The Road to Middoni: Misreading 1 Nephi 4 (Part III)

Each time a missionary companionship would “fail” one of these pivotal encounters (and I, in turn, would back away from the precipice of doubt long enough to restore the missionaries’ self-confidence and prepare them for a redo appointment with a much less adamant Salvatore), I would talk to them about how Salvatore was misreading 1 Nephi 4. Perhaps deliberately so. We would discuss how that level of antagonism, especially in someone with whom they already have a relationship, often indicates deeper concerns. I advised them that next time, when they ran into something like this where a concern about something sidetracked everything else, to start asking their investigator, with love and humility, if they had experienced setbacks in living any of the commandments or in keeping any of their other commitments.

Fundamentally, that advice was good advice. It was true. Preach My Gospel even had an illustrative image of an iceberg to make just that point. But if asking my missionaries my tough gospel questions was an act of naive faith that placed great hope on their calling and spiritual sensitivity, my sidestepping of the fundamental issue was surely an act of cowardice. By letting them believe Salvatore was misreading 1 Nephi 4, I allowed them to forget about his doubt and move on in their studies and practices, but I did not think Salvatore’s reading was wrong at all. At least, I had no compelling evidence to the contrary.

Years passed, and I continued to ponder this chapter, looking to the chapters that precede and follow to augment my understanding. I began to read the Old Testament to better glimpse the actions and expectations of Nephi’s time. I tentatively began dialogues with close friends to see if they, like my missionaries, would try on this problem and come up with a more satisfying solution than I had.

Most importantly, I began to repent of my own sins, serve faithfully in the church, and change habits and actions that would keep the Spirit from being my constant companion. I recognized that the distance I felt from the scriptures, the church, and its teaching had one of two possible sources.

1. The church was not actually true, or some part of it was not actually true, and that my sadness came from my intellectual realization of the facts. The prospective possibility of leaving a culture (and likely being left by a family) I loved so well was forming a core of depression I could no longer ignore. OR
2. The church and its teachings were true, but my viewing of pornography, evil speaking of the Lord’s anointed, pride in my own understanding, and any other unholy or unclean action I chose to do distanced me from the divine presence that could buoy me up. My sadness came from that distance from God, a distance I had created.

I had no logical reason to decide one hypothesis was more right than another. If I truly wanted to eliminate all uncertainty, I had no choice but to repent, live worthily, and continue to ask questions of the Lord with confidence that no action of mine would prevent my hearing the answer.

As I explored the marvelous power of the Atonement to bind up my wounds and give me the strength to confess my sins to those whom I had wronged, I began once again to feel the Lord’s presence in my life. I did everything I was asked to do, from semiannual membership audits to taking youth across state lines to the temple. I studied and prayed. Now, I thought, I could begin my quest for truth again.

I prayed for answers and comfort. Most of all, I asked to be guided to that which was true. I looked upon the problem of 1 Nephi 4 with new, more humble, eyes, keenly aware of both human beings’ penchant towards damning imperfection and our Heavenly Father’s supreme love, manifested through his son, Jesus Christ, despite (or perhaps because of!) our imperfection. Time and again he not only deigns to use us, broken vessels that we are, to achieve his purposes, but he also seems to relish the opportunity.

To be continued next week