Author: sp

Moroni lived a long time by himself with his father’s books. And he learned to love his books like people. Because they were like people, in a way, because they carried hope. And Moroni had read the stories so many times they were familiar to him like people, and he could sit with them and they could be together without even opening the cover. 

But before Moroni died, he sat down to read his father’s book one last time. He picked it up, and brushed the dust off the cover. And the dust rose into the air and turned gold in the light of the evening sun which was just shining in through the opening of the cave. 

And the plume of dust grew and sparkled and spread out and up the cave wall and out into the sky and up and up and up. And Moroni understood that the book was not just a book. It was a prayer. A prayer full of voices. There was Lehi and Nephi and Mosiah and Alma and Ether and the others. But they were also one voice. A voice that rose from the earth like this dust and shone brightly in the sun. A great, bright, sparkling thing. 

And in the prayer, he could almost hear his father’s voice. And Moroni yearned to hear it again and so he opened the book, and out fell a letter from his father. And Moroni opened the letter. 

“Dear Moroni,” the letter said. “I have seen the worst of humanity. The people I love have become like zombies, more dead than alive, more animal than human. People kill each other and eat each other and humiliate each other. This is a world I no longer recognize. It was once full of love and people and pine trees and brushes and birds in the brushes. It is now full of beasts and cannibals and hate and anger and death. 

“The world has fallen. People I remember as children have become monsters. And there is nothing more terrible than seeing a child become a monster. Because that is not supposed to happen. Children are meant to be angels. And you are my angel, Moroni. You beautiful boy. But look at the world I have brought you into.

“I fight every day to see you and your mother again. You are my hope. And I wish I could tell you that it was enough. I wish I could tell you things will get better. I wish I could tell you that we will win the war or that we will restore peace. But we are losing. We have already lost. It is nearly over. I will die soon. And I might never see you again. 

“And if I die, you and the others will have to run for your life. They will hunt you down. And if they catch you, they will kill you. You will run and run. But there is nothing to run to. Nowhere to go. That is the future left for you. And there is nothing I can do to change it now.”

“But Moroni, there is hope. I do not understand it. I do not know how I can feel it now, at the end of our people, and the end of our religion, and the end of my life, at the end of everything I have ever known. But I can feel it. It is deeper than my terror. Deeper than my fear. It has gone below all things. It is deep, so very deep. Even deeper than the depths of my breaking heart.” 

“And this is my final blessing to you. It is all I have to give: You shall have hope.”

And now at the end of Moroni’s life, he could feel that hope swell within him, still burning. His father’s hope. Not just his father’s hope, his people’s hope. The voices of the prayer filled the cave, twirling, shining, brilliant.  

And they spoke to Moroni and with Moroni. It was his turn to offer the prayer. To pass the hope on to another person, another people. And so Moroni wrote his prayer down at the very end of his father’s book. And he said that hope was a gift. It was his father’s gift and his father’s gift and his father’s gift all the way back to the Father of all fathers—Adam and then God Himself. And it is a precious gift because it is both the beginning and the end of faith. And without faith it is impossible to love. And without love, we have nothing. Without love, nothing else matters. Without love, we have failed already.

Moroni knew that all things would fail. His father had failed. The Nephites had failed. Zion had failed. His own body was failing. And future generations would fail. You and I, we would fail. But hope remained. It stuck like a forgotten letter between the pages of our greatest failures. And sometimes, the book sits on the shelf, gathering dust. And we forget about the letter inside. Until we open it, and it falls to our feet. 

And Moroni added his father’s letter to the book again. He ran his finger across the words one last time. Hope was the letter and the message was love. 

Love that was kind and generous even when the world was crumbling. Love that accepted injuries and did not fear insults or pain or death. Love that did not blush when saying I love you and was never embarrassed. Love that lived alone and was not lonely. Love that was secure and unmoveable like an iron rod. Love that rose up and was greater than everything else and could be killed again and again without ever dying.  

