World” and was all about how we weren’t to hide our light under a bushel, which turned out to be a kind of basket. Alf said the best way we could do this was to fill in a report card. Father answered up and said what a privilege it was to be God’s mouthpieces. Elsie answered and said we met skeptics, but if we didn’t tell people how would they know? Brian said: “Th-th-th-th-th-the thing. Th-th-th-th-thing is—” But we never found out what the thing was. Auntie Nel waved her hand about but it turned out she was only telling May she had wet herself.
By that time my mint had gone, so I put my hand up and said how happy God must be to see all the little lights shining in the darkness, and Alf said: “Well, we can all see your light is shining, Sister McPherson!” But it wasn’t, and I didn’t feel happy, and just then I wished I wasn’t one of God’s lights, because if I wasn’t, Neil Lewis wouldn’t put my head down the toilet.
When the magazine study was over, Father got onto the platform and said: “Now, Brothers, due to unforeseen circumstances…” I could see Uncle Stan collecting his papers and wiping his neck with his hanky. Then a rush of air swept into the hall and we heard the outer door close.
I turned round. A man was coming through the foyer doors. They seemed to have blown open, because they held themselves wide as he passed through, then closed behind him. The man had caramel skin and hair the color of blackbirds. He looked like one of the Men of Old, except that he wasn’t wearing a robe but a suit of dark blue and, where the light shone, it glistened like petrol in a puddle. The man came right up to our row and sat at the end, and I smelled something like fruit cake and something like wine.
Alf hurried up to him. He whispered to the man, then nodded at Father. Father smiled. He said: “And we are very glad to welcome…”
“Brother Michaels,” said the man. His voice was the strangest thing of all. It was like dark chocolate.
Father said: “Our visiting speaker, from…?” But Brother Michaels didn’t appear to have heard. Father asked again and Brother Michaels only smiled. “Well, anyway Brother, we’re very glad to have you,” Father said, then got down.
There was a lot of clapping, then Brother Michaels got onto the platform. He didn’t seem to have notes. He took something out of his briefcase and put it on the rostrum. Then he looked up. Now that he was looking at us, I could see just how dark his skin was. His hair was dark too, but his eyes were strange and pale. Then he said: “What beautiful mountains you have here, Brothers!”
I could feel how surprised everyone was. No one ever said anything about our valley being beautiful. Brother Michaels said: “Don’t you think so? I was coming over them today in my car and thinking how lucky you are to live here. Why, from the top I thought I could see right into the clouds.”
I looked out the window. Brother Michaels must either be crazy or need glasses; the clouds were even lower now—you couldn’t see more than three feet in front of you.
He smiled. “The theme of our talk today is ‘Moving Mountains.’ What do you think you would need, Brothers, to move that one over there?”
“Dynamite,” said Alf.
“You couldn’t,” said Uncle Stan.
“A pretty big digger,” said Gordon, and everyone laughed.
Brother Michaels held something up between his finger and thumb. “Do you know what this is?”
“It isn’t anything,” I whispered, but Father smiled.
“Which of you believes I’m holding anything at all?” said Brother Michaels.
Some people put up their hands; lots didn’t. Father was still smiling and he put up his hand, so I did too. Brother Michaels held a piece of paper out just below the microphone. Then he opened his finger and thumb and we heard something fall. “Those of you who guessed I was holding something, give yourself a pat on the back,” he said. “You were seeing with Eyes of Faith.”
“What is it?” I said, but Father only put his finger to his lips.
“That, Brothers, is a mustard seed,” said Brother Michaels. He held up a picture of a mustard seed blown up. It was like a tiny yellow ball. “It’s the smallest of seeds but grows into a tree that the birds of heaven sit in.” Then he began to talk about the world.
He said that many difficulties would befall God’s people before the system ended. He said the Devil was roaming the earth, seeking to devour someone. We read about how the Israelites stopped believing they would get to the Land of Decoration, how they scorned God’s miracles and the miracle workers. “Never let us be like that,” he said. “Faith is not a possession of all people. The world laughs at faith. They wouldn’t think of telling that mountain to move. But turn with me in your Bibles, Brothers, and see what Jesus says.”
Then he began to read, and as he did my heart beat hard and it was as if I was catching light.
“
“Of course,” he said, “Jesus was speaking metaphorically. We can’t really move mountains. But we can do things we think are impossible if we have faith. Faith sees the mountain as already moved, Brothers. It isn’t enough to think what the new world will be like, we have to see ourselves there; all the while we’re thinking what it will be like, we’re still here. But faith has wings. It can carry us wherever we need to go.”
Then he began to talk, and it was like listening to a great story unraveling, and I knew the story but didn’t remember having heard it before, or not told this way.
In the beginning, Brother Michaels said, all of life was miraculous. Humans lived forever and never got sick. Every fruit, every animal, every part of the earth, was a perfect reflection of God’s glory, and the relation between the humans was also perfect. But Adam and Eve lost something. They lost faith in God. So they began to die, the cells in their bodies began to deteriorate, and they were expelled from the garden.
“After that there were only glimpses of how things used to be: a sunset, a hurricane, a bush struck by lightning. And faith became something you prayed for in a room at midnight or on a battlefield or in a whale’s stomach or in a fiery furnace. Faith became a leap, because there was a gap between how things were and how they used to be. It was the space where miracles happened.
“Everything is possible, at all times and in all places and for all sorts of people. If you think it’s not, it’s only because you can’t see how close you are, how you only need to do a small thing and everything will come to you; miracles don’t have to be big things, and they can happen in the unlikeliest places. Miracles work best with ordinary things. Paul says: ‘Faith is the assured expectation of things long hoped for, the evident demonstration of realities though not beheld,’ and if we have just a little, other things will follow, Brothers. Sometimes more than we dreamed.”
The talk was finished, but for a second there was no clapping; then there was a storm of it. I felt I had woken up. But I had been sleeping longer than the talk; I felt I had been sleeping all my life.
I couldn’t wait for the song and prayer to be over. I thought Brother Michaels would be just the person to talk to about Neil Lewis.
AFTERWARD, I STOOD by Brother Michaels and waited for Uncle Stan to finish talking to him. But when Stan went away, Elsie and May came up. Then Alf. Brother Michaels shook hands with them, he listened, he nodded; he smiled and smiled. None of them wanted to go.
I was beginning to think I would never talk to him, but at last there was a gap and he turned round to put his papers in his briefcase and saw me.
“Hello,” he said. “Who are you?”
“Judith,” I said.
“Are you the one who gave the lovely answer?”
“I don’t know.”
“I think you were.” Brother Michaels held out his hand. “Good to meet you.”
I said: “I liked your talk,” but my voice didn’t seem to be working properly. “I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed a talk so much.”
“Thank you.”
“I was wondering if I could see the mustard seed?”
Brother Michaels laughed. “You can,” he said. “But I’m not sure it will be the same one.” He took a small jar from his bag and it was full of seeds.
I said: “I’ve never seen mustard like that before!”
“This is what it’s like before they grind it up.”