Pillar of Light

by Gerald N. Lund

  Lifting the glass cover slightly, he blew on the wick and the tent was plunged into darkness. She started to remove her outer robe, then stopped. “Do you think we need to check on the children?”

  “Nope. Do you want to ruin everything?”

  She laughed at that. The last thing Savannah had said when they bid her good night was, “Now, Papa, you don’t need to keep coming out here to see if we’re all right. It will ruin everything.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Caroline said. She removed the robe and set it aside, then crawled over and slid into bed beside him. He automatically extended his arm and she snuggled in against him, using his arm as a pillow. “So,” she said after a moment.

  “So what?”

  She elbowed him sharply. “You finished; do you have nothing to say?”

  “Actually, I’ve got a question.”

  “All right,” she said, pleased and a little surprised.

  “I’ve been thinking about it ever since Nathan and I talked, but something I just read reminded me of it.”

  “Well, I’m not nearly as incisive as Nathan in my understanding of the gospel, but I’ll try to answer it.”

  “Okay.” He thought for a moment. “So what’s to keep a man from sidestepping the system?”

  Caroline lifted her head to look at him, though her eyes were not yet adjusted to the darkness and she could see only the shape of his head. “I beg your pardon?”

  “In the gospel, what’s to stop a person from sidestepping the system?”

  Caroline was totally confused. “I don’t understand. What do you mean by sidestepping the system?”

  “Well, Nathan told me that Christ died for the sins of people so that if they repent they won’t have to suffer for them.”

  “Yes.”

  “So, let’s say I believe that. What’s to stop me from living as I want, then after I’ve had my fun, I repent a little, find God, maybe join the Church? All will be forgiven. Seems a whole lot easier than devoting your whole life to religion.”

  Caroline lay back, seeing it clearly now. For a moment, her mind wanted to agree with him. What was wrong with the philosophy? She had not ever thought of that possibility, but it did make a kind of perverse sense. But another part of her revolted at the very idea. The God she believed in would never have set up a plan with such an obvious flaw.

  He read her silence as a sign of displeasure. “I’m sorry, Caroline, I don’t mean to seem sacrilegious. I just—”

  “No,” she said hastily, “it’s not that at all. I was just trying to gather my thoughts.” Then as one answer popped into her head, she went on. “I see one problem with your reasoning.”

  “What?”

  “Can I be honest?”

  “Sure.”

  “Were you happy when you were gambling and drinking and beating up on Jessica?”

  It was as though she had reached out and slapped him without provocation. There was a quick intake of breath, and she felt his body stiffen. She bit her lip, fighting back the temptation to withdraw the question and say how sorry she was.

  “No,” he said finally, his voice distant.

  “How about that day in Independence when you helped tar and feather those two Mormons? Did that bring you joy? Did you go home that night just brimming with happiness?”

  There was a long silence, then a quick shake of his head.

  “I’m not trying to hurt you, Joshua, but I don’t believe that living a life without God is ‘fun,’ as you put it. I’m sure you’ve known some rough men in your time—men who drink and cuss and gamble and are immoral. Would you say they are happy, really happy?”

  “All right,” he finally conceded, “I get the point. I was making light of something and I shouldn’t have.”

  “No,” she said in surprise. “I didn’t mean to sound like I was being critical of you. I just don’t believe that sin is fun. I know there are people who think that it is. They think God is a great stone around their necks, holding them back from all that makes life enjoyable, but the Savior said just the opposite. He said that he came so that we could have life and that we could have it more abundantly.”

  She could feel him relax against her, and she felt relieved that he had not gotten angry with her directness. Her mind was still working swiftly, wrestling with his question. “I also think there is another problem with your statement.”

  He chuckled softly. “And you think Nathan is more incisive than this?”

  “Well,” she chided him, “you asked. I’d like to try and answer.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Who said you get to set the conditions?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Well, you said that all you have to do is repent a little, find God, maybe join the Church. That means you’re setting the conditions for having Christ’s atonement applied in your behalf. That’s not up to you, because you didn’t pay the price.”

  “I’m still not sure I follow.”

  “Let’s go back to the example Nathan used with you, about Charles and the broken window. If you pay the storekeeper to replace the window, is Charles off the hook completely? Or would you have him do something to help pay for his mistake?”

  He thought a moment. “I’d likely make him do some chores around the house, something like that.”

  “Does Charles get to choose what he does for his punishment? Could he say, for example, ‘I’ll play five more games of stickball and then we’ll be even’?”

  “No. I’d set the conditions. All right, I see where you’re coming from on this.”

  “Well, isn’t it the same? You paid the price for the window, so you set the conditions. Christ paid the price for our sins, so he sets the conditions, and I don’t see those conditions as being an easy way around what is required.”

  “So what are the conditions? Besides giving up wine, women, and song, I mean.”

  She smiled in the darkness. “I think you are allowed to keep the song.”

  He laughed, glad that she would play with him a little. Then he grew serious again. “So, what else?”

