The Thorny Path

by Sharon Downing Jarvis

  “And she calls herself a Christian?” asked Mamie.

  Trish sighed. “Sometimes I get the feeling she thinks she’s the only Christian around. Sorry, I shouldn’t say that—it sounds mean. But it wears on you, after a while! I think she’s just ignorant of the truth and unwilling to listen. I’m sure she feels justified in her attacks. She thinks she’s defending the Savior.”

  “Well, I’m sure sorry you folks are having to go through that,” Mamie said, patting Trish’s shoulder. “Y’all don’t deserve it.”

  “Thanks, Mamie. But maybe we need it. You know—for growth, and patience, and all that.”

  Mamie laughed. “Whoo-ee! Sure hope I’m patient enough that I don’t get stuck with a neighbor like that!”

  * * *

  “So, what do you say—was it a success?” the bishop asked, as he stretched out beside Trish in their cool, dimly lit bedroom later that night, after all the booms and blasts had quieted.

  “I think so, for the most part. I was mortified when Maxine Lowell showed up, but I thought Mac handled her superbly, and I was amazed when Bob and John—and even Jackie Rogers and Mick Michaelson—stood up to her like that. Good for them!”

  The bishop smiled. “I think Mac knew she was listening and was trying to flush her out,” he said with a chuckle.

  “Well, it worked.”

  “Only thing is, I’m sure nothing that happened did anything to make her feel any better about us.”

  “As far as we know. She just might have been impressed that we’re friends with Mac.”

  “I don’t know—she called him a liar, and told him he was deceived.”

  “Of course,” Trish mused, “at that point, she had to stand her ground. But after she thinks about it, maybe it’ll help just a little. Or not.”

  “At least she knows we have friends who’ll stand up for us, and for the Church.”

  “True. And thanks, Jimmy, for all you did to make the party happen. Sorry I couldn’t do more, this time.”

  “Oh, I’m real good at bringing home salads and flipping burgers,” he said. “And you’re very welcome.”

  “Jim?” Trish asked sleepily, after a few minutes. “Do you think there are very many people who see us the way Mrs. Lowell does?”

  “Ask me that tomorrow,” her husband replied. “I’ll have a better answer, then.”

  * * *

  “Look, Jim, what we got in the mail,” Trish greeted the next day when he ran in for a bite of lunch—leftover salads and grilled chicken. “It’s priceless.”

  He accepted the envelope and took out the contents. In a scrawl that could only belong to Junior Rhys, the letter read, “Dear cuzins, I am so proud of all the prezents you sent me and I sure can use the pujamys and thank you for the copys. I showd them to the nurse here I was so proud to get them and dear lady yer cookies are top-knotch, and thanks for them and all the goodys. I feel like a rich man I truly do. God bless and I hop to see you agin som day. Junior.”

  He looked up and smiled at his wife. “It is priceless,” he agreed. “Junior is priceless.”

  * * *

  The bishop was helping check on a busy Saturday morning when Ralph and Linda Jernigan came into the store, chose a few items, and got into his line. Ralph leaned over the counter to whisper, “See you outside for a minute, Bishop? Got some specifics.”

  “Sure thing,” the bishop said, bagging their purchases and putting a ‘closed’ sign on his register. He carried the sack out to their car.

  “If you want to get in the car, Bishop, I think it’s clean,” Ralph suggested, and the bishop knew he wasn’t referring to the physical state of the car’s tidiness. He slipped into the backseat and set the sack of groceries on the floor. Ralph started the car and turned up the air conditioning before twisting around in his seat the best he could.

  “Got some specifics, like you requested,” Ralph said, in a low voice, which the bishop leaned forward to hear. “Seems we’ve got some troublemakers coming from out of state, planning a rally against the Church out at the County Fairpark on the third of August, seven p.m. Not nice people, Bishop. Looked into their group, and they’ve done some mischief here and there—vandalism, mostly, although there’ve been a couple of suspicious church fires when they’ve been in an area.”

  “What do they call themselves?” the bishop asked.

