The Book of Mormon—
Keystone of Our ReligionMy beloved brethren and sisters, today I would like to speak about one of the most significant gifts given to the world in modern times. The gift I am thinking of is more important than any of the inventions that have come out of the industrial and technological revolutions. This is a gift of greater value to mankind than even the many wonderful advances we have seen in modern medicine. It is of greater worth to mankind than the development of flight or space travel. I speak of the gift of the Book of Mormon, given to mankind 156 years ago.
This gift was prepared by the hand of the Lord over a period of more than a thousand years, then hidden up by Him so that it would be preserved in its purity for our generation. Perhaps there is nothing that testifies more clearly of the importance of this modern book of scripture than what the Lord Himself has said about it.
By His own mouth He has borne witness (1) that it is true (D&C 17:6), (2) that it contains the truth and His words (D&C 19:26), (3) that it was translated by power from on high (D&C 20:8), (4) that it contains the fulness of the gospel of Jesus Christ (D&C 20:9, D&C 42:12), (5) that it was given by inspiration and confirmed by the ministering of angels (D&C 20:10), (6) that it gives evidence that the holy scriptures are true (D&C 20:11), and (7) that those who receive it in faith shall receive eternal life (D&C 20:14).
A second powerful testimony to the importance of the Book of Mormon is to note where the Lord placed its coming forth in the timetable of the unfolding Restoration. The only thing that preceded it was the First Vision. In that marvelous manifestation, the Prophet Joseph Smith learned the true nature of God and that God had a work for him to do. The coming forth of the Book of Mormon was the next thing to follow.
Think of that in terms of what it implies. The coming forth of the Book of Mormon preceded the restoration of the priesthood. It was published just a few days before the Church was organized. The Saints were given the Book of Mormon to read before they were given the revelations outlining such great doctrines as the three degrees of glory, celestial marriage, or work for the dead. It came before priesthood quorums and Church organization. Doesn’t this tell us something about how the Lord views this sacred work?
Once we realize how the Lord feels about this book, it should not surprise us that He also gives us solemn warnings about how we receive it. After indicating that those who receive the Book of Mormon with faith, working righteousness, will receive a crown of eternal glory (see D&C 20:14), the Lord follows with this warning: “But those who harden their hearts in unbelief, and reject it, it shall turn to their own condemnation” (D&C 20:15).
In 1829, the Lord warned the Saints that they are not to trifle with sacred things (see D&C 6:12). Surely the Book of Mormon is a sacred thing, and yet many trifle with it, or in other words, take it lightly, treat it as though it is of little importance.
In 1832, as some early missionaries returned from their fields of labor, the Lord reproved them for treating the Book of Mormon lightly. As a result of that attitude, he said, their minds had been darkened. Not only had treating this sacred book lightly brought a loss of light to themselves, it had also brought the whole Church under condemnation, even all the children of Zion. And then the Lord said, “And they shall remain under this condemnation until they repent and remember the new covenant, even the Book of Mormon” (D&C 84:54–57).
Has the fact that we have had the Book of Mormon with us for over a century and a half made it seem less significant to us today? Do we remember the new covenant, even the Book of Mormon? In the Bible we have the Old Testament and the New Testament. The word testament is the English rendering of a Greek word that can also be translated as covenant. Is this what the Lord meant when He called the Book of Mormon the “new covenant”? It is indeed another testament or witness of Jesus. This is one of the reasons why we have recently added the words “Another Testament of Jesus Christ” to the title of the Book of Mormon.
If the early Saints were rebuked for treating the Book of Mormon lightly, are we under any less condemnation if we do the same? The Lord Himself bears testimony that it is of eternal significance. Can a small number of us bring the whole Church under condemnation because we trifle with sacred things? What will we say at the Judgment when we stand before Him and meet His probing gaze if we are among those described as forgetting the new covenant?
There are three great reasons why Latter-day Saints should make the study of the Book of Mormon a lifetime pursuit.
The first is that the Book of Mormon is the keystone of our religion. This was the Prophet Joseph Smith’s statement. He testified that “the Book of Mormon was the most correct of any book on earth, and the keystone of our religion” (Introduction to the Book of Mormon). A keystone is the central stone in an arch. It holds all the other stones in place, and if removed, the arch crumbles.
There are three ways in which the Book of Mormon is the keystone of our religion. It is the keystone in our witness of Christ. It is the keystone of our doctrine. It is the keystone of testimony.
The Book of Mormon is the keystone in our witness of Jesus Christ, who is Himself the cornerstone of everything we do. It bears witness of His reality with power and clarity. Unlike the Bible, which passed through generations of copyists, translators, and corrupt religionists who tampered with the text, the Book of Mormon came from writer to reader in just one inspired step of translation. Therefore, its testimony of the Master is clear, undiluted, and full of power. But it does even more. Much of the Christian world today rejects the divinity of the Savior. They question His miraculous birth, His perfect life, and the reality of His glorious resurrection. The Book of Mormon teaches in plain and unmistakable terms about the truth of all of those. It also provides the most complete explanation of the doctrine of the Atonement. Truly, this divinely inspired book is a keystone in bearing witness to the world that Jesus is the Christ (see title page of the Book of Mormon).
The Book of Mormon is also the keystone of the doctrine of the Resurrection. As mentioned before, the Lord Himself has stated that the Book of Mormon contains the “fulness of the gospel of Jesus Christ” (D&C 20:9). That does not mean it contains every teaching, every doctrine ever revealed. Rather, it means that in the Book of Mormon we will find the fulness of those doctrines required for our salvation. And they are taught plainly and simply so that even children can learn the ways of salvation and exaltation. The Book of Mormon offers so much that broadens our understandings of the doctrines of salvation. Without it, much of what is taught in other scriptures would not be nearly so plain and precious.
Finally, the Book of Mormon is the keystone of testimony. Just as the arch crumbles if the keystone is removed, so does all the Church stand or fall with the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon. The enemies of the Church understand this clearly. This is why they go to such great lengths to try to disprove the Book of Mormon, for if it can be discredited, the Prophet Joseph Smith goes with it. So does our claim to priesthood keys, and revelation, and the restored Church. But in like manner, if the Book of Mormon be true—and millions have now testified that they have the witness of the Spirit that it is indeed true—then one must accept the claims of the Restoration and all that accompanies it.
Yes, my beloved brothers and sisters, the Book of Mormon is the keystone of our religion—the keystone of our testimony, the keystone of our doctrine, and the keystone in the witness of our Lord and Savior.
The second great reason why we must make the Book of Mormon a center focus of study is that it was written for our day. The Nephites never had the book; neither did the Lamanites of ancient times. It was meant for us. Mormon wrote near the end of the Nephite civilization. Under the inspiration of God, who sees all things from the beginning, he abridged centuries of records, choosing the stories, speeches, and events that would be most helpful to us.
Each of the major writers of the Book of Mormon testified that he wrote for future generations. Nephi said: “The Lord God promised unto me that these things which I write shall be kept and preserved, and handed down unto my seed, from generation to generation” (2 Ne. 25:21). His brother Jacob, who succeeded him, wrote similar words: “For [Nephi] said that the history of his people should be engraven upon his other plates, and that I should preserve these plates and hand them down unto my seed, from generation to generation” (Jacob 1:3). Enos and Jarom both indicated that they too were writing not for their own peoples but for future generations (see Enos 1:15–16, Jarom 1:2).
Mormon himself said, “Yea, I speak unto you, ye remnant of the house of Israel” (Morm. 7:1). And Moroni, the last of the inspired writers, actually saw our day and time. “Behold,” he said, “the Lord hath shown unto me great and marvelous things concerning that which must shortly come, at that day when these things shall come forth among you.
“Behold, I speak unto you as if ye were present, and yet ye are not. But behold, Jesus Christ hath shown you unto me, and I know your doing” (Morm. 8:34–35).
If they saw our day and chose those things which would be of greatest worth to us, is not that how we should study the Book of Mormon? We should constantly ask ourselves, “Why did the Lord inspire Mormon (or Moroni or Alma) to include that in his record? What lesson can I learn from that to help me live in this day and age?”
And there is example after example of how that question will be answered. For example, in the Book of Mormon we find a pattern for preparing for the Second Coming. A major portion of the book centers on the few decades just prior to Christ’s coming to America. By careful study of that time period, we can determine why some were destroyed in the terrible judgments that preceded His coming and what brought others to stand at the temple in the land of Bountiful and thrust their hands into the wounds of His hands and feet.
From the Book of Mormon we learn how disciples of Christ live in times of war. From the Book of Mormon we see the evils of secret combinations portrayed in graphic and chilling reality. In the Book of Mormon we find lessons for dealing with persecution and apostasy. We learn much about how to do missionary work. And more than anywhere else, we see in the Book of Mormon the dangers of materialism and setting our hearts on the things of the world. Can anyone doubt that this book was meant for us and that in it we find great power, great comfort, and great protection?
The third reason why the Book of Mormon is of such value to Latter-day Saints is given in the same statement by the Prophet Joseph Smith cited previously. He said, “I told the brethren that the Book of Mormon was the most correct of any book on earth, and the keystone of our religion, and a man would get nearer to God by abiding by its precepts, than by any other book” (History of the Church, 4:461). That is the third reason for studying the book. It helps us draw nearer to God. Is there not something deep in our hearts that longs to draw nearer to God, to be more like Him in our daily walk, to feel His presence with us constantly? If so, then the Book of Mormon will help us do so more than any other book.
