You need to die
In Alma 22, we read of the powerful conversion of King Lamoni's father. I noticed something strange in the account following the king's lesson on the plan of salvation. The Book of Mormon is clear that the Nephites understood that both the wicked and the righteous would be resurrected. Yet, in response to learning about this universal resurrection, the king prays to God, asking "that [he] may be raised from the dead." Stranger still, in answer to this prayer, the king is immediately "struck as if he were dead."
What is going on here? I have some thoughts.
The pattern: death before new life
As I pondered on this oddity, I remembered other instances in the Book of Mormon where people were "struck down" or "buried" before being raised up. Consider these examples:
- Being stricken to the ground: Zoram was forced to the earth by Nephi, only to rise once he had covenanted to abandon his former life and begin as part of Nephi's family. Alma the Younger and the sons of Mosiah were confronted by an angel and struck. Alma remained "as if he were dead," for three days before awakening as a new man. Sherem and Zeezrom were struck down to the ground before their confessions and conversions. King Lamoni, his wife, his servants, and his father's household mentioned earlier also fell as if dead before rising with newfound faith. So too did the unbelievers at the time of the sign prophesied by Samuel the Lamanite. The Lamanite prison guards who were about to kill Nephi and Lehi were struck down by the Spirit, paralyzed, and left in darkness until they cried out to God for deliverance. They were then converted and left the prison with new hearts.
- Falling to Earth in Humility: King Benjamin's people collectively "fell to the earth" upon recognizing their spiritual need and accepting God's covenant, rising as new creatures in Christ with changed hearts.
- The sea as a type of death: Both Lehi's family and the earlier Jaredites endured harrowing voyages. Lehi's group was nearly "swallowed up in the depths of the sea" and the Jaredite submarines were repeatedly "buried" beneath mountainous waves before reaching their promised lands, symbolizing passage through death to a new beginning. The story of the Nephite voyage specifically speaks of the family leader, Lehi, being brought down to his deathbed and about to enter a "watery grave" during this journey.
- Loss as a type of death: Amulek lost his family, status, wealth, and employment – his entire former life died – before he could rise as a powerful missionary companion to Alma.
- Bondage and Surrender: The peoples of Limhi and Alma the Elder experienced crushing bondage, their hope and self-reliance needing to die before divine deliverance arrived.
- Burial as a type of death: The people of Anti-Nephi Lehi buried their weapons of war in an ultimate act of surrender that paradoxically brought spiritual life to many, including their enemies. Their sons later took up weapons in defense of peace and newness of life. The Book of Mormon itself was buried in a cement "tomb" before it could be brought forth to bring the life of the Gospel to the world.
- Actual, literal death: The Anti-Nephi-Lehies literally laid down their lives for the Gospel, softening the hearts of those that slew them and bringing them new life. Sherem, too, had to die to seal his public testimony of the truth and complete his mortal repentance. The Nephites experienced the great destruction incident to the Savior's death and spent three days in utter darkness before the sun (and the Son) rose again, bringing new life to them. The prophet Timothy was killed– stoned by the wicked Nephites– then brought back to life by his brother, later to be called to the Nephite Quorum of the Twelve Disciples. And of course, our Savior Himself submitted to physical death and burial before His glorious resurrection, the ultimate source of new life for all. As He taught, a seed cannot bring forth new life unless it first falls into the ground and dies (John 12:24).
This pattern is clear: if you want the Lord to raise you up, then you– the natural man you– need to die.
Asking to die
Consider again the prayer of King Lamoni's father. He wasn't merely praying to be included in the universal physical resurrection; he pled for a radical, internal transformation. His language is striking– he begged God for his "wicked spirit to be rooted out of his breast." Think about that phrasing: "root out." If you've ever tried to "root out" an unwanted piece of your landscape, you realize how difficult and destructive that can be. Fully "rooting out" even a small tree tears up your yard and leaves a gaping hole where the root ball was. And here Lamoni's father is asking God to root his spirit out of his heart. Pulling a spirit out of a body – isn't that a description of death itself? Yep, Lamoni's father asked God to kill his natural self. And we should, too.
This idea – asking God to kill our natural selves – might sound jarring, but it's exactly what we need. We aren't meant to merely prune our bad habits; we are invited to undergo a fundamental change, a death of the old identity to make way for the new. We are to cry out like King Benjamin's people, pleading for God to "'[work] a mighty change in us… that we have no more disposition to do evil, but to do good continually" (Mosiah 5:2). This isn't cosmetic surgery; it's a heart transplant.
C.S. Lewis masterfully taught this principle in three powerful analogies, all three of which ring with eternal truth sufficient to have been quoted over the pulpit by Church leaders:
Analogy #1: The living tree
Christ says ‘Give me All. I don’t want so much of your time and so much of your money and so much of your work: I want You. I have not come to torment your natural self, but to kill it. No half-measures are any good. I don’t want to cut off a branch here and a branch there, I want to have the whole tree down… Hand over the whole natural self, all the desires which you think innocent as well as the ones you think wicked—the whole outfit. I will give you a new self instead. In fact, I will give you Myself: my own will shall become yours.’
– Mere Christianity, chapter 8
Analogy #2: The living house
Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on: you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of—throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were going to be made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself.
– Mere Christianity, chapter 9
Analogy #3: The red lizard
In his allegory The Great Divorce, a man arrives near heaven with a red lizard (representing his natural man), perched on his shoulder, constantly whispering in his ear. An angel offers to kill the lizard for him so he can enter heaven. The man hesitates, bargains, and suggests alternatives – can't it just be quieted or trained? But of course that cannot be. The ensuing internal struggle is agonizing but pivotal. Listen to this powerful depiction (it will only take a few minutes, I set it to start at the 2:26:00 mark):
When the man finally consents, the death of his "natural man" is incredibly painful but incredibly swift. The wretched shadow of the man is transformed into a glorious angel of light. The little corpse of the red lizard is transformed into a magnificent white stallion, fully under the control of the man. The pitiful, weak, evil natural man, with his corrupted desires, is dead; a new self, aligned with God's will, is born in power and majesty.
Newness of life through surrender
This profound transformation – the death of the natural man and the birth of a new spiritual life in Christ – is symbolized beautifully in the ordinance of baptism, where we are buried with Christ in water and raised again to "walk in newness of life" (Romans 6:4). But if you're like me, you maybe missed how all-encompassing that transformation should be. As I shared in another post, I've often tried to offer just the parts I knew were bad to God and tried to keep my "self" intact. I've sought improvement rather than transformation– pruning rather than uprooting.
But, learning from King Lamoni's father, Alma, and countless other witnesses, I'm realizing that's not enough. I need to completely surrender myself– the parts I like as well as the parts I don't– relinquish (or "consecrate" it all). I need to die. Or else I will never truly live.
Weighty but wonderful thoughts, indeed.
