Pillar of Light

by Gerald N. Lund

  Now all of that collective experience came to bear. He began by talking about the Great Apostasy, how many of the powers and offices held in the Church that the Savior established on the earth had been lost. New doctrine was introduced. The ordinances were altered. The authority to act in God’s name was lost. New churches were formed. Wilford understood his audience well. Heads began to nod all over the congregation in response to that.

  Abruptly, Wilford turned to the story of the Restoration. Simply but powerfully he bore witness that God had called upon a young man to restore His church to the earth again. He told of how the angel Moroni had come to Joseph and had told him about the Book of Mormon. He told them about the return of John the Baptist and Peter, James, and John with priesthood keys.

  Derek glanced up at the clock on the mantel at that point and was amazed to see that forty minutes had already passed. As he looked around he could not spot anyone, including the constable, who seemed either bored or offended.

  Then Wilford simply described The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and asked his listeners to compare it with other Christian churches. He didn’t rail against the current churches. He didn’t criticize their ministers. He just simply asked the people to compare them with the original Church—in organization, in doctrine, in practice.

  “Brother Derek?”

  Derek jumped a little. Wilford was through. Now he was calling his name.

  Derek stood slowly, his heart suddenly pounding. “Yes?”

  “Would you care to bear your testimony to these good people?”

  Wilford had done this once before and it had terrified Derek. But this was why he had come. John Taylor used an expression shortly after their arrival in Liverpool which sprang now to Derek’s mind. “I feel the word of the Lord like fire in my bones,” he had said. Yes! That was it! Derek walked slowly to the front of the room to stand beside Wilford.

  “This is Derek Ingalls. He’s an Englishman, like yourselves. I’d like for you to hear his testimony.” And then the Apostle turned and sat down beside John Benbow and his wife.

  To Derek, it looked like there was a whole sea of faces before him. They were watching him closely, but there was nothing but interest and acceptance in their eyes, and that gave him heart. “As Brother Woodruff has said,” he began tentatively, “I am an Englishman. My brother and I lived in Preston. Like many of you, we were laborers. I shoveled coal in one of the large textile factories there. My brother worked in the cutting room.” He took a quick breath. “I didn’t believe in God then. . . .”

  Without his realizing it, the shaking in his hands ceased, and the trembling in his knees steadied. He told them how two Apostles of the Lord Jesus Christ, Heber Kimball and Orson Hyde, had come to Preston. He told of his initial skepticism and reluctance to go hear them. Heber and Orson, like Wilford tonight, had told them about the Book of Mormon, and Derek had suddenly been filled with a desire to get a copy and read it.

  Now his voice rose with power. “I was a poor reader.” He shook his head. “I had to have my little brother help me. But as we read, we prayed. For the first time in my life I prayed to Heavenly Father. ‘Is this book true?’ we asked. ‘Is this book from thee?’ And, my friends, I am here to testify to you that the Lord heard those prayers and he answered them. It was like . . .” He groped for the right words, and then smiled. “It was like fire in my bones. And I knew it was true.”

  Oblivious now to anything but those upturned faces, he told of going to America. He told of coming to Kirtland and then going to Missouri and meeting the Prophet Joseph Smith for the first time. He told of working with Joseph in the fields, of reading the revelations he had given. Fighting hard to control his emotions, he told them about the great day of healing along the banks of the Mississippi River. “Like the prophets of old,” he concluded, “this man has the power of God.”

  He took a deep breath. “My brothers and sisters, I have a beautiful wife and a wonderful little boy back in Illinois. My son will be a year old in June. I’m sure he’s crawling by now. Before long he will be walking.” He stopped, blinking rapidly to stop the burning in his eyes. “And I won’t be there to see that.”

  He shook his head. “I love them very much. There is nothing in the world that would take me from my family except to share this truth with you.”