It is not just that the Book of Mormon teaches us truth, though it indeed does that. It is not just that the Book of Mormon bears testimony of Christ, though it indeed does that, too. But there is something more. There is a power in the book which will begin to flow into your lives the moment you begin a serious study of the book. You will find greater power to resist temptation. You will find the power to avoid deception. You will find the power to stay on the strait and narrow path. The scriptures are called “the words of life” (D&C 84:85), and nowhere is that more true than it is of the Book of Mormon. When you begin to hunger and thirst after those words, you will find life in greater and greater abundance.
Our beloved brother, President Marion G. Romney, who celebrated his eighty-ninth birthday last month and who knows of himself of the power that resides in this book, testified of the blessings that can come into the lives of those who will read and study the Book of Mormon. He said:
“I feel certain that if, in our homes, parents will read from the Book of Mormon prayerfully and regularly, both by themselves and with their children, the spirit of that great book will come to permeate our homes and all who dwell therein. The spirit of reverence will increase; mutual respect and consideration for each other will grow. The spirit of contention will depart. Parents will counsel their children in greater love and wisdom. Children will be more responsive and submissive to the counsel of their parents. Righteousness will increase. Faith, hope, and charity—the pure love of Christ—will abound in our homes and lives, bringing in their wake peace, joy, and happiness” (Ensign, May 1980, p. 67).These promises—increased love and harmony in the home, greater respect between parent and child, increased spirituality and righteousness—are not idle promises, but exactly what the Prophet Joseph Smith meant when he said the Book of Mormon will help us draw nearer to God.
Brethren and sisters, I implore you with all my heart that you consider with great solemnity the importance of the Book of Mormon to you personally and to the Church collectively.
Over ten years ago I made the following statement regarding the Book of Mormon:
“Do eternal consequences rest upon our response to this book? Yes, either to our blessing or our condemnation.I reaffirm those words to you this day. Let us not remain under condemnation, with its scourge and judgment, by treating lightly this great and marvelous gift the Lord has given to us. Rather, let us win the promises associated with treasuring it up in our hearts.
“Every Latter-day Saint should make the study of this book a lifetime pursuit. Otherwise he is placing his soul in jeopardy and neglecting that which could give spiritual and intellectual unity to his whole life. There is a difference between a convert who is built on the rock of Christ through the Book of Mormon and stays hold of that iron rod, and one who is not” (Ensign, May 1975, p. 65).
In the Doctrine and Covenants, section 84, verses 54 to 58, we read:
“And your minds in times past have been darkened because of unbelief, and because you have treated lightly the things you have received—Since last general conference, I have received many letters from Saints, both young and old, from all over the world who accepted the challenge to read and study the Book of Mormon.
“Which vanity and unbelief have brought the whole church under condemnation.
“And this condemnation resteth upon the children of Zion, even all.
“And they shall remain under this condemnation until they repent and remember the new covenant, even the Book of Mormon and the former commandments which I have given them, not only to say, but to do according to that which I have written—
“That they may bring forth fruit meet for their Father’s kingdom; otherwise there remaineth a scourge and judgment to be poured out upon the children of Zion.” [D&C 84:54–58]
I have been thrilled by their accounts of how their lives have been changed and how they have drawn closer to the Lord as a result of their commitment. These glorious testimonies have reaffirmed to my soul the words of the Prophet Joseph Smith that the Book of Mormon is truly “the keystone of our religion” and that a man and woman will “get nearer to God by abiding by its precepts, than by any other book.”
This is my prayer, that the Book of Mormon may become the keystone of our lives, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.
Friday, April 30, 2010
The Keystone
I may have heard this talk on TV--I honestly don't recall how much conference we watched as a kid, and in Hawaii it would have come on about 6:00 a.m., so I'll go with probably not. However, Elder Brown (Dave, Dave Brown) copied this to tape for me while we were in the OKC 1st Ward, and I listened to it many, many times as a missionary. As I read it, I can still hear President Benson's voice speaking the words, his intonation, pauses, emphases, etc. This is quite possibly the best talk on the Book of Mormon I've ever read or heard.
Loneliness in Leadership
I was not familiar with this talk before I found it this morning on the BYU website. It is older than I am, given 2 years before Clorinda was born (on her -2nd birthday!). Then-Elder Hinckley spoke without prepared thoughts on leadership and loneliness. I found this very moving, if somber, and am mindful of the reality of the message Elder Hinckley shared.
The Loneliness of Leadership
GORDON B. HINCKLEYGordon B. Hinckley was a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles
of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints
when this devotional address was given on 4 November 1969.
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I appreciated very much the music of the band [BYU Symphonic Band, directed by Richard A. Ballou]. You are all awake after that. I will do what I can to restore you to your former state.
I have come here today without a written talk. I had one, but I discarded it. I awoke at five this morning thinking of something else. When I get through, I suppose you will say, “He should have slept.”
I am not here to preach. I do not wish to preach to you. It is easy to preach, and we do a great deal of it to young people. I would simply like to talk with you. I believe you are worth spending time with. I believe you are worth reasoning with.
This is a devotional service. I have only one desire, and that is to share with you a few thoughts in a very informal way, with a hope and prayer that I can bring some small measure of inspiration and lift to you. I think you need that; I think we all do. I prayed this morning that I might be able to do so, that I would be guided by the Holy Spirit. And I hope that you will add your prayers to mine.
President Nixon
I suppose many of you watched President Nixon last night as I did, when he spoke to the nation and was listened to by the world. I watched him with great interest. I observed him as he wiped the perspiration from his face, realizing, I am sure, the importance of what he was saying. As I looked at him, I thought of the terrible loneliness of leadership.
The Loneliness of Leadership
True, he has advisors. He has at his beck and call any number of men with whom he can consult; but when all the chips are down, he has to face the world alone, as it were. His advisors do not face the cannon fire of public opinion. That comes to the leader.
As I sensed the loneliness of leadership while watching him, there came to my mind some great words from William Shakespeare: “Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown” (King Henry IV, Part II, act 3, scene 1, line 31).
The Vietnam War
If the Lord will inspire me, I should like to talk briefly about that. I was asked, when someone found out I was speaking here, to say something about the Vietnam War. I am a little reluctant to do so, but I think in terms of this general theme I might express a few thoughts. I have had many feelings about that conflict. I have been in South Vietnam a number of times. I have witnessed the growth of our forces from a handful since I first went there in 1961 to the 540,000 who were there the last time I was there. I have known something of a feeling of bitterness over some aspects of that conflict. I have spoken quietly in private conversation, never publicly, some rather trenchant criticism about some of the things I have observed. I have been in situations where I have tried to comfort those who mourned over the loss of choice sons. I have wept as I have turned away from the beds of those who have been maimed for life. I think I have felt very keenly the feelings of many of our young men concerning this terrible conflict in which we are engaged, but I am sure we are there because of a great humanitarian spirit in the hearts of the people of this nation. We are there in a spirit of being our brother’s keeper. I am confident that we have been motivated by considerations of that kind, and, regardless of our attitude on the conduct of the war, of our feelings concerning the diplomacy of our nation, we have to live with our conscience concerning those whose freedom we have fought to preserve. We are there, and we find ourselves in a very lonely position as leaders in the world, criticized abroad as well as at home.
To Live with Ourselves
There is a great loneliness in leadership, but, I repeat, we have to live with ourselves. A man has to live with his conscience. A man has to live up to his inner feelings—as does a nation—and we must face that situation. I know of few if any alternatives with which we can live other than the alternative with which we are immediately faced. I think that is all I would like to say about this today.
There is a loneliness in all aspects of leadership. I think we feel it somewhat in this university. BYU is being discussed across the nation today because of some of our practices and some of our policies and some of our procedures, but I would like to offer the thought that no institution and no man ever lived at peace with itself or with himself in a spirit of compromise. We have to stand for the policy that we have adopted. We may wonder in our hearts, but we have to stand on that position set for us by him who leads us, our prophet.
The Savior Walked Alone
It was ever thus. The price of leadership is loneliness. The price of adherence to conscience is loneliness. The price of adherence to principle is loneliness. I think it is inescapable. The Savior of the world was a Man who walked in loneliness. I do not know of any statement more underlined with the pathos of loneliness than His statement: “The foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests; but the Son of man hath not where to lay his head” (Matthew 8:20).
There is no lonelier picture in history than of the Savior upon the cross, alone, the Redeemer of mankind, the Savior of the world, bringing to pass the Atonement, the Son of God suffering for the sins of mankind. As I think of that, I reflect on a statement made by Channing Pollock:
Judas with his thirty pieces of silver was a failure. Christ on the cross was the greatest figure of time and eternity.
Joseph Smith
Joseph Smith likewise was a figure of loneliness. I have a great love for the boy who came out of the woods, who after that experience could never be the same again, who was berated and persecuted and looked down upon. Can you sense the pathos in these words of the boy prophet?
For I had seen a vision; I knew it, and I knew that God knew it, and I could not deny it, neither dared I do it; at least I knew that by so doing I would offend God, and come under condemnation. [JS—H 1:25]
There are few more sorrowful pictures—not in our history anyway—than of the Prophet being rowed across the Mississippi River by Stephen Markham, knowing that his enemies were after his life, and then there came some of his own who accused him of running away. Hear his response: “If my life is of no value to my friends it is of none to myself” (HC 6:549, 23 June 1844).
The History of the Church
This has been the history of this Church, my young friends, and I hope we will never forget it. It came as a result of the position of leadership which was imposed upon us by the God of heaven who brought forth a restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ. And when the declaration was made concerning the only true and living Church upon the face of the earth, we were immediately put in a position of loneliness, the loneliness of leadership from which we cannot shrink nor run away and which we must face up to with boldness and courage and ability. Our history is one of being driven, of being winnowed and peeled, or being persecuted and hounded. Recently we have experienced a new wave of criticism, as many of you know.