  “Seen two names,” Ralph replied, keeping his voice low. “‘Tri-State Christian Fellowship’ and the ‘a.m. Sunshine Task Force for Jesus.’ Don’t know what ‘a.m.’ stands for, but I’d guess ‘Anti-Mormon.’ Doubt it means morning.”

  The bishop nodded. “I expect you’re right. I’ve heard of the first group. They’ve been sending letters around to local churches, announcing what they call a ‘rally tour.’ I reckon they’re holding these meetings in several places, to try to disturb the missionary work and draw people away from the Church. But I’d never heard of the ‘a.m.’ bunch, and I hadn’t known any specific time or place. Good work, Ralph—and Linda. Thank you both.”

  Ralph nodded curtly. “Forewarned is forearmed,” he said.

  “We don’t like the sound of this, Bishop,” Linda put in. “It seems well-organized and pretty vicious.”

  “It does, doesn’t it?” He patted Ralph’s shoulder. “I appreciate the heads-up. We’ll work on it.”

  * * *

  Trish was relaxing on the family room sofa Saturday night after the children had gone to bed, reading an article in the Ensign magazine. Her husband came and lifted her feet into his lap as he sat down, massaging them gently.

  “Mm. Feels good. I promise they’re clean—I already showered. So, Jimmy—when are you going to answer my question?”

  “Which question would that be, babe?”

  “You know—the one you hedged on the other night, when I asked if you thought a lot of people see us the way Maxine does.”

  “Ah. That one. Well, yes and no. Of course I have no way of knowing how many people share her views, but I do know she’s not alone, and I think we’re going to be seeing more and more of that attitude right away, here. In fact, there’s a lot going on in that department right now.”

  Trish was not one to be put off. “Why do you say that?” she asked.

  “There are letters being sent around to local churches that have the same nasty, accusatory tone, and the same twisting of doctrine.”

  “You don’t mean Maxine’s sending them!”

  “I’m afraid this is much bigger than Maxine,” he said reluctantly, and went on to tell her about the letter Mac had brought him—and then, of course, had to produce it and let her read it for herself, as her magazine slipped to the floor. He also told her about the Jernigans’ sleuthing.

  She frowned. “You know,” she said, “I have no problem with people disagreeing with our beliefs. After all, I disagree with many of theirs. It’s natural. What I cannot understand is this . . . this vicious negativity, and the personal nature of their attacks on our character, as if we were totally in league with the devil and out there deliberately trying to lead people to spiritual destruction! It’s absurd, and it’s wrong, and it’s shameful.”

  He nodded. “All the above. But you know what? That kind of behavior actually says a whole lot more about them than it does about us.”

  “I hate that it even comes down to an ‘us and them’ mentality.”

  He sighed. “Me, too. As a church, we’ve always gotten along well with our neighbors here in Fairhaven. We’ve played in the Interfaith sports tournaments, we’ve helped with charitable functions, we’ve let the Seventh-day Adventists use our building when theirs was out of commission. Mrs. Simmons, who used to teach history at the high school—you remember her? For many years, she used to ask the missionaries to come and teach her class for a day when they were learning about the western trek and the pioneers—and she was Catholic! Nobody objected. And when the tornado hit out by Hanceville, folks were glad enough to get our help. We’ve always enjoyed a position of respect i
n the community, and I’d sure hate to see that spoiled.”

  “So, we’ve got what—about a month, to prepare for this onslaught? What’re we going to do?”

  “We’re discussing it in bishopric meeting tomorrow morning, and then we’ll need to say something to the ward. I’ve asked President Walker, and his take on it is that we should just keep on teaching and preaching our beliefs and not try to fight back or argue with these guys. Some of them, as he pointed out, are probably just looking for a good fight—and we want them to be sorely disappointed in that.”

  “Religious bullies, that’s all they are. You don’t think they’ll try to hassle the members, do you, or vandalize our building?”

  “I sure hope not. But I think I’ll alert the police, just in case.” He chuckled. “Our great big, three-man police force. Maybe I’ll mention it to the sheriff, too, since these guys have apparently obtained a permit to use a county facility. Wonder how they wangled that.”