  “They’re simple, at least in concept. Faith in Jesus Christ. Repentance. Baptism into the Church. Receiving the gift of the Holy Ghost. Then enduring to the end in faith.”

  “Is that so tough?”

  “It sure seems to be for you,” she nearly quipped, but caught herself in time. “Not tough, but not an easy thing either. Faith is more than just believing. It is a commitment to Christ that changes what you are, how you think, what you feel. Repentance is much more than just saying you’re sorry for doing something wrong. It’s not enough to repent ‘a little,’ as you put it. It requires a deep sorrow for sin, for offending God. And those are just the first two conditions. If a person really does that, would you say he has beaten the system, or sidestepped it, as you call it?”

  “No.”

  She waited for more than that, but nothing more came. Sometimes he could be so maddening, ducking behind that inner wall that allowed him to hide his thoughts from her. Had she answered his question to his satisfaction? Was he irritated? Contrite? Apathetic? There was no way to safely guess through that veil of inscrutability. So she decided to go one step further.

  “Joshua, may I say something?”

  “Of course.”

  “You’re going to think I’m just getting pushy, but it really is another part of the answer to your question.”

  “I don’t think you’re pushy, Caroline,” he said quietly.

  Encouraged by that, she went on. For several days now she had been thinking about Joshua, where he was now, what he was thinking, his reservations about the Church. Before they had left Mount Pisgah, she too had finished reading the Book of Mormon—only for her it was the fourth time—and she decided to read the Doctrine and Covenants next. In the beginning sections of the “Covenants and Commandments” part of that wonderful book, several passages had leaped out at her as having direct application to Joshua an
d his inquiry.

  She took her courage in her hands and plunged in. “I think you know enough now, Joshua.”

  “What?”

  “One of the conditions of faith is to search for the truth. You have done that, and I am so pleased with what you’ve done and what you’ve learned. But I think you know enough now.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” he asked cautiously.

  “It means that learning the information is not enough. Another condition the Lord has set for us is to ask.”

  “Somehow I knew it would come to that,” he said, almost under his breath, as if he were speaking only to himself.

  “Remember,” she gently reminded him, “you don’t get to set the conditions.” She paused, then went on. “In the Doctrine and Covenants, in the very first section, it says that the voice of the Lord is unto all men. Tell me, Joshua, if the Lord spoke to you, how do you think it would come?”

  “To a hardhead like me?” he scoffed. “Tree limb alongside the skull. Maybe a bolt of lightning to get my attention.”

  She smiled sadly and loved him the more deeply. She was walking on tender ground now, and his attempt at humor was simply another way of retreating. “No, really, I want you to think about it. If God wanted to speak to you, how would he do it?”

  There was a long silence this time. Then, “I don’t know.”

  “Well, God can speak to us in many ways, but in a revelation to Oliver Cowdery the Lord said that he speaks to us in our minds and in our hearts through the Holy Ghost.”

  She felt him nod in the darkness, so she went on. “If he were to speak to your mind, Joshua, how would you say it would come? What word would you use to describe it?”

  “Thoughts, I guess.”

  “And if he spoke to your heart, how do you think it would come?”

  “As feelings?”

  “Yes, Joshua. That’s how God speaks to us most often. He gives us thoughts and feelings. Often they are so subtle that if we are not careful, we won’t recognize them as coming from God at all. This is why in another place his voice is described as being still and small and it whispers.”

  “Go on.”

  “Don’t you see it, Joshua? You have had thoughts and feelings from the Lord.”

  “I have?”

  “Yes,” she exclaimed. “When you came back to Nauvoo to get us, you said that when you left camp, you were still determined that you were not going to take us back with you. Do you remember what changed your mind?”

  “Well, I . . .” He let his mind go back to that night. “It was when I saw how filled with hate that one man was. I suddenly had the strongest . . .” He stopped and was very still.

  “Go on, Joshua. Say it. You had the strongest what?”

  There was no point in dodging it. She remembered clearly what he had told her. “I had a strong feeling that it wasn’t safe to leave you and the children there,” he finally said quietly.

  “And that day you were out hunting, what was it that made you start thinking about Olivia and Father Steed and whether or not they were still alive somewhere?”

  He shifted his weight a little, and she could feel his discomfort growing. But even this was astonishing to her. Even two months ago she would have been cut off sharply before she ever got this far.

  “Shall I tell you what you said?” she offered. “You told me that as you were washing your knife in the river, suddenly the thought came into your mind, ‘What is life?’ ”

  “And you think that was from God?” he said dubiously.

  “I do, Joshua,” she said with deep fervency. “I don’t think that was simply an accident. And look where it led you. You finally knelt down and asked God to help you understand.”

  Again he said nothing. Now she was to the point she wanted to make and she felt a clutch of anxiety. There was a line that she could not push past or it would set him back immeasurably, and she was not sure exactly where that line was. On the other hand, she might not get an opportunity like this again in many days.