I go back to these words of Paul:
We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair;
Persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed. [2 Corinthians 4:8–9]
A Missionary’s Loneliness
I talked last night with the father of a missionary. He said, “I’ve just been talking with my son in another land. He is beaten; he is destroyed. He is lonely; he is afraid. What can I do to help him?”
I said, “How long has he been there?”
He said, “Three months.”
I said, “I guess that’s the experience of almost every missionary who has been there three months. There is scarcely a young man or woman who is called to go into the world in a position of great responsibility to represent The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints who does not feel much of the time, I am sure, in the early months of his or her mission, the terrible loneliness of that responsibility. But he also comes to know, as he works in the service of the Lord, the sweet and marvelous companionship of the Holy Spirit which softens and takes from him that feeling of loneliness.”
The Lonely Convert
It is likewise with the convert. I have been thinking this morning of a friend of mine whom I knew when I was on a mission in London thirty-six years ago. I remember his coming to our apartment through the rain of the night. He knocked at the door, and I invited him in.
He said, “I’ve got to talk with someone. I’m all alone. I’m undone.”
And I said, “What’s your problem?”
And he said, “When I joined the Church a little less than a year ago, my father told me to get out of his home and never come back. And I’ve never been back.”
He continued, “A few months later the cricket club of which I was a member read me off its list, barring me from membership with the boys with whom I had grown up and with whom I had been so close and friendly.”
Then he said, “Last month my boss fired me because I was a member of this church, and I have been unable to get another job and I have had to go on the dole.
“And last night the girl with whom I have gone for a year and a half said she would never marry me because I’m a Mormon.”
I said, “If this has cost you so much, why don’t you leave the Church and go back to your father’s home and to your cricket club and to the job that meant so much to you and to the girl you think you love?”
He said nothing for what seemed to be a long time. Then, putting his head down in his hands, he sobbed and sobbed. Finally, he looked up through his tears and said, “I couldn’t do that. I know this is true, and if it were to cost me my life, I could never give it up.”
He picked up his wet cap and walked to the door and out into the rain, alone and trembling and fearful, but resolute. As I watched him, I thought of the loneliness of conscience, the loneliness of testimony, the loneliness of faith, and the strength and comfort of the Spirit of God.
The Loneliness of Testimony
I would like to conclude by saying to you here today, you young men and women who are in this great congregation, this is your lot. Oh, you are all together here now. You are all of one kind; you are all of one mind. But you are training to go out into the world where you are not going to have about you ten thousand, twenty thousand, twenty-five thousand others like you. You will feel the loneliness of your faith.
It is not easy, for instance, to be virtuous when all about you there are those who scoff at virtue.
It is not easy to be honest when all about you there are those who are interested only in making “a fast buck.”
It is not always easy to be temperate when all about you there are those who scoff at sobriety.
It is not easy to be industrious when all about you there are those who do not believe in the value of work.
It is not easy to be a man of integrity when all about you there are those who will forsake principle for expediency.
The Peace of the Spirit
I would like to say to you here today, my brethren and sisters, there is loneliness—but a man of your kind has to live with his conscience. A man has to live with his principles. A man has to live with his convictions. A man has to live with his testimony. Unless he does so, he is miserable—dreadfully miserable. And while there may be thorns, while there may be disappointment, while there may be trouble and travail, heartache and heartbreak, and desperate loneliness, there will be peace and comfort and strength.
A Promise and a Blessing
I like these great words of the Lord given to those who would go out and teach this gospel:
I will go before your face. I will be on your right hand and on your left, and my Spirit shall be in your hearts, and mine angels round about you, to bear you up. [D&C 84:88]
I think that is a promise to each of us. I believe it; I know it. I bear testimony of its truth to you this day.
God bless you, my dear young friends, you of the noble birthright, you of the covenant, you who are the greatest hope of this generation—young men and women of ability and conscience, of leadership and tremendous potential.
God bless you to walk fearlessly, even though you walk in loneliness, and to know in your hearts that peace which comes of squaring one’s life with principle, that “peace of God, which passeth all understanding” (Philippians 4:7), I humbly pray, as I leave with you my witness and my testimony of the divinity of this holy work. And as a servant of the Lord, I invoke upon you every joy as you go forward in your lives to rich and marvelously fruitful experiences, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
President Monson's Testimony of the Resurrection
We just watched this again as I was entering some other talks. I love President Monson, and his testimony of the resurrection of the Savior was powerful and moving. The talk speaks for itself:
He Is Risen!
President Thomas S. Monson
The empty tomb that first Easter morning was the answer to Job’s question, “If a man die, shall he live again?”
This has been a remarkable session. In behalf of all who participated thus far in word or music, as the President of the Church, I have chosen simply to say to you at this moment just two words, known as the two most important words in the English language. To Sister Cheryl Lant and her counselors, the choir, the musicians, the speakers, those words are “Thank you.”
Many years ago, while in London, England, I visited the famed Tate art gallery. Works by Gainsborough, Rembrandt, Constable, and other renowned artists were displayed in room after room. I admired their beauty and recognized the skill which had been required to create these masterpieces. Tucked away in a quiet corner of the third floor, however, was a painting which not only caught my attention but also captured my heart. The artist, Frank Bramley, had painted a humble cottage facing a windswept sea. Two women, the mother and the wife of an absent fisherman, had watched and waited the night through for his return. Now the night had passed, and the realization had set in that he had been lost at sea and would not return. Kneeling at the side of her mother-in-law, her head buried in the lap of the older woman, the young wife wept in despair. The spent candle on the window ledge told of the fruitless vigil.
I sensed the young woman’s heartache; I felt her grief. The hauntingly vivid inscription which the artist gave to his work told the tragic story. It read, A Hopeless Dawn.
Oh, how the young woman longed for the comfort, even the reality, of Robert Louis Stevenson’s “Requiem”:
Home is the sailor, home from sea,Among all the facts of mortality, none is so certain as its end. Death comes to all; it is our “universal heritage; it may claim its victim[s] in infancy or youth, [it may visit] in the period of life’s prime, or its summons may be deferred until the snows of age have gathered upon the ... head; it may befall as the result of accident or disease,... or ... through natural causes; but come it must.”2 It inevitably represents a painful loss of association and, particularly in the young, a crushing blow to dreams unrealized, ambitions unfulfilled, and hopes vanquished.
And the hunter home from the hill.1
What mortal being, faced with the loss of a loved one or, indeed, standing himself or herself on the threshold of infinity, has not pondered what lies beyond the veil which separates the seen from the unseen?
Centuries ago the man Job—so long blessed with every material gift, only to find himself sorely afflicted by all that can befall a human being—sat with his companions and uttered the timeless, ageless question, “If a man die, shall he live again?”3 Job spoke what every other living man or woman has pondered.
This glorious Easter morning I’d like to consider Job’s question—“If a man die, shall he live again?”—and provide the answer which comes not only from thoughtful consideration but also from the revealed word of God. I begin with the essentials.
If there is a design in this world in which we live, there must be a Designer. Who can behold the many wonders of the universe without believing that there is a design for all mankind? Who can doubt that there is a Designer?
In the book of Genesis we learn that the Grand Designer created the heaven and the earth: “And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep.”
“Let there be light,” said the Grand Designer, “and there was light.” He created a firmament. He separated the land from the waters and said, “Let the earth bring forth grass, . . . the fruit tree yielding fruit after his kind, whose seed is in itself.”
Two lights He created—the sun and the moon. Came the stars by His design. He called for living creatures in the water and fowls to fly above the earth. And it was so. He made cattle, beasts, and creeping things. The design was nearly complete.
Last of all, He created man in His own image—male and female—with dominion over all other living things.4
Man alone received intelligence—a brain, a mind, and a soul. Man alone, with these attributes, had the capacity for faith and hope, for inspiration and ambition.
Who could persuasively argue that man—the noblest work of the Great Designer, with dominion over all living things, with a brain and a will, with a mind and a soul, with intelligence and divinity—should come to an end when the spirit forsakes its earthly temple?
To understand the meaning of death, we must appreciate the purpose of life. The dim light of belief must yield to the noonday sun of revelation, by which we know that we lived before our birth into mortality. In our premortal state, we were doubtless among the sons and daughters of God who shouted for joy because of the opportunity to come to this challenging yet necessary mortal existence.5 We knew that our purpose was to gain a physical body, to overcome trials, and to prove that we would keep the commandments of God. Our Father knew that because of the nature of mortality, we would be tempted, would sin, and would fall short. So that we might have every chance of success, He provided a Savior, who would suffer and die for us. Not only would He atone for our sins, but as a part of that Atonement, He would also overcome the physical death to which we would be subject because of the Fall of Adam.
Thus, more than 2,000 years ago, Christ, our Savior, was born to mortal life in a stable in Bethlehem. The long-foretold Messiah had come.
There was very little written of the boyhood of Jesus. I love the passage from Luke: “And Jesus increased in wisdom and stature, and in favour with God and man.”6 And from the book of Acts, there is a short phrase concerning the Savior which has a world of meaning: “[He] went about doing good.”7
He was baptized by John in the river Jordan. He called the Twelve Apostles. He blessed the sick. He caused the lame to walk, the blind to see, the deaf to hear. He even raised the dead to life. He taught, He testified, and He provided a perfect example for us to follow.
And then the mortal mission of the Savior of the world drew to its close. A last supper with His Apostles took place in an upper room. Ahead lay Gethsemane and Calvary’s cross.
