Sandy Brown was a keeper and maker of gardens. With his many workers he tended the lawns and shrubs and flowers of businesses and homes.

Sandy loved the feel of his hands plunging into loamy soil, the suppleness and strength of young wood and tender greens, so he was often out with his laborers, working as hard as any. No job was too hard or menial for him to do.

One of his customers, a rich man and a Christian, told him one day: "I'm paying for the making of a film about the Savior. I want you to play the part of the Lord."

"I'm no actor," Sandy said.

"It's a silent film," said the producer. "It's in black and white. You'll act out the things that Jesus did, and now and then a different actor will speak some of the words of Christ."

"Why me?" Sandy asked.

"When I see you tending the garden, feeling the leaves and stems to judge the strength of the plants, your face seems to me like the Savior's face, looking at his fallen brothers and sisters with love and care, sorrow and hope."

"I'm not a man to portray the Lord," Sandy said.

"You'll play the Savior or no one will. I won't make this film without you."

Sandy went home and told his wife. "I'd have to grow my hair and beard," he said.

"I've always wondered what your beard would look like," she said.

"If people know I'm playing Jesus in a film, they'll judge me unfit to do it."

"They're more likely to treat you like a movie star," she said.

"That would be worse," Sandy said. "A celebrity because I portray the Lord? Unbearable."

"I think this movie should exist," his wife said. "I know of no better man to stand in Jesus' place."

With her encouragement, and a promise from the producer that his name would not be given out and no one would be told, he gave consent.

For six months he let his hair and beard grow, uncut.

When he looked in the mirror, he searched for the face of Christ, but did not find him. Nor, behind the beard, did he see himself.

A strange thing happened at church. People no longer chose to sit on the same bench with Sandy and his family. They no longer let their children go to the Browns' house to play with their children. Sandy was released from his calling as a Primary teacher, and no other calling was found for him.

"Today Sister Evans took my hand and told me she was praying for us," said Sandy's wife one day. "I think that she believes you're using drugs."

"No," said Sandy said, "you may not tell her or anyone why my hair and beard are growing."

Many of Sandy's customers and many on his waiting list no longer wished him to tend their gardens.