The Work and the Glory (10 page)

“That’s exactly how our family is,” Nathan said.

“So,” Joseph continued, “when the preachers started coming into the area, calling on people to join up with this church or that, our family started thinking about it. This was almost ten years ago, I’d say, so I was about twelve or thirteen.”

“I finally joined the Presbyterian church,” Hyrum volunteered. “So did Mother and two of the other children. Joseph was kind of leaning to the Methodists.”

“But you didn’t join?” Nathan asked.

There was a slow shake of the head. He broke off a stem of a weed and began to chew on it thoughtfully. “At first I was quite excited by it all. But then somethin’ really started troubling me.”

“Like what?”

“Well, at first all the ministers kept saying it didn’t matter which church you followed, as long as you were really sincere and got ‘converted,’ as they called it. But even young as I was, I noticed it was mostly just talk. As soon as people started choosing one church or another, all the good feelings kinda disappeared. Ministers would argue with ministers over who had the truth. ‘Converts’ to one church would tell ‘converts’ to another church that they had made a terrible mistake and had put their eternal salvation at risk. One thing was clear to me in all this: ‘Love your neighbor’ and Christian charity quickly went out the window.

“This went on for more than a year. Before long I was so confused, I didn’t know what to do. All around me was confusion. What was I to do? What if I made the wrong choice? To my young mind this was a decision of eternal consequence, and I didn’t want to do something that wasn’t right.”

Nathan was engrossed now in Joseph’s account. “So what
did
you do?”

“I started to read the Bible. My mother taught us the scriptures were God’s word. So I decided maybe I could find the answer there.”

He stopped, his eyes gazing out across the field where they sat. Nathan watched him closely, tempted to press, but knowing it was better to let Joseph take it at his own pace.

“One day I happened to be reading in the Epistle of Saint James. I came to the first chapter and the fifth verse.” He swung around and looked directly at Nathan, his eyes suddenly piercing in their intensity.

“Tell him what it says, Joseph,” Hyrum urged.

Joseph nodded, his voice now soft, almost reverent. “It says: ‘If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him.’ ”

“Hmmm,” Nathan murmured. “That’s a wonderful promise.”

Joseph nodded. “Never had any passage of scripture come with such power to my mind. It entered with great force into every feeling of my heart. I reflected on it again and again. Finally, I decided that if there was ever anyone who lacked wisdom, it was me. I decided right then and there I would do exactly as James said. I would ask God which church I should join.” He exhaled slowly, leaning back, lost in his thoughts.

“And?” Nathan pressed.

“By now it was early in the spring of 1820. I knew of a quiet place in the woods near our home. I had decided this would be the place where I would go and pray. It was a beautiful clear morning. I went into the woods, and making sure I was alone, I immediately knelt down to pray.”

A sudden shadow passed across Joseph’s face. He shook his head slightly as if trying to brush it aside. He was staring down at the ground as unconsciously he began to tear off the blades of grass and drop them into a little pile. When he spoke, his voice was low. “To my amazement, I found I couldn’t utter a word. It was as though my tongue was swollen in my head.”

Nathan blinked. This was not what he had expected to hear.

“Suddenly I thought I heard footsteps behind me, someone walking towards me in the dry leaves. I was startled. I whipped around.” Now at last he looked up, directly into Nathan’s eyes. “No one was there.”

Nathan felt a sudden chill run up and down his spine.

“I turned back, thinking it was my imagination. Remember, I was only a fourteen-year-old boy at this time.” He bowed his head, as though reliving those moments. His lips were compressed into a tight line, and he shook his head. “But again, I couldn’t utter a word. And then I heard someone behind me again, only louder this time. I jumped to my feet and whirled around, determined to catch whoever it was.” Once more there was a long, breathless pause. “There was no one there. Nothing!”

He stopped and took a breath. “Remember, Nathan. This wasn’t nighttime. It was full daylight on a bright spring morning.”