And at the very end of Moroni’s life, he could feel his father’s love which was God’s love. And despite everything, it was enough. There was nothing else he needed, nothing else he desired. He was content. 

Soon it would be time to bury the book. His father’s book. He would go back to the very place where his father had fought and all his people had died. He would put the book deep in the ground with all the Nephite bodies God had buried. There in the place of failure, in the place of death, in the place of despair, he would plant his father’s hope. And he knew, one day the seed would grow and the voices would speak again.   

And so Moroni wrote his final lines. He said that anyone who reads the book will need to do what he had just done. They would need to pray. And if you pray, you will hear them. The voices. The voices praying for you. Hands reached out, blessing your head, filling your soul with indescribable, inexpressible, undeniable hope. Hope of our fathers and their fathers and our Father and their Father. And then, like a bud of an apple tree, hope will blossom into faith and faith will grow into fruit. And we will eat the apple. And it will taste better than good. It is the thing we’ve been hungry for all our lives. 

We will be filled with this love and we will know that the voices, like dust from the earth, are prayers from real people who love a real God. And that God is seeing you fail and fail and fail. And He is reaching out His hand to help you up. And He is saying, once more, that you are good. 

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All artwork by Lauren Blair.

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Moroni was still alone. Even after reading all the books, even after writing down more stories and letters, even after running away and trying not to be killed, even after years and years, Moroni was still alive, and still alone.

He had not always been alone. Before the big horrible final battle, he lived in a family with parents and probably brothers and sisters who all loved each other very much. And he had friends, too. Friends who had lived in his neighborhood. Friends he had met in the army. Friends he grew up with at church. 

He remembered playing with them in nursery, and singing with them in the primary program. He remembered sitting in class with them and imagining what it would be like to be baptized, and whether his toes would come out of the water and they’d have to do the whole thing again. And he was glad to remember these things. 

But then he remembered that his friends were all gone. And because they were gone, these things were just memories. He would never listen to another friend’s talk or see another primary program. He would not be able to teach the sunbeams how to fold their arms or hug his daughter after she was confirmed. Because Moroni was all alone. And when he died, these memories would die too, like his friends.

And that made Moroni very sad. “God,” he said, “In case you have forgotten, I am still here, alone in my cave. Nothing but me and my books and my memories. How long will you leave me here alone? I am tired of this world. I want to see my friends. My father, my mother. I miss them.” And Moroni began to cry. 

And God was also crying. “Child,” He said, “even though you are lonely, you are not alone. I am with you. And your father, and your mother, they are here too. And there are other people still, living in the world with you.”

“Lamanites?” Moroni hiccuped. “But they don’t like me at all. If they found me, they would kill me.”

“But still they are mine,” said God. “And I will rescue them. I am sorry they have been very mean to you. I am sorry you are lonely. I am sorry your friends are gone and your family. I am sorry there is so much evil and death and pain in the world. I am sorry for all of it. But Moroni, there is more for you to do. There are more souls to save. If not these Lamanites, then the ones that will come after. I have big plans for that little book you are holding, Moroni. And people will need your memories. They will need to know how to pray, how to baptize, how to bless and teach and love each other and make a church together. Because there is still good in the world. And it will return to this place, just like your book. It will rise out of the earth and your words will grow and stretch until every person feels their light. And so, I am leaving you here, Moroni. Just a little longer. Just long enough to finish your story, and make it right.”

And so Moroni opened the book, and wrote his memories. He wrote about the baptisms, and the blessings, and the prayers, and the meetings. He wrote the words his friends had said, and he remembered how beautiful they were. And they looked beautiful in the golden pages of the book. And seeing them, Moroni smiled. And he put his pen down. And he sighed and looked at the clouds. He breathed in and out, very slowly.

