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Genesis 21:6 And Sarah said, God hath made me to laugh. (KJV) Hagar had her baby boy, and Sarai watched as the child drew its first breath, then cried, nursed, calmed, and fell asleep. And Hagar also cried for joy and for tiredness, and then she fell asleep too. And while Hagar slept, Sarai took the child, and held him against her chest, and wished it had been hers. She ran her hand over his belly. She straightened his curled fingers and put her thumb against his jaw. The body was too perfect. She couldn’t look into his eyes. Because in the eyes she knew she’d see God’s promise fulfilled. Fulfilled without her. And so she shook her head and closed her eyes and set the baby back into the arms of his sleeping mother. This was not her boy. It was silly to pretend. He was Hagar’s to love, Hagar’s to raise. Sarai’s own servant had replaced her. God had cut her out of the family. She was the tiniest, most insignificant footnote in God’s big, beautiful story. Worse than a footnote. Sarai was a speed bump. One of the people who got in the way. Sarai didn’t want to be in the way any longer. So she stepped aside and watched that night as the family continued without her. She watched as Abram snuggled, held, and kissed the baby. The promised child, at last. Abram looked into his eyes and sure enough, he saw what Sarai had feared. He called the boy Ishmael, and Ishmael grew tall and strong. And Abram was content, believing God’s promise was fulfilled. But there were more prayers and plans and purposes than Abram’s. When Sarai turned 90 years old, God spoke again and said, “Abram, you have misunderstood. This prophecy, it was never just about you. It was always about Sarai, too. You will be a father to nations, but Sarai will be the mother.” Abram laughed. “Sarai is so old. It’s way, way, way too late for her to have a baby.” When Sarai found out, she laughed, too. But her laugh was not just in disbelief. It was a harsh, bitter laugh, full of so many years of hurt and sorrow and disappointment because Abram was right. It was too late. God’s promise was made decades ago. And if her womb was dried up then, it was desolate now, drier than the driest desert. “She is not too old,” God said, “and neither are you.” And right then and there, God gave Abram and Sarai new names. Even though they were almost a hundred years old, God was treating them like brand-new babies. “I will call you Abraham and Sarah,” said God. “You are not old. You are not old at all. You are newborns, my little children, my newlyweds, my growing family.” And sure enough, even though Sarah was 90 years old, she became pregnant. She couldn’t believe it. But then she felt the quickening, the holy moving and hiccuping and living happening inside of her, and she laughed again, a shocked, delighted laugh. And the laugh was not without some tears — of hope, of relief. She laughed in her old age. She laughed as she grew older and rounder. She laughed all the way into her ninth month. And her laughter drew from the well of her sorrows — a hole that was deep, so very deep, but reached a source that was cold and pure as spring water. And each laugh drew from deeper places until when she laughed her stomach contracted, and the birth began. It hurt as her old body strained. But as the child was pushed out, the feeling deepened in pain and in sacredness. It was purifying her soul, like the deepest laughter of all. And then she screamed and gasped. And there was the baby. And Abraham stared in astonishment at his tiny, chubby fists that bent tightly around his papery, wrinkled fingers. The boy was named Isaac, which means son of laughter. And the laughter continued. Sarah laughed watching her boy nurse, and then sleep, and wake with fluttering eyes. She laughed softly as he cuddled into her. She laughed as he grew fat and toddled across the floor, stumbling and tripping. He was her joy of joys. And laughter filled his childhood. It was as primitive to his life as breath itself. And the laughter remains in the air today, a sound like an angel’s music that fills all of eternity. It is the sound your mother made when you were born. It is the sound your father made the first time you smiled. It is the sound of hopes realized, promises fulfilled, and joy overflowing. We laugh, we laugh, we laugh. To purchase a hard copy of The Bible Storybook: The Old Testament, visit ForLittleSaints.com To access the complete audiobook of The Bible Storybook: The Old Testament, become a Friend of Faith Matters by subscribing at FaithMatters.org/subscribe. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.faithmatters.org/subscribe

Genesis 15:5 And he brought him outside and said, “Look toward heaven, and number the stars, if you are able to number them.” Then he said to him, “So shall your offspring be.” (ESV) Abram and Sarai were the family God chose to build his city. But they were just learning what that meant. It didn’t mean they got all the best stuff. Quite the opposite. They’d given all the good stuff away. Abram and Sarai did not get the best farmland or grazing pastures. They did not get the newest toys or the biggest homes. Instead, they lived on a scrubby little farm growing scrubby little crops. And God promised to preserve this land for them and their descendants forever. Now, it might not seem all that great to be promised mediocre land forever and ever and ever. But Abram and Sarai were going to make the most of what they had. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t all terrible. There were even some really nice trees in one spot. So that’s where they decided to live and work. And they did work. And work. And work and work and work. They worked so hard because they had to. Or else they’d starve. And while Abram and Sarai had to carefully plow the earth and place seeds in the dirt and water the land to get even small sprouts to appear, Lot’s family could throw seeds into the wind, and wherever they landed, they grew tall and bright. And the family of Lot looked at the green growth and the streams of water and praised God. “Thank you for giving us this practically perfect land!” they said. And they thought, “We are the lucky ones.” But good land is easy to covet. And before long, several armies had arrived to take the land from Lot and his family. And Lot and his wife and his daughters were captured and carried away as prisoners, and they would have been sold into slavery if Abram hadn’t run to rescue them. And after Abram’s daring rescue, Lot’s family returned to their beautifully fertile land, and Abram returned to his scorched, brown world. But he didn’t feel even a little sorry for himself. On the contrary, he thought he was the lucky one. God had given them this land forever because bad land is safe land. Armies don’t fight over wasteland. So while it was harder to grow food, God was protecting them and their future children from other people, armies, and jealousies. This way, they would never be captured, or carried away as prisoners, or sold into slavery. “This is exactly why it pays to follow God,” Abram thought. “Because God is smart and wise and far-sighted. He will always keep us safe, thank goodness.” But that night, God visited Abram in his dreams. “Abram,” said God, “I have something to show you.” And God showed Abram that even though he had bad land, that still wasn’t going to keep his family safe. In fact, his descendants would be forced into slavery. And they’d remain slaves for 400 years. His family would suffer injustice and inhumanity, hunger and humiliation. This wasn’t a dream, it was a nightmare! And a very confusing nightmare at that. What was the point of following God if it didn’t make life safer or simpler? “God,” thought Abram, “you don’t make this easy.” God just smiled. “I haven’t finished,” he said. “After 400 years, they will escape and be free again. And they will be wealthy but not just with money. They will be rich with things like knowledge and experience. They will remember their slavery. And they will invent new ways for how to treat people. They will write new laws that encourage honesty, fairness, kindness, and charity. Laws that challenge the powerful and give resources to the poor. Laws that treat everyone with dignity, because they will believe that all people deserve freedom, even the poorest and most insignificant. And they will build societies that try to live by these laws. And they will have to work hard, very hard. And they will fail a lot. But eventually, they will create a new nation. My nation. And this family, community, city, nation — they will change the world.” Abram woke from his dream with a gasp. And he realized two things that were definitely, absolutely true. First, with or without God, life was always going to be full of pain and sorrow and unfairness. There was no getting around it. Following God wasn’t going to solve all his problems or his children’s problems. It wouldn’t make him lucky or unlucky. Second, being lucky or unlucky wasn’t the point. You don’t follow God because it makes your life easy or protects you from hurt or unfairness or blisters or burns. It doesn’t. God wasn’t trying to make some people rich and others poor. God was building a family. A city. A city that was like a family where people would take care of each other. And they’d help the poor, comfort the sad, and make sure everyone had food to eat and friends to play with. And living this way would make bad luck less scary and good luck less necessary. Because people would always be there to help, no matter what. And God explained that Abram was going to be the father of this family. And soon he’d have tons and tons of children. Abram could see them now. This family would grow and grow with babies becoming children becoming adults becoming parents having more babies and more babies and more babies, no end in sight. There would be more people than there is sand on the beach. And they would grow bigger, and kinder, and better. Each person sharing their light with each other until they lit up the night sky, like a canopy of a million, billion, trillion stars. This was going to be one large, forever-growing family. There was just one problem. Abram and Sarai couldn’t get pregnant. To purchase a hard copy of The Bible Storybook: The Old Testament, visit ForLittleSaints.com To access the complete audiobook of The Bible Storybook: The Old Testament, become a Friend of Faith Matters by subscribing at FaithMatters.org/subscribe. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.faithmatters.org/subscribe