  “Probably lied about the purpose of the meeting. They accuse us of lying and deceiving, but I suspect it’s a technique they know pretty well.”

  “Looks that way, although I imagine they’d deny it, even to themselves. Well, I hated to tell you about it at all, Trish, because I know this kind of thing upsets you.”

  “It does, but not as much as you might think. Only when it gets up close and personal, such as when Maxine pulls one of her stunts. I mean, I have a testimony of the gospel and the Church—and I know the prophecies about persecution getting bad in the latter days. So in a way, I sort of expect this kind of stuff to happen, don’t you? Even so, it makes me want to stand up and yell back—but apparently that’s not the answer.”

  “Even if we did, and countered all their arguments with truer and better ones, d’you reckon any of them would really listen and see the light, so to speak?”

  She smiled sadly. “Probably not. To begin with, they must be pretty entrenched in their ways to come after us like this. But, you know what? Isn’t it all a bit ridiculous, when you think about it? I mean, turn it around—can you imagine a national ‘rally tour’ of Mormons against some other faith, especially some other Christian church? It’s laughable. We just don’t behave that way.”

  He shrugged. “Apparently we’re successful enough with our one-on-one missionary program that they feel the need to come out against us in full battle array. Maybe we should feel complimented!”

  Trish stretched and chuckled. “Now, there’s a thought. Maybe we should just say, ‘Thanks for calling attention to us! Lines to learn the truth from our missionaries form on the right.’”

  He laughed with her. “There you go. Even negative advertising is better than none, right? Who knows what effect it’ll all have? Hopefully, these dudes will be disgusting and transparent enough that everybody’ll be able to see through ’em. By the way, on a totally different note—did I tell you that Chuck’s bringing Mary Lynn to church tomorrow?”

  “Oh, that’s great. They were so cute the other night. I’ve never seen Mary Lynn looking so good.”

  “Trish, I feel so bad that I never got around to inviting her to come. All these years she’s worked for me, and I never even suggested it. How dense can I be? Some missionary I am! I’m trying hard to repent of that.”

  “Well, maybe now’s the right time for her—especially with Chuck in the picture and taking the missionary discussions. Who knows? Maybe she’ll want to do the same.”

  He shook his head. “Or maybe she could’ve already been enjoying the blessings of the gospel for years, now, if I’d have just opened my mouth.”

  “Don’t beat up on yourself, Jimmy. You’ve been a good example to her and a good friend and honest employer. Example counts, too, you know.”

  “I know. She said something like that. But I still feel like I let her down.”

  “Well, then just try to think if there’s anyone else you know who might like to be invited to church, so it doesn’t happen again.”

  He nodded. “Good thought. I’ll work on that.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  * * *

  “ . . . When thorns are strewn along my path”

  The bishop watched with pleasure as Chuck Stagley escorted Mary Lynn Connors into a pew at sacrament meeting. Elders Moynihan and Rivenbark came in with a woman he had never seen before and a girl of about twelve. Must be the mother and daughter they had mentioned working with—was it Simmons? He was glad to see Ralph and Linda Jernigan there, and Brother and Sister Conrad. At least Tina Conrad hadn’t apostatized yet because of her bishop’s many shortcomings! Just as the meeting started, the Birdwhistle family filed in and headed for the front row, theirs by default and tradition. Even with Pratt off on his mission, they still filled the center pew. He watched as Brother Ernie Birdwhistle deftly inserted his bulk between the twins, Lehi and Limhi, while his wife put the two youngest on each side of her. With the distance they had to drive from their log home up in the hills, he thought they were remarkably valiant to get there at all—yet they rarely missed a Sunday. The youngest son, little Kimball, caught the bishop’s attention and waved, and the bishop sent him a wink in return.

  The Rexfords—parents and son—took a seat near the overflow area. Since recovering from his near-fatal accident, young Thomas, or T-Rex, had seemed considerably more amenable to staying for the whole three-hour block of meetings. He still teased, still exercised his mischievous sense of humor, but his bishop recognized that the young man’s brush with eternity had given him a new maturity and sense of purpose in his life.

