We walked through the Sacred Grove where I took the opportunity to ponder everything that I had been learning and what I had been feeling. I went off the trail where I found a nice place to sit. I took the time to say a prayer and express how I was feeling. I poured out all I had, tears of love, frustrations, desires, concerns, you name it, I let it out. I felt I was in such a sacred place that I would for sure get some type of answer. I sat there for 20 minutes or so after my prayer, silently waiting. I received nothing.  

 

I tried to not get discouraged, and I began to become interested in this journey. I knew I would not have this opportunity again to strengthen my testimony that I had always desired to have for myself and to find out myself if this was the true church. I began to change my attitude towards the trip. I would read and study what the tour guide would ask of us to do before each eventful day. While in Ohio, we were able to tour the Kirtland temple, The John Johnson Homestead, and we also stopped at the Newel K. Whitney store. This is where I can say MY miraculous event was given to me. At the John Johnson home (no relation) is where the mob broke into the home and dragged Joseph Smith out, and beat, tarred, and feathered him. 

I stood in Joseph and Emma’s room, and, as the tour guide and missionaries told the story, I closed my eyes and tried to place myself as if I were there when it was happening. Emma and Joseph had been up all night with the twins, and Joseph had just fallen asleep when the mob came in. They ripped him out of bed and dragged him down the road where others were there waiting for him. I could hear Emma scream. I could sense the fear for her husband. I felt her love for him. I was so overwhelmed with tears that compassion filled my heart. I learned as they brought Joseph back to the home, Emma stayed up all night pulling the feathers and tar off Joseph. Even with everything he had gone through, his body remained healthy enough to preach a sermon that morning. His sermon was on charity, and, along with the members that were there, there were also some of the same mob that attacked Joseph. Three of them were baptized after that meeting. 

As I pondered this event, I thought of Joseph and his love for the Gospel. He knew that what he was doing was true and that the Book of Mormon was true. If it was not true, anyone else being persecuted, tarred, and feathered would have given up. No one would have gone through what he and his family went through to bear false Gospel principles. My testimony began to grow. It was not until I was in the Newel K. Whitney store that I got my confirmation. 

Each night I prayed, I would ask my Heavenly Father to please help me find my own testimony, a confirmation to the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon. In the Newel K. Whitney store there was a room they called the School of the Prophets. This is where the Prophet had received multiple revelations. Even the Father and Son had appeared to him. As we gathered in the small room, two sister missionaries began their testimony. Listening to the sisters, I had a warm feeling overcome me. My eyes began to fill with tears. I wasn’t feeling any different from what I had before on the other tours. However, this time my whole body from head to toes was starting to tingle and become numb. I couldn’t move. I had no idea what was going on. I felt like I was the only one in the room. The warm feeling I had started to feel around me, now had encapsulated me. I could feel the spirit so strong. I heard a sweet soft voice whisper in my ear validating the truthfulness I had been waiting all my life for. Hearing those words began a new feeling of life for me. The Lord does answer your prayers. Not on your time, but on his. HE knows the right time. 

After coming down the stairs from the School of Prophets, many other small miracles happened on the rest of the tour. Next door to the Whitney store was a saw mill that was owned by my husband’s Great Great Great Great Grandfather, Joel Hills Johnson. On our Journey to Nauvoo, I learned of my Great Great Grandfather, Edmund Nielson, and stood on the property that he had owned. My husband’s Great Great Great Great Uncle Benjamin F Johnson was the secretary to Joseph Smith. I was encircled by family, and I didn’t even know of their fellowship and service to our prophet Joseph Smith. 

As my journey was coming to an end, one of our last stops was at the Carthage jail. As our tour group stood in the room where Joseph and Hyrum were martyred, everyone had gone but us. The missionaries forgot us up in that room for a few minutes, and our tour guide took that opportunity to role play the event of that day for us. It was the most humbling experience for me to have. The bullet that shot Hyrum still leaves evidence in the door that he held shut as the mob was trying to push their way through. I stood in the window where Joseph Smith tried to escape to save the other two from being killed, but he was shot before and fell to his death. How could one go through all that he did if it wasn’t true? He suffered so much to give me the opportunity to have the Gospel in my life. 

My heart changed towards Emma Smith. I believe Emma loved her husband so much, and she had a love for the Gospel. She went through so many trials in her life that no other woman would have been able to bear a small amount of. I believe after Joseph Smith’s death that Emma could no longer go on. She had lost so much and didn’t want to lose any more. She knew the journey west would be hard, and, not having her husband by her side, she wanted to protect and raise their children in what safety and peace she could. The trip would have brought on more death. She had already endured so much, losing her children and the love of her life. How much more could her heart bear? Her decision to stay in Nauvoo was a difficult one, but she did what she thought was right. Respectfully, I knew the Lord was pleased with her. I grew a love for Emma; she is a hero in my book. 

There is no doubt in my mind of the truthfulness of this Gospel. I was extremely blessed to have had the humbling and confirming experiences on this trip. Even though I had to wait all this time for my own testament, I can say it was well worth the wait. It was the best experience I have ever had. I have my own testimony, and one I can never deny.