ME&C: A Deliberate Savior (Mosiah 11)

As things go downhill for the people of Zeniff (now ruled by Zeniff's son, King Noah), an intriguing prophet begins to cry repentance using no uncertain terms.

In the midst of his preaching, Abinadi uses a phrase that used to trouble me. In repeating the words of the Lord, Abinadi says the following about the efficacy of the people's prayers once they get around to repenting:

"Yea, and it shall come to pass that when they shall cry unto me I will be slow to hear their cries..." (v. 24)

One of the many delightful episodes of The Office involves the character Michael Scott dressing up as Jesus to out-Christmas a coworker dressed as Santa. Things, as they so often do when Michael is competing for affection and attention, spiral out of control, and Michael-as-Jesus heckles the office Christmas party. One of the lines that always strikes me occurs when Michael, now dressed in sweatpants and over his mood swing, declines to take responsibility for the emotional havoc he's caused:

"That was a different guy. That was Jesus. Jesus sort of ruined the party. Hurt, petulant Jesus."

I remember laughing so hard because of how absurd the staccato phrase "hurt, petulant Jesus" seemed to me. But read at face value, this verse from Abinadi's sermon seems to imply that if we sin, Jesus will plug his ears and petulantly pretend to not hear our cries until he's decided we're invited back to his birthday party.

And that's what troubled me.

Luckily, using a little tool called "ze cross reference" I read the 10th Psalm where the psalmist asks the Lord how much longer he will hide his face and allow the wicked to abuse this world. Reading that psalm and the other cross-referenced passages, I came to the understanding that the Lord is always slow to hear our cries --at least from our perspective.

Instead of the word "slow," I think deliberate better captures this sense. When I hold the door open for someone carrying loads of boxes, I'm not immediately blessed by the visitation of angels. When I trip that same person as he passes through the door, I'm not immediately smitten.

The Lord doesn't petulantly drag his feet, but rather strides ever forward with measured and wise steps. He acts when it's appropriate and isn't swayed by convenient changes of heart. I think that understanding lends greater intensity to Abinadi's initial sermon.

ME&C: Stereotypes and Mediocrity (Mosiah 10)

To pump his people up before another bloody battle with invading Lamanites, Zeniff stands before his people and uses the same strategies that have been used for thousands of years in preparation for conflict--he dehumanizes their adversary to make it easier to look them in the eye and shed their blood. He even does so by telling his people about the stereotypes that all Lamanites believe that in turn cause them to dehumanize the Nephites.

Dizzy yet?

One of the most effective comes at the end of Zeniff's invective ("they" refers to Lamanites, "them" to Nephites): "...they have taught their children that they should hate them, and that they should murder them, and that they should rob and plunder them, and do all they could to destroy them..." (v. 17). 

Even the children are poisoned against us! Zeniff has come a long way from sabotaging a Nephite war expedition because he wanted to enter into peace talks with the Lamanites. Something tells me that the fireside family chats he talks about above were not the aspects of Lamanite culture he found so endearing 30 years earlier.I also doubt Zeniff had spent much time observing Lamanite parents teaching their children. He was pretty busy running a frontier community and being a demi-king.

Are there bits of truth wound up in this? Absolutely. But Zeniff's statements about the Lamanites as a people ignore the nuance and complexity endemic to a single person's experience, let alone an entire society's.

Dehumanizing stereotypes are most easily spotted in hindsight, and they are not the sole province of the past. But I think that's the point. These two posts I've written in Zeniff don't cast him in the nicest light, but it's my belief that Zeniff, Noah (whom we'll meet shortly), and Limhi form a three generation trifecta of imperfect leadership to contrast sharply with the inspired leadership of King Benjamin and Alma, whose accounts book-end the sad tale of Zeniff's people.

Zeniff isn't as immediately off-putting as a Sherem or Nehor (sorry for all the name dropping), but deep reading reveals a story of warning and uninspired leadership just as important to learn from as the warnings of Jacob 7 or Alma 1.

ME&C: Slanted Narrative (Mosiah 9)

One of my favorite Emily Dickinson poems is "Tell All the Truth."

Tell all the truth but tell it slant,
Success in circuit lies,
Too bright for our infirm delight
The truth's superb surprise;

As lightning to the children eased
With explanation kind,
The truth must dazzle gradually
Or every man be blind.      

