Mormon 3

Ten years without war—seemed like a record. And what did we do during those ten years? Arm ourselves for the next war.

God told me to preach, get really noisy and flashy, get their attention and say, “Come to Jesus! Get baptized! Power to the church!” I did it over and over, anywhere I went. They didn’t get it. Or like it. They had no idea God had spared them just to give them one more chance to turn their lives around. Same old brick hearts.

Year 360 (and the tenth anniversary of the treaty), the Lamanite king sent a letter notifying me that we would soon be attacked. So if we wanted to surrender first, it could save a lot of time and death.

I had everybody meet at Desolation in the borderlands near the narrow neck that funnels into the southland. We set up a wall of soldiers to cut off any incursions. They came and we beat them. The survivors went home.

Year 362 they tried again. Again, we won. This time, for efficiency, we threw all the corpses into the ocean.

But we got cocky. Well, maybe not “we”—I stayed out of the boasting game. But most of my men started to swear, by God, lethal vengeance on every hateful thing that moved, especially if it had ever attacked a Nephite.

That was it. I renounced my command. Just walked away. I didn’t want any part of this. Look, I’d led them. I loved them. I prayed for them. But I never really believed in our cause. Because I knew that we were only “the good guys,” but not really good guys. I kept leading them to victories, hoping they’d give God some cred in return. Not to be.

Fine. But this oath-taking was the last straw. I heard God say to me, “I’m actually the one out for revenge. Because I’m offended every day by how shruggy to me these men are. Me against them is the war they can’t see. And I’m going to win it.”

So I refused to lead them any more. I just stood on the sidelines and watched the end go down. Watched everything I knew would happen, happen.

When you read this, Gentiles and Israelites, you’ll be about to retake your own homelands. But you’ll be judged along the way. By whom? Jesus’ original twelve will judge the twelve tribes of Israel. “Our” twelve will judge what’s left of my people.

And, as the “Great Spirit” tells me all the time, every one of us will be judged by Jesus Christ one day. Every human being since Adam jumped God’s ship, we’ll all have to settle accounts. Did we do well or ill? And what was the mixture of the two?

Many other people can vouch for what I’m saying. Someday we’ll all be able to vouch for Jesus’ true rank. Till then, please take my word for it: get ready for him to judge you.