  Lisa Lou Pope made her entrance, dressed in a very grown-up pair of high-heeled sandals with a short denim skirt and a shirt that was very nearly too low, too tight, and too high in the midriff. He caught a look of disapproval from Sister Castleberry, whose self-appointed task was to keep the young girls of the ward at arms’ length from the missionaries.

  Lisa Lou smiled and waggled her fingers at T-Rex and then at Billy Newton and Ricky Smedley, who were seated at the sacrament table. Billy looked down and pretended not to notice, and Ricky gave an embarrassed little nod before he glanced away. The bishop sighed. He worried about Lisa Lou, who seemed alternately naive and worldly. Billy Newton had actually been her missionary contact and had been baptized the year before, partly due to her encouragement. Then Lisa Lou’s fickle attention had turned elsewhere, and the bishop felt it fortunate that Billy’s attraction to the gospel had remained constant. In fact, Billy had moved on, spiritually and socially, and now seemed light-years ahead of the young woman who had introduced him to the Church.

  As the meeting progressed, his attention roved over the congregation as it often did, and he prayerfully tried to ascertain anyone who might need his particular aid or counsel. On this Sabbath day, he also prayed that the message he had to deliver to his ward would be understood in the spirit he intended it to be. These people had grown so dear to him in the time he had served as their bishop—even those who caused him grief also often brought him joy. In that, as in so many ways, being a bishop was like being a parent of a very large, diverse family with children ranging in age from newborn to their nineties!

  During the second youth speaker, he saw LaThea and Harville Winslow slip into the back of the chapel, then make their way toward a side pew near the front. LaThea triumphantly carried her new grandson, and the child’s parents, VerDan and his wife, Beth, for whom the ward had rallied to provide a hasty wedding the previous autumn, trailed after them, looking a little sheepish. LaThea made quite a fuss with the baby, bouncing him on her lap and then holding him against her shoulder so that everyone behind her could admire the little face. The bishop had all he could do not to chuckle when the baby, predictably after all that bouncing, spit up all down the shoulder of his proud grandmother’s silk blouse.

  After an intermediate hymn, “How Firm a Foundation,” in which he had asked the director to be sure that all seven verses were sung—perhaps making it more of a marathon than a rest, but he wanted the encour
aging strength of those verses to sink in—the bishop stood to address the congregation.

  He began by speaking in general terms of the persecutions the faithful had always suffered, from the Old Testament prophets to the Savior and his apostles and the early Saints, on down to the Prophet Joseph Smith and the pioneer Saints of the present dispensation.

  “Trials of this sort seem always to accompany the true gospel,” he explained to them. “Some folks say that if this were the true faith, we would be spared such problems—but think about it, brothers and sisters—does Satan want most to disturb and destroy those religions that unwittingly include false doctrines among their teachings, or does he want to disturb and destroy the one church that carries forth the fullness of the restored gospel of Christ and its accompanying priesthood sealing power? So, in fact, if we find ourselves being persecuted, could that not be a sign that we’re on the right track? If history is any example, it must be, for as the Lord himself said, ‘Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake. Rejoice, and be exceeding glad, for great is your reward in heaven: for so persecuted they the prophets which were before you.’

  “At this point, you may be thinking, ‘But, Bishop, what are you talking about? This is a time of great peace and progress and respect for the Church. Our missionaries are having success, and our members are growing in the faith and excelling and being honored in many different fields, and we’ve learned to get along well with our neighbors. Why are you talking to us about persecution?’

  “Well, my dear brothers and sisters, it has recently come to my attention, with the help of some good friends, that a round of persecution may be on our very doorstep. Before I tell you what it is, I want each of you to think in your own hearts how you would respond to hurtful lies and accusations because there will no doubt be some. Will you fight back, and give as good—or as bad—as you get? Will you insist on an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth, and sink to the level of those who heap persecutions on you?