Once they were “the very vilest of sinners,” but a visit from an angel and a long time of anguished repentance transformed the sons of Mosiah into righteous missionaries:
They were desirous that salvation should be declared to every creature, for they could not bear that any human soul should perish…
They had waxed strong in the knowledge of the truth; for they were men of a sound understanding and they had searched the scriptures diligently, that they might know the word of God…
They had given themselves to much prayer, and fasting; therefore they had the spirit of prophecy, and the spirit of revelation, and when they taught, they taught with power and authority of God.
All the sons of Mosiah were righteous and faithful. And when they left on their mission to the Lamanites, they all received a divine promise of success and the “salvation of many souls.”
And yet they had very different mission experiences at first.
Last week in Come Follow Me, we read the first part of Alma’s mission to the apostates in Ammonihah. It’s there that we got to meet the wicked lawyer, Zeezrom. The crafty Zeezrom tries every trick in the book to misrepresent Gospel teachings and trip up Alma’s junior companion, Amulek. He even tried to bribe Amulek with (according to my math) about a month and a half’s worth of a judge’s wages– not a small sum of money– if he would just deny his words.
This past week in Come Follow Me, covering Mosiah 29 through Alma 4, we read about the death of one of my favorite Book of Mormon heroes. No, not Alma the Elder. No, not King Mosiah. No, definitely not Nehor. I’m talking about the penitent patriot, Gideon. He doesn’t get quite the same name recognition as other heroes, but I still think he’s really cool.
This may come as a surprise to many of you, but sometimes my children don’t listen.
Take bedtime, for instance. At the end of the day, my 4-year-old son and I both know how things are going to end. If my son cooperates when it’s “that time,” his bedtime will be preceded by playtime, two bedtime stories, and a lullaby. If he throws a tantrum, he will simply be placed in his bed with nothing more than a kiss and a parental pleading for improved behavior the next day. Whether my son chooses to cooperate or not, the end result is the same: he will be in his bed and sleeping. But how pleasant that process will be is up to him. It’s his choice– we can do it the easy way or the hard way.
Jacob 5, if you are not familiar, is a long allegory about the house of Israel. Zenos, the author, compares the house of Israel to an old, decaying olive tree and describes all the efforts of the master gardener to save the tree and its fruit. It’s one of those chapters that tend to get only touched on lightly. There just doesn’t seem to be much there. Israel is like a tree. It gets corrupt, so the Lord scatters it across the earth. It does OK for a while but then it produces inedible fruit, so it’s grafted back into the original tree one more time. Israel is then gathered for the last time and the end.
That’s the way I looked at it for a long time, anyway. But all that changed a few days ago when the awesome Taylor and Tyler invited me (video linked at bottom) to not just think of the house of Israel, but of myself as the tree in the allegory. I owe a lot of my insights to their video. Likening the scriptures to myself in this way gave me new insights relating to my personal spiritual growth, my plan for life, and even this weird situation where we’re having Church at home! Here’s what I learned about the way the master gardener takes care of me when I consider myself as the tree:
When I was little, I thought missionaries were basically superheroes. I pictured stalwart, obedient, faithful young men and women going all over the world, guided by the Spirit and teaching the truth in majesty and power, saving souls like a spiritual Superman. But then I went on a mission and learned that you can take a teenager to the temple, endow him with power from on high, set him apart from the world, commission him as a duly ordained minister and representative of Christ, put a name tag on him, and send him out with the Spirit… but a teenager will still be a teenager. Laziness, apathy, rebelliousness, phone addictions, slacking off, hormones, and general stupidity abound in the mission field just as they do at home.
Having worked closely with missionaries both on and off my own mission, I think it’s safe to say that across the board, teenagers just aren’t qualified to be missionaries. In fact, I would dare say no one is qualified to be a missionary. Or an Elders Quorum President. Or a Bishop. Or the Prophet. We are all every one of us supremely unqualified for the job.
It’s no secret that the world rejects the prophets. I mean, after all, a prophet’s job is to share the uncomfortable truth about what we’re doing wrong and call us to repent, right? Not exactly a comfortable message. But looking in the Book of Mormon, time and time again, you see that the threats and the condemnation and the calls to repentance are usually not the main reason people get angry at the Lord’s prophets.
In a previous post, I talked about our responsibility to learn to truly “treasure” the word of God like the Nephites did– specifically, that we need to do better at prioritizing our study of the Book of Mormon. We need to “level up” our study so that we’re not just reading the words on the page like a novel, but truly study and dig deep.
This is all easier said than done, of course. Most of us find it really difficult to dig in and “delight” in the Book of Mormon like we ought to. Why is that? I asked my Sunday School class this question recently. They’re 16 and 17 years old, so you know they are world-class experts on all the reasons to not do something. They identified 10 obstacles they face when trying to dig deep in the Book of Mormon. Just like the defensive plays in the Super Bowl going on right now, these “blockers” can really get in the way of our scripture study:
Those who know me know I really like economics. It’s a fascinating subject, and even humorous at times. There’s a classic economics joke that goes something like this:
Two economists walked past a Porsche showroom. One of them pointed at a shiny car in the window and said, “I want that.”
“Obviously not,” the other replied.
OK, OK, so while economists may be smart, comedians they are not. But it’s one of my favorite jokes because of what it teaches: when it comes to economics, what you say you want is not important– it’s your spending that tells us what you really want. If the first economist in the joke really wanted the Porsche bad enough, he would scrimp and save for years or subject himself to an insane car loan so he could buy it. The fact that he is not planning to buy it means that he obviously does not value the Porsche to the amount that the showroom is asking.
I originally wrote this post in July of 2017. I’ve updated it since:
Christ gave His chosen Twelve Disciples in both continents a rare opportunity. One by one, he asked them “What is it that ye desire of me, after that I am gone to the Father?” Eleven of the Jewish Disciples and nine of the Nephite Disciples asked for the same thing:
We desire that after we have lived unto the age of man, that our ministry, wherein thou hast called us, may have an end, that we may speedily come unto thee in thy kingdom.
But John and three unnamed Nephites requested to remain on the earth and serve the Lord long after their natural lifespans. I used to wonder why the disciples were not unanimous in asking for that blessing. After all, who wouldn’t want to be a missionary forever?