No mere mortal can conceive the full import of what Christ did for us in Gethsemane. He Himself later described the experience: “[The] suffering caused myself, even God, the greatest of all, to tremble because of pain, and to bleed at every pore, and to suffer both body and spirit.”8
Following the agony of Gethsemane, now drained of strength, He was seized by rough, crude hands and taken before Annas, Caiaphas, Pilate, and Herod. He was accused and cursed. Vicious blows further weakened His pain-racked body. Blood ran down His face as a cruel crown fashioned of sharp thorns was forced onto His head, piercing His brow. And then once again He was taken to Pilate, who gave in to the cries of the angry mob: “Crucify him, crucify him.”9
He was scourged with a whip into whose multiple leather strands sharp metals and bones were woven. Rising from the cruelty of the scourge, with stumbling steps He carried His own cross until He could go no farther and another shouldered the burden for Him.
Finally, on a hill called Calvary, while helpless followers looked on, His wounded body was nailed to a cross. Mercilessly He was mocked and cursed and derided. And yet He cried out, “Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.”10
The agonizing hours passed as His life ebbed. From His parched lips came the words, “Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit: and having said thus, he gave up the ghost.”11
As the serenity and solace of a merciful death freed Him from the sorrows of mortality, He returned to the presence of His Father.
At the last moment, the Master could have turned back. But He did not. He passed beneath all things that He might save all things. His lifeless body was hurriedly but gently placed in a borrowed tomb.
No words in Christendom mean more to me than those spoken by the angel to the weeping Mary Magdalene and the other Mary when, on the first day of the week, they approached the tomb to care for the body of their Lord. Spoke the angel:
“Why seek ye the living among the dead?Our Savior lived again. The most glorious, comforting, and reassuring of all events of human history had taken place—the victory over death. The pain and agony of Gethsemane and Calvary had been wiped away. The salvation of mankind had been secured. The Fall of Adam had been reclaimed.
“He is not here, but is risen.”12
The empty tomb that first Easter morning was the answer to Job’s question, “If a man die, shall he live again?” To all within the sound of my voice, I declare, If a man die, he shall live again. We know, for we have the light of revealed truth.
“For since by man came death, by man came also the resurrection of the dead.I have read—and I believe—the testimonies of those who experienced the grief of Christ’s Crucifixion and the joy of His Resurrection. I have read—and I believe—the testimonies of those in the New World who were visited by the same risen Lord.
“For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive.”13
I believe the testimony of one who, in this dispensation, spoke with the Father and the Son in a grove now called sacred and who gave his life, sealing that testimony with his blood. Declared he:
“And now, after the many testimonies which have been given of him, this is the testimony, last of all, which we give of him: That he lives!The darkness of death can always be dispelled by the light of revealed truth. “I am the resurrection, and the life,” spoke the Master.15 “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you.”16
“For we saw him, even on the right hand of God; and we heard the voice bearing record that he is the Only Begotten of the Father.”14
Over the years I have heard and read testimonies too numerous to count, shared with me by individuals who testify of the reality of the Resurrection and who have received, in their hours of greatest need, the peace and comfort promised by the Savior.
I will mention just part of one such account. Two weeks ago I received a touching letter from a father of seven who wrote about his family and, in particular, his son Jason, who had become ill when 11 years of age. Over the next few years, Jason’s illness recurred several times. This father told of Jason’s positive attitude and sunny disposition, despite his health challenges. Jason received the Aaronic Priesthood at age 12 and “always willingly magnified his responsibilities with excellence, whether he felt well or not.” He received his Eagle Scout Award when he was 14 years old.
Last summer, not long after Jason’s 15th birthday, he was once again admitted to the hospital. On one of his visits to see Jason, his father found him with his eyes closed. Not knowing whether Jason was asleep or awake, he began talking softly to him. “Jason,” he said, “I know you have been through a lot in your short life and that your current condition is difficult. Even though you have a giant battle ahead, I don’t ever want you to lose your faith in Jesus Christ.” He said he was startled as Jason immediately opened his eyes and said, “Never!” in a clear, resolute voice. Jason then closed his eyes and said no more.
His father wrote: “In this simple declaration, Jason expressed one of the most powerful, pure testimonies of Jesus Christ that I have ever heard. . . . As his declaration of ‘Never!’ became imprinted on my soul that day, my heart filled with joy that my Heavenly Father had blessed me to be the father of such a tremendous and noble boy. . . . [It] was the last time I heard him declare his testimony of Christ.”
Although his family was expecting this to be just another routine hospitalization, Jason passed away less than two weeks later. An older brother and sister were serving missions at the time. Another brother, Kyle, had just received his mission call. In fact, the call had come earlier than expected, and on August 5, just a week before Jason’s passing, the family gathered in his hospital room so that Kyle’s mission call could be opened there and shared with the entire family.
In his letter to me, this father included a photograph of Jason in his hospital bed, with his big brother Kyle standing beside the bed, holding his mission call. This caption was written beneath the photograph: “Called to serve their missions together—on both sides of the veil.”
Jason’s brother and sister already serving missions sent beautiful, comforting letters home to be shared at Jason’s funeral. His sister, serving in the Argentina Buenos Aires West Mission, as part of her letter, wrote: “I know that Jesus Christ lives, and because He lives, all of us, including our beloved Jason, will live again too.... We can take comfort in the sure knowledge we have that we have been sealed together as an eternal family.... If we do our very best to obey and do better in this life, we will see [him again].” She continued: “[A] scripture that I have long loved now takes on new significance and importance at this time.... [From] Revelation chapter 21, verse 4: ‘And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.’ ”
My beloved brothers and sisters, in our hour of deepest sorrow, we can receive profound peace from the words of the angel that first Easter morning: “He is not here: for he is risen.”17
He is risen! He is risen!As one of His special witnesses on earth today, this glorious Easter Sunday, I declare that this is true, in His sacred name—even the name of Jesus Christ, our Savior—amen.
Tell it out with joyful voice.
He has burst his three days’ prison;
Let the whole wide earth rejoice.
Death is conquered; man is free.
Christ has won the victory!18
NOTES
1. Robert Louis Stevenson, “Requiem,” in An Anthology of Modern Verse, ed. A. Methuen (1921), 208.
2. James E. Talmage, Jesus the Christ, 3rd ed. (1916), 20.
3. Job 14:14.
4. See Genesis 1:1–27.
5. See Job 38:7.
6. Luke 2:52.
7. Acts 10:38.
8. Doctrine and Covenants 19:18.
9. Luke 23:21.
10. Luke 23:34.
11. Luke 23:46.
12. Luke 24:5–6.
13. 1 Corinthians 15:21–22.
14. Doctrine and Covenants 76:22–23.
15. John 11:25.
16. John 14:27.
17. Matthew 28:6.
18. “He Is Risen!” Hymns, no. 199.
Beauty in the Storm
I read this sitting in a Del Taco, with tears running down my cheeks as I considered the words of President Lee. He shares a remarkable testimony of the purpose of trials in our lives, and his love for his wife (and hers for him) is readily apparent.
Find Beauty in the Storm
REX E. AND JANET G. LEERex E. Lee was president of Brigham Young University
when this devotional address was given on 23 January 1990.
© Brigham Young University. All rights reserved.
Complete volumes of Speeches are available wherever LDS books are sold.
For further information contact:
Speeches, 218 University Press Building, Provo, Utah 84602.
(801) 422-2299 / E-mail: speeches@byu.edu / Speeches Home Page
Janet: We welcome you back to a new semester and a new year. For us, as for many of you, last semester was a first time BYU experience. And we really loved it. Over the years, Rex and I have shared many things, but since his training is in law and mine in education, we have never shared a job. Now, for the first time, we are even sharing that, and it has been one of many unanticipated joys that we have experienced over the last six months.
Rex: It reminds me of something I think Willie Mays said right after he started playing professional baseball: "I can't believe they pay me for doing something that's so much fun." Maybe I shouldn't describe a job that is so demanding as fun, and in some respects it isn't, but on balance I agree with Janet; I've never done anything that I have enjoyed more.
Janet: Today we want to tell you a story. In a very real sense, it is a love story--our love story. We want to discuss with you some of the things that we learned, together, from the most trying and unpleasant experience that either of us has ever had, our experience with cancer. Rex made a brief allusion to it in his devotional talk last fall, and several news commentators have reported on some aspects of that experience. But we have never publicly given our own account of what happened and what we learned during that time. Some aspects of it are not easy for us to talk about. But we have decided that we want to tell that story. We want to do it only once, and you are the right audience. We really do feel a close identification with you. To be sure, we do not know each of you personally, but we have felt the warmth of your spirit and your sustaining influence and interest as we have taken on our new responsibilities.
Rex: We recognize we are not the only ones who have suffered adversity. Many of you, though much younger, have already endured trials at least as great, and in some cases greater, than the one we went through two years ago. But there are lessons we can learn from adversity, and we can all learn by sharing these lessons with each other.
Janet: The spring of 1987 was probably the happiest and certainly the most prosperous time of our marriage. We had moved back to Provo from Washington, D.C. Rex loved his work, both teaching at the law school and arguing Supreme Court cases. My life was easier and more pleasant than it had been in years. All seven of our children were doing well and living in Provo. We had our daughter's wedding in April and were looking forward to our son's marriage in June.
Rex: On May 18 I wrote in my journal, "Life is interesting, enjoyable, and busy. I cannot imagine any combination of activities and circumstances that could make me as happy right now as I am with the combination I have. I love living in Provo, being a bishop, being on the BYU law faculty, being a Sidley & Austin partner who does mostly Supreme Court work, and married to Janet with whom I have seven wonderful children. This isn't just a Pollyanna statement. Life could not be better."
