Chapter 30: The Real Story of the Gospel

Alma and his missionaries were gone a long time, and, as predicted, had very little success. Their few converts moved to Jershon and Alma seemed very tired when he returned with his sons. After meeting with Alma, Himni was distracted but said very little to Abish about it. He only said that Alma was taking some time to gather his sons to him and give them some counsel. Abish did not think this was so strange—hadn’t many prophets in the scriptures gathered their children for blessings and advice? Himni agreed saying, “You are right, it is not uncommon for a prophet to do so. But it is usually just before his death.” The thought sobered Abish immediately. Alma was not an old man, no more than a few years older than Ammon. It was true that Alma’s sons were grown up and Ammon’s were still young, but they were very nearly the same age. Himni added, “And he wishes to see you tomorrow.”

She clapped her hands outside the door to Alma’s small home. He called out for her to come in, and she stepped inside reverentially. She had never been there before. It seemed almost strange for a prophet to have a home. She had so often seen him preaching or traveling. His house was not unlike her own. Each simple thing had a place and there was nothing extra. Nothing unneeded. To the back of the house was a door covered with a cloth. He stood in this door and invited her back into the small space where he sat.

The room she entered then was entirely different. Furniture was sparse, but documents filled the room from floor to ceiling. There were two small stools and a tiny desk. Near the desk she could see thin sheets of metal the size and thickness of small sheet of parchment. There were also stacks of animal skins. Himni had told her of the hours Alma spent copying the sacred texts over and over again as well as making writings of his own. He and his brothers had spent much time doing the same, but she could never have imagined a room like this. She sat hard in the stool Alma offered her, still saying nothing, just marveling at the spiritual history in which she found herself immersed. Somewhere in these stacks were the original writings of Nephi and his brother Jacob. Undoubtedly there was the first copy of King Benjamin’s speech made in this very city just fifty years ago. Were there older writings too? She knew the plates of brass contained records written by Moses and Abraham. Were the plates of brass in this tiny, unprotected room? Himni had once said that few knew of this record so that it would be kept safe. She couldn’t imagine the loss to a nation if their record was erased.

Alma said nothing for several moments either, seeming pleased with her reaction. He cleared his throat, “Has Himni told you of the record I keep?”

Abish found her voice, “Yes . . . he has. . . somewhat. But I had no idea. . .”

“Few do. The record is safer that way. When I first learned of the records I imagined something that could be held in your hand. My reaction was like yours.”

“How is it moved?”

“Very carefully.” He smiled, always full of good-humor. His comment relaxed the moment and Abish smiled too. “But I did not ask you here to discuss the particulars of this record. I have asked you here because I would like to make your story a part of it.”

Her already wide eyes nearly popped from her head at his comment. “My story?”

“Yes, Abish. Your story.”

“I thought Omner kept a record of the mission to the Lamanites.”

“He did, a very good record. He talked about cities preached in and numbers of converts from the cities. He tells about the conversions of your two kings and the effect that had on the people. His record gives specific details about Lamoni’s covenant and its after-effects. When you put it together with the Ammon’s psalm, we have a very thorough and beautiful record.”

Abish knit her dark brows together, “So what more can I possibly add?”

Alma leaned forward, his intense gray eyes burrowing into hers. “Stories of kings being converted through miracles and signs and huge numbers of people following suit is very exciting. I am sure that for generations your people and my people will understand this short record as some of the most telling about the power of missionary work. That is why the record is very good. But it is missing something.”

“My story?” Her tone challenged the prophet to make her understand.

“You know my own redemptive journey had a very rocky start?” She nodded. “Indeed Himni or any of his brothers would have told you that part of our life. The visit from that angel was seen by many as a miracle. But to me, the real miracle is what took place in my soul in the days that followed. I know God can snatch a man from the very jaws of Hell and redeem him if he will but decide to follow. The real story of the gospel is not a record of how many thousand men uttered Lamoni’s covenant and buried their weapons; it is one man who loves God so much he would risk all he has in faith to never again disobey the commandments. Can you see what I say Abish?”

She nodded slowly, “I think so.”