Genesis 11:4 they said, “Come, let us build ourselves a city, with a tower that reaches to the heavens. (NIV) If you’ve been reading this book, you’ve probably noticed that ever since Adam and Eve left the garden, the world has not seemed like a very safe place. First, there were thorns and predators. Then one person was killed. Then people started growing old and dying. Then wars started, and tons of people died. And then, out of nowhere, the world filled with water, and the huge flood killed pretty much everything. The only survivors were the animals and plants on Noah’s boat. And so the family of Noah started all over. And they grew and grew into a town, then a city, then a nation, which is when they decided to build a tower. A tall tower that was more of a ladder. It was a tall, tall ladder that they could use to climb right out of the world and into heaven. “Because in heaven,” they thought, “there are no wars, or tornadoes, or murder, or death or dying. Because God is there. And God will keep everyone safe.” In heaven, the people would be protected from thorns, predators, bad ideas, other people, and, of course, floods. The people really didn’t want to drown in any more floods. And so they started building, floor by floor. And the higher they got, the more excited they became. “Look how tiny the trees are from here!” they said. “We can almost touch the clouds.” How much further will they have to build? They must nearly be there. Maybe God was on top of the next cloud. But soon enough, they were through the clouds and still no heaven and no God. And so they kept building. And building. And building. Soon, they thought, we will be in heaven and we will knock on God’s door and say, ‘Hello there! Can we stay with you?’” And they imagined seeing God and how he would respond. He would certainly be proud of them for finding their way back home and maybe even a little impressed. But God was not proud of them, though he was a little impressed. Working together, they managed to build a most remarkable skyscraper. It was an architectural triumph. There was something so right about what they were doing. They were looking for heaven. And they were doing it by working together. But there was something very wrong about why they were doing it. The whole grand endeavor was being motivated by fear. Fear of the world. And fear of death. And while they thought they were running towards God, they were running away from him as well. Because God did not live in the sky. He was not hiding behind a cloud. Heaven was not up there at all. It was going to be built here, on the beautiful earth God had created. And so God wanted his children to stop building a ladder to climb to heaven, and to start building heaven, on the very world they were trying to escape. God didn’t want them to fear the world, or to run away. He needed his children to face their fears. To love the world so they could help fix it. They didn’t need to run back to God, because he was coming for them. Because heaven was not a destination in the sky, but a project. It was a community built not with bricks but with people. This big tower was getting in the way of what they ought to be building. And what they ought to be building was a community. And this community would grow sideways, not upwards. It would stretch wider and wider, spreading across the entire world. It would include all kinds of people with all kinds of different ideas and experiences. And together, they would build not one thing, but millions. They would produce food and purify water. They would build schools for children and universities for adults. They’d build cities and write books and discover planets and molecules and equations. They’d overcome famine and war and disease. They’d save plants and animals and each other from floods, hurricanes, and extinction. They’d bless the world in thousands of different ways, with millions of different people using their billions of different talents. They’d do so much, learn so much, and accomplish so much more than building a tall tower. But to do this, they needed to understand not just the power of unity but also the blessing of differences. They didn’t need just one goal, or a master architect, or a king, or a CEO. They needed to learn how to fit together, and be together, and disagree together, and forgive together, and love together so they could keep living together forever. Then God had an idea. He would help the family of Noah remember their differences. So God performed a miracle. While everyone was sleeping, he changed their languages. When people woke up and went to work in the morning, they found that some of them spoke English, while others spoke Mandarin, Russian, Malaise, French, Vietnamese, and Zulu. And just like that, the people stopped building the tower because they could not understand each other. The brick makers were using centimeters while the bricklayers were using inches. The mortar mixers didn’t make enough mortar. People no longer fit so nicely into owners and workers, supervisors and laborers, bricklayers and brick makers. Because the bricklayer was no longer just a bricklayer. They all spoke different languages, and some of them were also mothers, aunts, knitters, and runners as well. The mortar mixers were no longer just mortar mixers. They all had different dialects and different hobbies. Some played chess, others checkers, and others were soccer enthusiasts. And the architects were not just architects. They communicated differently, and some were also grandparents, painters, and cheese connoisseurs. They were all so incredibly different. But instead of learning to deal with each other as the full, complex individuals they all were, they just gave up. How could they talk together with so many different languages? How could they solve problems with so many different opinions? How could they achieve new heights with so many different perspectives? And so, instead of learning to work together, instead of harnessing the power of their different skills, backgrounds, and perspectives, they split apart. And instead of building heaven on earth, they created armies and walls and fences. And they split up into different groups and ran away from each other. And over the next thousand years, the tower decayed and crumbled, and then all at once it fell, collapsed, and pounded the earth with so much fury that it almost seemed angry to have been left unfinished. And in its place, the people began to build new cities and new empires. They fought over land and killed each other for water. And they divided into countries and continents. And it seemed like the earth had never been further from heaven. And God decided that if he was ever going to help his children build heaven on earth, he’d have to start with a single family. And he would teach that family to care for each other, and to not turn away or be afraid when people were different or confusing or inconvenient. And that family would grow and fill the whole earth. And as they grew wider and wider, heart by heart, generation upon generation, they would stretch nearer and nearer to heaven. Until at last they would realize that they were themselves the tower. God’s tower. And he was already there with them, welcoming them home. To purchase a hard copy of The Bible Storybook: The Old Testament, visit ForLittleSaints.com To access the complete audiobook of The Bible Storybook: The Old Testament, become a Friend of Faith Matters by subscribing at FaithMatters.org/subscribe. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.faithmatters.org/subscribe

