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JOSEPH: Stories Behind the Songs
(How and why they were written)
By Jason Deere
The Prayer
Joseph was no stranger to prayer. Prayer was a part of daily life for the entire Smith family. They knew how to do it and it was a tried and proven part of their faith. The verses in James were not a new concept to young Joseph, however at the particular time that Joseph read the passages in James, those words did later carry him into the grove with faith unwavering, knowing that he would receive an answer to his prayer. I can’t imagine a more beautiful moment for any one human being in all of history than that moment when the “light cut through the darkness” dismissing the power that had bound his tongue, as the God of the universe stood before Joseph with the Savior of the world at His side.
During the fall of 2003, most mornings I would push my little three-year-old daughter Maddy in a jogging stroller through the many blacktopped roads and paths of Edwin Warner Park, which is across the river from my home. One morning after returning home from teaching seminary, Maddy and I headed out again over the hilly paths through the dense trees before I headed to my office. It was very early and the beauty of the morning was immeasurable. The sun had just peeked its head over the mountainside, and beautiful beams of light were falling through the canopy above and resting on the leafy forest floor. It was breathtaking, and I was breathing heavy as I pushed the stroller as fast as I could up those hills. Maddy turned her little pig-tailed head around and said, “Da-da, tell me more about Joseph.” I smiled and started to tell her once again about the First Vision. At this time the songs found on the Joseph album were in simple work tape form with me singing them crudely on my guitar. My wife had played them in her car, and the kids had been listening to them for some time. If these songs were never heard by anyone other than my family, they would have been worth writing because they caused my kids to asked questions. As parents all we can ever ask is for teaching opportunities where our kids actually listen. This morning Maddy was listening and I was thrilled.
As I launched into the story, Maddy asked what I thought were some very insightful questions for a three-year-old. She asked, “What church did he mommy go to?” I answered, “Well, sweetheart, his mommy went to the Methodist church.” (Kids, by the way, raised in Tennessee are very aware at an early age that there are many religions, since on almost every corner there is an enormous building that is someone else’s church). Maddy then said, “What church did he daddy go to?” I said, “Well, his daddy was like Joseph, he wasn’t sure which of the churches was the right one.” I could see that between those pigtails, her little motor was just buzzing. I felt my heart swell with pride and as I took the opportunity to share my tender testimony of this blessed event. I continue with the story, “And on a morning just like this, in a grove of trees just like this (and it did truly look just like I picture the grove that morning), Joseph knelt down and prayed…and after Heavenly Father and Jesus went back up into heaven, Joseph sat in amazement on a morning just like this!” Tears were running down my cheeks by this point and I was so filled with the spirit. I let the silence work on Maddy’s little three-year-old heart, thinking this moment was making a lasting impression on her as it was on me. I waited patiently to hear what she would finally say after taking it all in. After a minute she finally turned her little head and looked at me and said, “Whatever, Dad”, meaning, that’s a big fat hairy story if I ever heard one! I laughed so hard I almost wrecked the stroller into the trees. But Maddy’s comment made some sense to me at this time and brought a thought to life for me. We do profess an incredible story. We teach of a boy being visited by angels and heavenly beings, of golden plates, a curious ball of workmanship, clear stones, the divine translation of an ancient language, and the return of John the Baptist as well as Peter, James and John to lay their hands on a young prophet’s head to restore ancient rights, powers and authority. It truly is quite a phenomenal story. But how blessed we are to be members of a religion where faith is required to thrive in it! We can, like Joseph, earnestly pray with “nothing wavering” to know if these things are true, and our Father, the God of all, will answer us if we come to Him in faith! (D&C 8:2 “Yea, behold, I will tell you in your mind and in your heart, by the Holy Ghost, which shall come upon you and which shall dwell in your heart.”)
Lyrics
The Rising
I wrote this song in my Tennessee home during the first fall semester when I taught early morning seminary in 2003. I was truly filled with amazement at the times and circumstances in which Joseph found himself before and just after the First Vision. I can only imagine what Lucy Mack must have thought and felt as she asked her son what troubled him, and he then unfolded the events in the grove. I can only imagine Joseph’s face as the pastor of a local church, someone whom Joseph trusted enough to tell his story, stared at him with a need to lecture the young boy out of further sharing his “impossible” story. I truly believe that from those two pivotal moments, a “rising” began - the rising of love and enlightenment, of fear and misunderstanding, of truth and knowledge, of cruel intent to harm both verbally and physically, a rising of all things good and evil battling for the success or demise of the restoration of the plain and precious truths that had been promised for generations. Joseph saw the water rising, and he could sink or swim. He chose to swim, and he carried a religion off of the ground in his efforts - efforts that would have drown in vain had he not given his all for the remainder of his life. I was once asked why, out of all people alive in 1820, I thought Joseph was chosen. My answer is simple. I believe that our Father knew that Joseph had the fortitude and determination to stay the course until he got it right in every instance…and he did!