“The mission of the sons of Mosiah is not just about a missionary with great charisma and a king with a way of influencing thousands, it is also about a slave girl who prayed in faith every night for years that God would somehow redeem her people so that the mission of her father might be fulfilled.”

She said quietly, “It is about one sincere heart being turned over to God and then remade slowly and painfully into his image.”

“Exactly!”

“Where should I start?”

“Begin with your father’s vision.”

The interview lasted through much of the afternoon. As she told details of her story, she realized just how much she had experienced. She thought of memories long buried. It felt good to share her trials of faith and overcoming with such a sympathetic listener. She wondered if judgment day would be like this. Instead of weighing your deeds on a balance, Christ would simply ask you to tell about your journey. If your journey showed that you learned from your mistakes instead of continually repeating them, your life would be acceptable to the Lord and his atonement would take care of all the mistakes you made while you were learning. It was a nice idea.

As they finished she felt a little sheepish as she saw the pages he scrawled through. “It is rather long; I am afraid you will not be able to include much.”

Alma shrugged. “It is a good story. And our record is sparse with the stories of women. It wasn’t this way in the ancient scriptures. I think your story can benefit many.”

“Do you really think that this record will be read for generations?”

“Actually, I think it will be read very little in our time, or even the time of our great grandchildren. God has revealed to me a little bit about the history of our people. I cannot share all that I know, but I will tell you the record will not survive like this.” He gestured around the room. “It will continue to be passed through prophet to prophet until there are no more righteous Nephites to give these sacred things to. At that time, the record will be abridged, to keep the most essential parts. The abridgement will resurface many, many generations from now in a land far distant. It is that people who will then learn of us and our struggles.”

She was silent for a moment as she thought of what terrible thing could happen for there to be no more righteous Nephites. For a moment, she caught the vaguest glimpse of the end of a great nation—a nation she had adopted as her own and its blood that now flowed in the veins of her children. She then thought of the best way to formulate her question. She could see that he was waiting patiently for it, so she decided to go ahead, “Does it get discouraging sometimes—keeping such a faithful and careful record when you know that much will be taken out?”

Alma shrugged, “Yes. It does. I would not be human if I said otherwise. But I have also been blessed to see much of how this story ends and I know that the record is the most important thing I can do. The preservation, of even a portion of it, is vital. If the world is to be prepared for a time when Christ will come to reign personally over the earth, then the world must have this record.”

“With my story in it.” She said very quietly and with no small measure of awe.

“Yes, sister, with your story in it.” It was Alma who hesitated this time, but Abish knew that he wasn’t finished, so she waited. “I feel impressed to tell you that your story is not at an end. There will yet be many experiences to try your faith. These few years have been a season of joy, and a time of rest for the faithful. Even now the Lamanite hatred builds toward our blessedness and the resentment will again boil over. In the meantime, the Nephite army is preparing and watching. We will not be caught unawares, but the mourning of our women during the last Lamanite war is nothing compared to the wails that will rise to the heavens in the coming years. I do not know the outcome, but I know the Ammonites will play a critical role in that result. Carry these experiences in your heart so that you are strong enough to face the darkness that will most surely come.”

Abish’s eyes teared and she nodded. A dark pall was suddenly cast over the afternoon, and she was unsure if she was thankful for the warning or not. With the mood still over them, he stood and showed her to the front door. She turned very suddenly, realizing that for years she had hoped to find a private opportunity to tell the prophet something, but had never found the chance. In that moment it became very urgent that she not leave it unsaid, “I never thanked you for calling my spirit back to my body.”

“When Armac was born.”

She nodded, “I was dead, you know. I was headed far from this life without a backward thought. I then heard your voice, calling me back. Himni later told me you happened to be in town that terrible day and came to see how we were, only to find a mourning husband, a wailing baby and a dead wife. But even before he told me that it was your voice in the blessing, I knew.”

“Himni did not ask for a miracle that day. He only asked that I give him and the newborn a blessing of comfort. But the Lord told me otherwise.”

“He told me otherwise too when I tried to ignore the prophet and go to Him.”

“What was it like?”