Genesis 4:7 If you do what is right, will you not be accepted? (NIV) Life after Eden was even harder than Eve or Adam could have imagined. Eve got pregnant and gave birth to one boy and then another. And they named them Cain and Abel. And while childbirth was so, so, so hard, it still wasn’t as hard as raising children. Because although children are adorable and snuggly and delightful, they are also a lot of work. For example, when their baby Abel got a stomachache, he stayed up all night crying. So in the morning, Eve and Adam were very tired and a little grumpy. And because they were tired and grumpy, they quarreled over whose turn it was to change his diaper. And they spent the whole day feeling tired and grumpy and angry at each other until finally they apologized during dinner. And though apologizing seems easy enough, it wasn’t. Like everything about living in this world, it was surprisingly difficult. In the Garden, Adam and Eve never had to cook a meal. They simply plucked berries from thornless bushes, fruits from short trees, and honey from stingless bees. But in the world, the bushes all had thorns, and the trees were tall and rough, and the bees had stingers. Getting food was not so simple anymore. But even after bloodying their hands plucking berries, and skinning their knees climbing trees, and getting stung on their face trying to retrieve honey, they were still hungry. The harder they worked to gather food, the more food they needed. The sweet berries, fruit, and honey were not enough. Have you ever seen a lamb? It’s white, and fluffy, and oh so cuddly. Well, it’s something else as well. It’s tasty. And Adam and Eve were getting hungrier and hungrier. They needed fats, proteins, and meat to feed their hard-working bodies. And looking at the sheep, they started to salivate. Pretty soon, they were meat eaters. And God taught them a ritual, so they would never forget the preciousness of life and the cost of survival. They had to give some of their sheep back to God. It was called a sacrifice. Abel would put a lamb on a rock, and God would send fire down to take the lamb back to heaven. It was a way to thank the animals for giving their lives. And also thank God for creating all the animals. As Cain grew, he watched his parents mess up and make mistakes, and have to kill and eat innocent animals. They were always having to say “thank you” and “I’m sorry.” And Cain decided that he was going to do something different. “Maybe the world has fallen,” he said, “but I don’t have to fall with it. I don’t have to get tired or angry or grumpy. Nothing has to die in order for me to survive. I will be self-reliant. And I will never have to say thank you or I’m sorry because I will live perfectly perfect all the time, all by myself.” And so Cain became the first perfectionist. Perfectionist, a definition: A perfectionist is someone who is terrified of imperfection. They are scared of being late, or dirty, or wrong, or smelly, or rude, or any other kind of imperfect. When they do make a mistake, instead of looking at God and saying “oops,” they look at themselves and say “yikes!” Being a perfectionist is not easy. Because whenever you try to be perfect, you fail. Because you are not perfect. No one is. And if you are scared of failing all the time, you will find that it is very difficult to be happy or pleasant or nice or good. Which only makes you more imperfect. And so perfectionism is a burden that multiplies itself. The longer you carry it, the heavier it becomes until at last it crushes you. Cain was a perfectionist. While Abel cared for a big herd of sheep in the field, Cain tried to sustain himself with a garden. He picked every weed, cut thorns, relocated briars. And Cain wanted his parents to see what a good job he was doing. When they complimented Abel’s newborn lambs, Cain would say, “Taste these fresh strawberries.” And when Abel cooked mutton, Cain would say, “How about another slice of tomato?” Cain competed for his parents’ attention because he was filled with doubts. He was trying so hard to be good, but then he would feel flashes of anger, or sadness, or smell a whiff of lamb and want a bite. And he’d hate himself for these feelings and worry that he wasn’t good enough. And because of his doubts, he desperately wanted to show everyone his good works, and for people to say, “Good job, Cain!” and pat him on the back. Only then would he feel like he was succeeding. Only then would he feel good. But he never felt good enough. And so he tried harder and harder. He tried to pray more, fast longer, memorize complicated scriptures, and sit perfectly still in church. Because the person he was trying to impress more than his parents or his brother was God himself. And so Cain decided he would get God’s approval in front of everyone so they would all know that he was really, actually a very good guy. And so when Abel sacrificed another lamb and thanked the lamb for its life and thanked God for the lamb, Cain brought his own offering. But instead of an animal, Cain left out a large cornucopia of fruits, nuts, and vegetables. Their family would soon see that Cain’s offering was so much better, purer, cleaner than Abel’s. So everyone watched as the leaves rustled, the sun dimmed, and a fire came down from heaven, consuming the lamb. But all of Cain’s fruits and vegetables were left untouched. “It’s okay,” Eve told Cain. “We like your fruits and vegetables.” And she tried to give Cain a hug. But Cain would not let her. Instead, he ran to his room, closed the door, and screamed. And God came to Cain and told him not to worry so much. “You are trying so hard to be perfect. But all I have asked is for you to be good. And that is hard enough. Because the world is very messy. It is full of hurt and sin and suffering. It is all around you, all the time, and it is powerful. If you face it alone, it will eat you right up like a fire or a hungry lion. And you will become worse and worse. You must let go of perfection. Let go of the world you want and accept the world that is given to you. It is good, and you are good enough.” But Cain was angry and yelled at God. “If we’re only ‘good enough,’ that’s your fault. You made us this way! It’s not my fault I get tired, or sad, or angry. It’s not my fault I need attention. It’s not my fault I get embarrassed and blush. You made me this way — broken and stupid like your world. It’s all your fault!” And Cain ran from God. And he grew angrier and angrier and angrier. Angry at God. Angry at his family. Angry at his brother. And angry with himself. Angry at the fallen world. Angry that he couldn’t fix it. And the anger consumed him, eating away at his heart until at last Cain did something worse than he ever could have imagined. He invited his brother into his garden where the vines were overgrown so that no one would see what was about to happen. Then Cain turned and killed Abel and watched his brother’s blood seep into the earth like another slaughtered sheep. And the blood poisoned the earth so that not even weeds could grow from it. And Cain ran and gagged and cried. And God came to him. “Cain,” God said. “What have you done? This is the worst thing a person can do. You were supposed to care for your brother, not kill him.” When the family of Adam and Eve found Abel, they gasped. It was the first death and the first murder all in one. And Cain wept and waited for the inevitable. They would come for him. They would seek justice. And they would kill him. He was sure of it. And so he waited. And waited. And wandered and waited. But no one came to kill him. Not his family. Not God. They let him live. And who knows why. But maybe it was because there is already too much hurt and death and brokenness in this world. It is everywhere around us and inside us. There is no avoiding it. You cannot walk without stepping on it, you cannot outrun it or get around it. It is in the air we breathe and the food we eat. So much life has been given so that you and I can live. That is our reality. But don’t hate yourself for being who you are. Don’t be scared to say “thank you” or “I’m sorry.” Ask for help when you need it. Try to do good, even when you want to do bad. See beauty in the world, even when there is ugliness. And when someone is cruel or mean or worse than you can imagine, try to forgive them and let them live. You will fail sometimes — often, probably. But be brave, and try again. Do not let your failures consume you. Know that you are crammed, stuffed, bursting with goodness and badness. Know that you are broken and imperfect like the world you live in, and it will take more than a lamb to save you and more than a thousand lambs to fix this world. God himself would have to die. And because he died, you don’t have to be perfect. And because you don’t have to be perfect, you can just try to be good. To purchase a hard copy of The Bible Storybook: The Old Testament, visit ForLittleSaints.com To access the complete audiobook of The Bible Storybook: The Old Testament, become a Friend of Faith Matters by subscribing at FaithMatters.org/subscribe. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.faithmatters.org/subscribe

Genesis 1:31 And God saw every thing that he had made, and, behold, it was very good. (KJV) In the very beginning, there was Nothing. No trees or flowers or rocks or waterfalls or dirt or grass or land or ocean. There weren’t even stars or lights or days or nights or moons or months or years or anything. And God decided to take this Nothing and make . . . well, everything. God started with an enormous breath. And then he spoke. And his words were deep and sharp and strong like a knife. And they separated one thing from another. He said, “Let there be light,” and the light separated from the darkness. Dark over here. Light over there. And the light and dark grew bigger and fuller and brighter and darker. From the light and the dark, God spoke the sun, the moon, and the stars into being. And God looked at his creations and saw that they were good. And they were. God spoke again and separated out land, water, and sky. God breathed in, and the land grew, steady, firm and dry. And the water rushed down the land, running and leaping and swirling into rivers and lakes and oceans. And the sky stretched wide like she was just waking up, filling the space with oxygen, wrapping the land and the water with a blanket of air. And God looked at his creations and saw that they were good. And they were. God breathed in again and spoke. And his voice was like a deep breath, breathing life into the world. And soon there were octopuses and whales and manatees in the ocean. And on land, plants began to grow. And soon animals were crawling, and