Lyrics
Candles
This song was actually written partially on my mission, and I think I finished it sometime shortly thereafter. I grew up in Oklahoma, where there were very few Mormons. There were only a small number of people in our stake who weren’t converts. We saw many come into the gospel inspired by the examples of members doing their best to live their newfound religion. I have often pictured the many people in Joseph’s day who were drawn to the gospel by all of the positive things that the restored gospel offered. There were also many who came into the fold by their own wonder and amazement at this new religion that seemed to ignite such ferocious opposition in the hearts of so many, so quickly. Opposition and difficulty draw hearts to the Lord. They always have and always will. In these last days, we have been told we will see it again. Some will fall away due to the heat of the fires of opposition, but many will flow unto it finding strength with the Saints.
Lyrics
American Dreams
I have always been interested in American history. I love to hear the stories of those who immigrated to the Americas from so many distant lands. While making the Joseph album, I traveled to New York City for the CMA Award show at Madison Square Gardens. The next morning, my wife and I took our children on the ferry to Ellis Island and toured the building where my Lithuanian great-grandfather entered his “American Dream” through the great halls of that building. I remember as if it were yesterday his wife, my great-grandmother, Marta Budzinsky, sitting on the porch of her little house in eastern Oklahoma, telling me, in broken English, the story of her traveling across the great blue sea from Lithuania in 1903 when she was a small girl. She and her family traveled around the southern tip of South America, briefly stopping in Argentina, where some of her family got off of the boat and settled there because they did not have the money to continue on to Galveston, Texas as she and her mother and siblings did. I remember her wrinkled hands quivering as she emotionally told me of a little girl whom she befriended on the journey and played with on the deck of the ship. Out at sea, the little girl took sick and passed away in her mother’s arms. They held a service on the deck of the ship, and the girl’s family wrapped her small body in her little blanket and dropped her overboard into the depths of the sea. More than 80 years after that event, as if it all just happened, my great-grandmother’s eyes still moistened with emotion for the great sacrifices that her family and friends made for the American Dream.
As I worked on this record, I was once again humbled and amazed at all of those who gave up everything, leaving their homes and lives in the old countries, who traveled across the great blue sea not only for the American Dream, but for a religion…to follow a prophet of God!
Lyrics
He Walked a Mile in My Shoes
While making the Joseph album, my dad and I met in Kansas City to watch our beloved Oklahoma Sooners play the Kansas State Wildcats in the Big 12 Championship. You must understand that my dad (Monte Deere) was the quarterback for the Sooners from 1959 to 1962 under the great coach Bud Wilkinson; so needless to say, the crimson runs deep in the blood of every Deere since. My dad and I were heartbroken as we stood in the FREEZING cold surrounded by ravenous Wildcats’ fans and watched our Sooners get whipped top to bottom below us.
With our tails between our legs, we tried the next day to lift our spirits by visiting some church history sites in the area. We first visited the RLDS temple. I call it the great seashell on the plains, and I would suggest that everyone visit it at some point. It presents very interesting and worthwhile view into what happened to one of the offshoots of the restored gospel after the martyrdom of Joseph and Hyrum. We then visited Liberty Jail. I had been there once before as a young boy around six or seven years old. My dad was baptized when I was about 2 years old, and my mom about five years later (she was a stubborn southern Baptist and took a little longer). Shortly after she and my older brothers were baptized we had visited Liberty Jail. I recalled only a few things about my first visit years before as my father and I walked up the front steps of the monument. I remembered that it was a rather strange monument…a little building inside of a bigger building with a manikin that may or may not look like Joseph sitting in the basement of the smaller building. It was odd to a six-year-year old. As we walked in, it was just as I remembered it…a building inside of a building with a manikin that may or may not look like Joseph (I think Joseph had better hair than that guy) sitting in the basement of the old jail. However, as we stood alone at the rail in that quiet room, my heart was filled with the Spirit as I contemplated the revelations brought forth in the turbulence of Joseph’s stay in the depths of that jail - especially the 121st section of the Doctrine & Covenants, where we read that the prophet, in the first several verses, goes through a whole gamut of emotions in his trials. He pleads with his Father asking how long his Saints must suffer, then Joseph moves almost to anger pleading for a hint of vengeance upon his enemies. Heartbroken with the exhaustion of months of imprisonment and missing his family terribly, he then begs his God for relief. We truly see the Master at work in this moment. Our Savior, while He certainly could have, did not break Joseph free from his chains as He had Peter or Alma and Amulek. Instead He left Joseph in the refiner’s fire and gently molded the man into the Prophet that He needed him to become in order to fulfill the remainder of his calling. He said, “My son, peace be unto thy soul. Thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment; ye are not yet as Job…If the fierce winds become thine adversary; if all the elements combine to hedge up the way, and above all, if the very jaws of hell shall gape open the mouth wide after thee; know thou my son, that all these things give thee experience, and shall be for thy good. The Son of Man hath descended below them all.”