“Heaven?” Alma nodded and Abish was silent for a moment. Trying, as she allowed herself to do very occasionally, to capture any memory from those few brief moments in the presence of the Savior. She shook her head after a moment. “When my father told me of the gospel, I was so happy that it took me some time to give a word to how I felt.”

“Peace.”

“Yes. That is the very word I found. Being in the presence of God was the same feeling, only greater, more intense. I think those spiritual experiences we have here are just tastes of the feast waiting for us. Even after I came back to my body, I didn’t fully come back for a long time. Himni had to remind me that my mission was unfinished here before I could accept the will of the Lord. I so wanted to go with him that day.” Her voice cracked slightly.

“I can understand that.”

Abish looked at him closely as he said these simple words. He did not appear to be sick or have lost any of the vigor he possessed when she first met him, but she said, “I’m never going to see you again, am I?”

Alma smiled gently and shook his head, “I don’t think so. May you be likewise blessed at the end of your mortal probation to see so clearly when it is time to tie up loose ends and make your final preparation.”

She leaned up and kissed both his cheeks after the manner of Lamanite women, “Then go with God, dear prophet. May he take you to his bosom where you will rest in the peace he has promised to the righteous.”

“And one day I will see you there too.”


She turned without a goodbye and left his house. The bright sunlight on the street was garish and almost cold after the gentle warmth of Alma’s house. She murmured a few greetings to neighbors and acquaintances as she made her way through the crowds back to her own home. As she pulled back the heavy rug into her home, she saw Himni cheering the baby as he took some eager steps forward. At the same time, her little daughter was preparing some lumpy corn cakes. Armac was sitting at the small writing desk practicing his uneven characters while his father congratulated him for his excellent work. The spirit leaped in her heart and she felt a measure of that joyful peace she had just spoken to Alma about. The baby saw her first and he toddled rapidly toward her babbling with joy, his arms outstretched.

She picked up her little son, buried her head in his neck and kissed him while he giggled. She would have her season of joy now, and she would look for joyful moments later. She would prepare her family so one day they would be part of that wonderful mass of Saints pushing toward the light that was the Lord over the Earth. A single redeemed soul could indeed affect the lives of untold generations, and she would work every day of her life to praise the Lord for His wisdom for once sending a remarkable vision to a man whose only convert would be his daughter.

Chapter 29—I’ll Go Where You Want Me to Go

They spent many more months in Amulek’s home. Abish’s recovery was slow and young Armac was used to his nurse. Abish was never able to be a mother to him in that sense, but she still spent many hours each day holding him. As he became more mobile Abish was able to move also. It seemed she relearned to do everything the same time her child did—sitting on her own, eating, even walking. By the time he was just over a year, Abish was ready to travel.

Although she and Himni had once talked about Zarahemla, she now found herself impatient to see her friends in Jershon, but such a thing was not possible. The Lamanites had likewise spent the past year gathering strength and were now embroiled in a war against the Nephites just south of Jershon. Abish could see her husband’s desire to go and stand with his brethren, but Alma had said calmly, “There are plenty of soldiers, my friend, but your skills are needed elsewhere. This people will survive, but where will they be if there is no leadership for their church?”

Abish understood his frustration; the only family she had ever really known was at the center of the conflict and it could certainly not be easy for them. The Nephites had agreed to the defense of Jershon, knowing the covenant most of the Anti-Nephi-Lehies had entered into. And although Abish knew there had been many guarantees about the financial support those in Jershon would lend to Zarahemla, this new land had yet to generate a senine of income for the Nephite nation to help with their defense.

When she was well, they traveled to Zarahemla. Alma was often gone and needed someone to help lead the church in his stead. Abish bid a tearful farewell to Shona and thanked her profoundly for the love she had shown. There were few other friends to say goodbye too. In the time they had lived with Amulek, Abish had spent much of her time indoors. She walked through the city that last morning with fond feelings, wondering how many of the unknown sisters in those homes had served her and prayed for her, even when she was unaware they were doing it. She squeezed Himni’s hand while he adjusted the sleeping Armac on his back and they headed once more into the unknown.

Zarahemla was a bigger city than Melek, but no larger than Ishmael. Although its size initially overwhelmed her after her quiet existence of the last year, she adjusted very quickly. The other believers were as friendly as they had been in Melek and many people remembered Himni as a boy and were happy to have him in their midst. Himni was a compassionate leader and Abish knew he did much good for the church.