walking, and running across the earth. Frogs, beetles, bears, tigers, and monkeys. God looked at his creations and saw that they were good. And they were. On the plains were deer, buffalo, and lions. In the mountains were marmots and pikas and sheep. Trees grew from the ground into forests, and squirrels played in their branches. Soon, the animals leapt into the sky. Owls, bats, and eagles flew over branches and cliffs. Life was spreading and dividing and separating further and further. God looked at all his creations and saw that they were good. And they were. So good, in fact, that God was ready to put his own children on the earth. And so he took dust from the ground, and he spat on it to make clay. And he formed that clay into a human. And then God took another breath, in and out. And as he breathed out, the human breathed in. And God called his child Adam. And Adam was happy. Because how could he not be happy amongst all of God’s beautiful, good, lovely creations? He was living in a garden with flowers and enough fruit hanging from the trees to have a picnic every single meal. Adam woke in the mornings with the sun on his face, and he’d eat grapes and apples and nuts and berries and then swim all day with alligators that didn’t bite or play with lions that didn’t growl, and then he would watch the most marvelous sunsets as he fell asleep. But then one evening, as the sun was setting, it was even more magnificent than normal. Shafts of yellow and red and even purple dashed across the clouds, and Adam said, “Isn’t that beautiful?” But there was no reply. And that made Adam feel hungry. No, not hungry. It was like hunger but even deeper and sadder. It was not a hunger for food, but for a person. For the first time in the history of the world, a man felt lonely. And the beauty all around Adam only made his loneliness worse. He wanted to share it with someone. He wanted someone to talk to. Someone to laugh with. Someone to watch sunsets and have picnics with. So that when he said, “Isn’t it beautiful,” they’d respond, “Oh yes, isn’t it!” And God was watching Adam and knew just what to do. Separating everything was just the beginning of creation. The world he’d made with all its difference and diversity would continue to separate, and splinter, and fall further and further apart into a million-billion-gazillion shattered, lonely, desperate pieces unless it was held together by something. And so God created another human. This one was a woman named Eve. And God introduced Adam and Eve and explained that they would help hold the universe together. And he taught them what they had to do. “Cling to each other,” he said. Cling, a definition: To hold onto something so tightly that you don’t float apart. And that’s what Adam and Eve did. They clung to each other. They watched sunsets together, they prepared picnics, and when they woke in the morning, they held hands before getting out of bed. It was easy now. They were a new couple. They hadn’t had their first argument, or had babies, or lost jobs, or lived with in-laws, or had anything but perfect days and pleasant weather. They were new to love. They didn’t know how far it could stretch without breaking, how deep it could go without dissolving, how long it could last without expiring. Some day, they would have to learn all of this. They would learn to love like God loves and to cling like God clings. But while their love was young and inexperienced, it was also precious. And God saw the way they looked at each other and knew that it was good. No, not just good. Very good. Because the world needed love. And Adam and Eve would have to hold onto each other no matter what happened next. Even if the garden died away and the fruits turned bitter. Even if they got hurt, sad, or injured. Even if they felt scared or alone or confused or didn’t know if they could go on. Even if they fought, or their children died. Even if their world shattered. Even in the face of war and famine and tornado and fire. Even if they grew bored or angry or tired. No matter what, they had to cling to each other and to the world with everything they had. They must love. Their world depended on it. And someday, Adam and Eve would raise children. And they would teach their children to be clingers, too. To cling to each other and to the world God created. You are one of their children. They have passed this most important job down to you. You are a clinger. And so when you feel lost or scared or sad, or if it seems like the world is splintering and falling apart, or if you see someone who’s lonely or cast out, do what Adam and Eve learned to do: love. Love each other. Love the world. Love your mother. Love your father. Love your sister and brother. Love your neighbor. Love the refugee. Love the animals and the plants. Love the oceans. Love the sunsets. Because while the universe was separated by the power of God’s lungs, it is bound together by the gravity of his love. And you are a lover. You are a clinger. And so love on. Cling to each other. And cling to the God who already clings to you. And we will hold the world together. To purchase a hard copy of The Bible Storybook: The Old Testament, visit ForLittleSaints.com To access the complete audiobook of The Bible Storybook: The Old Testament, become a Friend of Faith Matters by subscribing at FaithMatters.org/subscribe. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.faithmatters.org/subscribe

You do not have to believe in God to acknowledge how much the Bible has done for this world. From a historical perspective, it shows a group of people who were trying to be good. They were crafting laws to foster morality, aid the poor, and safeguard human dignity even in the most extreme situations. From a literary perspective, it is a masterful collection of poetry, personal essays, sermons, and songs. From a philosophical perspective, it asks all the hard questions about life and about God and comes to various, brilliant, and surprising conclusions. From a religious perspective, it has captured the hearts of billions of people. And so it is no small thing to decide to retell Bible stories. And even more daunting when we are writing these stories for children, who are both vulnerable and impressionable. And so we want to be clear that our mission was never to produce a work of scholarship. Reading our stories will not teach your children Hebrew or Aramaic. We will not pontificate about the meaning or origins of Elohim. In fact, we mostly avoid dabbling in etymologies or exegesis. We were not even particularly careful to be historically accurate. In fact, we intentionally use playful anachronisms, like Abraham and Sarah packing their things into moving boxes. We do this to help make the ancient world feel familiar to children. In short, we are not attempting to give an authoritative, scientific, or historical gloss to these stories. Instead of explaining the stories, we have tried to tell them, and to tell them beautifully. We hope it will help bring them to life in new ways for both you and your child. Of course, we couldn’t tell every story in the Bible. It’s a big book, and every history is layered with histories. But the stories we do tell aren’t just the simple ones with easy, happy endings. Instead, what you will find in these pages are moments of tenderness, injustice, triumph, failure, deep sorrow, radical hope, and God’s enduring love — much like what you will find across the pages of your own life. And while people have argued over biblical interpretations for thousands of years, we are not entering that arena. We are not trying to indoctrinate or convert children to a particular faith beyond general Christianity. And while we do practice a specific form of Christianity ourselves, we see these stories as a shared treasure. And we hope to contribute to the millions of artists before us who have praised God with their words and chords and colors. Artists whose work is shared by Catholics and Protestants, Copts and Mormons, Baptists and Evangelicals alike. There is a chance that some of these stories will surprise you. But the Bible is full of surprises. And you might see new sides of old characters and find fresh possibilities in familiar readings. However, if you think we got something wrong or took too much liberty, go ahead and tell your children the story as you understand it. You won’t hurt our feelings. This is about you and them. These stories are successful when they create a moment of grace, where both parents and children feel that tickling, that warmth, that whispering of the spirit at the very same time. And you can tell them what it is. Or, more accurately, who. To purchase a hard copy of The Bible Storybook: The Old Testament, visit ForLittleSaints.com To access the complete audiobook of The Bible Storybook: The Old Testament, become a Friend of Faith Matters by subscribing at FaithMatters.org/subscribe. Because the stories are written in chronological order and the Bible is not, we will release some stories before they come up in Come, Follow Me. Below is a schedule of which episodes to listen to each week, if you’d like to use this along with Come, Follow Me. January 12-18 (Genesis 1-2; Moses 2-3; Abraham 4-5) 1. The beginning of everything (Genesis 1) 2. The Bitter, Tasty, Forbidden Fruit (Genesis 2-3) January 19-25 (Genesis 3-4; Moses 4-5) 2. The Bitter, Tasty, Forbidden Fruit (Genesis 2-3) 3. Cain, who was a perfectionist (Genesis 4) February 9-15 (Genesis 6-11; Moses 8) 4. Noah, the man who saved things (Genesis 6-9) 5. The people who tried to climb to heaven (Genesis 11) February 16-22 (Genesis 12-17; Abraham 