  His voice cleared. “My friends, my fellow countrymen, I know the true church of God has been restored to the earth. I know Joseph Smith is a prophet of God. I have sat at his feet and had the Spirit bear witness to me that he is a prophet. I have read the Book of Mormon and testify to you that no mortal man could have written that book. It required the gift and power of God. Every fiber of my being is on fire with this knowledge.” He straightened, pulling back his shoulders. “And that is why I have come back to England.”

  He stepped back. Instantly, Wilford was up and standing by his side. “Thank you, Brother Derek,” he said softly. Then, as Derek made his way back to his seat, Wilford looked across the faces of the audience. “Friends and brethren, you have heard our message. We testify that we bring the priesthood of God and the authority to baptize. Your friends and neighbors the Benbows have chosen to be baptized. John has graciously allowed us to clear a pond here on his property so that we can baptize those who have the same mind as him. I make that invitation to you now, if the Spirit has witnessed to your soul that you should do so. Thank you all for coming.”

  He sat down, and instantly people were up and swarming around him. “I wish to be baptized,” said one. “I accept what you have said,” cried another. “I want to join this church.”

  John Benbow and his wife stood and came to Derek. “What a wonderful testimony,” Sister Benbow said, touching his arm. “You must have a wonderful wife and child.”

  “I do.”

  “Look,” John said, grabbing his wife by the arm. Constable Pexton was waiting behind two men who were asking for baptism. As Wilford nodded and they moved away, Pexton stepped forward. He had the warrant in his hand. “Mr. Woodruff?”

  “Yes, Constable?”

  He tore the paper in half. “I would like to be baptized if I may.”

  Wilford reached out and gripped his hand. “Of course,” he said, not seeming in the least surprised. “Of course.”

  Chapter Notes

  Though some details have been added—including, obviously, Derek’s presence and his bearing of his testimony—the meeting in the John Benbow home on the first Sabbath after Wilford Woodruff’s arrival in Herefordshire is accurately portrayed in the novel. Seven people applied for baptism, including four preachers of the United Brethren and the constable who had come with the warrant for Wilford’s arrest. The rector of the local parish, furious that his attempt to stop Woodruff had failed, sent two of his clerks to the next sermon to gather evidence against the Mormon preacher. Wilford laconically records that they too were “pricked in their hearts” and requested baptism. Not surprisingly, the rector sent no more people after that. (See MWM, pp. 124–25.)

  Chapter Twenty

  Brigham Young and George A. Smith didn’t arrive in New York until early February of 1840. They were so bereft of funds that they made the final leg of the journey only when the captain of the steamboat on which they had come down from New Haven, Connecticut, saw their plight and paid for their stagecoach fare.

  Heber C. Kimball arrived in mid-February. Like his fellow Apostles, he too had exhausted his funds. When he reached Jersey City he didn’t have the necessary twenty-five cents to purchase a ticket for the ferry ride across the river. Fortunately, a passenger overheard him discussing this with the ferry captain and simply gave him the fare.

  The three brethren immediately set to work to get enough funds to buy passage across the Atlantic. They had been gone from home for six months and were now a full two months behind their fellow Apostles. Brigham’s patience was at an end.

  So it was that at last, shortly after eleven a.m. on the ninth day of March, a small boat set out f
rom the dock of New York Harbor and rowed to where the Patrick Henry, a packet ship of the Black Ball Line, lay at anchor. In the boat were five of the Twelve—Brigham Young, Heber C. Kimball, the Pratt brothers, and George A. Smith—and two additional missionaries, Reuben Hedlock and Matthew Steed. The last of the missionaries were under way.

  Matthew offered to row, but the crew members of the small shuttle boat just shook their heads and bent to the task. So Matthew sat in the very back of the boat. As they moved slowly away from the wharf and out into the choppy waters of New York Harbor, he wished he had something to do rather than just watch the shoreline fall away. That was America slowly moving away from him now. That was family and friends. That was Jennifer Jo. It was a thousand miles of rolling prairie, and days of walking barefoot along a hot dusty road. It was nights sitting around a crackling fire reading Bible or Book of Mormon stories to his nieces and nephews. The pain twisted in his chest, surprisingly sharp. How long would it be before the prow of a boat similar to this headed back in to shore? How long before they rounded that great bend of the Mississippi River and saw the city of Nauvoo again? And would there be a bonnie Irish lass waiting at the dock for him? Or would there be disappointment and—

  “It leaves one with much to think about, doesn’t it?”