He could see them now, there in the future. The people God had told him about. They were reading his book. And Moroni tried to think what they needed to know. What he could tell them about God. He did not think he could write good enough, beautiful enough, smart enough. But they would need help to succeed. What they were doing would not be simple. They would mess up and have to try again. But they were his hope now. They were his people’s hope. They were all people’s hope. They would build Zion. And when they were finished, it would stay. Not for four hundred years. Not for four thousand years. Forever. 

And if they were going to build Zion, they would need to start by building a church. And not any church. God’s church. Because Zion is not just one heart, but a whole congregation of good, pure, imperfect hearts all knit together like a big comfy blanket. It is not something we do by ourselves. But if you bring your heart to church, God will start knitting. 

And so Moroni picked up his pen and wrote: “And this is what a church is. It is a place where the people sit together often. And they talk together. And they are honest and kind to each other. And they practice being good, and helping others be good. And God is there with them. And whether God tells them to teach, or talk, or serve, or sing, or pray, or forgive, or ask forgiveness, the people do it. The people at church are not perfect, but they care for each other very much. And the people try. They really try.”

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All artwork by Lauren Blair.

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This is a story about the two cities of the Zoramites. The first city has large brown homes, tall silver statues, gray fountains, pink gardens, green grass and rainbow colored churches. And when you walk into that city, your eyes get big and you look from side to side and up and down because everywhere, everything you see is big and bright and beautiful—even the people! 

And tucked into the shadows and corners of this big beautiful city is the second city. The homes in this second city are very small, and very dirty. If you were visiting the Zoramites, you would probably miss this place, even though it would be right under your nose. Everything looks duller, and smaller, and a little uglier here—even the people. They sit together under the big trees that hide their houses from the road so that they will not burn up in the hot sun. But some of the people are missing. They are away in the big shiny city, cleaning the homes, building the statues and fountains, weeding the garden, mowing the grass, painting the churches.

If you are wondering who built the big shiny city, these are the people. These are the people who take care of it, and make it beautiful. These are the people who fix it when it breaks. And these are the people who aren’t allowed to live in it, or even to walk into the churches, because they are too poor, too dirty, too ugly.

When Alma came to teach the Zoramites after they let Korihor die, he walked right past the poor people. He didn’t even notice them. He walked into the gate, wiped his forehead of sweat, and began looking for a church so that he could begin to tell the people what they had done wrong. It was easy to find because it was big and tall and bright like the sky. 

On his way, he walked past large homes, statues, and fountains. He passed the rich people out in the sun. They were tanning and drinking pink lemonade by their swimming pools. And they were not interested in what Alma had to say. He tried to teach them in church. They did not listen. He tried to teach them in the streets, they did not listen. So he climbed to the top of a hill so that he could see the whole city, and still they did not listen. 

He was about to give up when he heard a shallow voice, like a child’s, say, “Excuse me.” Alma turned around. And behind him were all the people he had walked past without even noticing. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t notice you there.”

“Don’t worry,” they said. “It happens a lot. But if you don’t mind, we would like to hear what you have to say.”

And the first thing Alma noticed about the people is that they were poor. This was obvious because they smelled bad because they didn’t have clean water and so it was very hard to wash their hair. 

They said, “We know we are poor, but that is just the start. We are also weak, and small, and not very clever at all. They call us filthy. And we are filthy. There are so many things we can’t do.” And they began to tell Alma all the things they can’t do.

We cannot fly.

We cannot do calculus.

We cannot fit one hundred grapes into our mouths.

We cannot run very long without getting tired.

We cannot live forever.

We cannot fit our hand in a tea cup.

We cannot multiply 134 by 1225.

We cannot play the accordion.

We cannot talk to horses or lizards or bugs.

We cannot do 100 push ups.

We cannot go one year without getting sick or even one day without getting hungry.

And there are about one million other things we cannot do.

Alma said, “That is okay. That is called being humble.”

Humble, a definition

To be humble is to be helplessly in need of help. Which is to say, to be human. Sometimes we forget that we are human because we live in a city with statues and walls and rainbow churches. And we think we have everything under control. And sometimes a big earthquake or a virus or an asteroid reminds us that we are still human. And that we do not have everything under control. 