Janet: My journal entry at about the same time was: "Washington was wonderful, but it's great to be back in Provo. Our lives have never been busier, but also never happier. A day never goes by without realizing how very blessed we are. Life is as close to perfection as it can get in this life. It makes me uneasy. I feel there must be a challenge ahead. I know the cycle well. Each time our lives become too easy, it is time to grow again."
Rex: And then came the rapid-fire events of the morning of Monday, June 22. For several weeks I'd had a pain in my back, which over the weekend had become unbearable. My friend, jogging partner, and personal physician, Lyman Moody, wanted to run some tests at the hospital, which had to be done very early in the morning because by 10 a.m. we had to leave for our son's wedding reception in Boise. An X ray was followed by a CAT scan, and as I came out of that, I heard Lyman say to another doctor over the phone: "Then they are definitely destructive lesions."
Destructive lesions? I'd never heard that phrase before, but my friend confirmed my worst suspicions: I had cancer.
Janet: I was just hanging up the telephone when Rex opened the door, calling my name. "Do you know?" he asked. Holding back tears, I whispered yes. Although his pain was severe, Rex spent the next several hours writing a legal brief and making financial calculations for the survival of his young family without him while I drove silently to Boise in my own world of pain. Both of us thought we were spending our last summer together.
In my journal, I described the rest of that week--after we returned from Boise--as follows: "The past several days have been a blur--tests and more tests, each confirming the diagnosis: Cancer! Lymphoma! T-cell immunoblastic lymphoma, in the final stage! All such ugly, terrible, ruthless words. I wish we could run away, but where can we run? There is no way to run away from truth--from the awful facts. In a few short days, my beautiful, wonderful life has been shattered, and I am terrified!"
It was also during that week that we made the very difficult decision about where to take the treatments. Thanks to some unsolicited efforts by one of Rex's law partners, we found that he was entitled to full, all-expense-paid treatment at one of the nation's premier cancer treatment centers' the National Cancer Institute, which is part of the National Institutes of Health in Bethesda, Maryland, just outside Washington, D.C. It was not an easy decision. We had the highest confidence in our local doctors, and it would have been easier to stay here in our own home with our own family. But Washington was also our home--we had moved from there only ten months earlier.
The irony was that though I had spent seven years in government service, it was not that service that entitled me to free treatment at NIH, but rather the fact that I had one of the kinds of cancer that NIH was studying at the time. So, it's not whom you know but what kind of cancer you have.
For exactly four months, July through October 1987, my twenty-four-hour-a-day home was the NIH hospital, where I underwent the most intense dosages of chemotherapy and radiation that in the opinion of my doctors my body could absorb and still survive. My principal physician, Dr. Richard Rosenberg, told me that what they were doing was bringing my body just as close to death as they could without pushing me over the line. And then they hoped I would be able to make it back.
In short, those were not recreational drugs they were giving me, and I've never been so sick or so debilitated in my whole life. But even in those four months some things happened that were among the most memorable and most pleasing of our lives.
Janet: Among them was the realization of what dear friends we have, how much they mean to us, and how much they truly care for us. For example, special fasts were held in the wards of some of our college friends, many of whom resided thousands of miles away. The entire stake where Rex grew up in Arizona had a daylong fast, as did our home stake in Provo. Our ward had several. The mother of a longtime colleague at the Department of Justice persuaded her Protestant congregation to do the same. Rex's mother, brothers, aunts, uncles, countless cousins, and our own children submitted to blood tests in an effort to find a possible donor for a bone marrow transplant. Rex wanted very much to remain a bishop; this was made possible because of extra-mile efforts by his two counselors. Both our stake president and Rex's father gave him blessings, assuring him without qualification that his time had not come, that the Lord had other things for him to do in this life.
Our Utah and Virginia friends helped with our children, giving untold hours of loving service. Hundreds of cards and letters were sent, wishing us well and expressing love and cheer. The sisters in our Provo ward made a beautiful quilt bearing the names of all the families in our ward. It is displayed in our home and will always be cherished for its excellence in workmanship and its symbol of love.
Several very helpful insights were contained in letters we received. My sister Lois encouraged me to find beauty in the storm. She reminded me of a time as children when we feared the dark clouds, explosive thunder, and rain slamming against our windows. As the storm passed, however, a contrasting cleansing calm settled and the sun shown again, now clearer and brighter than before. The next time the storm clouds gathered, we were not afraid. "Remember, dear sister," she said, "the storm exposes some surprise jewels of insight and compassion for others as well as individualized lessons borne of sacrifice rendered all the dearer. Find beauty in your storm." That metaphor seemed to summarize our whole experience and helped me find something beautiful within my darkest days.
Our good friend Larry Wimmer, who had recently gone through a similar experience with his wife Louise, sent us a piece he had written entitled "When Someone You Love Has Cancer." This thought from his essay seemed especially pertinent: "Commonly, it is believed that there are winners and losers in the battle against cancer. Louise eventually died of her disease, but she did not lose. In life and in death, Louise was a winner who taught us how to live, how to suffer if that be our lot, and eventually how to die."
But the most focused and the most heartwarming of all the efforts came from our immediate family. Remember that while we were in Bethesda, the children were in Provo, and four were still living at home. The three married couples helped with the younger ones. When school started, our youngest came back to live with me, and one of our newly married couples moved into our home, taking over everything from laundry to parent-teacher conferences while carrying full schedules at BYU. Each child did his or her part as they pulled together to make life work.
Rex: One day in August, our home teacher in Provo called and asked how long we would be in Bethesda. I told him it certainly would be several months and might be as long as Christmas. He said something to the effect that that was too long to be without our children. The next thing we knew he had arranged to fly all seven of them back to see us. His plane and pilot waited in Washington for several days while the children visited with us. For those of you who are trying to think of something nice to do for your home teaching families, you might keep that one in mind.
Janet: One of the most touching personal incidents involved one of the nurses, Juildene Ford. Probably the most serious continuous threat was infection because the chemotherapy almost destroyed Rex's immune system, which was already dangerously low long before he had cancer. I called the hospital once in the early morning hours when I knew he had been running a fever that the antibiotics had not been able to control. Ms. Ford responded: "He's going to be okay now. Let me tell you what happened. During the night when his fever continued to climb, I went into the nurse's station and prayed, 'Lord, this is a good man. Let him live.' After only about twenty minutes I went back in his room to take his vital signs. His fever had begun its decline, and now it is almost normal." I could barely pronounce a choked-up thank you. I hung up the phone and cried with relief.
Rex: I have often wondered if Ms. Ford--for whom I developed a great fondness--saved my life that night. Probably no more so than the hundreds of others in LDS or other congregations across the country who were praying for me. But my doctors--who may or may not have had any religious convictions--were as convinced as I am that those kinds of things really do make a difference. Their explanation was different from the one you or I would have given, but the result was the same.
Janet: There was one particularly pointed illustration of that fact. In November, after Rex had left the hospital but was still spending most of each day there as an outpatient, one of the greatest concerns was his extremely low platelet count, which endured for weeks. One Sunday Rex asked permission to go to church, a luxury he had not experienced for months. Dr. Rosenberg granted permission on the condition that he have a blood test first and then call from the chapel two hours later when the results were in to determine if he would have to return to the hospital for a platelet transfusion. Rex made the call and learned that his platelet count had more than tripled. The next Sunday when Rex was given permission to leave for a while and asked for instructions, Dr. Rosenberg said, "I have only one: Go to church."
Rex: We learned so many things during those months and also during the more than two years that have intervened. You probably won't want to consider cancer, chemotherapy, and radiation as a kind of academic steroid. But in my case, at least, they enhanced my capacity to gain knowledge. In the time remaining, we would like to tell you of just three of the many things we learned.
First, one of the enduring questions coming out of this experience has been, and continues to be, why me? Actually, included within that simple little two-word question are two subparts. The first is, Why was I the one who got cancer? That one, interestingly enough, was never one I asked myself. But many of my friends did ask it, some of them with a tinge of resentment, and some with more than just a tinge. The second subpart of the "why me" question is, Why did I survive, when others, every bit as worthy, every bit as needed by their families, and for whom just as many family and friends prayed just as fervently, are not alive today? That second question is the one that I asked.
Janet: With regard to the first question, Why did Rex get cancer, we found our friends' comments were based on two quite opposite premises. The first, and probably the more common, was that bad things--or at least really terrible things like cancer--just shouldn't happen to good people. That is a notion that has very ancient roots.
Rex: Consider Job. His friends had basically the same notion as our friends had, except they were more blunt and less charitable in the way they expressed it. In their view, his terrible illnesses were a manifestation of his wickedness. Some of our friends were more charitable toward me, but the premise was the same. Similarly, the Savior was asked, concerning a blind man, "Who did sin, this man, or his parents, that he was born blind?" (John 9:2).
I received a card from a longtime friend at the Justice Department with whom I have carried on a longstanding and good-natured banter about the net value of my Mormon lifestyle. His card contained a six-word variation on this basic theme that some have held from Job's day to ours. His card said, "Well, so much for clean living."
Janet: The other assumption, made by another group of friends, was quite the opposite from the first. In their view, Rex's cancer was due to his righteousness, rather than the lack thereof. He was being tested because he was so valiant.
Rex: It reminded me of Elder Dallin Oaks' story about the man who was being ridden out of town on a rail and commented that if it weren't for the honor of the thing, he would just as soon walk.