I don't think it's blasphemous to believe that parts of the Book of Mormon aren't quite telling 100% of the truth. In fact, the title page written by the prophet Moroni admits as much, saying "And now, if there are faults they are the mistakes of men; wherefore, condemn not the things of God..." In  other words, men wrote these records and were subject to all the imperfections suffered by men from time immemorial. That doesn't mean we cast the baby out with the bath water, though. The truths from God contained in this book are still precious and numerous.

Chapter 9 of the Book of Mosiah takes us on a time warp back to the time of Limhi's grandfather, Zeniff, but I have a hard time believing 100% of what our friend Zeniff says. Both the beginning and the end of the chapter are perfect examples of victors writing history.

Zeniff was a spy in the Nephite army, sent out to identify Lamanite weaknesses that could be exploited in an attack.

"...but when I saw that which was good among them I was desirous that they should not be destroyed. Therefore, I contended with my brethren in the wilderness, for I would that our ruler should make a treaty with them; but he being an austere and a blood-thirsty man commanded that I should be slain; but I was rescued by the shedding of much blood...until the greater number of our army was destroyed in the wilderness..." (v. 1-2).

Zeniff makes it back, though, to relate the why and how of a massacre where not a single enemy unsheathed a sword or fletched an arrow.

Maybe it happened like that. Methinks we're missing a key component of the story.

That feeling is exacerbated by the death toll in a later battle with the Lamanites.

Lamanite dead: 3043
Nephite dead: 279

Maybe he learned to count casualties from U.S. central command in Vietnam, but that sounds a little like propaganda, especially when, unlike other times, the Nephites had no real technological advantage.

Why is this important? It's not, really. Despite his slanted truth, Zeniff succeeds in relating his history in a way that can be applied to our lives today. But the biggest lesson I learn from Zeniff in this chapter is that all stories are told from imperfect memories using imperfect words and imperfect tongues. I can embrace the lessons learned from Zeniff without staking my family's honor to the truthfulness of his every word.

ME&C: The Fullness Trap (Mosiah 8)

I often think there's a curse of arrogance that accompanies any group of people convinced they have all of something. All the gold, all the ability, all the knowledge.

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints professes to have received, directly from our Father in heaven via modern day prophets, a "fulness of the gospel". In other words, all the truths that are required to teach men and women the way to salvation. I believe this is 100% true.

However, members of the Church's cultural community often interpret "fulness of the gospel" as "all the truth about God, his plan, and his actions." This is demonstrably false, as you will find for yourself if you ask anyone, from the prophet to your Mormon neighbor, hard questions about life. They can give you answers with a lot of truth...but they can't tell you why all things are the way the are.

I see this same curse manifest in Limhi's discourse throughout the chapters of the Book of Mormon that portray him and his people. Case in point--one of the more awkward exchanges in scripture.

Ammon from Zarahemla is talking about how King Mosiah, back home, has been given power from God to interpret languages that no one else can interpret. This power from God qualifies him as a "seer" or one who sees things beyond the ken of normal human ability.

"And the king said that a seer is greater than a prophet.
And Ammon said that a seer is a revelator and a prophet also..." (15-16)

Limhi doesn't try to interrupt Ammon again.

There examples in these chapters that show that Limhi is trying his darnedest to be a righteous man. He quotes scripture; he teaches his people in front of the temple. At the core he really is a good man and a good king.

But he doesn't know everything. As soon as he turns his king voice on and starts making pronouncements, conflating his thoughts with the Lord's thoughts, Ammon shoots him down. He does it with tact, but his answer is also saying, "You don't really get it, so I'll teach you."

My experiences have taught me very intimately what answers the truth revealed in the Church has (and does not have), so I no longer tend towards this mistake when it comes to theology. But I make it all the time in other realms (parenting, marriage, work, blogging, etc.).

So the lesson from Limhi is: know what you know, know what you don't know, and if it's worth learning, shut up and listen.

ME&C: Negotiating Race (Mosiah 7)

One of the greatest tests of my faith involved the seemingly racist bent of the Book of Mormon. For those unfamiliar with the book, a quick explanation:

A prophet named Lehi takes his family and neighbors away from Jerusalem before its destruction at the hands of Babylon around 600 B.C.E. The community thrives upon its arrival in the Western Hemisphere, but after Lehi's death, the family splits. One branch following one of Lehi's sons, Nephi, takes the holy scriptures brought from Jerusalem and takes off in the night. For the first couple hundred years, this branch does a decent job of maintaining righteousness with the help of lots of prophets. The other branch, led by another of Lehi's sons (Laman), doesn't fare so well, and their society quickly degenerates, always hating Nephi and his descendants for what was stolen.