Alma said, “I’m glad that you are humble. It’s good to be humble. But you are doing something wrong. You are feeling sad and bad about yourself. Just because you are humble and helplessly in need of help doesn’t mean you are bad, or filthy, or worthless. 

Put your hand on your chest. Do you feel a thump-thump-thumping? Inside of your chest is a heart. You can feel it. It pumps and pumps and brings good red blood to your arms, your feet, your head. But you cannot get to it. It’s locked inside of your body. 

But lucky for you and me there’s someone who can reach straight through your body and into your heart. That person is God. And He already has. He has already reached into your heart and put something deep inside there. It’s small and simple and fragile. It is like a seed.

And inside of the seed is a little bit of Himself. It’s called The Word. And it’s small now. So very very small. But now that you know it’s there, you can start to take care of it. Like you give plants water and light, you can give this seed love and trust, and then it will start to grow just like a plant does. And you will begin to feel it filling up your body. 

The Word is already growing inside of you. It might seem scary that part of God is growing inside of your own chest. But don’t worry. You don’t need to be afraid of God. Because when this seed grows and fills you up you will begin to feel strong, and capable, and loved. And you will learn to trust that love. And you will learn that it doesn’t matter so much that there are a million things that you can’t do, because God is with you. And you will say, God, this seed that you have planted in my heart is delicious. And you may worry that it will stop growing someday, that there will be no more space and that it will shrivel up like trees in wintertime. But don’t worry. God is big enough to turn the whole world into His garden.

And you will see that even though other people don’t notice you, God has known you since before you were born, and he has loved every bit of you. And you will see that even though other people call you filthy, God calls you Child. 

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All artwork by Lauren Blair.

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You have now heard many examples of people learning about God and Jesus and being blessed. So it is easy to believe that believing in God will make you better. And people who believe in God will get better and better and better. And everyone else will get worse and worse and worse. And God will bless the righteous and they will be wealthy and happy. And soon enough you will be able to tell who is righteous because they will be so blessed. They will all be beautiful people, with big houses, and swimming pools in their big yards. And the wicked will be poor and ugly.  

This is not true. But some people believe it. Even back in the Book of Mormon people believed it. They were called the Zoramites. And they said, “Thank you God for making us better than everyone else.” And they went around looking at their neighbors and seeing who had the most money and jewelry, and who was the most handsome and funny and cool.  

They thought that God must have blessed these people with wealth and beauty and humor and coolness. And so they must be very righteous. And so everyone else tried to figure out what made these handsome, funny, cool people so righteous. Because they wanted the same blessings.  

And soon enough the wealthy people began to write self-help books about how to earn more money to be happy and they gave speeches about setting goals and work ethic. And they called it “righteous living.” And told people to pray, to work hard, and to not be angry that the wealthy people had swimming pools while the poor people didn’t have clean water. Because God can see their hearts and he will bless them if they are righteous. If you are righteous enough, soon, you too will have a swimming pool. 

And so the poor and needy went to the bookstores and bought these books. But all these books did was make the wealthy more wealthy. Because they were built on a lie. And one man saw the lie for what it was. His name was Korihor. He said, “these self-help books are rubbish. These people are not successful because they are righteous. They are successful because they are smart and clever and most of all lucky.”

Korihor did not like that the wealthy people were using God to persecute the poor people and keep them poor. Korihor thought God was made up. He was just something the wealthy people used so that the poor people wouldn’t complain. So that the poor and the needy would keep working and building the swimming pools without complaining that they didn’t even have clean water. And the more he saw, the more angry his heart became. 

And Korihor was partly right, and partly wrong. He was right that it is wrong to use God as a reason to not help people who need help. And he was also right that sometimes, even though it is wrong, religious people do just that. But he was wrong that all religious people do that. And he was also wrong that just because some people use God as an excuse to not help other people, God does not exist. God does exist!