For me, the answer to the first aspect of this "why me" question seems fairly clear. I got cancer not because I was particularly wicked or because I was particularly righteous. The Savior himself made that clear in his answer to the question about the blind man. The Savior explained, "Neither hath this man sinned, nor his parents: but that the works of God should be made manifest in him" (John 9:3). We believe that what this and other scriptures teach is that the plan under which we are here necessarily assumes that we are on our own as to many matters, and one of those is susceptibility to serious illness or other disasters. If our Heavenly Father intervened to spare the really good ones from those kinds of experiences, much of the effect of this life's developmental and testing process would be blunted. If it were readily and objectively determinable that living a certain kind of life--either good or evil--in effect immunized a person from many of life's crises, it would be much easier to persuade people to live such a life. As it is, the case must be made exclusively on the merits of living a good life.
What about the second question, not the one my friends asked but the one that I asked myself: Why didn't I die two years ago? Here again, my friends--this time by the trainload--have been willing to supply the answer. My life was preserved, they say, because there were important things for me to do here, specifically, to fill the position that entitles me to be speaking before you on this occasion. I think in her heart that is what Janet believes.
I respect that view. I acknowledge that it may be correct. I am reluctant to announce unequivocally that it is, however, for three reasons. First, it seems inappropriate and immodest for me to take that view. Second, every argument--and I mean every argument, including the one that the Lord needed a BYU president to succeed Jeff Holland--that could be made as to why I ought to be left on this earth can also be made for my friend Terry Crapo, whose cancer took his life almost eight years ago. And finally, the only thing that is really certain is that we just don't know why some people recover from serious illness while others, with the same illness, the same worthiness, and the same faith and prayers, do not. Both the scriptures and my own personal experiences and observations make it very clear that formal, extraordinary efforts (principally fasting and prayer) to invoke divine intervention on behalf of loved ones are proper, should be undertaken, and frequently bear fruit. But for the same reasons already explained in connection with why some of us acquire these afflictions in the first place, we cannot be assured this will always be the case. Otherwise, two of the fundamental premises of this existence--the need for independent earthly experiences and the need to be tested--would be frustrated.
What I do know is that I am alive, able to live outside a hospital, away from an I.V. pole, to work in a job that I love, to jog, and to live with a family that I love and particularly with a wife who during less happy times gave me a new insight into what love really means. Far more important than knowing why this recovery happened is taking full advantage of the fact that it has, in fulfillment of the most fervent prayers that I have ever offered.
Janet: Through all of this, I learned how to really pray. Now, like most of you I had been praying since I was two or three and through the years had learned the fundamentals of expressing gratitude for blessings received as well as asking for what was needed. There had been times when I not only prayed with real intent but had listened carefully for answers that gave new direction to my life or helped me know I was on the right path. Now, for some reason, faced with a frightening ordeal, I forgot much of what I had learned and became a child again. During those first few days, as I look back now, I must have sounded like a two-year-old, demanding and insisting that I have my way. "Please, Heavenly Father," I would beg over and over, "make him well." I had to pray. I knew nothing else to do. No one on this earth could help me. But such a prayer did not offer the healing balm that I needed for my wounded spirit. Prayer had always brought relief, but there was no peace for my soul.
Soon, without realizing it, my prayers took on another focus. I began to instruct, reason, even bargain with the Lord. "Surely," I would plead, "there are things on this earth for him to do. He is still useful here. Send him anywhere, ask him to do anything, and I will be at his side helping him. Take away everything we own, but please leave him here. Canst thou see how much I need him, how much I love him? Please let him live." Again peace did not come.
Then one day, after I had been fasting, I went into a wooded area across from the hospital. I knew many others had been fasting, too, and I felt strengthened as I found a quiet place to pray. I don't know why, but for the first time since Rex's diagnosis my prayer was significantly different. "If it be thy will," I began, "let Rex recover from his cancer. Thou knowest the desires of my heart, but I recognize that I do not understand all things. Please strengthen me to meet the challenges ahead, and calm my troubled heart." Finally, peace came.
This same type of prayer became my greatest source of strength during the ensuing months. Sometimes I would awaken in the night frightened and alone, in need of help. Although Rex had been told in blessings that his time had not come, reality seemed to indicate otherwise. It was at these times--when I could not shut out the doctors' diagnosis--that I would fall on my knees in prayer, asking for the strength and peace that would always follow. I realized more fully than ever before that changing the circumstances is not always an option, but being given the strength to deal with what we are facing is the greatest blessing of all.
Scriptures I had known and loved for years took on new meaning. Certain passages seemed to be speaking directly to me and would be recalled when I needed them. "Be of good cheer," I would remember from the Doctrine and Covenants, "for I am in your midst, and I have not forsaken you" (D&C 61:36).
I used to think that faith in God came in the form of feeling certain that life would be as I wanted it to be. I have grown to understand that to have ultimate faith in God is to know he is with us and will give us unfailing strength to help us through life's challenges. My greatest strength came not in knowing for a surety that Rex's cancer would be cured forever but in putting aside anxious thoughts as my faith in God matured.
Rex: The final thing we learned that we want to talk about today is something that each of us may describe in different words, but I will call it the real meaning of love. Like many of you, Janet and I first fell in love when we were students at BYU. Over the years, our love matured. But my most profound insight into the meaning of love developed two years ago in the 3-B-South wing of the NIH hospital.
I have concluded that we achieve the ultimate in love for someone else when that other person's welfare, happiness, and sometimes even survival are in every respect just as important to us as our own. The Savior told us that the greatest commandments are to love our Heavenly Father and to love other people as ourselves. He was the only person who ever attained that measure of love for all people, and that is why he was willing to do what he did for us. For most of us, we certainly care for other people, and the level of our concern and affection varies from person to person. But how many people do you know for whom you can literally say that you care just as much about them as you do about yourself--that their welfare and happiness are truly as important as your own? In the summer and fall of 1987 it became very apparent to me that I am the recipient of the fullest possible measure of love from at least one person.
Those of you who have spent any time in a hospital know how much fun it is. During those four months, July through October, I had no choice. I had to stay there. But day after day, Janet was there also, not just part of the time, not just in the morning or the afternoon, but all day. I would tell her, "Look, I can't leave this place. But you can. I'll be fine without you for a morning, an afternoon, or even a day. Get out of here and preserve your own sanity. Go see your friends. Go sightseeing. Go to the park. Go anywhere. Certainly I would if I could." And friends would call, inviting her to go places. She usually found ways to turn them down. Occasionally she went, at their insistence and mine. When she got back, she would invariably tell me she had felt uncomfortable all the time she was away.
At first I thought that was positively weird. And then I began to realize: This was no put-on. She wasn't just trying to make me feel good. As astounding as it was to me, Janet really preferred to be there in that miserable hospital with me. My life, and every aspect of my welfare and happiness, were just as important to her as they were to me. And that, my friends, is love. It is also a part of our experience that I will never forget.
Janet: Watching someone suffer, and helping in the care of a possibly terminally ill loved one, had been one of my greatest fears. How could I ever give care and love under those circumstances and not fall apart emotionally? I had read books and articles about strong people who became stronger through a family crisis, but I didn't want to become strengthened in that way. To me, it seemed far less distasteful to fight severe illness myself than to suffer through it with someone I love.
When faced with the threat of losing my husband and the demands of his care, I was surprised to discover by-products of my trauma that gave me strength. Instead of being repelled by the effects of chemotherapy, my love for him intensified. As I applied cool towels to Rex's fevered brow or rubbed his legs and feet, a new dimension to our love appeared. He had helped me through seven pregnancies and births. Now I was getting a chance to care for him.
Rex: It wasn't the same. I performed for a few hours at a time. She was there for months. There was also a qualitative difference. She learned enough about my kind of cancer that she actually became something of a collaborator with the doctors.
Janet: My love for him increased each day as I administered to his needs. Now please don't think that what I did was entirely unselfish. While serving him I felt my greatest peace. I was in torment when I left his room. Nights were agony for me. My only joy during those months came in making him happy, comfortable, or in helping him with his work.
When his cancer was first diagnosed I had envisioned sitting by his bed, holding his hand, and gazing into his eyes while we told each other how in love we were (like in the movies). This lasted for about forty-eight hours. It then appeared there were other needs--especially for him. Even confined to a hospital bed, he needed to feel that he was an important part of ongoing life. He needed to work, to be productive.
Rex: She's wrong. The fact is, I was essential to the cause of right, truth, and justice in America's courtrooms.
Janet: I was horrified when he first suggested that we set up an office in his room. I thought working would be too difficult for him and the most romantic words he would speak to me would be, "Will you please read from pages two through five of this legal brief." But as I sat on the foot of his bed facing him, reading what he was too sick to read for himself, I felt a powerful outpouring of love and admiration for him. Sometimes he would close his eyes and I would think he was asleep, only to hear him interrupt to make a pertinent comment. This went on for months, with days when he could work only a few minutes, and days when he could barely hold up his head to take a bite or two of distasteful, often rejected, but much needed nourishment.
I was fearful that working would take a negative toll on Rex, yet this hospital office served him well. It was there he prepared for a Supreme Court case argued early in October. On the day of the argument, we literally unhooked his I.V.s, got him out of bed, dressed him, and took him to the Supreme Court. A nurse went with us carrying a bag full of medicine to meet any emergency. The Supreme Court clerk's office had a stool for him, in case he couldn't stand for the full half hour. He didn't use it. We were all frightened, but I sincerely believe that this was one of many experiences that helped to save his life. He was a vital, needed part of society.
There were painful tests, treatments, X rays, CAT scans, ever-present nausea, and those endless I.V.s and transfusions. Rarely did he ever lose his sense of humor or curiosity about his disease and treatment. He joked with the doctors and nurses even during the most grueling procedures. Before his illness when I had read about others in my circumstance, I often thought that given their situations I would want to leave or run away. My comfort came in being there, in comforting my husband, talking to the doctors and nurses, being informed, and helping make decisions about his care. To watch his strength, humor, and indomitable spirit in the face of all he was going through made me love and admire him in a way that was never before possible.