The thing that surprised Abish the most were the number of non-believers living in Zarahemla. In the Land of Nephi, those that didn’t believe usually moved to other cities. The believers in those cities then moved to Ishmael or Middoni or Helam. But in this land, Abish had many neighbors that were not part of the church. Some of them were friendly: others were antagonistic. Himni laughed at her surprise, “Abish, surely you didn’t think all Nephites were believers. Why, you know the story of my brothers and Alma and how we led many away.”

“I just assumed that when you came back, many others came with you.”

“Many did. But many had been far out of the church long before we were. Look at Zaria’s people. They were so resistant to the teachings of the church that they began a new city and religion in Lamanite lands with their perversions of the Law of Moses. The Amalekites weren’t the first to do so and certainly won’t be the last. In fact, about the same time we came to this land there was a man named Zoram who gained quite a following preaching a new brand of religion. He has settled some of the area south of Jershon with his new converts and has begun to blend his religion with other fringe groups living over there.”

“Perhaps I was naïve to think it would be different, but I just don’t get it.”

“Don’t get what?”

“Well, the Lamanites have some excuse for not believing—we had the terrible traditions of our fathers to overcome. But the Nephites! How can some of them behave the way they do when they are surrounded by the truth? The very reason their country runs with so much peace and goodwill is because of the gospel. How can they so take for granted the blessings of the Lord that they won’t even recognize his hand?”

Himni shrugged, “The Lord still gives us our agency.” His voice lowered and he said gently, “Even all your wonderful kinsmen in Jershon: how long do you think they will all hold to the faith?” Abish sat down hard; she had never considered this before. Himni spoke even more gently. “The Ammonites have been through a lot—except for the children, most of those in the church remember a time when they did not have the gospel. They remember the horror of the human sacrifice. They remember the day that thousands of believers were slaughtered. They will never forget their long exodus of this past year. They will never forget hearing Ammon preach. But what of their children and grandchildren who will probably know little but the complacency of peace and freedom to worship? What will remind them of the many sacrifices of their fathers?”

“They must be taught.”

Himni nodded and added, “But some will still choose to learn by their own difficult experiences what is right and what is wrong.”

Abish nodded slowly and patted Himni’s arm, “And some who choose poorly will come back.”

He smiled and kissed the top of her head, “I thank the Lord every day for repentance.”


The first Lamanite war of that time ended with much slaughter on both sides, but the Lamanites were repelled. Loss to the Nephites had also been great, but it seemed peace had been purchased. It would take the Lamanites some time to rebuild and rekindle the anger that led them north to begin with. Abish finally journeyed with Armac to Jershon when a road was built. To her surprise, she was just in time to deliver Zaria and Aaron’s first child, and there was much rejoicing all around. For although there was not an official queen in the land of Jershon, there were many who still saw Zaria in that light. Gifts poured in from around the land and from the quality and abundance of them, Abish could see the people had prospered. Her brother was well and happy; he and Sasha had begun a second family themselves. The sorrow of her firstborn’s death would never truly leave her eyes, but she had found a good life. Abish felt her heart torn between Zarahemla and Jershon, so she and Himni found themselves splitting their time between the two cities, traveling to wherever Alma needed Himni to work in the church. Abish still delivered babies often, although not as much as she once had.

To Himni’s great distress, Abish became pregnant again. Despite the difficulties of the first, the second progressed as any other normal pregnancy. The baby girl came with no complications and Abish was finally able to push away memories of the first difficult months after Armac’s birth and replace it with the joy her daughter brought to them.

The Zoramite group Himni once told her of had made a clean enough break with the Nephites that Alma feared they would soon ally themselves to the Lamanites. He decided to lead a mission to preach to them, in an effort to reclaim some of them for the sake of their souls and for Nephite safety. Although it would be some years before the force was strong enough to attack again, the Lamanites seemed to be preparing for battle anyway—gathering weapons and reinforcements from conquered tribes far to the south. Groups on the border unfriendly to the Nephites were always worrisome.