That doesn't seem racist, right? Except for this. After the split of the two peoples, Nephi records the following:

"And he had caused the cursing to come upon them, yea, even a sore cursing, because of their iniquity. For behold, they had hardened their hearts against him, that they had become like unto a flint; wherefore, as they were white, and exceedingly fair and delightsome, that they might not be enticing unto my people the Lord God did cause a skin of blackness to come upon them." (2 Nephi 5:21).

Yikes. I don't believe in a literal acceptance of this verse. I don't believe dark skin to be curse. I don't believe God ever darkened anyone's skin to punish them. Dark skin is neither ugly nor inferior. In God's perfect eyes, it's just skin.  Any other meaning ascribed thereto is just us being imperfect.

Instead, I believe in a figurative interpretation of this verse that uses skin as a metaphor for appearance. I read it like this: God allowed their appearance to change in some way that the evil in their hearts was also visibly manifest in their appearance. Whether a cultural marking, a tattoo, or the physical dissolution that accompanies a dissolute lifestyle, the Lamanites' disobedience led to some kind of barrier between them and the Nephites. The fact that Lamanites were always trying kill Nephites (and vice versa) probably contributed more to that division than physical appearance. But the Lamanites weren't black. And the Nephites sure as heck weren't Caucasian. They were the same race.

Note that I'm not saying the verse was mistranslated. The translation came from God through the Prophet Joseph Smith. However, the easy literal reading of this verse, which the Church's culture has accepted unthinkingly for far too long, has caused a great amount of evil and hurt in this world.

This was mostly a long preamble to explain that I have spent many years reading the Book of Mormon to find textual evidence in support of my interpretation. That evidence is of two kinds. The first demonstrates the impossibility of vast racial difference between peoples in early America. The second demonstrates the likelihood of my interpretation of skin as a metaphor for appearance.

This chapter has some of the first kind. If Nephites were white and Lamanites black, then enemies in this Manichean power dynamic would be easily recognizable. And yet, when Ammon the explorer meets King Limhi outside the city walls (both Nephites), Limhi is startled and caught off guard. He orders Ammon and his comrades (ostensibly a bunch of fellow white guys that he should have racially recognized as his skin-tagged allies) bound and almost sentences them to death without another thought.

The only reason they're spared is because, as Limhi says, "I desire to know the cause whereby ye were so bold as to come near the walls of the city when I, myself, was with my guards without the gate?" (v. 10)

Not an earth-shattering addition to my quest. But worthwhile in its little way.

ME&C: Non-burdensome Leadership (Mosiah 6)

Like his father before him, King Mosiah makes a point in the records to note that he "did till the earth, that thereby he might not become burdensome to his people..." (v. 7)

Both Benjamin, Mosiah, and (later) Alma make this point, which leads me to believe that they were the exception rather than the rule in their community's governmental history.

What is a burdensome leader? I've been in situations of leadership from time to time in church, work, or school. At church, my preoccupation with avoiding burdensome leadership often caused me to lead (and therefore do) little. I was afraid the activities or processes I implemented would be a burden to those whom I temporarily looked after.

But I don't think that's the message here. 

At work, I've learned a little more about burdensome leadership. There are some leaders who simply delegate everything. They sit back and watch as each gear performs its task, confident that they are expert examples of managerial leadership since the mechanism runs so well. What happens, though, is that they learn little by watching others work. They lose knowledge; they lose the edge of expertise that placed them in a position of leadership in the first place. Those they lead begin to resent this leader who asks his team to perform relatively easy tasks that should really be done by the leader. The leader becomes more and more useless, the team members more and more disenchanted, and dysfunction is born.

Other leaders, non-burdensome leaders, take a different approach. They see themselves as an integral part of the team. They may not master every task, but they become well-acquainted with it. They take on new, visionary tasks; sometimes keeping them, sometimes delegating them to a team member who can or will learn to perform them better than the leader could. The non-burdensome leader makes sure that if there's something she can do to make her team members' lives a little easier, she's doing it. And more than anything else, this kind of leader always makes sure she's doing something to help further the team's goals and well-being.

There are opportunities I have to be a non-burdensome leader at work and in church, but I think the most important opportunity is at home. I would like to become a less burdensome husband. I'm sure the Mrs. has a nice list of ways I could jump in and "till the earth." And hopefully, that experience will prepare me to become that rare breed--a non-burdensome father.