I realized that his failing body was only the temporal part of him as I grew to know his spirit more intimately. He was completely bald, his face was swollen from medication, and he had lost over twenty-five pounds. He looked like an old man in his feeble attempts to walk. His shoulders slumped, and he shuffled his feet as he slowly pushed his I.V. pole trying to get in a few minutes of daily exercise. Was this the same handsome husband who only weeks before had run with me and joked when I asked how it would feel if one of us would someday not be able to join the team? "Oh, I'll describe the run to you when I get back," was his quick reply. We laughed like children in the warm spring sunshine, unaware of what was ahead. I loved him with all my heart. He was strong and healthy and still young after twenty-eight years of marriage. How could I ever love him more? That was the last time we ran together before he was hospitalized, and as I sat by the bedside of someone who barely resembled my husband, I knew that I loved him more completely than I had ever loved before.
I also gained a deeper understanding of our Heavenly Father and his love for us. How could I have ever missed this part of our lives together? I would not have chosen this way to learn the lessons I was learning, but I was there and I had to take a crash course in many things. The alternative to learning was to fail the most important test I had ever been given.
Rex: She's right. It was a test. And it may not yet be finished. As students, you know about tests. You take a lot of them. Whether they occur in the classroom or some other place, tests will always be experiences from which we should learn. We learned some things from this test of ours. We learned about love, about prayer, about each other, and about ourselves. We don't seek life's storms, but they will come. And we can find beauty in them. That our Heavenly Father will help us to understand and appreciate not only tests but also life itself, of which tests are an important part, is our prayer in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.
King Benjamin and Discipleship
I don't recall the circumstances of my coming across this talk, but it is marvelous.
King Benjamin’s Manual of Discipleship
Neal A. Maxwell, “King Benjamin’s Manual of Discipleship,” Ensign, Jan 1992, 8
In his speech at the temple, King Benjamin taught us how to become saints through the atonement of Christ.
In the process of selecting and editing the material we now know as the Book of Mormon, the prophet-editor Mormon chose to include things he found “pleasing.” (W of M 1:4.) Nothing could have pleased him more than the remarkable sermon of King Benjamin: a sermon, said Mormon, which was “choice unto me,” among the prophesyings and revelations he found as he “searched among the records which had been delivered into [his] hands.” (W of M 1:3, 6.) How blessed we are that of the less than one-hundredth part chosen from among those abundant records, Benjamin’s sermon was included by Mormon, who knew that these words would be equally choice unto his latter-day brethren. (See W of M 1:6.)
Standing at a point in history centuries after both King Benjamin’s sermon and that great epochal event—the coming of Christ to a small group in the Western Hemisphere—Mormon had a keen appreciation for Benjamin’s timeless and relevant sermon. In fact, he regarded Benjamin as “a holy man.” (W of M 1:17.)
In addition to witnessing to the realities of the Heavenly King and of Jesus’ role as Savior, King Benjamin’s remarkable sermon gives us a unique view of how this prophet-king understood the developmental process of serious discipleship. By following its key precepts, the faithful are lovingly counselled in the path of righteousness. Benjamin’s speech reveals the nature of divine discipleship as it can be displayed only by one who has become a saint through the atoning blood of Christ.
Casting off the natural man and struggling to become a follower of Christ is the disciple’s first step. It is delineated by Benjamin with a specificity and intensity that make this sermon one of the greatest on record.
“For the natural man is an enemy to God, and has been from the fall of Adam, and will be, forever and ever, unless he yields to the enticings of the Holy Spirit, and putteth off the natural man and becometh a saint through the atonement of Christ the Lord, and becometh as a child, submissive, meek, humble, patient, full of love, willing to submit to all things which the Lord seeth fit to inflict upon him, even as a child doth submit to his father.” (Mosiah 3:19.)By juxtaposing these lines from Benjamin’s sermon with the Savior’s words concerning the childlikeness required to enter the celestial kingdom, we are admitted into a wondrous but demanding realm of understanding regarding developmental discipleship: “Verily I say unto you, Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.” (Matt. 18:3.)
We can begin to sense the specific demands of discipleship in terms of the virtues Benjamin encourages his listeners to develop: meekness, humility, patience, love, spiritual submissiveness.
Presumably, Alma the younger, a few decades later, read and memorized King Benjamin’s words. Speaking spontaneously to the wicked people of Ammonihah, he said,
“But that ye would humble yourselves before the Lord, and call on his holy name, and watch and pray continually, that ye may not be tempted above that which ye can bear, and thus be led by the Holy Spirit, becoming humble, meek, submissive, patient, full of love and all long-suffering.” (Alma 13:28.)Alma added the quality of being “long-suffering” (see also Alma 7:23), but otherwise Benjamin’s developmental directions stand before us in arresting clarity.
Imprisoned and abused by misused political, judicial, and military power, Joseph Smith was similarly told in Liberty Jail about the qualities God desires in his leaders and people: such qualities as persuasion, long-suffering, gentleness, meekness, love unfeigned, and kindness. (See D&C 121:41–42.)
Hence we see the need to allow for those times in our lives when God utilizes tutorial suffering in order to further such specific individual development.
Granted, it is a “hard saying” to point out the need for such spiritual submissiveness. Yet Peter so preached as to the shaping role of suffering and adversity:
“Beloved, think it not strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you, as though some strange thing happened unto you:Certain afflictions and temptations are the common lot of mankind: “There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man” (1 Cor. 10:13); “The same afflictions are accomplished in your brethren that are in the world” (1 Pet. 5:9). Additionally, however, there are tutorial sufferings of the innocent, as both Benjamin and Peter declare. (See Mosiah 3:19; 1 Pet. 4:12.) There is “undeserved” agony. There is “unearned” anguish which is unrelated to error, and which the disciple will experience.
“Yet if any man suffer as a Christian, let him not be ashamed; but let him glorify God on this behalf.
“Wherefore let them that suffer according to the will of God commit the keeping of their souls to him in well doing, as unto a faithful Creator.” (1 Pet. 4:12, 16, 19; emphasis added.)
Even so, the Christian knows he is in the hands of a merciful but tutoring God whose intent is that for developmental and salvational reasons, the disciple be “added upon.” Benjamin repeatedly cites the goodness, love, long-suffering, and mercy of God. True prophets have always understood the character and attributes of God. “And the Lord passed by before him, and proclaimed, The Lord, The Lord God, merciful and gracious, longsuffering, and abundant in goodness and truth.” (Ex. 34:6.)
In his address (see Mosiah 2), Benjamin, who once wielded the sword of Laban in battle for his people and who is an authentic military and political hero, demonstrates that he is resolutely and consistently unconcerned with the “perks” of office. He is determined to remain to the end a leader-servant. He even encourages others to equate service to their fellowman with service to their God. (See Mosiah 2:17.) With unquestioned, on-the-record humility, Benjamin justifiably describes himself as a servant-king. (See Mosiah 2:18.)
Who could more candidly do what Benjamin did in reminding us of the generous blessings of God, which are so abundant that even if we render full service to Him, yet we are “unprofitable servants”? (Mosiah 2:21.)
At first reading, these last words may sound harsh, depreciating, and discouraging, for surely our service to God is significant. But when our service is compared with our blessings, an “outside audit,” said Benjamin in effect, would show us ever to be in arrears. “Catching up” by giving more service does not change the balance, either, because a merciful God, just as soon as we obey or render such service, “doth immediately bless” us. Thus, we are even further in debt to our Heavenly Father. (Mosiah 2:24.) Furthermore, our service is made possible by the elements which make up our natural bodies, but these belong to God, who also gives us breath from moment to moment.
The stage is thus set by Benjamin for urging us to render to God all that we have, through the consecration of our time and our talents and ourselves to God and to our fellowman. Then, if we really consecrate ourselves to Him, that consecrated self will be in the steady process of becoming like the Savior, attribute by attribute. This objective—knowing and becoming like the Master—is at the heart of King Benjamin’s valedictory address.
We are next reminded of the “awful situation” we will experience if, having spiritual knowledge, we then engage in “open rebellion.” (Mosiah 2:37, 40.) For such individuals, even the mercy of a perfectly merciful God can have no claim. (See Mosiah 2:39.) So we see that while the gospel gives us needed identity, it also brings severe accountability.
King Benjamin described how crucial scriptural records are in establishing such accountability. (See Mosiah 2:34.) Through sacred records, disciples become aware of the commandments of God and of the testimonies of leaders, present and past. When straying disciples transgress, they are, in effect, going “contrary to [their] own knowledge.” (See Mosiah 2:33.)
In this respect, what of the current generation of Latter-day Saints, blessed as we are with the convenient new publications of the scriptures? Are we safe from the indictment of our predecessors who took the Book of Mormon “lightly”? (See D&C 84:54, 57.)
By studying Mosiah chapter 3, we learn that an angel had actually instructed and tutored King Benjamin concerning the coming of the Lord Jesus Christ to the earth to dwell, to perform miracles, to serve, and to suffer. King Benjamin was even given a highly privileged revelation concerning the name of that Savior, Jesus Christ, as well as the name of his mother, Mary. (See Mosiah 3:8.)
Yet, alas, declared King Benjamin, those living during the time of Jesus’ mortal Messiahship and later would still consider the King of Kings, Christ, merely a man. (See Mosiah 3:9.) King Benjamin stressed that though some, in gross ignorance, would crucify Jesus Christ, He bears the only name under heaven whereby people can be saved.