Nathan nodded, transfixed by the power in Joseph’s eyes.

“At that very instant, I was seized by some powerful force which bound me tight.” He reached out and gripped Nathan’s arm. “I’m not talking about some imaginary force, Nathan. I was in the grip of a being from the unseen world, a being more powerful than anything I had ever experienced. The power was astonishing. I was completely bound. I could not even cry out in my terror.”

Nathan’s mind flashed to his contest with Joseph in pulling sticks. He knew personally of Joseph’s tremendous strength. The power had bound Joseph completely? He shivered involuntarily.

“Thick darkness began to gather around me. I was terrified, for I was certain I was doomed to utter destruction.”

“What happened? What was it?”

His eyes grave, Joseph replied, “I exerted all my powers to call upon God for deliverance from this enemy which had seized me. Then…” He paused, the line of his jaw softening. “At the very moment of my deepest despair, as I was about to abandon myself to destruction, at that precise moment, I saw a pillar of light.”

Nathan’s head snapped up.

Joseph went on steadily now, speaking slowly but with great earnestness. “It was exactly over my head. It was far brighter than the sun at noonday. The light was so intense I thought the very leaves would burst into flame. It descended gradually until it fell upon me. Instantly, the moment the light touched me, I was delivered from the enemy which held me bound.

“When the light rested upon me, I saw two personages—” He stopped, noting the expression on Nathan’s face. “I saw two personages,” he continued firmly, “whose glory and brightness defy all description. They were standing above me in the air.”

Now it was Nathan who involuntarily passed a hand across his eyes. A pillar of light? Two personages?

“The one spoke,” Joseph continued, softly now, and more slowly, as though giving Nathan time to digest the words. “He called me by name. ‘Joseph,’ he said, ‘this is My Beloved Son. Hear Him!’”

He stopped, watching Nathan closely.

Nathan’s mind was reeling. “Are you saying…” He faltered, overwhelmed. “You mean you saw…” He could not bring himself to say it.

Joseph nodded with the utmost solemnity. “I saw God and I saw his Son, Jesus Christ.” He sighed, suddenly weary. “I know how that must sound to you. But I say again, Nathan, and I say it with all the power of my soul: I saw the Father and I saw his Son.”

He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Remember, Nathan, you promised to hear me out.”

Nathan leaned back, totally astonished. He could only nod.

“When I finally gathered my senses—and you can imagine my feelings; this was not what I had expected to happen.” He gave a short laugh of derision at his own understatement. “Not what I expected? Who would ever—could ever!—have dreamed such a thing would happen?” He shook his head. “But anyway, when I finally gathered my senses about me, the only thing I could think of to say was to ask my original question. I had come to the grove to find out which church was right. And so I asked him—”

“What did they look like?” Nathan burst out, not having heard Joseph’s last words.

Joseph smiled briefly. “They were glorious beyond description. They were dressed in robes of exquisite whiteness—”

“What did
God
look like?” Nathan’s voice was barely a whisper. “I mean, was he a—” He stopped, groping for an adequate word.

“A person?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, Nathan. Most assuredly yes, though a personage of glory and majesty beyond belief. But yes, Nathan, God is a person. When he said he created man in his own image, I know now what he meant. He looks like us—” He shook it off. “No,
we look like him!
He is a person. He is our Father.”

Hyrum was nodding soberly, but didn’t speak. Joseph, too, fell silent, letting Nathan ponder that for a moment.

Finally Joseph went on, more calmly now. “As I told you, God pointed to his Son and told me to hear him. So I addressed my question to him. I asked the Savior which of all the churches was right.”

In spite of himself, Nathan leaned forward. “And what was the answer?”

“He said I was to join none of them, they were all wrong. He said their creeds were an abomination in his sight; they taught for doctrine the commandments of men. He also said they drew near to him with their lips, but their hearts were far from him; they had a form of godliness but denied the power thereof.”

He paused, but Nathan did not respond, so he went quickly on. “The Savior again forbade me to join any of the churches.”