They were in Jershon when Alma recruited Himni’s brothers one by one to join him. Yet he didn’t come to Himni. Abish sensed that her husband was tense over this development. She said to him, “Maybe he just assumes you will go.”

“I would be ready to go if he needed me. But why would he talk to each of my brothers individually and just assume that I knew to come? They prepare to leave in just two weeks and I don’t even know if I should pack.”

“Would it be so bad to stay?” Abish asked gently with a slight smile. She was with child again, but not very far along. Himni did not know; she was waiting to tell him after they knew whether Alma would ask Himni to serve a mission. She did not want him to stay back for her—not this time. She was healthy now and she wanted him to put the Lord first.

Himni smiled, “Of course not. I just want the Lord’s prophet to know that I am ready to go if and when he needs me.”

“I am sure the Lord knows; that will maybe have to be enough for a time.”

He leaned over to kiss her cheek, “You always seem to say the right thing. I’ll be patient.”

Alma did indeed have plans for her husband. He wanted Himni to stay behind and be in charge of the church in Zarahemla. Himni felt the weight of the responsibility very heavily and spent many hours on his knees. Abish appreciated his sincere humility more than she could say, but she also knew that it was this very thing that prepared him for his calling.

They said goodbye to the band of missionaries before traveling to Zarahemla. Although Himni knew the right choice had been made, Abish could still sense his wistfulness as he said goodbye, in turn to Alma, Ammon, Aaron, Omner, and two of Alma’s sons. Amulek and his friend Zeezrom would be joining them in just a few days. She stood back slightly as Ammon hugged and pumped his brother on the back. They were both teary-eyed. Ammon said quietly, “I am not quite sure how I will serve a mission without you.”

“We have been apart much in recent years.” Himni countered.

“But a mission is different. To be a great missionary, a man needs to be surrounded by his best companions.”

Himni pushed him back and smiled, “Yet you went alone to the land of Ishmael and so began the greatest work in our whole history.”

Ammon looked past Himni to where Abish stood, holding her daughter while Armac clung to her skirts. “That wasn’t my idea, it was hers.” He nodded toward her and Abish smiled quietly at this important bond they had shared since the day they first spoke to one another.

“By the way, have I thanked you for finding her?” Himni said.

“Only about a hundred times.”

“Then I’ll just say it once more for good measure.”

“No need. I am glad the Lord led me to her as well. Everything is different for thousands of people, and for us, because of her faith. Be good to her.”

“Of course.”

They hugged again and the rest of the goodbyes were brief. Abish was silent for some minutes after the departure before saying, “There are many ways to serve a mission.”

Himni laced his fingers through hers, “I know,” though there was a tone in his voice that wasn’t very convincing.

“The church needs you here. And the Zoramites need them there.”

“I have accepted it. I still don’t feel prepared for it, but I have accepted that it is God’s will.”

“Which is precisely why you will do such a good job. If I know anybody who will put himself aside so the Lord can do His work then it is you.” They walked in companionable silence for some minutes when she queried,”Do you think they will have much luck?”

Himni shrugged, “I don’t know. The Zoramites are a prideful people with a lot of material wealth. The few poor among them, mostly people that were already in the land before they arrived, have been shockingly treated. They have perverted true worship and only allowed the very wealthy to participate. There are even rumors that there is a woman there who has set herself up as some kind of prophetess, reviving ancient, terrible, practices that were part of the old world. While some might regard her as a receiver of some kind of truth, she is little more than a harlot—selling her body and the bodies of her followers for money in exchange for a supposed spiritual uplift. . . no, Abish, I do not know if they will have much success among the Zoramites.”

“Still, you never can say who will accept the gospel and change their lives because of it.” Himni nodded and it was quiet for several more minutes while they were both lost in their own thoughts of those who had, against all odds, come to the fold of God. Abish observed, “It seems that those who once had the truth are much harder to convince than those who never had it.”

“I agree completely. I don’t know if I ever told you of the time Aaron and I tried to preach in the city of Jerusalem?” Abish shook her head and Himni began sharing stories from the early days of his mission, before she knew him. It had taken fifteen years, but now he could laugh about an experience that had nearly cost him his life.