Helaman 10

People fought about it and literally divided, walking off in opposite directions, leaving Nephi alone. He walked home, replaying in his mind everything that had happened.

He got bluer and bluer about Nephite decline, secrecy, plotting, theft, etc., till a voice came to him that said:

You are privileged, Nephi, both for what you’ve done and how tireless and fearless you’ve been. You’ve valued my will above your health. I try to avoid conflicts between the two, but sometimes they’re unavoidable.

Anyway, I’ve not only taken my hat off to you for this, I’m leaving it off forever. No more hats. But you might need one, given how many blessings I’m about to pour on your head.

Oh, and you’ll also be able to speak in such a way that your words will automatically come true, provided they’re not outrageous or bogus or puerile. I have to stay in charge, of course.

Because you’re Nephi and I remain God. No contest. But I’m arming you with a cosmic force and matter-shaping authority that even I might be amazed at what you’ll be able to pull off—famine, plagues, knocking over walls. You get it. Whatever is commensurate with the low-grade conduct of your larger audience.

You can lock things up, stitch them together, and I’ll do the same behind the scenes. Or, conversely, you can rip things apart, toss them in opposite directions, and I’ll mimic you in my own way. I’m keeping this a little vague, I know. I want you to be creative.

Here’s some samples, though: If you want to mentally saw apart a temple, that will happen in real life. If you want to skip slave labor and tear a whole mountain down with just a suggestion, that thing will be as smooth as a glacier.

To get more personal, if you say to level this whole society, well … can do.

So—and you’ve heard this a thousand times—tell people that I’m the Almighty and to stop messing around. If you don’t—glacier time.

Nephi stopped, stunned like Lot’s wife. Then he turned around and started to approach and preach to anyone he met—and there were lots of them, just going about their all-too-vulnerable business.

He used as a selling point his absentee testimony about the dead judge. But that wasn’t a great come on. Or something equally scary.

So he stuck with the message: repent or die. Any thing would do.

Again, not interested. And again an attempt to have him thrown in jail for—something.

But he had this divine aura around him, making him untouchable. When they tried to grab him en masse, he disappeared. What happened? I don’t know, except that he kept showing up with new stadium audiences for his speeches.

Still, success eluded him. Maybe people were tired of the same old same old. But he did catalyze some heavy fighting, even swordfighting.

So much for the 71st year.