Lyrics
Emma
I have often been asked what my favorite song is on the Joseph album. That is always a difficult question since all of them are so personal to me and to my testimony. However, one song always works its way to the front as I answer and the reason is rather simple, really. I knew so little about this particular “main character” of The Restoration before I started this project. I knew that Emma Hale was the wife of the prophet. Years ago, one fact, how Emma organized the first LDS hymnal, penetrated my teenage brain during a sacrament meeting as the music lady spoke - you know, the lady who leads the music in sacrament meetings, the one the Bishop asks to speak once per year on our beloved Hymns, there’s one in every ward. And like so many of us, I knew that she had stayed behind in Nauvoo as her friends and Saints disappeared out of sight across the west banks of the Mississippi. But I read, and I really read as much as I could find on this woman, and my heart grew with a love for her that I never expected. I learned that from the time that Emma met young Joseph Smith, and fell in love with him, that there was never one moment in their earthly existence together that someone was not actively seeking his demise. I know how I feel about my wife and for someone to even say one thing about her in a negative light would hurt my heart. Emma stood by and watched the rising that started with gestures, then led to words and then too often to violent action.
I know how important it is to my wife and my mother, and to every woman I suppose, to have beautiful things in their homes in order to make people feel enjoyment and comfort when they visit. Things that men don’t even understand the purposes of…like plates and forks, and bath towels…(I mean really, what’s the point? You stand on the bath mat, fix your hair and brush your teeth and in a few minutes you are dry.?.) At any rate, these things were surely important to young Emma as well, yet for much of their married life she and Joseph lived in other families’ homes. Yet still, in Emma’s limited space within these houses, her home became the heart and center of life for the Saints. Emma’s ever-compassionate heart was forever giving to all who entered. At one time, in Nauvoo, when the fever had hundreds of people deathly ill, Emma’s living room and porch were covered in people she was nursing. If they needed a mother’s heart, the Saints went to Emma, and they walked away better for having done so.
I learned that while living in Kirtland, Joseph and Emma lived in a section of the John Johnson home. Emma was laboring under the devastation of just having lost her twins in childbirth only days before, when a man by the name of Murdock knocked on Joseph and Emma’s door. He was holding his own newborn twins. Murdock told Emma that his wife had just died giving birth to the babies, and there was no way that he could care for them. Emma took those babies in her arms, and they were hers! Two years later, one evening the little boy had taken sick, and Joseph carried him from the bed and lay with him on the living room floor to allow Emma and little Julia some rest in the other room. It was then that a mob of angry men with painted faces broke through the door and dragged Joseph out into the yard, cursing him, beating him and pouring scorching tar into his flesh as Emma, holding two crying babies in the doorway, tearfully plead for mercy to the deaf ears of the mob. A short time later, Emma’s little baby boy died from his illness and his exposure to the cold that night. In total, Emma lost six children in her lifetime.
My reason for writing this song, in addition to wanting to hopefully write something that would honor this marvelous woman with a small portion of what she deserves, was to beg for mercy for her mistaken reputation. I have attended gospel doctrine lessons where people spout out their various opinions about why Emma stayed behind. Everyone has his or her version of Emma’s story. But you know what, I am fairly certain that Emma was the only person in her own head during those difficult years; as she laid her precious husband to rest in a secret grave and then watched her dear friends follow a new prophet into more of the unknown. It is no secret that Emma was not wild about Brigham Young; and it is fairly well documented, as well, that Brigham may not have liked Emma much either. But the good Lord knew what He was doing when He established one of the great commandments to “love one another”. Notice he didn’t say “like” one another, or we would surely ALL be in serious eternal trouble.
I don’t know what her reasons were, but let me say this, after the long list of sacrifices she selflessly endured, that have monumentally contributed to the blessings of the eternal gospel that I have in my life today. In my book, Emma Hale Smith can do whatever she pleases with the rest of her life on earth! I choose to love her and honor her for the woman that she was and is, and I long for the day when I can hug her neck and thank her face to face for her many triumphs.
