“It’s not his servants God is trying to protect with this principle. There is something about murmuring that kills the Spirit of God. It was true of the Israelites. It was true of Laman and Lemuel in the Book of Mormon. You cannot turn against God’s anointed without it grieving the Spirit.”
Joseph was musing now. “It’s not so much that God cuts off the murmurer; it’s that the murmurer cuts himself off from God.” For several moments the room was quiet, both men lost in their thoughts. Then Joseph finally turned back to face Benjamin. “There’s something else I want to say to you, Ben.”
“I’m listening, Joseph.” And with a start, Benjamin realized he really meant it. He was listening now. Finally.
“Do you remember that meeting we held just prior to the departure of Zion’s Camp, in which Brigham and his brother Joseph Young were concerned about whether or not Joseph should accompany us?”
“Yes. I remember it well. You promised them that if they would go, and follow your counsel, not a hair of their heads would be harmed.”
“Yes, and what else, Benjamin?”
The memories of that meeting were still vivid in his mind. He and Nathan had been sitting side by side and had stared at each other in amazement at what followed. He looked into Joseph’s face. “Then you startled every one of us by talking about the Church going to the Rocky Mountains.”
A tiny smile played around the corners of Joseph’s mouth. “Actually I startled myself a little when I said that. But the statement about the Rocky Mountains was only part of what I said that night. I said something about the destiny of the Church.”
“You said that we knew no more about its destiny than a baby in its mother’s lap.” The memories were coming back sharply now. “You said that although we were only a little handful of priesthood brethren gathered there that night, the time was coming when the Church would fill North and South America and the whole world. You said there would be tens of thousands of Saints in the Rocky Mountains and that that would open up the way for the gospel to go to the Lamanites.”
“That’s exactly right, Benjamin.” Joseph sighed. “It is hard to imagine now, isn’t it? But that is our destiny.”
Suddenly he pulled himself up into a full sitting position, leaning forward to peer at Benjamin intently. “Satan understands that destiny as clearly as I. And that causes him to rage, for when the kingdom fills the earth it will signal his final defeat.” Now his voice took on a strange and powerful tone. “But let him rage. Let him bellow and roar and gnash his teeth. Let him stir up the hearts of wicked men against us. Even let him turn the hearts of those who have been faithful, those who sit in some of the highest quorums in the Church. It will not deter us from our destiny, Benjamin.” He paused, his chest rising and falling now with the intensity of his words. “It will not. Indeed,
it cannot!
The Lord has his work, and no unhallowed hand can stay the hand of the Lord.”
He leaned back against the pillow, as if the effort of sitting up had suddenly drained him. “You know Brother Ebenezer Robinson, don’t you?”
Benjamin nodded.
“He visited me a while back and made a most interesting comment. We were speaking of these gloomy days. He said he knew that the gospel was true and that truth and righteousness will ultimately prevail.”
Benjamin nodded again. “Yes, ultimately it will.”
“That’s right,” Joseph burst out fiercely. “The gospel will prevail, Benjamin! I’m not just talking about gospel principles. They will always remain true and endure. I’m talking about the Church, Ben. God’s kingdom on the earth. He didn’t restore it to the earth to have it undone by men like Warren Parrish. This church will not fall! As surely as God exists, God’s work—his church, his priesthood, his gospel—
will triumph!
”
Slowly the fire in him died, and he looked at Benjamin with some sadness in his eyes. “But all of this doesn’t help you much, does it, Ben? It doesn’t really get at what’s eating away down inside you.”
Once again Benjamin was a little taken aback by this man’s perceptiveness. “It helps,” he said lamely.
Joseph chuckled. “Bless you, Brother Benjamin. You make a terrible hypocrite.”
Benjamin wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so he looked away. Joseph reached down to the foot of the bed and retrieved the copy of the Doctrine and Covenants from where he had tossed it when Benjamin had first come in to see him. He opened it up to a place about midway through the book, turned a page or two, then finally looked up. “I’d like to read you something.” He let his finger run quickly across the page, then began. “‘Although a man may have many revelations, and have power to do many mighty works, yet, if he boasts in his own strength, and sets at nought the counsels of God, and follows after the dictates of his own will, and carnal desires, he must fall and incur the vengeance of a just God upon him.’”