ME&C: Disposition (Mosiah 5)

At the end of King Benjamin's address, he does very few speakers today do--he finds out if they get it.

They got it.

"They all cried with one voice saying: Yea, we believe all the words which thou hast spoken unto us; and also, we know of their surety and truth, because of the Spirit of the Lord Omnipotent, which as wrought a mighty change in us, or in our hearts, that we have no more disposition to do evil, but to do good continually." (v. 2)

This verse has alternately inspired, tormented, and puzzled me.

How can I get to that same point, a point where I will have no more disposition to do evil, but to do good continually?

In dark times, I have used that phrase as a mantra, repeating these words under my breath to fight off temptation and remember the joy the comes from living the right way.

In darker times, when I have sinned or hurt another, the phrase is a bitter reminder that my disposition is still, sometimes, to do evil. A reminder that I still don't quite grasp the possibilities of the Atonement.

In neutral and good times, I am in awe of the prospect of a disposition that seeks to do good continually. I've met several people like this in my life. They usually are no more that acquaintances (or old friends who have since become acquaintances), since the evil part of my disposition precludes the friendly intimacy that results from doing good in the world together.

Instead, I watch them from afar, basking in their goodness, sometimes yearning to be like them, other times finding their rigid goodness overbearing or pompous. I am not equating rigid goodness with dogmatism, conservatism, or unthinking zealotry. Rather, rigid goodness is a thoughtful and compassionate obedience to all commandments, but especially to those that teach us to love and serve all around us.

That rigidity of purpose and standard is galling to the world in general, but refreshing to its inhabitants. "Therefore, I would that ye should be steadfast and immovable, always abounding in good works..." (v. 15).

In the clinical world, a clinical disposition is what a medical provider determines to be your next steps. For example, if you go to the emergency room, you hope that (after 5 hours of tests) the doctor assigns you a disposition of "discharge" so you can go home rather "admission" or "transfer to psych". It has a sense of inevitability to it.

I want to inevitably be a good servant of the Lord. But I've got a few more tests before the Great Healer assigns my spiritual disposition.

ME&C: The Beggar's Mandate (Mosiah 4)

"Are we not all beggars?"

Chapter 4 gets down to the nitty gritty of living worthy of Christ's atoning gift.

"...for the sake of retaining a remission of your sins from day to day, that ye may walk guiltless before God--I would that ye should impart of your substance to the poor, every man according to that which he hath, such as feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, visiting the sick and administering to their relief, both spiritually and temporally, according to their wants" (4:26; emphasis added).

Kindness and charity towards our fellow travelers is the only way to know God and fully understand and leverage Christ's atonement.

Unless we do so every day,  we stand condemned. We may try to explain away King Benjamin's counsel or delude ourselves into thinking that the poor among us are doing alright, but doing so only blocks our spiritual progression.

What's more, King Benjamin specifically calls out service to strangers, eviscerating the oft-thought excuse: "My service is to my family. That service satisfies this commandment." Wrong. While family is the most important thing, giving our substance to those we love is no great test.

I'm often struck by some folks' resistance to these clarion calls of service, but I've never been bold enough to speak up. So, this preachy post is my start.

Parenthetically, this teaching (and many others like it) is a key reason behind the secular leaders I support and the political and cultural views I espouse. I believe the gospel of Jesus Christ requires us to give to and look out for those who cannot fend for themselves, whether that inability is due to poorly made decisions, physical impediment, socio-economic situation or anything else. We are all brothers and sisters, children of the same God.

We must lift each other up.

ME&C: Incremental Obedience (Mosiah 3)

A striking transition in this chapter linking King Benjamin's description of Christ to the power of his Atonement occurs in verse 12:

"But wo, wo unto him who knoweth that he rebelleth against God! For salvation cometh to none such except it be through repentance and faith on the Lord Jesus Christ."

There are so many beautiful lessons throughout this discourse that the discordant reality of sin that King Benjamin rehearses multiple times is easily forgotten or read over quickly. I remember reading the Book of Mormon with folks in Italy and trying to get them to focus on the bits about service, Christ's life, or charity rather than the bits about torment as a lake of fire and brimstone whose flames are unquenchable (v. 27).

But sin merits discussion--especially the sin indicated here. Do I knowingly rebel against God? Do you? You might initially say yes, but if we were asked in the midst of our sinning whether we were working counter to the Lord, we would likely shrug, shake our head, or dismiss the idea.