If Joseph Smith is the prophet of this dispensation, and I testify to you that he surely is, then Emma Hale Smith is the first lady of this dispensation, and she deserves such love and respect from her Saints forever.
Lyrics
Modern-day Sampson
Any young Mormon boy who gets his hands on a book about Orrin Porter Rockwell thinks this guy was pretty doggone cool. I knew a few things about Porter before I did research to write this album. I knew he was a mountain man, somewhat of a rogue. He did things his own way. He was a bodyguard to Joseph Smith and later to Brigham Young; and, of course, I knew what we all know…he killed a lot of people.
I had always wondered why this man, who is rumored to have killed more people than Wyatt Earp, Billy the Kid and the Jesse James gang combined has been so buried in American history because he was a Mormon, and again, so buried in Mormon history because we don’t know what in the heck to do with him. As I read several books on this fascinating man, my heart started to change any and all preconceived notions I had about him.
I learned that the Rockwell family and the Smith family were friends, living near each other when Joseph and Porter were boys. Porter was a little younger than Joseph but on more than one occasion Porter sat near the fire in the Smith home as young Joseph told the story of the First Vision. The two became fast friends. Porter quickly gained a testimony of Joseph as a prophet of God. Porter soon gained a sense of wanting to protect Joseph in any way that he could, to help him fulfill his calling. This later led to Porter’s desire to further protect his Saints against difficulties they were facing at every turn.
I learned that Porter led more than one group of the early pioneers across the plains. He often rode days ahead of the groups finding the easiest routes to travel, and many times killing antelope and buffalo to feed the Saints. I learned that he had a way with the Native Americans. They seem to understand him, and he them. His friendly relations with the various tribes once they reach the Salt Lake Valley was crucial to the Saints co-existence with the natives.
I could go on and on about my favorite Porter stories, but here is one I particularly like. Once in Utah, Porter built an inn near the point of the mountain, between Salt Lake City and Provo (I always say that he wanted to make sure it was right in between the University Of Utah and BYU). People often came to Porter because he was a “finisher”…he got things done. Many people today seem to think that once the Saints got to Utah that everything was just happy happy after that. Not so. Many travelers journeying to California for a million different reasons would observe these Saints in their settlements, who had just crossed the miserable plains and say, “Let’s take what we want from the poor Mormons.” Well, Porter proved to be a day of reckoning for a few of those greedy travelers. One night a man from Springville rode to Porter’s inn and told Porter that four men on horseback had just came through his place and stolen the only thirty cows he owned. He told Porter his family would never make it through the winter without those cows. Porter put on his hat and coat, and of course his guns, and walked out to saddle his horse, asking only one question…”Which way’d they go?” “South through the canyon towards Price”, the man replied. Porter rode into Springville from the south several days later with thirty cows and four horses. Such was Porter Rockwell.
Remember Teancum in the Book Of Mormon? Likewise idolized by young Mormon readers, Teancum not once but twice, in the dark of night climbed over the wall of the Lamanite city and snuck into the sleeping chambers of two different wicked kings who had so oppressed his people. He did not scold either king. He did not spit in the face of either king. He did not slap the face of either king. He in fact killed both kings rendering them incapable of further tormenting his Saints. Do we think of Teancum with the same judgments that we place upon Porter?
I have two beautiful daughters whom I love dearly. I have never seen them dragged by the hair of their heads out of their front door into the street. I have not seen mothers defiled before me. I have not seen my home and the homes of my friends burned to the ground. I have not seen my friend and my prophet full of bullet holes lying on a cold table next to his murdered brother. I have not seen my people driven and driven and driven. Before I would choose to judge Orrin Porter Rockwell, I would need to look into the eyes of a little girl who buried her parents in Garden Grove, and weeks later somewhere in Wyoming, half starved and exhausted, turns her dirty face toward me with eyes that say, “Why?”
I choose not to judge Porter, or anyone else who fights for the freedom of his people. If Porter Rockwell was a friend of the prophet Joseph Smith, well then he’s a friend of mine.
Lyrics
Brother I’ll Follow You
In the Nashville music business when you book musicians, studios, and engineers for particular dates, it is prudent to honor those dates and plans as agreed. To cancel at the last minute can do nothing but make everyone angry and ensure that the next time you call these world-class-players, they will most certainly be somehow booked that year and will have to decline any offers you may have in the future.