But Korihor went around telling everyone that there was no God. And he tried to convince Alma that there was no God. “You are just like the Zoramites,” he said. “You are just using God to make yourself rich and other people poor, and that makes you bad and God fake.” 

And Alma had to explain to Korihor that he was wrong, and to Zoramites that they were wrong. Because neither one of them understood grace. 

Alma explained that there is a God. That God does bless us when we are righteous. But that is because he is blessing us all of the time. “Look at the world,” he said. What a beautiful blessing. God created mountains and oceans, rivers and birds, and birds playing in rivers. Do you see how the grass grows up tall, pointing towards heaven? The grass tells us that there is a God. Do you see how the sun is shining down from heaven on the grass and the trees and the animals and helping them to grow tall and strong? The sun tells us that there is a God, and that He loves us all. And in that sun, we see grace.”

What Alma was trying to say, what Korihor and the Zoramites didn’t understand, is that God blesses all of us, each day, no matter what we do. He blesses us because he loves us. And when we sin, he doesn’t stop blessing us. No, that’s when he blesses us even more. He blesses us with Jesus. No one succeeds because they are righteous. We succeed because God is righteous. He is so so so righteous. He is full top to bottom with grace. He will never stop blessing you. 

But it is also true that God does not always bless you in the exact way you would like. Maybe you want a big swimming pool in your yard. Maybe you will get that, maybe you won’t. Blessings like that are given to some and not to others. And if you’ve received God’s grace, then share. Fill your swimming pool with friends and guests. Because you did not earn it. It was given to you, like all things, by God’s unending grace. 

But Korihor still did not understand, his heart was too hurt and angry. And the Zoramites did not understand, their hearts were too content and proud. And so Korihor said he would never believe in God unless God proved that He was real. “If God is real,” Korihor said, “then why doesn’t he just stop me from saying he is not real. Then I will believe.“ And so, guess what happened? 

God wanted Korihor to believe. So he answered this prayer and made it so Korihor couldn’t talk anymore. And because Korihor couldn’t talk, he couldn’t do his work. And so Korihor became poor and hungry and weak. But he was poor and hungry and weak because God had answered his prayer. But the Zoramites didn’t understand. They thought poor people were abandoned by God. And that he must have been very wicked and deserved what happened to him. 

So when Korihor begged for clean water and food, they said it was his fault for being poor. And they trampled over his soul with their pride. And they let him die. 

When Alma heard what had happened to Korihor, he set off to teach the Zoramites that they had been very wrong. He walked many miles to their city and while he walked it was hot and he got dirty and sweaty. When he arrived the Zoramites did not listen. When Alma spoke, they simply put their fingers in their ears and said “la la la la” and they kicked Alma out of their church because he was very dirty and smelly from his long walk to their city, and they thought that God didn’t want dirty, smelly, poor, sad people to be in His church.

Which is to say, they didn’t understand that the exact people God wants most in His home, the people who God is reaching out to with His broken and scarred hands, are people who are dirty, smelly, ugly, poor, hungry, broken, sinful, and sad.

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All artwork by Lauren Blair.

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This is a story about the Lamanites who learned about Jesus and were baptized. We told you how happy they were. 

They woke up each morning, jumped out of bed and said, “what a beautiful day. I am so excited.” And at the end of the day, they knelt on their knees and spoke to God. “God,” they said. “That was a really good day. You made the sun perfectly bright. And while it was hot, there was a breeze. And it cooled me down. And so we played and worked and we are now very tired.” And after their prayers, they fell asleep without even complaining or asking for another cup of water because they were content already.   

But that was about to change because they were living next to a bunch of Lamanites who did not like them. Some did not understand. Some had other beliefs. And some just didn’t like the whole idea of a Nephite like Ammon or Aaron having something to teach a Lamanite. And so they did not like the Lamanites who had converted. And they said, “You are not really Lamanites. You are something else.”

