6 And as sure as the Lord liveth, so sure as many as believed, or as many as were brought to the knowledge of the truth, through the preaching of Ammon and his brethren, according to the spirit of revelation and of prophecy, and the power of God working miracles in them—yea, I say unto you, as the Lord liveth, as many of the Lamanites as believed in their preaching, and were converted unto the Lord, never did fall away.
Talk about a sure thing!
The Lamanites were not only converted, but were sure and steadfast unto the end. They never, ever did fall away. They never went astray from the truth, with the exception of course of the weaknesses of the flesh and the sins we are all beset by. But they never went “inactive”, never went apostate, no matter what the circumstances. They were truly fertile ground!
What made them all so fertile? Why were there not some who’s ground was shallow, and when the heat of the sun came burned them up?
18 Hear ye therefore the parable of the sower.
19 When any one heareth the word of the kingdom, and understandeth it not, then cometh the wicked one, and catcheth away that which was sown in his heart. This is he which received seed by the way side.
20 But he that received the seed into stony places, the same is he that heareth the word, and anon with joy receiveth it;
21 Yet hath he not root in himself, but dureth for a while: for when tribulation or persecution ariseth because of the word, by and by he is offended.
22 He also that received seed among the thorns is he that heareth the word; and the care of this world, and the deceitfulness of riches, choke the word, and he becometh unfruitful.
23 But he that received seed into the good ground is he that heareth the word, and understandeth it; which also beareth fruit, and bringeth forth, some an hundredfold, some sixty, some thirty.
What made these Lamanite converts so faithful??? Why was their ground so very fertile? Why were they the exception to the rule of the parable of the sower? Because surely the parable describes the rule. Even the parable of the Ten Virgins illustrates that even those who remain members of the church, half of them are without enough oil. Half of them are not flourishing plants. Half have not cared sufficiently for the seed of faith that was planted in their hearts. Their “faith tree”, which perhaps was supposed to grow into a tree of life of sorts, remained a weak sapling, never becoming deeply rooted, and never reaching the heights it had the potential to reach.
Is this not hell? The regrets that will come to those who do not reach their own divine potential? The fire and brimstone of hell, those eternal burnings, are not a rotisserie that God puts under his children for eternity. It is our own emotional and spiritual regret. It is knowing we traded our divine birthright as a king or queen, priest or priestess to the Most High God for a bowl of oatmeal, as did Esau. Although I do hope Esau had a chance to repent and still receive the blessings of eternity. Of eternal life. Of living the life that God lives. Of growing up and becoming like our Father.
Anyway, what made the difference to these Lamanites? Why were they the exception, a very unique exception, to the rule?
Is it possible it had to do with this?
47 Wherefore I say unto thee, Her sins, which are many, are forgiven; for she loved much: but to whom little is forgiven, the same loveth little.
When those who sin greatly are forgiven much, their gratitude and allegiance and love for the Forgiver seems to be greater than those who are forgiven less. And is this not natural? If we offend someone by, I don’t know, let’s say making a snap judgement about them and saying mean and untrue things that offends and hurts feelings, and they forgive us, would we not be grateful to them? We should, for we are the offender, and they the ones extending mercy.
Now, let’s say that we get drunk one night, drive our car home, run a red light and T-Bone a car with a family in it. Killed are the mother and all six children. The Father remains alive, to carry on his life without his most loved ones, as well as with permanent physical disabilities, for he is now confined to a wheelchair.
Now let’s say that the hypothetical person thus injured has the right to prosecute you for killing his family and disabling him. Let’s say that the laws of the land are such that one could incur the death penalty if the person so injured desires it, and that prosecuting was not in the hands of the state, but solely in the hands as the offended.
Instead of exacting justice, instead of hating you and bringing the long arm of justice crashing down upon you for your offense and the incomprehensible pain and loss that you caused him and his family, he chooses to forgive you. Both in his heart, and in his actions. He chooses to forgive you of your debt to justice. He does not prosecute you according to the law, but you are free to go. Not only that, but while standing in front of the judge while making this determination, he turns to you, walks towards you, reaches out and embraces you, and tells you everything will be ok, that he forgives you, tells you go and don’t make the same mistake again and go and make something of your life.
Weeping now, shuddering, shaking, sobbing, you feel a love you had never felt before. You experience mercy that you didn’t even know existed. And you are now a free man, able to walk away without the shackles of justice. Free! Free to choose your life and what you will be.
Now, what degree of gratitude and allegiance would you feel to that person, compared to the one who forgave you for judging him and saying unkind things about you? Would you not feel a debt of gratitude infinitely more for him who forgave the greater sin?
And so it is with us and with these Lamanites. They knew they were steeped in sin. They knew they had committed serious offenses, to man and to God. Even, as they say, murders— although we know they were not the unforgivable premeditated murders for personal gain as was the case with Cain. They were taught to hate the Nephites, and because of the false traditions of their fathers they hated and killed. And those sins will surely fall on the heads of those two murderers-in-their- hearts who perpetuated that hate for generation upon generation. Nephi’s brothers. They may not have actually killed Nephi, but they wanted to and tried to. If a man or women who looks upon another to list after them has already committed adultery in their heart and will lose the Spirit, is not the same true of someone who is a murderer in their heart? I fear, as did Lehi, for Laman and Lemuel.
Anyway, those Lamanites had a bright recollection and realization of their guilt and sins. And they knew how much and to what degree they were forgiven. And having received such an abundance of mercy, felt an abundance of gratitude and allegiance and indebtedness to the God who had forgiven so much. Was not this the reason for their faithfulness?
And what about us, speaking generally and collectively. What about us who may not have sinned as grievously as others? Are we (they, not speaking of myself here) left to not have the opportunity of feeling such a debt of gratitude?
If we understand that he that sins in the least degree suffers the same fate as he that sins in the greatest degree—separation from God and all that is good and spiritual and physical death— then perhaps we would understand that our debt is virtually just as great.
If we who have not sinned as great as another owe to our debtor one trillion dollars, and he that has sinned more grievously owes one trillion and fifty dollars, are we truly greater than them? Are we forgiven any less? Is our collective debt any less? Should our gratitude and allegiance be any less?
Perhaps not. But it is still human nature to feel more indebtedness and gratitude the more we are forgiven. Maybe the secret is realizing that we all sin and come short of the glory of God. We are all, no matter the degree of our sins, unworthy and unprofitable servants, and eternally indebted to Him who has forgiven our sins, and who took upon Him the suffering so we might not have to suffer, if we would but repent. And what is repentance? Acknowledging our sins, confessing them to ourselves and God, expressing our sorrow and regret, and then doing our best to forsake them. Is that so hard? Is that a high price to pay? I say it is pennies. Pennies for a gift worth trillions.
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