Category: Book of Mormon Storybook (BMSB)

Zeezrom was a judge. His job was to keep everyone following the law. Because without the law, their city would fall apart. Imagine a city with no laws. People could steal and cheat and fight and you couldn’t do anything about it except fight back.  

Laws created order and security. For example, there was a law that said don’t steal. That wasn’t just a good idea or something that seemed fair. It was necessary for a city to exist. It allowed people to live side by side and work hard and earn money and build their homes without fear that all their hard work would be wasted and their home taken by somebody else. So laws kept cities moving, and building, and growing.  

But laws require law keepers. Because the moment the laws stops working or the people stop trusting each other, the whole system falls apart and people fight and cities are destroyed. And law keepers are known as judges. They make sure things are fair. And people don’t cheat. And laws are followed. 

And so when Alma and Amulek came into the city telling everyone that all these man-made laws were meaningless and the only laws that mattered were the laws of God, this made Zeezrom uncomfortable. And then Alma and Amulek started talking about Judges and authority. They said that judges were just pretend and their power was pretend and their authority was pretend. The only real laws were God’s laws and the only real power was God’s power and the only real authority was God’s priesthood authority. 

And this made Zeezrom upset. Of course the laws were not perfect. And judges were just people. They didn’t have any magical power bestowed upon them by some higher being. It was all man-made, like the city itself. But just like the city, it wasn’t pretend either. What judges did really mattered!   

Zeezrom worried what might happen if all the people started walking around believing that all the judges were usurpers of power and that the only laws that mattered were from heaven and the only justice was God’s? If people believed they were only accountable to God, people would start justifying all sorts of nonsense. I can take this woman’s dog because she doesn’t love it like I do. God would agree. Pluck, the dog would be taken. I can steal money from this child because the child’s father stole money from me. That’s fair, in the eternal sense. Swish, the money snatched. I can punch this man because he’s mean and that’s what he deserves. God will be on my side. POW, right in his nose.

It was too messy. Too prone to human weakness and self-centeredness. Zeezrom didn’t even think God was real. He was just a way for strong people to abuse weak people and so that weak people could endure it. Because some day, God would make it right. This was justice deferred. But Zeezrom was about justice now. People didn’t have to wait for justice or fairness or freedom until they were beaten, stepped on, robbed, trampled over, and dead. They could have it now. Because of the law. And because of judges who kept the law, like himself. 

And so Zeezrom decided to expose Alma and Amulek for the liars they were. He knew their type. They were normally after money. And so Zeezrom got all his cash from his safe and held it up. “Look here,” he said, “I’ll give you all of this if you admit there is no God.” He shook the money in the air and gulped a little. That was a lot of money. It must be almost $20,000. He really didn’t want to lose it. But he had a plan. If Amulek or Alma agreed and took the money, he’d show that they’d broken the law. Because one of their laws was to not trick people. 

It was okay to be wrong or disagree. But if you were intentionally lying to people that was a punishable offense. And Zeezrom could arrest the two men, put them in prison, and have his money back in his safe before they could say “Fire and brimstone.” But Zeezrom’s plan didn’t work out. Because Alma and Amulek didn’t take his money. They saw right through his plan and told everyone what Zeezrom was going to do. 

This was a little embarrassing mostly because they were right. And because his plan to expose them as liars was itself dishonest. And that was illegal. And it made him a liar. And while Zeezrom started to feel bad, Amulek started to preach about all the terrible things that would happen to liars. He talked about God and life and death and afterlife and after death. 

Amulek spoke passionately, fervently, honestly. And Zeezrom could see that this was not a liar. This was no trickster. What he was saying, he really believed it. And he was saying that no matter what, great women, handsome men, rich and poor people would all die and their bodies would decompose and turn into the same black dirt. That was its own kind of justice. But there was more. They wouldn’t just disappear. Their souls would continue and receive new bodies and they’d have to face each other and admit everything bad they’d ever done. 

But the justice was even deeper than this. They’d have to face God. And God would judge everyone. It sounded kind of terrible but also kind of great. Because as a judge, Zeezrom knew all too well how unfair the law could be. Good people lost cases. Loving parents were separated from children. People were kicked out of business. Others lost jobs. And while he tried to do what was right, the law was complicated. And people were complicated. And justice was an imprecise science. 

And something about the idea of a wise judge who could untangle all the knots, and write flawless laws, and enforce a perfect justice sounded like a beautiful idea. He wanted it to be true. And something in his heart allowed him to believe it for a moment. And as the thought stood there in his mind, it grabbed hold and would not let go. And instead of fighting or resisting, Zeezrom welcomed it in. 

And while Amulek continued to preach and rant and then Alma began to rant and preach and condemn Zeezrom’s disbelief, Zeezrom was already a believer. And rather than defending himself or hiding his face or running away, Zeezrom stood tall and admitted he’d been wrong. And he admitted his new belief in God and in some perfectly beautiful future justice. 

And humility like this is rare indeed. And so everyone was speechless. Was this another trick? Had Zeezrom gone crazy? What was happening? They waited, but no subtlety became evident. No secret plan materialized. Zeezrom was sincere. And so the other judges thought he must have been possessed. Alma and Amulek had invaded his mind and taken him over. Or maybe he was sick. Maybe it was hysteria. Maybe it was contagious.  And so the other judges and rulers of Ammonihah threw Zeezrom out of the city, and sent people to kill him with stones. And they gathered his wife and children and burned them in a big ugly fire.  

And Zeezrom ran away, sadder than he’d ever been. And not just because his children were gone or his wife was dead, though that was already more than he could handle. But it was made worse because he felt responsible. He’d worked the people up. He’d created the unholy deference to a worldly law that was necessary but so deeply lacking. His rhetoric had lit the fire. His misplaced belief in justice had stoked the flames. His failed trick had brought the crowd. And his final conversion ignited the mob. 

And Zeezrom grew sick with shame. His legs wobbled. His stomach ached. His head throbbed. He threw up his food and could not sleep. He wished he were dead, except he dreaded dying because he now believed that after death was more life. His shame would not end but only be magnified. He’d have to face his wife and children. And then he’d have to face God. And God would see him, and judge him. And Alma and Amulek had been quite descriptive of what God would do to him. Zeezrom would burn in his own fire. That would be just. The flames would almost feel good. 

And Zeezrom was so sick with shame he remained in his bed for weeks and then months. And people thought he would die. But then someone arrived in the town and asked to see him. The door was opened, and Alma removed his cloak and untied his sandals. And Zeezrom fell on his knees and cried. “Alma, he sobbed, “I’m sorry. God knows I’m so sorry. What have I done? What have I done? God’s justice is around the corner. Kick me. Spit on me. I welcome your rebuke. You must hate me for what I’ve done.” 

But Alma only wiped away Zeezrom’s tears and hugged him and kissed his cheek. “Brother,” he called him. The word was so beautiful Zeezrom gasped. And then Alma said the only words that could have possibly been even more beautiful: “You are forgiven.”

And Zeezrom wanted it to be true but it was impossible. How could God forgive something so terrible? And there were others involved. How could God grant forgiveness for what he’d done to other people? How was that fair or just?

But something in his heart allowed him to believe it for a moment. And as the thought stood there in his mind, it grabbed hold and would not let go. And Zeezrom was too tired to fight or resist or push it away. And so instead, he welcomed it in and believed.