  She bit her lip, then began slowly. “There’s something else the Lord said to Oliver Cowdery that reminds me of you. The revelation in which it is found was given when Oliver went to Harmony and met the Prophet Joseph for the first time. Do you know the story of how Oliver learned about Joseph Smith?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Well, Oliver came to Palmyra as a schoolteacher. The Smith family had some children in the school, and so they provided Oliver room and board to help pay the tuition. By now Joseph was married and down in Harmony, Pennsylvania, with Emma. Anyway, Oliver began hearing all those tales about Joseph Smith and gold plates and visions and angels.”

  “That probably set him back a little,” Joshua said dryly.

  “It did. But by then he knew the Smiths and believed them to be honest people, so he decided to ask God about it. Then, when he got his answer, he determined to go to Harmony and meet Joseph personally.”

  “Okay.”

  “Now, here is what I want you to hear, Joshua. When Oliver arrived in Harmony, Joseph received a revelation. In it the Lord said an interesting thing. It was the confirmation Oliver was looking for.”

  “What was it?”

  “Oliver had not told Joseph anything about his prayers back in Palmyra, but in the revelation the Lord said something like this. ‘As often as you asked of me, I have answered you. If that were not the case, you would not have come to this place. I tell you these things so that you may know that only God knows the thoughts and intents of your heart.’ ”

  His head had turned and he was listening intently now.

  “Then the Lord went on, ‘If you desire a further witness of the truth, think back to that night when you cried unto me in your heart. Did I not speak peace to your mind? What greater witness can you have than from God?’ ”

  Now she turned to him and pressed in against him. “Oh, Joshua, don’t you see? That night when you dropped to your knees and asked God about Olivia, did he not speak to you then? You said you got an answer. You said you were at peace about Olivia. Don’t you see that was from God?”

  “I . . . Yes, I have to admit, it was very strange. At the time, it seemed like it came from God.”

  “But why then? Why did you get that answer right then?”

  “Because I was thinking about life and death, I guess.”

  “That too, but what else?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know what you mean, Caroline?”

  “Because you asked,” she said softly. “You just didn’t think about it, Joshua. You asked.”

  He sighed, clearly troubled. “And that’s what you think needs to happen now?”

  “Yes,” she cried. “You know enough, Joshua. Now you need to ask God if it isn’t true.”

  “I’ve tried it, Caroline. I really have. I just can’t make it work. I feel like such a fool.”

  “Then I will say to you what the Lord said to Oliver. ‘If you desire a further witness of the truth, think back to that night when you cried unto me in your heart. Did I not speak peace to your mind? What greater witness can you have than from God?’ ”

  He let her go and rolled away from her, lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Finally, she could bear it no longer. “Tell me what you’re thinking, Joshua. Please.”

  He didn’t turn his head. “It comes easy for you, doesn’t it?” he murmured.

  “What? Religion?”

  “No, believing.”

  She thought about that, then slowly nodded. “Maybe it does. But there’s something more important.”

  “What?”

  “Asking came easy for me, Joshua. And that made all the difference.”

  Chapter Notes

  The details for this portion of the trek across Iowa reflect the adaptation to his plans that Brigham Young made as the realities of the Saints’ slow progress set in (see CN, 8 June 1996, p. 12; 15 June 1996, p. 5).

  The two scriptures involving Oliver Cowdery’s experienc
es which Caroline cites for Joshua are now Doctrine and Covenants 8:2–3 and Doctrine and Covenants 6:14–16, 22–23.

  Chapter 25

  Brigham Young and his group moved out of Pleasant Valley Camp on the morning of June eighth, still following the westward track of the Indian trail that led to Council Bluffs and the Missouri River. They had been on the trail no more than a couple of hours when a cry went up near the head of the train. It came racing down the line, leaping from mouth to mouth. “Indians!” It had virtually the same effect as if someone had cried “Fire!” Men ran for their rifles. Women started screaming at their children to come back to the wagons. Instinctively the teamsters moved their wagons up closer to the one in front of them. The drovers watching the herd began pushing them into a tighter circle.

  As the near panic swept up and down the line, Heber C. Kimball and Willard Richards came trotting back down the line on their horses. “It’s all right!” Heber shouted. “Don’t be alarmed!”

  “What is it?” “Is it really Indians?” “How many?” “Are they armed?” The cries came at the two Apostles like a swarm of bees.

  They reined up, just two wagons ahead of Nathan’s. “Calm down, folks,” Willard Richards said. “Listen.” After a moment it was quiet enough for him to continue. “There’s an Indian village ahead. They are evidently part of the Potawatomi tribe. There is no need for alarm. They are not hostile in any way.”

  Heber was looking around. “Put your rifles away. Keep your pistols in their holsters. There’s not going to be any trouble. Just stay calm. We’ll pass right by them, but we want them to know we mean them no trouble either.”

  “How many are there?” a woman called out.

  “Two or three hundred,” came the answer from Heber. “But that includes women and children. Just stay calm. They are not hostile in any way.”

  With that, they rode on to tell those farther down the line. “Do you really think it’s safe?” Emily asked her father, anxiety clouding her face.