  Matthew swung around and saw that Brigham was watching him.

  He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

  Brigham turned his head back and set his gaze on the packet ship before them. It was just a few rods off now and looming huge out of the water. “That’s all right,” he said, lifting his eyes to the towering masts. “Now there are other things to set our thoughts on.”

  Matthew took a deep breath, then moved away from the stern of the boat and sat down beside Brigham, turning his back on his homeland. “Yes,” he said firmly. “Yes, there are.”

  “Mama!”

  Caleb Rogers, who would be four in September, tugged hard on his mother’s skirt. Melissa had just taken the chicken from the pot of boiling water and was working quickly before it cooled too much, plucking the feathers with quick, hard strokes. “Caleb, Mama’s very busy right now. What is it?”

  “There’s people at the door, Mama.”

  She looked up in surprise. She hadn’t heard anyone knock. “Who is it?”

  His shoulders lifted and fell. “A man and a lady and some kids.”

  Melissa frowned. “You don’t know them?”

  “Nope.”

  “Well, tell them I’ll be out in just a few—”

  “You don’t even have time to see your own brother?” Nathan asked from behind her.

  She whirled. He was standing in the doorway, grinning at her. The chicken dropped to the counter with a loud plop. “Nathan!” she shrieked.

  “Hello, sis.”

  She was across the room instantly and flung herself into his arms. “Nathan! Nathan!” Her wet hands were covered with the feathers, and as she grabbed him, some of them stuck to his jacket. She didn’t even notice. She pushed him away, staring in disbelief. “What are you doing in Kirtland?”

  Before he could answer, she stiffened. Over his shoulder, down the hallway, Lydia was standing with her three children, all of them smiling broadly.

  “What do you want to do, Carl?”

  He sat back, frowning slightly. Melissa watched him closely. She was surprised that the conversation had so quickly turned to this. They had barely gotten supper over with and the children bundled up and out to play when Lydia began to ask Carl about coming west. Equally surprising was the fact that it was Lydia who was pressing it. Even Nathan seemed a little uneasy with her directness.

  “Well,” Carl said slowly, “Melissa, of course, would love it if we were closer to your family.”

  “No,” Lydia said with soft persistence, “what do you want to do?”

  He looked at her for a long time, then finally shrugged. “I guess I’m ready for a change.”

  Now Nathan leaned forward. “But does the idea of going into business with Joshua appeal to you?”

  “Oh, very much. I’m not even sure I want to stay in the livery business anymore. Something totally new sounds exciting to me.”

  “Then do it!” Lydia exclaimed. “Do it, Carl.”

  He blew out his breath in exasperation. “I can’t.”

  Melissa came to his defense. “Carl’s father is very strong on this. If Carl even tries to mention it, it becomes a major battle. And Carl’s mother, of course, doesn’t want to see us move so far away.”

  “Yes,” Lydia said quietly, “I know. It was very hard for me and my parents for us to be so far apart.”

  Melissa said nothing. She was looking at the floor. Carl seemed to read her thoughts. “On the other hand, Melissa hasn’t lived near her family for two and a half years now. So that’s something else to consider.”

  “Carl,” Lydia said with some firmness. “All of those things are things to consider. But what matters most is that you do what is best for you and for your family.”

  “But my family doesn’t want me to—”

  “No,” Lydia cut in quickly, “your family. Melissa. You. Your children. What is best for you.” Now she turned to Nathan and there was a mistiness in her eyes. “If I had done only what my father wanted, I would never have married Nathan. But even after that it went on. We went back for a visit in ’34. Papa wanted Nathan to take over the store for him.” She looked directly at Carl. “If he had, he would have hated every minute of it.”