1-2) 6. The man who learned to be generous (Genesis 12) 7. The followers and their promise (Genesis 12-15) 8. The God who sees (Genesis 16) 9. Son of laughter (Genesis 17-21) February 23-March 1 (Genesis 18-23) 9. Son of laughter (Genesis 17-21) 10. The boy who lived (Genesis 21) 11. Lot and his wife and their daughters (Genesis 18-19) 12. The sacrifice (Genesis 18-22) 13. Finding a wife (Genesis 23-24) March 2-8 (Genesis 24-33) 13. Finding a wife (Genesis 23-24) 14. The world in Rebekah’s belly (Genesis 25) 15. The amazing, goodlooking, athletic brother (Genesis 25-33) 16. Jacob, who traveled through time and wrestled an angel (Genesis 28-35) 17. Two sisters, a lot of babies, and their strange names (Genesis 29-30) March 9-15 (Genesis 37-41) 18. Band of brothers (Genesis 35-45) March 16-22 (Genesis 42-50) 18. Band of brothers (Genesis 35-45) 19. Giving food and taking dignity (Genesis 46 - Exodus 1) March 23-29 (Exodus 1-6) 19. Giving food and taking dignity (Genesis 46 - Exodus 1) 20. A conspiracy of women to save the boys (Exodus 1-2) 21. Moses, who learned he had power (Exodus 2-4) 22. The freedom plan (Exodus 5-15) April 6-12 (Exodus 7-13) 22. The freedom plan (Exodus 5-15) April 13-19 (Exodus 14-18) 22. The freedom plan (Exodus 5-15) 23. A new law and a new king (Exodus 16-40) April 20-26 (Exodus 19-20; 24; 31-34) 23. A new law and a new king (Exodus 16-40) April 27-May 3 (Exodus 35-40; Leviticus 1; 4; 16; 19) 23. A new law and a new king (Exodus 16-40) 24. The sin eaters (Leviticus) May 4-10 (Numbers 11-14; 20-24; 27) 25. Moses’ 70 helpers (Numbers 9-11) 26. All of God’s children are prophets (Numbers 11-20) May 11-17 (Deuteronomy 6-8; 15; 18; 29-30; 34) 27: Moses gives advice and says goodbye (Deuteronomy) May 18-24 (Joshua 1-8; 23-24) 28: The conquest (Joshua-Judges 16) May 25-31 (Judges 2-4; 6-8; 13-16) 28: The conquest (Joshua-Judges 16) June 1-7 (Ruth; 1 Samuel 1-7) 29: Ruth, who lost a husband and gained a family (Ruth) June 8-14 (1 Samuel 8-10; 13; 15-16) 30: The first king (Judges 19 - 1 Samuel 10) 31: The king who trusted a shepherd (1 Samuel 10-17) June 15-21 (1 Samuel 17-18; 24-26; 2 Samuel 5-7) 32. Two boys who decided to be brothers (1 Samuel 18-20) 33. David faces another giant (1 Samuel 22 - 2 Samuel, Psalms) June 22-28 (2 Samuel 11-12; 1 Kings 3; 6-9; 11) 33. David faces another giant (1 Samuel 22 - 2 Samuel, Psalms) 34. Solomon who was less remarkable than a lily (1 Kings 2-11; Proverbs; Ecclesiastes) June 29-July 5 (1 Kings 12-13; 17-22) 35. A man and a woman whose miracles ran out (1 Kings 12-17) 36: Elisha, who was nobody (1 Kings 19 - 2 Kings 2) July 6-12 (2 Kings 2-7) 36: Elisha, who was nobody (1 Kings 19 - 2 Kings 2) 37. A little girl without a name (2 Kings 5) 38. More with us (2 Kings 6) July 13-19 (2 Kings 16-25) 42. Hezekiah, the man who fought for today (2 Kings 18-20; Isaiah 36-39) July 27-August 2 (Ezra 1; 3-7; Nehemiah 2; 4-6; 8) 49. The Rebuilders and The Remained (Ezra; Nehemiah) August 3-9 (Esther) 48. The queen of Persia (Esther) August 10-16 (Job 1-3; 12-14; 19; 21-24; 38-40; 42) 46. A story about a man called Job (Job) August 17-23 (Psalms 1-2; 8; 19-33; 40; 46) 33. David faces another giant (1 Samuel 22 - 2 Samuel, Psalms) August 24-30 (Psalms 49-51; 61-66; 69-72; 77-78; 85-86) 33. David faces another giant (1 Samuel 22 - 2 Samuel, Psalms) August 31-September 6 (Psalms 102-3; 110; 116-19; 127-28; 135-39; 146-50) 33. David faces another giant (1 Samuel 22 - 2 Samuel, Psalms) September 7-13 (Proverbs 1-4; 15-16; 22; 31; Ecclesiastes 1-3; 11-12) 34. Solomon who was less remarkable than a lily (1 Kings 2-11; Proverbs; Ecclesiastes) September 14-20 (Isaiah 1-12) 40. What the prophets said (Isaiah; Amos; Micah; Joel) 43. Isaiah and the new city called Zion (Isaiah) September 21-27 (Isaiah 13-14; 22; 24-30; 35) 40. What the prophets said (Isaiah; Amos; Micah; Joel) 42. Hezekiah, the man who fought for today (2 Kings 18-20; Isaiah 36-39) 43. Isaiah and the new city called Zion (Isaiah) September 28-October 4 (Isaiah 40-49) 40. What the prophets said (Isaiah; Amos; Micah; Joel) 43. Isaiah and the new city called Zion (Isaiah) October 5-11 (Isaiah 50-57) 40. What the prophets said (Isaiah; Amos; Micah; Joel) 43. Isaiah and the new city called Zion (Isaiah) October 12-18 (Isaiah 58-66) 40. What the prophets said (Isaiah; Amos; Micah; Joel) 43. Isaiah and the new city called Zion (Isaiah) October 19-25 (Jeremiah 1-3; 7; 16-18; 20) 44. Jeremiah and the rich who became poor and the poor who became rich (Jeremiah) October 26-November 1 (Jeremiah 31-33; 36-38; Lamentations 1; 3) 44. Jeremiah and the rich who became poor and the poor who became rich (Jeremiah) November 2-8 (Ezekiel 1-3; 33-34; 36-37; 47) 45. The dreamer, playwright, poet, artist, Ezekiel (Ezekiel) November 9-15 (Daniel 1-7) 47. The memory keepers (Daniel) November 16-22 (Hosea 1-6; 10-14; Joel) 40. What the prophets said (Isaiah; Amos; Micah; Joel) 41. Hosea and his strange marriage advice (Hosea) November 23-29 (Amos; Obadiah; Jonah) 39. Jonah and the whale and the bush (Jonah) 40. What the prophets said (Isaiah; Amos; Micah; Joel) November 30-December 6 (Micah; Nahum; Habakkuk; Zephaniah) 40. What the prophets said (Isaiah; Amos; Micah; Joel) December 7-13 (Haggai 1-2; Zechariah 1-4; 7-14) 50. Healing in his wings (Zachariah; Malachi) December 14-20 (Malachi) 50. Healing in his wings (Zachariah; Malachi) This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.faithmatters.org/subscribe

Moroni 6:6, 9 And they did meet together oft to partake of bread and wine, in remembrance of the Lord Jesus. For as the power of the Holy Ghost led them whether to preach, or to exhort, or to pray, or to supplicate, or to sing, even so it was done. Moroni was still alone. Even after reading all the books, even after writing down more stories and letters, even after running away and trying not to be killed, even after years and years, Moroni was still alive, and still alone. He had not always been alone. Before the big horrible final battle, he lived in a family with parents and brothers and sisters who all loved each other very much. And he had friends, too. Friends who had lived in his neighborhood. Friends he had met in the army. Friends he grew up with at church. He remembered playing with them in nursery and singing with them in the primary program. He remembered sitting in class with them and imagining what it would be like to be baptized, and wondering whether his toes would come out of the water and they’d have to do the whole thing again. And he was glad to remember these things. But then he remembered that his friends were all gone. And because they were gone, these things were just memories. He would never listen to another friend’s talk or see another primary program. He would not be able to teach the sunbeams how to fold their arms or hug his daughter after she was confirmed. Because Moroni was all alone. And when he died, these memories would die too, like his friends. And that made Moroni very sad. “God,” he said, “In case you have forgotten, I am still here, alone in my cave. Nothing but me and my books and my memories. How long will you leave me here alone? I am tired of this world. I want to see my friends. My father, my mother. I miss them.” And Moroni began to cry. And God was also crying. “Child,” God said, “even though you are lonely, you are not alone. I am with you. And your father, and your mother, they are here, too. And there are other people still, living in the world with you.” “Lamanites?” Moroni hiccuped. “But they don’t like me at all. If they found me, they would kill me.” “But still they are mine,” said God. “And I will rescue them. I am sorry they have been very mean to you. I am sorry you are lonely. I am sorry your friends are gone and your family. I am sorry there is so much evil and death and pain in the world. I am sorry for all of it. “But Moroni, there is more for you to do. There are more souls to save. If not these Lamanites, then the ones that will come after. I have big plans for that little book you are holding, Moroni. And people will need your memories. They will need to know how to pray, how to baptize, how to bless and teach and love each other, and make a church together. Because there is still good in the world. And it will return to this place, just like your book. It will rise out of the earth and your words will grow and stretch until every person feels their light. And so, I am leaving you here, Moroni. Just a little longer. Just long enough to finish your story, and make it right.” And so Moroni opened the book and wrote his memories. He wrote about the baptisms, and the blessings, and the prayers, and the meetings. He wrote the words his friends had said, and he remembered how beautiful they were. And they looked beautiful in the golden pages of the book. And seeing them, Moroni smiled. And he put his pen down. And he sighed and looked at the clouds. He breathed in and out, very slowly. He could see them now, there in the future. The people God had told him about. They were reading his book. And Moroni tried to think about what they needed to know. What he could tell them about God. He did not think he could write good enough, beautiful enough, smart enough. But they would need help to succeed. What they were doing would not be simple. They would mess up and have to try again. But they were his hope now. They were his people’s hope. They were all people’s hope. They would build Zion. And when they were finished, it would stay. Not for four hundred years. Not for four thousand years. Forever. And if they were going to build Zion, they would need to start by building a church. And not any church. God’s church. Because Zion is not just one heart, but a whole congregation of good, pure, imperfect hearts all knit together like a big comfy blanket. It is not something we do by ourselves. But if you bring your heart to church, God will start knitting. And so Moroni picked up his pen and wrote: “And this is what a church is. It is a place where people sit together often. And they talk together. And they are honest and kind to each other. And they practice being good and helping others be good. And God is there with them. And whether God tells them to teach, or talk, or serve, or sing, or pray, or forgive, or ask forgiveness, the people do it. The people at church are not perfect, but they care for each other very much. And the people try. They really try.” Joshua is an award-winning writer and director. His recent book, Ali the Iraqi, was published by BCC press. Sarah is a literature and theology doctoral student studying the Book of Job in the twentieth century. Artwork by Maddie Baker. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.faithmatters.org/subscribe