The judgment of God will focus particularly on those who are accountable, as contrasted with those who have ignorantly sinned. (See Mosiah 3:11.) Happily, all who have been knowledgeable and who have engaged in open rebellion can repent.
The only exception to the repentance process King Benjamin made was for little children:
“I say unto you, that there are not any among you, except it be your little children that have not been taught concerning these things, but what knoweth that ye are eternally indebted to your heavenly Father, to render to him all that you have and are; and also have been taught concerning the records which contain the prophecies which have been spoken by the holy prophets, even down to the time our father, Lehi, left Jerusalem.” (Mosiah 2:34.)This same distinction appears elsewhere in the Book of Mormon, drawing a clear distinction between children who are not accountable and mature disciples.
“Little children … are blessed; for behold, as in Adam, or by nature, they fall, even so the blood of Christ atoneth for their sins.” (Mosiah 3:16.)
“And behold, when that time cometh, none shall be found blameless before God, except it be little children, only through repentance and faith on the name of the Lord God Omnipotent.” (Mosiah 3:21.)
The Book of Mormon’s inveighing so powerfully against infant baptism stems from disputations about that doctrine in the final hours of the Nephite world. By the time of Mormon’s significant scolding concerning that doctrine (Moro. 8), infant baptism had contemporaneously become official in the late Roman Empire. Doubtless some of what was preserved in the Book of Mormon was thus anticipatory of the need to correct this errancy and to understand the truly marvelous atonement of Jesus Christ, as Benjamin years before had so clearly proclaimed it.
The act of becoming a man or woman of Christ is an act of will and sustained desire. Hence, it could not be expected of little children, though childlike teachability is essential.
Upon hearing King Benjamin’s words (see Mosiah 3), which up to this point were apparently given to Benjamin by the Lord through an angel (Mosiah 3:23; Mosiah 4:1), the multitude began to exercise faith in a Savior who was yet to come, as compared with mortals today, who exercise faith in a Savior who has come. The listening and responsive multitude actually received, because of their faith, a remission of their sins. (See Mosiah 4:3.) They believed, had joy, received a remission of their sins, obtained thereby a peace of conscience, and had strong faith. The response to this remarkable sermon was thus most extraordinary.
Next, King Benjamin instinctively instructed those who had thus felt and known the “goodness of God” and who had been awakened to their sense of comparative “nothingness.” (See Mosiah 4:5–30.) Their feelings were apparently not unlike those Moses experienced when he realized that man, compared with God, was “nothing,” which thing he “never had supposed.” (Moses 1:10.)
King Benjamin extolled, again and again, the goodness of God, his matchless power, his wisdom, and his long-suffering. These citings are all the more directional and significant, precisely because we are to strive to become like God and his Son—attribute by attribute—in our discipleship. Once more, the specific, cardinal virtues of the disciple are held before our gaze by Benjamin.
Mosiah 4:9 is a splendid sermonette within the longer sermon:
“Believe in God; believe that he is, and that he created all things, both in heaven and in earth; believe that he has all wisdom, and all power, both in heaven and in earth; believe that man doth not comprehend all the things which the Lord can comprehend.” (Mosiah 4:9.)What a powerful invitational statement! It is a testimony as to the reality of the existence of an omnipotent and omniscient God, whom man can trust but not match in intellect or causality. Isaiah would have been proud of Benjamin’s declaration, for Isaiah similarly stated: “For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.” (Isa. 55:9.) Benjamin’s entreaty was given by a king whose very life underwrote the eloquent sermon by the eloquence of his personal example.
King Benjamin reminded the audience that since they had come to have a knowledge of God and of his goodness, and since they had tasted of his love, all this must lead to praying daily, to being steadfast in the faith, to rejoicing always, to being filled always with the love of God, and to retaining a remission of their sins. (See Mosiah 4:11–12.) Having experienced a blessed remission once, having “felt to sing the song of redeeming love” (Alma 5:26), one could scarcely go through life happy unless that remission was, in fact, retained.
So Benjamin—in words which focus on the first and second great commandments—hopes that his followers will grow in the knowledge of the glory of God and will grow in the knowledge that God is just and true.
Again, the specific praise of God for his divine attributes is significant, coming from King Benjamin, because his praise is also a prescription about the attributes which the followers themselves must develop. (See Mosiah 4:12.) Christianity is thus so much more than a phase-one experience, however special such an initiating experience can be.
The manner in which the complete Christian will live is then set forth earnestly by King Benjamin. (See Mosiah 4:13–16.) The complete Christian will have no mind to injure, will live peaceably, will render to others justly, and will care for his or her children, also teaching them to love and to serve one another and to succor the needy. Such a Christian will not turn beggars away, because, as Benjamin declared earlier, we are all beggars, totally dependent upon God for all that we have.
King Benjamin holds up as a paradigm the generosity of God, which, in turn, should lead us to be generous to others. (See Mosiah 4:21.)
A practical man, Benjamin also observed that some are too poor to give, but he affirms that they would if they could. (See Mosiah 4:24.) Good intentions weigh in, as well as good actions. The king even linked our retention of the remission of sins to our subsequent efforts to aid the needy, both spiritually and temporally. (See Mosiah 4:26.)
Finally, as a leader-servant, “full of years” and rich in experience, wise Benjamin urged the people to pace themselves in the arduous journey of discipleship. Things should be done in “wisdom and order,” as well as with diligence:
“And see that all these things are done in wisdom and order; for it is not requisite that a man should run faster than he has strength. And again, it is expedient that he should be diligent, that thereby he might win the prize; therefore, all things must be done in order.” (Mosiah 4:27.)This is not unlike the counsel given by the Lord to the Prophet Joseph Smith in our time: “Do not run faster or labor more than you have strength and means provided to enable you to translate; but be diligent unto the end.” (D&C 10:4.)
This anxious leader, a warrior-king-prophet, giving his last great speech to his people, urged them in conclusion to watch themselves, their thoughts, their deeds, their words, and to keep the commandments, being faithful to the end. (Mosiah 4:30.) The life of discipleship requires continuous watchfulness in all dimensions of life.
In Mosiah 5, after the record of the sermon has ended, these words show how concerned this communicator-king was to know whether or not he had been effective as a teacher:
“And now, it came to pass that when king Benjamin had thus spoken to his people, he sent among them, desiring to know of his people if they believed the words which he had spoken unto them.” (Mosiah 5:1.)
Benjamin was not an “I told you so” leader. He was genuinely concerned with whether or not his words had been received and applied. He also recognized the role of the family in teaching and implementing the commitments of discipleship. (See Mosiah 2:5–6; Mosiah 6:3.) He apparently did as the Savior did when He taught intensively and then directed His hearers to go and discuss with their families that which had been taught. (See 3 Ne. 17:3.)Finally, Benjamin concluded that those who are ready should take upon themselves the name of Christ, covenanting to be obedient to the end of their lives. (See Mosiah 5:8.)
Those estranged from Christ will not know the Master whom they have not served; Jesus will have been “far from the thoughts and intents of [their] heart.” (See Mosiah 5:13.)
From a prophet-king who knew the Savior and who was blessed with much revelation from Him came the desire that His followers be “steadfast and immovable, always abounding in good works” so that by Christ, the Lord God, they could “be brought to heaven.” (Mosiah 5:15.)
Benjamin probably knew his reassuring and steadying words would be preserved for faithful disciples in the last days, living in a world in which “all things shall be in commotion” (D&C 45:26; D&C 88:91) and yet standing fast in holy places (D&C 45:32).
Without question, King Benjamin’s sermon is one of the most remarkable in all of holy writ. No wonder Mormon was impressed to include this sermon among the precious records he preserved in his inspired abridgment.
Nor is it surprising that Mormon would, in addition to being impressed with the words of King Benjamin, be impressed with the quality of the man himself:
“For behold, king Benjamin was a holy man, and he did reign over his people in righteousness; and there were many holy men in the land, and they did speak the word of God with power and with authority; and they did use much sharpness because of the stiffneckedness of the people—
"Wherefore, with the help of [the holy prophets who were among his people], king Benjamin, by laboring with all the might of his body and the faculty of his whole soul, and also the prophets, did once more establish peace in the land.” (W of M 1:17–18.)
Unafraid of death, Benjamin even anticipated joining the “choirs above in singing the praises of a just God.” (Mosiah 2:28.) As noted by Benjamin, many of the things spoken in the sermon were “made known unto [him] by an angel from God” who stood before King Benjamin, bringing “glad tidings of great joy” (Mosiah 3:2–3), since the forthcoming of the Messiah was “not far distant,” the time when “the Lord Omnipotent … shall come down from heaven among the children of men” (Mosiah 3:5).
King Benjamin declared what “was made known … by an angel from God” regarding the infinite sacrifice and suffering of the Savior in behalf of all mankind. (Mosiah 3:2.) Christ, he said, would suffer “more than man can suffer …; for behold, blood cometh from every pore.… For behold, … his blood atoneth for the sins of those who have fallen by the transgression of Adam.” (Mosiah 3:7, 11.)
Benjamin’s testimony stands as an everlasting witness that Christ’s blood is efficacious for the salvation of mankind. That testimony also is a rebuttal to the ancient and modern heresy that Christ’s atoning blood is insufficient to save mankind.
Thus, Benjamin spoke only “the words which the Lord God [had] commanded” him. (Mosiah 3:23.)
As a result, Benjamin’s words stood “as a bright testimony” for his immediate audience (Mosiah 3:24), as they stand for all of us, too. We and those yet to come are a part of the ever-enlarging audience to whom that special sermon was given. May we be touched by it spiritually, as those who first heard it were!
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