  Carl nodded glumly at that.

  “My mother wanted us to stay with her now,” Lydia continued. “She needs us. But that’s not where we belong.” She leaned forward, as earnest as Nathan could remember ever seeing her. “I loved my father very much, Carl. Very much. I love my mother. But I’m a married woman now. I have my own life, my own family. And I can’t live that life for my parents. That’s why the Lord said, ‘For this cause shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife.’ ”

  She sat back, calm and composed, but filled with determination. Nathan was watching her in wonder. Finally, he looked at his brother-in-law. “Carl, we’re not trying to talk you into anything you don’t want to do. But if you are seriously thinking about coming west, now is a good time. Lydia and I will wait here while you settle things up. Then we can all travel together.”

  “I don’t know,” Carl said, the discouragement heavy in his voice. “It’s just not that simple.”

  “Of course it’s not,” Lydia answered. “But who said life was supposed to be simple?” She smiled, letting him know there was no criticism in that comment, then turned to Melissa and started talking about the children.

  Melissa didn’t dare slip out of bed. Carl was asleep, but he wasn’t breathing deeply and she was afraid he would awaken if she moved too much. Instead, she turned over onto her stomach, went up on her elbows, and clasped her hands together beneath her chin. She closed her eyes.

  “Our Father in Heaven,” she began, her lips barely moving, “hallowed be thy name. . . .”

  Carl watched his two brothers. They were finishing hitching up a team of sorrel mares to their newest buggy. Isaiah Burton was taking his family to Cleveland, and as one of the wealthier families of Kirtland, he was going to travel in style. The Rogers and Sons livery stable had the finest buggies and carriages in town to help him do so.

  “There,” William said, tugging on one of the straps to make sure it was tightly cinched. “David, why don’t you take this rig to Mr. Burton. Then he won’t have to come down here to get it.”

  The youngest of the Rogers brothers nodded and climbed up in the carriage. Carl walked to the barn door and pushed it open. They waved as David drove it out and turned into the street.

  William brushed off his hands on his pants and turned to go back into the office. Carl pulled the door shut again, then spoke. “William?”

  His brother stopped.

  “I’d like to talk with you for a minute.”


  William was just two years younger than Carl’s thirty years, and they looked quite a bit alike. But in temperament, they were quite different. William was more outspoken, almost fiery at times, not in anger but in passion and intensity. Yet in spite of that, he and Carl were quite close. Now William was looking at his brother quizzically. “What about?”

  Carl cleared his throat. “About leaving.”

  William’s eyebrows rose a fraction and he leaned back against one of the stalls. But he didn’t seem particularly surprised. The whole family knew about Carl’s desire to go west, even though no one spoke of it openly. It didn’t take much to know that the arrival of Nathan and Lydia three days before had only intensified whatever was going on in Carl’s mind.

  Carl rushed on. “You and David can run this place fine. You don’t need me.”

  “That’s not what Pa thinks.”

  “Well, Pa is wrong,” Carl burst out.

  There was a slow smile. “David and me think so too.”

  “It’s time, William.”

  Now William grew as serious as Carl. “I know, big brother. You’ve been restless for almost a year now.”

  “How do I convince Pa?”

  “You don’t,” William said flatly.

  Carl’s face fell. But then a smile stole across his brother’s face. “But David and I have been working on Mama. She agrees. She starts to cry every time she thinks about you and Melissa leaving, but she agrees that it’s best for you, and best for us.”

  Carl was dumbfounded. “Really?”

  “Really. You thinking of going with Nathan?”

  Carl nodded, still reeling a little.

  “How soon?”

  “Nathan says they’ll wait however long it takes for us to get ready.”

  William straightened again. He began smoothing the dirt floor with the toe of his boot. “Tell you what. Come over tonight after supper. About eight. Just you. David and I will go over first and brace Pa for it before you get there.” He pulled a face. “Might not do any good, but we’ll see.”

  Carl was soaring. “That’s great, William, thank you.”