You never know when inspiration for another post will hit, and this one zinged right out of the blue.
I was preparing a lesson for a church class and decided to include a story about my great, great grandfather, Allen Joseph Stout. A snapshot of his life is in green, in case you're wondering. (The rest of my post continues below.)
He lived in the 1800's, and had it rough. Really rough. He was only nine when his mother died leaving eight young children who were then shuffled here and there. Allen and his siblings endured some not-so-pleasant environments. He also dealt with poor health most of his life. As an adult, he learned of the newly organized church called the Mormons, and after some months of study, decided to be baptized. He wrote about restored health immediately upon rising out of the baptismal water, and was able to serve a brief mission.
He returned to Nauvoo, Illinois, then the head-quarters for the Church, because he heard that its founder and leader, Joseph Smith, was in danger. Allen served for a while as Joseph's bodyguard. He wrote of an interesting experience when he and Joseph were out walking and saw a stranger a short distance down the road. Joseph told him to wait there and he went on ahead to talk to the stranger. After a while, Joseph returned, but Allen was upset at himself for letting Joseph go off without his protection. Joseph reassured him that he was safe. He said the stranger was John the Revelator, who was blessed by Jesus to remain on the earth until the Second Coming. (John 21:23)
Joseph eventually was murdered when he was supposed to be in the protective custody of the law. Allen later went west with the Mormon Saints and was then sent by Brigham Young, the new church leader, to help settle southern Utah, an area nicknamed "Dixie" for its hot and dry weather. If you study the history of those poor, bedraggled people who first settled what is now the thriving city of St. George, Utah, among them you will find my ancestors. These courageous people nearly starved, yet gave it their all.
A temple was eventually built in St. George, and Allen, who was then nearing the end of his life, lived about 39 miles away, and would travel that three-day journey in, I assume, a horse-drawn buggy and spend days in the temple doing by proxy, saving-ordinances for people who died without the chance to do their own. He wrote about the difficulty of the journey due to age and poor health, then having to walk 12 blocks to and from the temple each day after he got there. He would stay for weeks, spending every day in the temple, then endure the journey home. He died leaving a large posterity, including Yours Truly. And I am honored to be the descendant of this nineteenth-century Job.
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So I googled his name for my lesson, and up popped an anti-Mormon site. I am familiar with online discussion forums, so in I went, curious to see what they had written about him.
The thread (topic of discussion) opened with something like (paraphrasing) .... No wonder Joseph Smith was assassinated, with such inept bodyguards. Then ..... get this .... apparently one of my distant cousins, who has dropped out of the Church, piped up with insulting comments about Allen Stout and his family in general.
In spite of this online conversation being two years old, I spoke up.
Because I do that.
"I am descendant of Allen Joseph Stout and don't appreciate your flippant insults regarding my heritage. Such remarks speak of blatant ignorance and if you and I are related, then I am ashamed for you. Allen Joseph Stout was a man of sacrifice, much suffering, dedication and integrity. I am honored to be part of his family. Your attitude, which apparently drove you out of the LDS Church, places you in cynical company, as evidenced here in this forum. You probably don't see it, but your comments are a disgrace and show how far you've fallen. Please excuse my abruptness, but this really pisses me off."
Yes, I used the P-word.
I was addressing one of the comments in the thread, but it was then when I saw who had started the thread. One of our deceased prophets, a Godly man who was revered by millions, is survived by a grandson who decided that the great church and gospel that his grandfather loved and to which he devoted his life, was a fraud and a cult. This grandson apparently takes great pride tossing his big name around. I've never met nor encountered him personally, but I had heard of him. And here we were in this forum, face to face, or rather ... keyboard to keyboard.
He immediately gave me a hearty welcome before he invited me to read the gossip and twisted historical "facts" concerning that which I hold dear. He also made it clear exactly WHO had descended down from deity to speak to little me, by promptly stating his name and family ties. I said:
"I know who you are and am unimpressed. Your grandfather was a great man to say the least, whom I greatly respect and you, most assuredly, broke his heart. You are free, as you well know, to choose your way, but stay away from my ancestors. Do not besmirch the names of those who are not here to defend themselves. I came from people who sacrificed their all, and I am eternally grateful for the blessings I have had every day of my life as a result. My life-long membership in the LDS Church has been the source of every happiness I have ever known and has given me a wonderful life, and I give much credit to people like my great, great, grandfather, for my heritage. I look forward to meeting him and thanking him for his sacrifice and example. You, on the other hand, may have a different experience when you face your own grandfather some day."
I also included some facts about Allen Stout's life and some of his own words from his journal.
Then Mr. Big Name said,
". . . about Allen J. Stout.
So far, all she (referring to me) has produced has been a smelling-salts woe-is-me Shakesperean-drama death scene, delivered with typical TBM (True Blue Mormon) testimonial passion and fervor--i.e., long on faith, short on facts.
Earth to Kolob Brenda:
This is not a LDS fast-and-testimonial chant-fest. This is the real world.
Deal with the history; dispense with the histrionics.
By the way, my grandfather died of congestive heart failure. There was no broken heart. Thanks for trying."
Then me:
"Oh my goodness. Listen to you! You are really full of yourself, milking fame amongst this embittered crowd with your grandfather's good name. What a tragedy. And to say your grandfather, along with many others of your family, was not saddened and hurt by your choices, is saying he did not care about you. I don't buy it for one minute."
The conversation may seem a little choppy, because I didn't include everything. Comments were rapidly firing into the thread from different people, but hopefully, you get the gist of it.
The responses descended into crudeness and profanity after that, from the minions who have nothing better to do than to disparage someone's religion. And then the thread that had sat dormant for two years, was promptly closed. Just as well.
I have been in similar forums defending my faith, but never have I had to defend my own humble, little-known ancestors! Who ARE these pathetic people who find pleasure in insults and crudity? Who are these disaffected former members of my faith, who cannot move on? Who must stay and stir up strife and ill feelings? Who twist and smear and try to do damage to something that has blessed my life beyond measure? Why do they do this? They are free to leave and to live their own lives. But they don't. Why is that?
They cannot see the hatred that shouts from their words. They cannot see the ugliness in their attitudes. They justify themselves, thinking they are helping others to leave ...... but to go where? Into depravity? Into nothingness? Into bitterness and contention? Do they think I'd be tempted to leave that which is uplifting and good and fills my heart with comfort, and be attracted to their behavior? Really??
It's so profoundly tragic and needless ..... and illogical. And my heart aches for his grandfather.
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Update: I looked back at the site. A new thread is started and now they are going after me, and taunting me to respond. Nice.
Instead, I think I'll go for a run.