FBI do their job.
Brother Timothy blessed the food, then tore chunks of bread from fresh-baked loaves and handed them to people as they came for eggs, bacon, hash browns, melon, fresh milk, apple juice.
He collected his food and sat in one corner of the courtyard, where he could watch everyone. No sign of Agent Kite.
One man read verses from the Book of Mormon, then people rose to share testimonies while others ate.
“I am so grateful for the bounty of this year’s harvest,” one woman said. “And a righteous husband who is not afraid of honest toil.”
Another man stood a few minutes later. “I know that Brother Timothy is the true prophet of the Lord, sent to guide and protect us in the last days.”
Jacob glanced at Brother Timothy, surrounded by children, eating bread with butter. The man seemed to feel his gaze, and returned the look. Jacob looked back to his food.
A moment later, Brother Timothy joined him in the corner. “It’s warmer in the sun, you know.”
“A couple of hours and I’ll wish I had this shade back.”
“Isn’t that true? You’ve got to love Central Utah. Freezing one minute, roasting the next.”
“It’s all that dry air,” Jacob said. “Why does the Lord always lead His people to the desert? Was there something wrong with Oregon?”
Brother Timothy laughed. “Maybe it’s nothing more than finding a place so desolate no one else wants it.”
“Or maybe the desert is meant to toughen us up, keep us from getting fat and lazy and prosperous.”
“Nicely put, brother.”
An elderly woman rose. “Brothers and sisters.” The chatter hushed as people strained to hear her thin voice, watered with age. “There were times when I despaired this day would ever come. For years I waited and watched. My husband passed to the other side of the veil, my sister wives too. I thought I’d join them without seeing the glorious day, but now it has come. I’m thankful every day to the Lord.” She smiled. “Just as long as He keeps this old heart ticking a little bit longer.” A few chuckles at this.
Brother Timothy was watching Jacob watch the woman. “Why are you so skeptical?”
“Sorry?”
“Sister Grace Ellen. That woman is as close to the Lord as anyone I’ve met. She’s lived a hard life, always waiting, always faithful.”
“She seems like a wonderful person,” Jacob said.
“But you don’t buy it.”
“You can’t just give me a blessing and make me a believer,” Jacob said.
“I can if you’re humble enough.”
“Did you know Brigham Young studied the Book of Mormon for two years before he joined the church?” Jacob asked. “He said he needed to be sure that Joseph Smith was truly called of the Lord. I’ll bet he talked to the prophet many times, prayed dozens of times to know if it was true. Probably received blessings just like the one you gave me. Do you think he would have been swayed by Sister Grace Ellen’s testimony, or would he have kept waiting, studying, praying?”
“Fair enough, but we don’t have two years.”
“You think the Millennium is that close?”
“Closer than you think. The time has come to believe, Brother Jacob. To know the truth and stamp it on your heart.”
“The scriptures say that to some it is given to know,” Jacob countered, “and others to believe on their word. I’m not a knower.”
“Not yet, but you will be.”
Jacob turned back to watch the crowd. Brother Timothy kept studying him as he studied them. Jacob couldn’t help but be moved by the sight of many eager people, convinced they were following the actual will of the Lord, but he also felt himself pulling back. Cool, not hot. Detached, not joined.
“Brother Jacob, I can see it on your face,” the prophet said. “You’re deliberately hardening your heart.”
“What are you hoping I’ll do? Beyond fixing bones and delivering babies? Do you want another follower? Is it because my father is the head of the Church of the Anointing? If I join,
Brother Timothy blessed the food, then tore chunks of bread from fresh-baked loaves and handed them to people as they came for eggs, bacon, hash browns, melon, fresh milk, apple juice.
He collected his food and sat in one corner of the courtyard, where he could watch everyone. No sign of Agent Kite.
One man read verses from the Book of Mormon, then people rose to share testimonies while others ate.
“I am so grateful for the bounty of this year’s harvest,” one woman said. “And a righteous husband who is not afraid of honest toil.”
Another man stood a few minutes later. “I know that Brother Timothy is the true prophet of the Lord, sent to guide and protect us in the last days.”
Jacob glanced at Brother Timothy, surrounded by children, eating bread with butter. The man seemed to feel his gaze, and returned the look. Jacob looked back to his food.
A moment later, Brother Timothy joined him in the corner. “It’s warmer in the sun, you know.”
“A couple of hours and I’ll wish I had this shade back.”
“Isn’t that true? You’ve got to love Central Utah. Freezing one minute, roasting the next.”
“It’s all that dry air,” Jacob said. “Why does the Lord always lead His people to the desert? Was there something wrong with Oregon?”
Brother Timothy laughed. “Maybe it’s nothing more than finding a place so desolate no one else wants it.”
“Or maybe the desert is meant to toughen us up, keep us from getting fat and lazy and prosperous.”
“Nicely put, brother.”
An elderly woman rose. “Brothers and sisters.” The chatter hushed as people strained to hear her thin voice, watered with age. “There were times when I despaired this day would ever come. For years I waited and watched. My husband passed to the other side of the veil, my sister wives too. I thought I’d join them without seeing the glorious day, but now it has come. I’m thankful every day to the Lord.” She smiled. “Just as long as He keeps this old heart ticking a little bit longer.” A few chuckles at this.
Brother Timothy was watching Jacob watch the woman. “Why are you so skeptical?”
“Sorry?”
“Sister Grace Ellen. That woman is as close to the Lord as anyone I’ve met. She’s lived a hard life, always waiting, always faithful.”
“She seems like a wonderful person,” Jacob said.
“But you don’t buy it.”
“You can’t just give me a blessing and make me a believer,” Jacob said.
“I can if you’re humble enough.”
“Did you know Brigham Young studied the Book of Mormon for two years before he joined the church?” Jacob asked. “He said he needed to be sure that Joseph Smith was truly called of the Lord. I’ll bet he talked to the prophet many times, prayed dozens of times to know if it was true. Probably received blessings just like the one you gave me. Do you think he would have been swayed by Sister Grace Ellen’s testimony, or would he have kept waiting, studying, praying?”
“Fair enough, but we don’t have two years.”
“You think the Millennium is that close?”
“Closer than you think. The time has come to believe, Brother Jacob. To know the truth and stamp it on your heart.”
“The scriptures say that to some it is given to know,” Jacob countered, “and others to believe on their word. I’m not a knower.”
“Not yet, but you will be.”
Jacob turned back to watch the crowd. Brother Timothy kept studying him as he studied them. Jacob couldn’t help but be moved by the sight of many eager people, convinced they were following the actual will of the Lord, but he also felt himself pulling back. Cool, not hot. Detached, not joined.
“Brother Jacob, I can see it on your face,” the prophet said. “You’re deliberately hardening your heart.”
“What are you hoping I’ll do? Beyond fixing bones and delivering babies? Do you want another follower? Is it because my father is the head of the Church of the Anointing? If I join,
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