An Instrument in His Hands

Part 2 Chapter 13

Part 2

74 BC

Chapter 13

Many of the poor left the city to farm lands on the dry highlands closer to the mountains that surrounded the Land of Antionum. There they planted corn and beans and squash.

‘I can teach you how to make a mighty good corn cake,’ I told my friends.

‘Then come with us. We will still need a good teacher for our children.’

That is how I came to move away from the city Antionum. Our people spread all over the vast valley, so I established several schools for them to gather in, using my former pupils as teachers. Each week I travelled to each school to supervise the advanced learning. In this way I came to reach a great many more of the poor, to educate and bless their lives.

God was good to me, in extending my influence. I walked many miles and made many more friends, each night hosted by a family of one of my students. Their parents asked me to tell stories of Zarahemla, so I told them stories from our history that I found in the holy word of God. In this way, I was truly a missionary at last.

With the demise of the rice god, people became interested in religion. As I was passing by on the south of the City, I heard that a curious man had come to Antionum and was preaching in the central marketplace. He was dumb, so he would write out his words for someone else to speak for him.

‘He says that the God of the Nephites made him dumb. I have to see this for myself!’ one woman exclaimed to me.

I followed her.

‘I too am a believer in the Christ,’ I shared with her.

‘Like the Lamanites who settled over the mountain?’ she huffed as she hurried.

‘Yes,’ I told her.

‘There was one preaching on the north side of the valley last week.’

My heart quickened. I often wondered why I did not walk over the mountains and make contact with my fellow believers, but I could not bring myself to do so and chance making myself known to Aaron. I wanted him to live his life with his family. I only wished for his happiness. Yet, how nice it would be to meet some fellow believers!

Many of my Zoramite hosts believed the stories that I read to them from our history. They had heard them as children before they came to Antionum. But their children had not heard them and I wanted to make sure that they knew from whence they came.

I quickened my footsteps. Perhaps this strange preacher was a fellow Christian!

Large crowds were gathered to hear him – or rather to hear someone read for him. Many rich Zoramites came to hear him also. I pressed closer so that I could hear his words.

He wrote them. Another man, a Zoramite, shouted them out. ‘Countrymen! Like you, I was an enemy to Christ! I successfully challenged the Nephite establishment and had many followers! I was arrested for preaching in the Land of Jershon!’

A cheer went up from the crowd.

‘I was challenged when I visited the Land of Gideon! They bound me and brought me before their judges! But I had done nothing against their laws! So, I was brought before the head of the Christians, Alma!’

I sucked in my breath – Alma!

‘I withstood him – until he evoked the power of God. I said, “Yes, show me a sign and I will believe!” My sign was to be dumb! You witness here that I have not the power to speak! I testify that I was deceived by the Devil! I testify that God lives! I testify that Jesus is the Christ!’

The crowd went wild. As one, the Zoramite rich rushed at him and I could see him no more.

But he had spoken of the Christ!

I surged forward, caught by the furious crowd. When they at last dispersed, I looked for this man who had dared to testify of Christ in Antionum.

He lay on the ground – trampled. I knelt down and took his wrist to check for a pulse. It was feeble. I put my ear to his mouth to listen for breath. ‘What is your name?’ I asked.

Slowly he reached into his robe and pulled out some parchment. ‘Korihor,’ it read along with other writings.

‘Thank you, Korihor,’ I told him. ‘I too know there is a Christ.’

Then he stopped breathing.

I looked about and saw that he had a bowl sitting beside the place where he preached, for money. The contents lay on the cobblestones. He was preaching for money? How odd.

I looked about me. Was there nobody to care that this man had perished? Who would bury him? Could the money he earned be used for that purpose?

I went to see Andrew.

‘You stink,’ he said upon greeting me.

‘I’ve travelled,’ I explained. ‘Andrew, there is a dead man on the street, and he has this money to bury him with. Can you arrange for his burial?’

He lifted his head. ‘I don’t take care of charity cases. That is your venue.’

‘Have you no compassion?’

‘You have enough for the both of us.’

I felt so sorry for my brother. He’d spent his whole life running from the Lord. And what did he have? Feathers. Riches. A proud wife. All the things my mother would have liked him to have.

I, on the other hand, was rich with love, and friends, and the knowledge of the Lord.

I gave Andrew the money. ‘I must go back to my work. You see that this man is buried. Do it for me.’

And I left him.