When I make mistakes or do things I know I shouldn't, I usually justify it to myself that God doesn't really care about what I'm doing. Angry, lustful, sarcastic,  or materialistic thoughts don't hurt anyone as long as they remain thoughts. He doesn't care if I watch something a little vulgar, leave someone in need for the next passerby to help, or "forget" to pray as long as I do some good deed, help the next guy, or pray harder tomorrow to balance my ledger.

In my experience, these small things are the most important. In order to know we rebel against God we must also know when we serve him. And that second type of knowledge which we use to delineate the first only comes when we make small, personal decisions to do right. Does this righteous striving raise the stakes and increase the penalty for disobedience? Absolutely. But consider the alternative.

Without knowing when we are serving him, we only think, believe, or conjecture that we could be rebelling against God. We have no emblazoned spiritual memory of immistakeable blessing with which to compare our current state. Without that certainty, we are doomed to spiritual mediocrity as we muddy the waters of life's decisions with our willful ignorance.

ME&C: Avoiding Justifiable Pride (Mosiah 2)

An old woman once told me the story of Simeon. Simeon the Nephite wasn't particularly charismatic or popular. He lived with his small family on the frontiers of Nephite civilization, and he was among the last to hear the summons to come hear the prophet King Benjamin's final sermon. Seeing as how final sermons tend to be profound, Simeon packed up his wife and kids, hoping desperately that a Lamanite raiding party wouldn't make off with all his worldly possessions while he was away.

When Simeon arrived at Zarahemla, the place was packed. People everywhere. The summons had said that Benjamin would give his address at the temple, so Simeon and his family started to make their way in that direction. They quickly found, however, that the temple was full and that the rest of the Nephite community was pitching their tents outside the temple walls. Rumors spread that the brethren were quickly building a tower so Benjamin could speak to all.

Simeon didn't know the city very well; he didn't know of any prime spot known only to a few. He followed the ever-lengthening line away from the temple and finally found a spot from which he could just see the rising tower coming over the temple walls.

Being a faithful subject, Simeon pitched his tent in the direction of the temple. He had faith that he too could hear the word of the Lord delivered by His prophet.

And then King Benjamin opened his mouth (in Mosiah 2:8): "And it came to pass that he began to speak to his people from the tower; and they could not all hear his words because of the greatness of the multitude; therefore he caused that the words which he spake should be written and sent forth among those that were not under the sound of his voice, that they might also receive his words."

Simeon sat for hours, facing the temple, waiting for his turn to hear the word of God.

_______________________________________________________________________________

Now, that story is entirely fabricated. Simeon does not appear in the Book of Mormon. But someone like him existed. Someone who traveled long, got bumped to the back of the line, and then had to wait in the back to read the most powerful sermon of his generation. He heard the fervor of the crowd's reaction recorded in Mosiah 5. Or perhaps she felt the electricity of excitement. Or he had to wait in line to read (or be read to) words which those in front had snapped up with zeal.

I don't know what I would have done in Simeon's shoes. Would I have grumbled and left? I hope not. Because that would have been a tell-tale sign of vicious pride in my heart that told me, "You're better than those folks up front. You've worked harder, traveled longer, and been more faithful than that lot. If the sermon is for them, you have nothing to wait around for."

Had I left, I would have missed the gem from King Benjamin's speech that has stuck with me the longest, a gem that does nothing if not eviscerate prideful sentiment:

"I say, if ye should serve him [the Lord] with all your whole souls yet ye would be unprofitable servants...And now, in the first place he hath created you, and granted unto you your lives, for which ye are indebted unto him. And secondly, he doth require that ye should do as he hath commanded you; for which if ye do, he doth immediately bless you; and therefore he hath paid you. And ye are still indebted unto him, and are, and will be, forever and ever; therefore, of what have ye to boast?" (Mosiah 2:21, 23-24)

ME&C: The Mercy of God's Foresight (Mosiah 1)

I chose to start my study of the Book of Mormon in the chronological order in which it was translated. After an initial portion of the book was lost/stolen by some of Joseph Smith's friends and enemies, he continued translation from where he left off.

The loss of the 116 manuscript pages of the original Book of Lehi was a devastating blow to Joseph and a major hiccup in his relationship with the Lord. And initiating the translation again with the first chapter of the Book of Mosiah probably didn't ease the guilt any.