Ether 6:12 And when they had set their feet upon the shores of the promised land they bowed themselves down upon the face of the land, and did humble themselves before the Lord, and did shed tears of joy before the Lord. Jared and the Brother of Jared and their family and friends all agreed that they would follow God and step into the boats, which were actually barges, which were like submarines. And then they pushed into the water and took one last look at the land before closing the hatch. It would be a year before they saw land again. And a year is a long time to be stuck in a boat on an ocean with people and animals and honey bees. Because when you’re all stuck like that, people tend to get seasick, and smelly, and probably a little bit grumpy. And bees are not always the friendliest neighbors. Even though the family was cranky and smelly and bee stung and sick, they remembered that God was with them. Because they had shining rocks that lit up the room like electric light bulbs. And they were glad to have light because even though sometimes they couldn’t stand each other, they were glad to be able to see each other and play games and draw pictures and do school. And God blew the boat all the way to the Promised Land. And when it arrived, the people fell out of the barges and onto the earth. And they picked up the white sand and kissed it and let it slip through their fingers and into the emerald ocean and cried at the green trees. And everyone ran along the beach and laughed and spun in circles on the earth under the sun. “God,” they laughed, “the world really is beautiful.” And the people made a promise to God: they would remember him, and love the world he had created for them. And they built the city God had sent them to build. And the children grew into adults and taught their children to trust God and love the earth. They planted gardens, harvested honey, ate fruit, and they grew old and content and eventually died. And the children’s children saw it happen. They saw how much their parents and grandparents had loved the world. And it didn’t seem right that they were dying. They were meant for the earth. They were beautiful here. And so the children’s children made a mistake. It was a similar mistake to the people who tried to build the tower to heaven. Only this was the opposite. They were not running away from the earth. They loved the earth too much. They were running away from death. Just thinking about death made them shiver. And so they tried to gather money and gold and power so that they could be healthy and safe and live as long as possible. They gathered armies and created kings and told secrets and set up passwords to protect themselves and their cities and their money. But the more they focused on surviving, the harder it became. Soon, they began fighting. Kings and towns and cities fought for control and killed each other. Because no one wanted to die, so many people were dying. Children wanted to be grownups. Old men wanted to be young again. Old fathers became jealous of their young sons and stopped feeding them food. Sons fought with their fathers and locked them away in prisons. And everyone worshiped the strong and the beautiful. They wanted to eat the best food, see the best things, marry the handsomest spouse, and have the prettiest life. A life someone could take a picture of and show others, and it would make them jealous. And for this life, the people were willing to hurt and kill each other. And this is not what God meant when he told the people to love the world. And so God sent prophets to explain. And one of the prophets was Ether. Ether was born in a prison, because his grandfather was put in prison, and his father lived his whole life in a prison, and then Ether was born. And even though Ether was born in a prison, he learned to love the world. And not just the easy beautiful things, but the hard, prison things, too. And Ether and the prophets told the people that loving the world is not loving one part of it, or just the beaches, or just the sunlight. But to love all of it as it passes by. The rocks and the snow, the seeds and the flowers, the bees and the honey. And the people, they were always the best part of the world. The adults were not more important than children. Young bachelors were not better than old couples or widows or widowers or people who were never married. Kings were not more important than queens or peasants. And handsome people were not better than less handsome people. They were all part of the world. They needed to be loved for what they were. And they needed to be taken care of. And the prophets warned that if they did not take care of the world, they would lose it. And like sand on the beach, the harder they clung to life, the quicker it would drain away. And soon, there would be nothing left but dust, and bones, and nothing. “So try again to love the world,” the prophets said. “But this time, love every bit of it. Because life is not a road trip for a vacation where you are bored or sleep and wait to arrive. It is a sightseeing tour. And you are here now. And every part of the tour has something to love. Even the ending.” But the people just rolled their eyes. “You are only saying that because you are jealous,” they said. “Because you are weak and poor and you will die soon. Look at your ugly clothes, and your worn-out sandals, and your wrinkly forehead, and your calloused hands.” “That is not right,” said the prophets, “We are old. But we love the world more now than ever. It has only gotten better for us. We have children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. It is true that our knees ache and our skin is thin and easily sunburned and we are slow and getting weaker every day. But life is still getting better and better and better. “Because loving the world is like hugging a person. You savor the moment, you hold it against your chest, you breathe in and smell it and love it. And then you let it go. And you watch it as it departs. And you do not love it any less but more and more and more. Because you know that is not the end. There will be another day, another hug, another moment to savor and then to let go. “You do not need to fear death or cling to the world. Instead, believe in God, and care for the world. And you will make it a better world. And God will transform the world with the touch of his finger. And we will see that every rock and every person is a bright shining thing. And the world will get better and better until it is all finished. And God will stand beside us, and we will hold hands, and never have to let go.” Joshua is an award-winning writer and director. His recent book, Ali the Iraqi, was published by BCC press. Sarah is a literature and theology doctoral student studying the Book of Job in the twentieth century. Artwork by Maddie Baker. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.faithmatters.org/subscribe

Moroni 8:3 And my father also was killed by them, and I even remain alone to write the sad tale of the destruction of my people. Mormon was one of the only survivors of the big, terrible, Nephite-ending battle. His city was destroyed and he wept for the roads and the buildings. His dog and his horse were killed, and he wept for the animals. His friends and his soldiers were killed and he wept for them because he could remember how beautiful they had been when they were still living. But most of all he wept for his family — his wife and daughters who had been taken away, his son who was now one of the unknown bodies lying lifeless on the ground. Everything he had ever loved or cared for was gone. His own body was injured and he could feel it slipping out from under him. He was old already. The world was not what he wanted it to be. He was ready to die. And so he sat on the ground and waited for the Lamanites to come and find him. But then he heard a voice. It was young and strong and more than a little familiar. It was his son, Moroni. There he is, across the battlefield, stumbling over bodies, looking at dead faces, calling, “Father, Father! Where are you, Father?” “I’m alive,” Mormon yells back. The boy looks up and runs to his father. They are both bloody, sore, limping. But all is forgotten as they embrace. And Moroni helps his father to walk and Mormon takes Moroni to his cave where they hide from the Lamanites and bandage each other’s wounds. And Mormon is glad to be with Moroni. And he pats his hand, and looks at his face, and thinks, “You are my beautiful