2 Nephi 16

In the year king Uzziah died, I saw God on his throne, his robe swirling around the whole temple. The seraphim stood above him, each one six-winged—two to fly and two apiece to cover face and feet. They all shouted at each other: “God is holy … holy … holy … his glory fills the earth like his robe fills this temple.” The doorjamb shook at their shouting and smoke billowed around.

I said, “I’m doomed. I’m like a machine out of order. My language stinks like manure; my people the same. And here I am seeing God.”

A seraphim flew up, a red-hot coal from the altar in his hand, pressed it against my lips, and said, “That’s how we burn sin away.” Then God said, “Okay, who can we send?” I didn’t know what for, but I was game. “I’ll go,” I said.

“All right,” he said, “go tell everyone that what they hear is not what I’m saying and what they see is not what I’m showing. In other words, make them lazy, weigh down their ears, stitch shut their eyes, because I don’t want them to repent just yet.”

This seemed crazy to me. So I asked him how long he was going through with this. He said, “Until every city is as empty as this temple is full. I want the whole country gutted before I let it resurge. Actually, no. I’ll leave one-tenth or so that are righteous to the core. They’ll be the seed for a new tree I’ll plant.”