Mosiah 7

After that time, Mosiah handpicked a group of scouts to see what had happened to colonizers who had gone to the city and country of Lehi-Nephi. There was no communication network and no one had returned. What had become of the colonizers? His constituents kept raising the question. Because everyone who’d left, of course, was a relative of someone who’d stayed.

The expedition was led by Ammon, a brawny, almost brutish fellow, which is what you need for this kind of work. He led his group in the wilderness for a reported forty days, although the number seemed a little too conveniently like … well, you understand. Some numbers are for symbolic effect more than accurate accounting.

They reached a hill, north of Shilom and pitched their tents. The next day, Ammon left camp with his three brothers, Amaleki, Helem, and Hem, and headed into Nephiland. Understandably, the law didn’t take kindly to what seemed to be spying or potential rabble-rousing. The royal guard accosted them, tied them up, and put them in jail. After two days, they appeared in the king’s court for interrogation.

The king introduced himself as Limhi, son of Noah, son of Zeniff of Zarahemla. He did not claim divine right to his kingship but claimed he’d been elected king. He then asked what this alien foursome was up to. He added that he would have had them killed if wasn’t interested in the answer—an interesting show of good faith, however backhanded.

Ammon spoke up, bowed, then said how thankful he felt to be alive and be allowed to speak for himself. Then he pushed the situation a bit, saying he intended to be blunt. He explained who he was, where he was from, and why he was nosing around in a foreign country.

Surprisingly, Limhi started laughing. Now he knew Zarahemla was still on the map. He’d had no way of knowing the fate of those old constituents who’d migrated. He then confessed how bad things had gotten:

“Look, the Lamanites control our economic system: they’ve conquered us and tax us to the hilt. If you can effect a coup, we will gladly be your slaves. We’d prefer that to Lamanite taxation.” He told his guards to not tie the foursome up again, let them get the rest of the scouting party and come back into the city as welcome guests—guests who could repay the favor with some anti-Lamanite aggression.

Now it was King Limhi’s turn to call his people together for a speech. Fortunately the tradition was to transcribe general speeches. So we have a record of this one:

My fellow Nephites, this is an amazing day. Drink in the clean air. Smile broadly. Dance for joy. Because these visitors hold the key to our liberation. It will take time. But we’ve now got the manpower and military savvy.

(He reviewed details of the Egyptian exodus, then resumed:)

That same God that freed Israel from Egypt also freed us from Jerusalem. Now we’ve been enslaved here in our promised land. Blame ourselves, as we Jews tend to do, because we have not lived up to every detail of our covenants. A curse like this was inevitable, if you believe the threats God has made.

It was the worst kind of backroom deal-making: our old king, Zeniff, made a treaty with King Laman (yes, that family line) that ceded some of our land in order to keep peace. Laman, of course, simply wanted to tax deeply the citizens of that ceded land. Indeed, we all have exorbitant taxes, basically fifty percent of everything we own, get, or make, from crops to jewelry.

Taxation without representation might be one complaint. But it’s not just the principle, it’s the amount. One half? Inconceivable.

But we also have to deal with our grief. The war that preceded this treaty decimated our male population. In vain, as it turned out.

I blame all our troubles on sin. God works through our enemies to chastise us, as Isaiah famously said. Our societal sins began with incivility and ended in rampant murder.

They killed a prophet, too. Why? Because, they felt, he kept cramming scripture in their ears. He kept cutting them down. And the well-traveled myth of the Anointed One to come finally wore them down. Every detail of it not only offended them but exhausted them. They’d had enough. So they stoned him to death.

Because “they” are part of “we,” we have only ourselves to blame for God’s disgruntlement.

All the prophets, including this one, had been pretty consistent in saying that God would snub his people if they snubbed him. He’d neglect them if they neglected him. For every wall against him they built, he’d build a taller one.

If you sow dung, the best you can reap is more dung.

So God has proven his own predictions right. All his prophecies, I’ve learned, are self-fulfilling. If we can crank our attention back to godly things he might relent. Isn’t that at least worth a try?