Joseph’s eyes raised, and a sad and wistful smile pulled around the corners of his mouth. “Do you know who the Lord was speaking to there?”
Benjamin remembered that revelation well. “To you,” he answered softly.
“Yes. It came not long after I gave the one hundred and sixteen pages of manuscript from the Book of Mormon translation to Martin Harris and he lost them.”
He looked down and picked up where he had left off. “‘Behold, you have been intrusted with these things, but how strict were your commandments.’” His eyes skipped further down the page. “‘Behold thou art Joseph, and thou wast chosen to do the work of the Lord, but because of transgression, if thou art not aware thou wilt fall.’”
He closed the book and lay back against his pillow. “There is hardly a day that goes by that I don’t remember that warning, Benjamin. It is a heavy burden to act as God’s servant. I do not take it lightly.”
“I have never thought that of you, Joseph,” Benjamin said firmly. He meant it. His questions were of a different nature.
“I know, Benjamin. Don’t you think I know what’s bothering you? Is Brother Joseph still a prophet of God or is he not? Isn’t that it?”
Benjamin’s head came up slowly. Count on Joseph to hit something head on and not try to dodge.
“Has God rejected Joseph? Oh, he’s a fine fellow and all that, but has he lost it? The power? The calling? Isn’t this at the nub of your problem, Ben?”
Benjamin swallowed quickly, trying to collect his thoughts, to come up with an appropriate response. “Joseph, I—”
“No, I don’t want you to try and answer that. I just want to say this to you, Ben. I’ve sensed your doubts. I know the whole Salem experience raised many questions in your mind.” He laughed briefly. “And you’ve always thought I was such a wonderful businessman.”
Benjamin laughed in spite of himself. “Especially when it comes to being a storekeeper.”
Joseph smiled in agreement, then slowly sobered. He lifted the book he still held in his hand and turned it over slowly. “When I gave Martin that manuscript back in the summer of ’28, the Lord had told me two different times not to do it, but I did not listen. I would not follow his will. That’s why I lost the power to translate.”
Now he turned his full gaze on Benjamin, and his eyes seemed to pierce right through to the very soul. “I have never claimed to be anything but a man, Benjamin. I am more keenly aware of my weaknesses than any five of my bitterest enemies. But I tell you with all the candor of my soul that this time it is different than it was back in ’28. I have been”—he smiled that sad smile again—“human. But this is the Church of Jesus Christ. He is my Master. It is him I have to please. Not Warren Parrish. Not the clamoring voices of men blinded by their own greed and wickedness. I tell you, I have not been unfaithful to my Savior. So I care not what others may say.
I have not been unfaithful!”
Benjamin was deeply moved. He had never seen Joseph speak so frankly of himself and of his calling. “I . . .” He shook his head. “Look, Joseph, I don’t know what I feel anymore. I’m not trying to be difficult. I just—”
Joseph reached out and laid a hand on Benjamin’s knee, stopping him. After a moment he spoke very slowly. “Benjamin Steed, I want you to listen to this carefully. Some who have stood by my side in the most holy and sacred of experiences are now turning their faces away. Even some of the Twelve and the Presidency are wavering. But all that matters not one whit to you. There is only one thing you must deal with. There is only one issue for Benjamin Steed. Is Joseph still God’s chosen?”
He pulled his hand away, but his eyes never left Benjamin’s. “And no one can answer that for you. Martin Harris can’t tell you if God is pleased with Joseph. Oliver? Frederick Williams? David Whitmer? Brigham Young?” He shook his head. “None of them can. Not even
Joseph
can tell you if God is pleased with Joseph.”
For a long moment the room was silent as the two men looked at each other. Then Joseph, suddenly weary, lay back on his pillow. “Only God can tell you that, Benjamin. Only God.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Nathan looked up in surprise. He and Lydia were sitting on the grass in front of the house of the Lord. They had gotten Emily and little Nathan to sleep, then gone out for a walk, leaving young Joshua to watch them. It was an evening in early July and nearly full dark now. The air was pleasant, still carrying some of the heat of the day but cooling off quickly. So they had stopped to talk, neither one anxious to return to the stuffiness of their little house. Now across the street from them Nathan saw a man walking along slowly. His head was down, and his hands were behind his back.