I called Dan about a week before we recorded and was kind of freaking out. Something was wrong. I knew something was missing on the album. Dan and I had tried to be so careful to research every “main character” of The Restoration; and while there were many who were not specifically included on the album, we felt like we had done our best to represent those few who could not possibly be left out. But someone was missing. Dan thought I was a nut, worrying like a mama hen who had lost one of her chicks. I played him an old song that I had written some time before about adoption. We both knew that Emma had adopted the Murdock twins and many of the Saints had adopted children when parents met misfortune along the westward movement. Dan liked the adoption song but didn’t think that it held hands with the others on the album, and he was right. I was distraught and almost ready to postpone recording dates-not a good thing!
The morning of the 6th, I came through the back door of my home after teaching Seminary. None of my family had come downstairs yet, but I could hear them starting to stir. Knowing that time was running out, with less than three hours until we had to be in the studio, and still completely unsatisfied that the song collection was complete, I sat down at my kitchen table, folded my arms and petitioned my Heavenly Father for help. Almost immediately, the sweetest spirit seemed to fill the room. In a few moments the lyrics to a song seemed to fall down on the page in front of me. Brother I’ll Follow You was the missing song. Tears ran down my cheeks as admiration and honor for Hyrum filled my heart. We hear so little comparatively about Joseph’s older brother. Why? Because he was honest, obedient and steadfast in his perfect testimony of his little brother as a prophet and of the truth that had been restored to the earth through him. You don’t hear so much about the good ones. Those who shake the trees are the ones that you hear the most about. The fact that the history books are somewhat silent with reference to Hyrum Smith is a testament to his humility and magnificence as a righteous human being. I could go on and on about him, but to make it short, alas, we had the last song we needed for the album.
Lyrics
Lamb To The Slaughter
This song was the beginning. You can probably tell that I wrote this very early in my songwriting experience when my craft frankly wasn’t that good. I rhymed “said” with “said” in the first verse. You can’t do that. I changed the chord progression in the second verse where it didn’t match verse 1. Both bad ideas in retrospect, but to Dan and me, somehow all of that didn’t matter as we prepared to record the album. The song has some simple innocence to it that seemed to work and, after all, it was where it all started.
Then to our surprise and relief, Jimmy Westbrook, of Little Big Town fame, who is a true friend of mine, agreed to sing the song on the album. He said, “Jason, I am not a Mormon but I can go into character and appreciate what this guy has done for your religion.” If you’ve heard the recording you know that he killed it…and I mean that he sang his heart out like no one else could.
My heart will forever esteem that precious fearsome moment, when angry voices were yelling, guns were blazing and chaos reigned supreme in Carthage, Missouri. The very instance after Joseph had just seen his beloved brother fall to the wood floor mortally-wounded, he fully realized that the very proximity of his physical being threatened the safety of Willard and John. He, therefore, dove his muscular body through the small glass window, carrying the musket balls of his enemies in his flesh to the earth below.
As he drew his last breath, I wonder if Joseph recalled the words he spoke as he left Nauvoo with his brethren days before, “I am going like a lamb to the slaughter; but I am calm as a summer’s morning; I have a conscience void of offense towards God, and towards all men.”
Lyrics
Farewell Nauvoo
One story I love is that of a group of workers who were remodeling a house down by the river in Nauvoo about 40 years after the Saints left the city. Upon ripping up the floorboards to replace them, they found a little plate lying in the dirt that had a small tintype picture of a little girl. In it was wrapped a note that read in a young girl’s handwriting, “It’s night almost and tomorrow we have to leave for somewhere. I will hide the two things I love most, my little dog and my kitten’s plate. I shall come back one day and find you again. Annie E”.
Dan’s brilliant piece of music that he so beautifully wrote for this record will forever draw my tears each time that I hear it. As he sat at his living room piano, I know that Dan was led by the Spirit as he crafted the sweet melody that so eloquently captures the moment the Saints each turned back to look one last time at the beautiful city they had built with their own hands.
To sit on the stage night after night with a man whose talents have brought him such an abundance of worldy accolades is truly humbling. But even more humbling is the spirit with which he attends the shows that we do. He often flies in from some Diamond Rio show the night before one of our Joseph or Trek shows, to his great inconvenience. He plays his heart out, bearing his powerful testimony and staying with the crowds until the last person goes home; only to get on an airplane again at the crack of dawn the next morning to make another Rio show somewhere else in the world. I’ve seen him do it a hundred times, and I am thankful to call Dan Truman my friend and co-producer on these Nashville Tribute albums. He, and his wife, Wendee, have selflessly given of their time, talents and money to make these albums and shows a reality. I will forever love them and cherish their friendship!
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