And so the people came up with a new term for themselves. Because they weren’t Lamanties anymore. And they were not Nephites. They called themselves the Anti-Nephi-Lehies. And while it was a mouth full, it is also descriptive. And I think what it meant is that they were not Nephites and they were no longer Lamanites, but they were children of Lehi. “So there you have it,” they said. “Are you happy now?”

But the Lamanites were not happy and they picked on the Anti-Nephi-Lehies. They made fun of them. And they tried to start fights with them. And they said, “You do not belong here. Go somewhere else or we will fight you.” 

But the Anti-Nephi-Lehies had nowhere to go. If they did not belong with the Lamanites and they did not belong with the Nephites, then where did they belong? And if they did not leave, they would have to fight. But they had promised God that they would not fight. And so they said, “Lamanites, we will not fight you. But we cannot leave.”

To show that they were serious, the Anti-Nephi-Lehies took everything they had ever used to fight with, all their swords and shields and clubs and arrows and every other weapon they owned, and they buried them deep in the ground. “See,” they said. “We have nothing to fight you with. So please leave us alone.”

But the Lamanites did not listen. Instead, they took advantage of the opportunity. They gathered an army and they said, “Quickly, polish your swords. Let’s go fight the Anti-Nephi-Lehies. They don’t have any weapons. It will be so easy. We will chase them. And they will run. And anyone who does not run fast enough, we will kill them.” 

And so the Lamanites got their weapons and started to march. The Anti-Nephi-Lehies could see them coming. There were so many of them. And the sun reflected off of their newly polished weapons. Imagine this with me. Can you see the army coming? They are coming to fight you. And you cannot stop it. What would you do? I want you to imagine this because what happens next is one of the most remarkable parts of the entire Book of Mormon. 

The Anti-Nephi-Lehies did not run away. And they did not dig up their swords. They did not gather rocks or sticks or roll up their sleeves ready to fight. That would have made sense but it is not what they did. All they did was walk into the field towards the army with empty hands. They looked at the Lamanites right in the eyes. Then they knelt down on the ground and prayed. They were not going to fight, no matter what. 

Many of them were killed. They died peacefully, calmly, eyes towards heaven. They died praying and hoping and trusting that inside each Lamanite was goodness, and compassion, and love. They believed this because even though they called themselves the Anti-Nephi-Lehies, they were really just another bunch of Lamanties. And they were proof already that Lamanites were good. 

And they were right. The battle quickly ended. The Lamanites dropped their swords and instead of fighting they hugged and cried and said, “We are so sorry. We are brothers. No matter what else we are, we are all still brothers.” And some of them stayed to learn about God and Jesus and were baptized and became Anti-Nephi-Lehies too. 

But Ammon knew the Anti-Nephi-Lehies would have to leave. Most of the Lamanites were not interested in being Anti-Nephi-Lehies. And they would come back. They would bring swords and war. And many more people would die. And so Ammon said, “this cannot continue. If we cannot live with the Lamanites, we need to try and live with the Nephites.”

But that wasn’t such an easy thing for the Anti-Nephi-Lehies to do. Because the Lamanites and the Nephites had been fighting and killing each other for years and years and years. There was bad blood. 

Bad Blood, a definition

Good Blood is red. It is the kind of blood you have. It pumps through your body, fills you with air and energy and life. Bad Blood is the opposite. It’s black. It pumps through your body, fills you with cobwebs, bitterness, and lies. It happens when you don’t love other people. Whether it’s Nephites, or Lamanites, or Russians, or Coloradans, or Muslims. When you don’t actively love people, you start to dislike them. Then you start to hate them. Then you teach other people to hate them. And that’s how Bad Blood happens. And once it gets started, it spreads like a disease, and is very hard to cure.

Well the Nephites and the Lamanites had bad blood. They had hated each other. They had killed each other. The Anti-Nephi-Lehies thought there was no way the Nephites would forgive them. “Oh no, Ammon,” they said. “We cannot do that. Anything other than that.”