boy.” And Moroni is glad to take care of his father. Mormon’s wounds were severe and his face was pale, so Moroni made soup and fed it to his father, trying to make him well. But Mormon would never be able to run again. He could not run to catch a rabbit. Or run to get water. Or run from the Lamanites. And the Lamanites were looking everywhere for Mormon and Moroni. Soon enough, they were bound to find the cave. Mormon knew he was going to die. But he wasn’t ready anymore because he did not want to leave his son alone in the world. And so before he died, Mormon took Moroni to the back of the cave where he uncovered a stack of metal books and said, “These are for you. They will keep you company when you are lonely. They will be your friends when there is no one else. And they will be your family when you have none.” And then Mormon reached into a bag and took out another book, brighter than the rest, made of gold. He ran his fingers over the cover, then held it out to Moroni. “And this is my book. Take all these and run far away so that no one will ever find you.” “I will take you and the books,” Moroni said. Mormon shook his head. “That is impossible. The books are as heavy as I am. You cannot take us both. And if you take me, I am dying anyway. Metal is much stronger than skin. And if you take the books, in a way, you are also taking me. And you will save my life. Not for a few more years, but forever. Because someday, people will read my book, and they will know we were here. And that we were here with Jesus.” And Moroni cried and took the books, and looked at his father one last time, and ran away. And Moroni wandered around all alone for years and years and years with nothing but books for company. And he liked to read his father’s book, but sometimes it made him sad to think of his father. And so he read the other books. And one of the other books was sadder than the rest. It was called Ether. And Moroni learned that he liked sad stories. He could relate to them. They were his friends because they could understand his sadness and give voice to his sorrow. And sometimes, when he read these stories, he would forget he was alone. But he was alone. And the book was cold and not warm like his father’s hands on his shoulder or his mother’s kiss on his cheek. There was no one to talk to, no one to sing for, no one to play with or love. And so Moroni decided to imagine there were people around him. The people his father talked about. The people who would live hundreds and hundreds of years later. The people who would find his father’s book and read the stories. These people became his imaginary friends that he talked with and cared for, and he even began to write them letters. And he put these letters in his father’s book along with the sad stories of Ether. And we’re telling you this because you should know: the stories that we are about to tell you, the stories that come next, they are often sad stories. But they are important. They are important to us and they were important to Moroni. Because it is important to know that some stories are sad. And sometimes praying and fasting and asking and telling and begging God to stop bad things from happening, doesn’t actually stop bad things from happening. And that does not mean God is not working. Because a sad story can still be a sacred story, just the same. Like this book. Like Moroni’s lonely life and his sad stories that were his friends. Because God is not the opposite of sorrow or pain. These are also part of God. He feels them too. If you are sad or lonely or hurting, you might think that God has left you or even left the world. “But,” Moroni wrote in one of his letters, “God is still a God of miracles.” And because God is here and is working, we will laugh again and dance again and find so much joy again. But first, there is sadness. First, there is death and grief. It’s coming in the next few pages. And if you don’t want to turn the page because you know the story is sad, you should know that it’s okay to be sad, and it’s okay to be nervous. But you should know also that everything is going to be okay. Know that there is sacredness in grief like there is sacredness in joy. And know also that when you turn the page, God will be there, too, like a miracle. Joshua is an award-winning writer and director. His recent book, Ali the Iraqi, was published by BCC press. Sarah is a literature and theology doctoral student studying the Book of Job in the twentieth century. Artwork by Maddie Baker. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.faithmatters.org/subscribe

3 Nephi 28:7 Ye shall live to behold all the doings of the Father unto the children of men, even until all things shall be fulfilled according to the will of the Father, when I shall come in my glory with the powers of heaven. Before Jesus left the Nephites and the Lamanites, they were just the Nephites. They had decided to all live together. And they agreed to share almost everything, including their name. They shared food and water. They shared money and toys. They shared homes and cities. They even shared toothpaste. But they did not share their toothbrushes, because that would be gross. And all this sharing was wonderful because no one went hungry. No one had bad breath. No one felt alone. No one was better than anyone else, except Jesus. He was better. But it didn’t really matter because everyone loved Jesus. And Jesus loved everyone. He enjoyed breaking bread and eating bread and just being with the Nephites. But Jesus had a terrible secret. And before he left for good, he had to tell someone. And so he chose twelve people and called them disciples because they would become spiritual leaders after he was gone. And Jesus gathered the twelve together and said, “I want to tell you a secret.” And he told them about how good the Nephites were becoming. And how good they would become, even after he left them. “That makes sense,” they said. “We will be good because of you. You are like the sun and we are like rocks. And the sun bakes the rocks all day so that even when the sun sets, the rocks stay warm. That is no secret.” “Yes,” said Jesus. “But my secret is what will happen next. You will stay good for a few hundred years. But then, things will fall apart. You will get cold. And all the Nephites will forget me.” This made the disciples very sad. “We are sorry,” they said. “We will help as many people as we can be as good as they can for as long as they can.” “I want to help you too,” Jesus said. “So what can I do for you?” The twelve disciples thought for a long time. And then nine of them said, “We do not ever want to see our people forget you. And so we will work our whole lives to teach people about you. And when we are old, please take us away from here. Take us home. Take us to heaven where no one will ever forget you. This made Jesus happy and he touched each of them with his finger, like a parent about to tuck them into bed. Then he turned to the three remaining disciples. “What would you like?” he asked. “We also want to be with you,” they said. “But we cannot bear to leave the world after what you have told us. And so we would like to stay here. We know that what you have told us is true, and we do not mean to be disrespectful, but we have to try and stop it. We will fight for Zion, even if we are bound to fail. Please don’t think we don’t want to be with you. That’s what we want more than anything. We will never forget you. And when this is all over, we will see you again. But for now, we want to stay in the world.” This made Jesus cry. And he said, “That’s where I will be too. You might not see me, but I will be with you in the world. We will walk together. And we will never die. We will see the Nephites rise and the Nephites fall. You will see beautiful things. But you will also see terrible things. Worse things than you can imagine. But we will be together. And we will fight together. We will fight for Zion.” And the disciples formed a circle and they shouted, “FOR ZION!!!” as loud as they could. And Jesus disappeared into the sky. And there was nothing to do but return to their homes and their people and their lives. And they all fought for Zion. And at the end of their lives, the nine disciples returned to heaven where they praise Jesus to this day. But three of the disciples lived on. And though they did everything they could to stop it, Jesus’ secret came true. And still, the disciples pressed on. They taught about Jesus for as long as anyone would listen. But eventually, people did not listen. And so the disciples taught without talking at all. Instead of finding words, they found needs. They found people who were naked and brought them clothes. They found people who were hungry and gave them food. They found people who were sad and sang them songs. They continued to go from person to person, trying to help, to bless, to heal. But eventually, even that stopped working. When the disciples arrived, the people kicked at them, spat on them, and called them names. They were kicked out of cities. Their homes were burned down. And still, the disciples did not give up on the world. Because they remembered what Jesus had told them. He was still on the earth. And they knew where he would be. He would be waiting for them, at the next person. Joshua is an award-winning writer and director. His recent book, Ali the Iraqi, was published by BCC press. Sarah is a literature and theology doctoral student studying the Book of Job in the twentieth century. Artwork by Maddie Baker. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.faithmatters.org/subscribe