He stopped. In the distance a meadowlark was calling out its last evening song. The breeze was picking up now, making a soft rustling noise as it danced across the meadow. The stream gurgled cheerfully as it ran past them. But Nathan was aware of none of this. His mind was a wild tumble of thoughts and emotions.

Joseph turned to look at him. “When the light was gone, I found myself on my back. The experience had drained the strength out of me.” His eyes were like blue fire as he searched Nathan’s face. “But I’ll never forget those feelings, Nathan. Never have I been filled with so much joy. It was like I was on fire with the knowledge I had just received, but at the same time my heart was calm, my soul was at perfect peace.

“When I finally returned home, Mother seemed to know immediately that something had happened to me. She asked me what was wrong.” He laughed softly. “I told her I had found out for myself that the church she had joined was not true.”

Hyrum cleared his throat. “Joseph is my brother,” he said quietly. “I have known him from birth. I have never known him to lie or to be dishonest. From the moment he first told us this experience, no one in the family has ever doubted it. We believed him, Nathan. You need to know that. Those who knew him best, believed him.”

Nathan turned away. A few minutes earlier he had expressed a similar confidence in Joseph’s integrity. He had been incensed to hear that others thought Joseph to be mad or a fraud. Now suddenly he understood.

Yet? He searched inwardly. As Joseph had spoken, something had burned inside Nathan’s heart. He had been almost inflamed with the power of what Joseph had said. But another part of him was recoiling. Thick darkness? Some evil power? And God the Father? A person?

He shook his head. It was too fantastic. Too absolutely incredible. This was not one of the world’s great religious leaders. Maybe if it had even happened to a parson or a priest. But to a fourteen-year-old farm boy? It staggered all credibility.

He was pulled out of his thoughts as Joseph began to speak again. He was speaking so softly Nathan had to lean closer to hear. “Many times I have felt exactly as Paul the Apostle must have felt. When he told others about what had happened to him on the road to Damascus, they mocked him. And who could blame them? This was the Paul who persecuted the Church. This was the man who threw men, women, and children into prison for believing in Christ. But the doubts and the mocking meant nothing to Paul. He had seen a light and heard a voice. People said he was mad or that he lied, but none of that could change the reality of his vision.”

Joseph reached out and laid a hand on Nathan’s arm. “And so it is with me, Nathan. The world would have me deny what I have seen. From the moment I first told others of this experience, they have mocked me and ridiculed me. It has never ceased to amaze me that I, an obscure farm boy, should cause such a reaction in others.”

He straightened slowly, his shoulders coming back, his chin coming up. Once again those penetrating blue eyes seemed to bore into the very heart of Nathan’s being. “But none of that matters. I saw a light, and within that light I saw two personages. Those two personages did in all reality speak to me. Who am I that I can withstand God? I know I have seen a vision. And I know God knows I have seen a vision. If I were to deny it, I would put myself under his condemnation.”

He smiled, sadly, wistfully. “That I cannot do. Let the Will Murdocks of the world laugh and sneer. Let the townspeople call me mad or possessed. It doesn’t change what happened.”

But then he brightened perceptibly. “But oh, Nathan, how can I complain? I went into that grove of trees in darkness and confusion. I came out filled with peace. I went in wondering which church I should join. I came out having seen God. It is enough for me, and I shall forever shout praises to my God for his mercy and grace.”

For several moments, they all sat there. Nathan was in too much turmoil to speak. He wouldn’t have known what to say if he could have spoken. Finally, he got to his feet, not directly meeting either Hyrum’s or Joseph’s eyes. “I’d better get back.”

Hyrum stood up quickly and faced him. Gently he touched Nathan’s shoulder. “We know how you must feel now, Nathan. We know. But listen to your heart, Nathan. Just trust your heart.”

He met Hyrum’s solemn gaze for a moment, then finally looked away. “I’ll have to think about it,” was all he could think of to say.