But Ammon was certain. And so they said, “Then let’s go as servants, like you did, when you came to us. That way we can learn to love them and they will learn to love us.” And that may have been a good idea except, as Ammon quickly informed them, “Nephites do not have servants.” 

This was a let down. There was no other solution than to walk right up to the Nephites as brothers and sisters. They would see faces of people they had fought with. They would see widows and mothers whose husbands and sons they had killed. They would have to face all the worst things they had ever done, and all the worst things their parents had ever done, and all the worst things their grandparents had ever done. 

It was even scarier than when the Lamanite army was coming to kill them. That time they had to bury their weapons. This time they had to bury their pride. That time they had to face the wickedness of other people. This time, they had to face the wickedness in themselves. 

They were more scared than they’d ever been in their whole lives. And they did the most remarkable thing they had ever done. They trusted that the Nephites would be good and kind enough to forgive them. And that they would be able to live together. And that together, they could dispel the bad blood.    

And when those Anti-Nephi-Lehies arrived in the Nephite kingdom they threw themselves on the ground, and they held the feet of the Nephites and they cried and cried. “Can you ever forgive us?” they asked. “Can you ever be happy with us?” 

And the Nephites also did something remarkable. They helped the Anti-Nephi-Lehies to their feet and looked straight into their eyes. “My friends, we have all done wrong. But you are home now. Come live with us. Be our sister. Be our brother.” And the Nephites helped them move into their new home. 

They brought their horses, their sheep, their clothing, their games, their toys. But they left behind two things. Two things buried deep in the earth. And where they are buried, there is a mound. And the mound is green now. Soft with moss and grass. Trees have grown there so that it is shady and cool. They are tall trees with roots that go deep into the earth and mingle with swords and arrows and axes and cimeters. And the roots are slow and strong and whatever they wrap around they dull, they bend, they break into dust. And the water washes it slowly, ever so slowly away. Maybe in another thousand years, there will be nothing left. 

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All artwork by Lauren Blair.

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Ammon was one of the sons of Mosiah. He was going to teach the Lamanites. But there was a problem. The Lamanites didn’t like the Nephites. And nobody wants to listen to someone they don’t like. But Ammon wanted the Lamanties to believe in God and Jesus and so he wanted to teach them about why everyone was here on the earth and what would happen after death. Ammon thought that if the Lamanties knew all this, they would believe in God. No problem. 

And so Ammon came up with a sneaky plan. He wouldn’t trick them into liking him. Then they would listen to him. And then he could teach them all the stuff he knew. And then they would believe in God. 

The first step was getting the Lamanites to like him. And so Ammon thought to himself, “Ammon, what is likeable? Bunnies are likeable, because they are cute.” But how was Ammon going to be like a bunny? And then he remembered that the Lamanties were known to catch and eat bunnies for dinner without even cooking them. A bunny would not be likeable enough. So he thought, what is the most likeable thing of all? 

Then he remembered his parents. He liked his parents a whole lot. And why did he like his parents? He didn’t know exactly. It was just that they liked him so much that “like” wasn’t a good enough word for it anymore. They loved him. And because they loved him deeply, he grew to love them too.

That was it! Ammon knew what to do. He was going to learn to love the Lamanites. Then they would love him too. And so he tried to love the Lamanites. He tried as hard as he could. He squinted his eyes shut and held his breath, and tried to feel love. He felt something. It was a good feeling. Was it love? Had he done it already? This was going to be easy, he thought. 

And so he marched right into the center of a city to meet the people. And there they were. They were handsome and pretty and tan and beautiful. And he was shaky and nervous because he was going to meet new friends. And he raised his hand and waved hi and said, “My name is Ammon, I love you and I am so glad to meet you.” And they grabbed him and tied his hands together and kicked him and brought him to the king of the city. “Loving these people is going to be harder than I thought,” Ammon said. 