“Is that Brother Parley?” Lydia asked, noting that Nathan’s attention had been diverted.
“Yes, I think so.”
As they watched, the man stopped. He had just passed the Sidney Rigdon home. The next home on that side of the street, another few rods further north, was that of the Prophet Joseph. The man seemed to be staring in that direction. He took another step or two, moving even more slowly now. Again he seemed to be peering at the spot some yards ahead where the lights of Joseph’s house were burning.
“What’s he doing?” Lydia asked softly.
The man had stopped again, turned, and started back the way he had come. Then he stopped again, obviously agitated.
“I don’t know,” Nathan said, standing to get a better look. “It is Parley. There’s no mistaking that walk of his. Maybe we should go over and speak with him.”
Lydia stood now too. “He seems exercised about something.”
“Let’s go across and see if everything is all right.”
Lydia nodded, and slipped an arm into her husband’s, but after a few steps she pulled him to a stop. “On second thought, you’d better just go.”
Nathan was surprised for a moment, but then quickly he saw the wisdom of it. Since Parley’s disaffection with Joseph, Parley’s relationship with Nathan had been strained. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“No, I’ll just go on home. You take what time you need.”
He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, grateful for her sensitivity. “Thank you.” With a quick wave, he bid her farewell and cut across the street. Parley had moved forward again, still slowly, but was now some yards ahead of where Nathan and Lydia had been sitting.
Nathan strode out quickly, and as he approached, the sound of his footsteps on the path brought Parley around with a start.
“Parley, it’s me. Nathan.”
There was a quick look of surprise, followed by one of relief. “Oh. Good evening, Brother Nathan.”
“I’m sorry to intrude, but I was across the street. I saw you pacing. Is everything all right?”
The heavy brows that covered those normally piercing eyes lowered quickly. “No. I don’t think that is how I would choose to describe my current situation.”
“What is it, Parley? Can I help in any way?”
There was a short exclamation of disgust, aimed at himself—a characteristic that, Nathan had learned while they were together in Canada, was typical of Parley’s personality. “You tried once and it didn’t seem to take,” he muttered.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You and Brother John Taylor. Surely you have not forgotten that night the two of you came to my door and tried to help me.”
Nathan understood now. “No, I haven’t forgotten.”
“Nor have I,” Parley said in a low voice, his eyes on the ground. “Do you remember what Brother John said to me that night?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “‘Parley Pratt, when you were in Canada you bore a strong testimony to the fact that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God. I was deeply touched by your testimony. That, more than anything else, convinced me the gospel was true. And you gave me a strict charge to the effect that though you or an angel from heaven was to declare anything else than that to me, I was not to believe it.’”
He finally looked up and peered into Nathan’s face. “Thomas B. Marsh has been laboring with me and Orson.” There was a short, mirthless laugh. “I guess as senior Apostle he thought the Pratt brothers might need a call to repentance.”
“Maybe he thought the Pratt brothers were not as far gone as they thought they were,” Nathan corrected him softly.
“How could I have been such a fool, Nathan?” It came out in a burst.
Nathan felt a peculiar thrill as he saw the look in his friend’s eyes. It was a glimmer of the old Parley—the Parley who stood undaunted and unflinching in the face of a large crowd hurling insults and epithets, the Parley who could open the Bible and preach a two-hour sermon on the prophecies of the Restoration. And then, to his surprise, Nathan thought of that night—so long ago now, it seemed—in a room above a saloon in Independence, Missouri, when he had flung angry words at his brother, trying to goad him into repentance. “Most of us are fools about one thing or another at some point in our lives, Parley,” he said, smiling sadly.
“But to turn against Joseph . . .” Parley’s voice was heavy with anguish. “I am one of the Twelve. How could I have been caught up in the lyings and railings so easily?”
Nathan reached out and grasped his hand. “Does that mean you are convinced of your folly?”
“Aye,” Parley murmured, “and tormented by it.”
“Then go to Brother Joseph. Tell him.”