In this chapter, King Benjamin extols the value of holy scripture to his sons. Here are some highlights:

In verse 3: "My sons, I would that ye should remember that were it not for these plates [scriptures were written on metal plates], which contain these records and these commandments, we must have suffered in ignorance, even at this present time, not knowing the mysteries of God."

In verse 4: "For it were not possible that our father, Lehi, could have remembered all these things, to have taught them to his children, except it were for the help of these plates..."

Now, imagine you're Joseph Smith. You have been called as a prophet of restoration to bring back lost truth to the world. You've been given plates of gold that contain a prophetic "greatest hits" from 1000 years of ancient civilization. And you've lost the first 116 pages of that new revelation and scripture. You go through a grueling process of anguish and penitence, but the Lord forgives you and restores your ability to translate. You pop open the plates to translate anew and experience a fresh burst of sadness at the loss.

I won't pretend to know the thoughts of Joseph Smith. But I think it's very likely that something like the following went through his mind.

As he translates verse 3:

"King Benjamin's people needed all the teachings of their scriptures to avoid suffering in ignorance. Has the loss of 116 pages doomed my people to increased ignorance? Perhaps I could makes notes of the important teachings from those pages so my people don't lose out on that lost truth..."

As he translates verse 4:

"...but if Lehi couldn't remember everything, I surely cannot. I can't reproduce the words verbatim. I can't remember every last teaching. That truth is lost, and it's my fault."

I think it's a testament to the Lord's mercy that King Benjamin then says the following in verse 6:

"O my sons, I would that ye should remember that these sayings are true, and also that these records are true. And behold also the plates of Nephi, which contain the records and the sayings of our father from the time they left Jerusalem until now, and they are true..." [my emphasis].

The stories and teachings of the lost manuscript pages  had been written down a second time by Nephi, Lehi's son. Joseph had lost the pages, but he had not lost the truth. Nor can truth truly be lost--only hidden for a time until it's restored.

I think it very likely that Joseph recognized this tender mercy from the Lord. From translating Lehi's record, he knew very well who Nephi was; perhaps Lehi even mentioned Nephi's record keeping. [He also likely did not know about the 6 million other Nephis who would come later :)] He knew that there were a lot of golden plates still to come. And even it he didn't know that the smaller plates attached to the large ones he was currently reading were those very plates of Nephi of which Benjamin makes mention, he no doubt had a glimmer of hope and a seed of faith that there truly was a way to make amends for his mistakes and that his people would not suffer the loss of precious truth.

Mormon Marginalia, Ephemera, and Commentary

I declared last year the "year of the essay". The following deluge of Amazon spending filled up my bookshelves and queued me up with enough reading for the next several years at my new, grown up reading rate (full time employment and small children leave little time for intellectual discovery, I'm afraid).

In other words, it's going to take a great deal of time for me to become well-versed in the art and method of the essay form. And I hate writing on subject matter in which I'm poorly versed. That's one stream of thought.

The second centers around a challenge I recently received from my father-in-law to read the Book of Mormon along with all our family on that side. For those of you not aware, I am a faithful member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, or Mormons. My faith is a preeminent influence on both my life decisions and my worldview (though that influence seems to have borne different fruit in my life than it has in the lives of other more prominent members of the Church like, say, Mitt). That said, the Book of Mormon, which is such a key component of my church's identity and theology, has gotten short shrift in its attention from me for the past few years.

While serving as a full time missionary for the church, I spent hours studying the Book of Mormon. I wrote long, detailed entries of my experiences during that study in several notebooks. One entry for each chapter in the book. The entries were filled with exegesis, stories, and personal witnesses of the truths I read.

Unfortunately, as of right now, my thorough search of my apartment and garage has placed those notebook firmly in the MIA column. Rather than mourn too much, I've decided to try again.

The years since my missionary service have been filled with a number of different trials, triumphs, and experiences. I have little doubt that the Book of Mormon will be a fertile field for a new collection of marginalia, ephemera, and commentary.

For those of you unfamiliar with the contents and provenance of the Book of Mormon, here's a link to a high level introduction.

If you'd like a free copy of your own to peruse, click here. The catch, of course, is that missionaries from the Church will deliver it personally and give you a personalized introduction. But their warm presence and special message might be just what you need to take your happiness to a whole new level. If you'd prefer to skip missionary earnestness, you can always purchase an unofficial (but still accurate) copy of the book from sites like Amazon.

I can't promise that my entries will be incisive or insightful. But they will be mine.