The King did not look very nice. And when he spoke, he did not sound very nice either. “Who are you silly Nephite?” the king said. “We don’t like Nephites even when they are miles away. We like Nephites even less when they are stupid enough to come into our city. Why did you come here? We don’t like you.” 

Ammon did not know what to say. He was sore from being kicked and his wrists hurt from the ropes around them. And he was feeling a little sad that his sneaky plan was not working out so well. But he was still optimistic. And Ammon said, “I am sorry you don’t like me. But I want to like you. Let me be your servant. That way I can get to know you. And once I get to know you, how can I help but like you. That way everyone is happy. I get to like you. You don’t have to like me. And you get an extra servant who works for free. 

The king could see no problems with his logic. And so he agreed. And so Ammon began to work for the king. He took care of his sheep, prepared his food and his horses. And in the process, he learned about the King’s favorite food and his favorite horse, his hobbies and his great wealth. But he also learned some bad things about the king. The king had a temper. And that temper was hard to love. Because when the king had his temper, he would do bad things. He even had a few of his servants executed for making a mistake. 

This worried Ammon. Not because he was scared of being executed. But because he was worried that he would not be able to love a man with such a terrible temper. Ammon had thought that if he got to know the king, it would be easy to love him. But the opposite was happening. It was becoming harder and harder and harder. But Ammon remained optimistic. 

And so Ammon prayed to God and said, I need help loving this man. And God came into Ammon’s heart and filled it with love. And that love was so powerful that Ammon became the greatest servant the king had ever had. Ammon cleaned faster, cooked tastier, and protected the sheep better than anyone else had ever done. He was so good, that when a group of ten or twenty men tried to steal some of the sheep, Ammon fought them all off, by himself. 

The king was amazed at what Ammon could do. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was beginning to like Ammon. He asked Ammon, “Ammon, why are you doing so much for me.” And Ammon said, “Because I love you and I want what is best for you.” And the king said, “Why do you love me, Ammon? Don’t you know I have a terrible temper? Don’t you know I’ve done bad things? I am not lovable. I am just powerful. I could understand why you would fear me. But I don’t understand how you could love me.”

“At first, it was not easy to love you,” Ammon said. “But I asked for God’s help, and he put love into my heart because he already loved you. And that love was like a torch that lit my own candle. And now I love you too. And I want to teach you about why you are here and where you are going so that you will believe in God.”

The King looked dizzy. He already knew about God. He called God “The Great Spirit.” But while he knew about God, he had never felt God. Not like this. God was filling his body, it felt warm as fire and cool as water. And just before the king fainted to the floor, Ammon saw a look of astonishment flash across his face.  

Astonishment, a definition:

It’s what happens when you feel the love of God. It feels like a surprise birthday, only better because we can all imagine how fun a birthday can be. But we are all always unable to imagine how much God loves us. It is too much.

Ammon’s sneaky plan had worked. He had come to love the king. And so the king loved him, and listened to what he had to say about God and Jesus. But this was the surprising part. The king already knew about God. But knowing about God isn’t quite the same thing as feeling God. What the king needed was to experience God. And once he had, his understanding of life transformed. And he was able to believe everything Ammon taught him. And feel it, too.

And Ammon realized that he had not really been sent to teach the king things about God. God could not be taught. He could not be explained. He did not exist because he made sense. He just existed. And He loved. And His love is small and big, hot and cold, fire and water. And it is by this love that He moved from Ammon to the King and to each of us. 

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Worry not, friends, we will be writing the story of Abish, too. We don’t put all our stories on the blog so we can save some of our favorites exclusively for the book. And Abish, well, that’s a favorite.

All artwork by Lauren Blair.

If you are enjoying our stories, the best thing you can do to support us is to follow our blog, and tell your friends about us. We post new content every week, keeping up with Come Follow Me. We’d love to have you along for the ride!

Also, check out our new store to get some of your favorite artwork from our stories into your own homes.