3 Nephi 17:21-23 He took their little children, one by one, and blessed them, and prayed unto the Father for them. And when he had done this he wept again. And he spake unto the multitude, and said unto them: Behold your little ones. When Jesus came to the Nephites, he taught them to be meek and he taught them about heaven. And all this teaching and loving and smiling took a long time. But no one noticed. No one noticed as the sun moved from the horizon to directly over their heads. No one noticed as the clouds came and went. No one noticed as the sun lowered and lowered and lowered and the fireflies came out. The day was almost over and nobody had noticed. They had missed breakfast and lunch and now dinner was rapidly approaching. And nobody had noticed except for Jesus. Jesus knew the people would be hungry and tired and would need rest, and so he smiled and waved and said, “Goodbye, friends. I will see you all tomorrow.” But as he looked around, nobody else was smiling. Everybody was looking up at him. And their eyes were big and wet and their mouths were frowning. You see, it doesn’t matter how dark it becomes, or if the fireflies are shining or not, or if your belly is full or empty. When Jesus is around, the whole world seems full of sunshine. And so the people did not want Jesus to go. Not yet. They did not want to be left alone in the night with the fireflies and their grumbling bellies. And Jesus did not want them to feel sad or alone and so he said, “You are made to have joy! And if me staying a little longer will bring you joy, then that’s what I’ll do.” And Jesus reached out his arms, and he called out to everybody who was hurt, everyone whose body was sick, or whose mind was sick, everyone whose bones or bodies or spirits or hearts were broken, everyone who had hurt elbows or hurt feelings, and he invited them all to come sit by him. Which is to say, Jesus invited everyone. And they came, and Jesus healed them. And so it’s like I told you. Even though the world can be full through with night time and darkness and sickness and hurt, wherever Jesus is, there is sunshine. And he chased the darkness right out of the sky and right out of the people’s hearts. It leaked from them like tears. And the people fell on the ground and they washed Jesus’s feet with their tears because they had known darkness and suffering, and because Jesus had brought them light. And the day seemed to stretch like a rubber band to give the people more time with Jesus. And Jesus lifted them up and wiped away their tears, and he smiled again and did something very special. He asked the children to come and see his holy hands and his holy feet. And so all the children came. And they all stood with Jesus. They sat on his lap. They climbed on his back. He held them and hugged them and kissed them. But then Jesus became sad. Looking at all the pure, wonderful, and innocent children. And then looking behind the children at their parents. They had been children too once. But then they had suffered. And Jesus knew how much they had suffered because he had just healed them. And behind the parents was a whole world waiting for the children. And in the world was badness, and wickedness, and accidents, and bushes with thorns, and snakes, and pointy door knobs, and untied shoes, and glass shards, and tin can lids, and so many other things that are sharp and pointy and hurtful. And Jesus knew that these beautiful, beaming, perfect children would suffer. And Jesus knew how much they would suffer. And it made him groan and cry because of the wickedness that was in the world. And so he reached out his hands and he blessed the children. He blessed them to overcome sorrows. He blessed them to love goodness. He blessed them to be good and strong and brave. And while he was blessing them, angels came down and they flew all around the children in a big circle of light and angles and fire. He said, “You are very good, and you are happy. And I am glad that you are happy. But you will not always be happy. Because there is darkness in the world. There is a thing called evil. It is everywhere. It is even inside you. You will know this someday. You will feel it. And it will bring you suffering. It will make your life feel dark and broken and painful. And I am so very sorry that you will suffer. But do not be afraid, because I have felt your suffering. And because while there is evil, there is also good. So much good. And when you feel overwhelmed by evil, tell me, and I will bring you sunshine.” But that was not all Jesus did. He didn’t just want to bless the children once. He wanted to bless the children over and over again. And so he broke bread and water and gave everyone the sacrament. And they were very hungry and the bread and water tasted so very good and it filled their bellies and it filled their souls. And Jesus taught them about prayer and about baptism and about the spirit and about the sacrament. He said, “If you feel lonely, pray and come to church and take the sacrament, and you will feel my hands breaking the bread and blessing the water. And you will feel my hands on your head again, blessing you. And you will be surrounded by light and angels and fire. And the fire is the spirit. And it will fill you up, give you strength, heal your wounds, and make you whole.” And Jesus loved the children. And he knew some of them would suffer and would grow bitter. And they would turn from him and from the sacrament and from prayer and from the spirit. And they would stop letting him bless them. And they would say, “God, you do not make any sense. The world is cruel, and you made the world. And so you are not good. If you are real, you must be cruel too.” Jesus knew this. And so he hugged and blessed each of the children one last time. And he said, “I love you” and kissed them on their cheek. And the children knew he loved them. And as they grew they were hurt and bruised and broken. As they began to feel bitter or angry or mad at God, when the world did not make sense, they remembered the soft, wet touch of Jesus’s lips. And they put their hands on their cheeks and remembered that Jesus was suffering too. And if they were standing before him and complaining about their sorrows, showing their wounds, or just telling him that they were mad at him because of their suffering, he would answer with a nod and a hug and a kiss. And that would be enough. Joshua is an award-winning writer and director. His recent book, Ali the Iraqi, was published by BCC press. Sarah is a literature and theology doctoral student studying the Book of Job in the twentieth century. Artwork by Maddie Baker. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.faithmatters.org/subscribe

3 Nephi 11:8 And it came to pass, as they understood they cast their eyes up again towards heaven; and behold, they saw a Man descending out of heaven. The signs of Jesus' birth were these: a new star would appear, and there would be two days with no night in between. And the sign of his death was the opposite. There would be a new and terrible storm and two nights with no day in between. And so when the new star arrived and there were two days in a row without a night, you might think that everyone decided to believe Samuel. Because a new star and two days with no night is what you call a miracle. And who can doubt a miracle? Well, actually, just about everyone can doubt a miracle. It’s easy. Go ahead, try it. The greatest miracle in your life is that you are loved by friends and family and by God and Jesus. And yet, it is very easy to doubt that anyone loves you. Every person in this world is a miracle. And yet it is the easiest thing in the world to not believe in people. It’s easy to dismiss them as bad and mean and selfish. And it’s particularly easy to doubt God and doubt other people when you are doubting yourself. And that’s the story of the Nephites we’ve been calling the Downlookers. When they saw the miracles of Jesus’ birth, they did not believe. They doubted. They turned to the Stargazers and said, “You have to leave. We will not kill you. But we cannot live together. You are too pure. You are the Stargazers. You are the waiters. We are not pure like you. And so we do not want you around to remind us.” And the Stargazers agreed. They said, “Maybe it is better this way. We will live with people who believe and are pure like us. There will be no fighting because we will all agree on everything. And we will be good and righteous together.” And so they packed up and left. But they could not take the star with them. It remained high above them all. And everyone tried to live next to people who thought the same way and lived the same way. They split apart. They splintered into smaller and smaller groups. And they lived in tribes. “This is peace,” they thought, because no one was fighting. But there are things worse than fighting. And this was one of them. They thought they had found peace, but all they had found was seclusion. Seclusion, a definition: Living in seclusion is often confused with living peacefully. Because when you are secluded from the world, you do not fight. You do not start wars. You do not say mean things. But peace can only be found in the world. And if you live in seclusion, you have given up on the world. And if you have given up on the world, you should know that God is in the world. If you think the world has become your enemy, remember that God so loved the world. And if you are scared of the other people in the world, remember that they are the part of the world that God loves the most. Nephi, the prophet, could see what was happening. And so he went to all of the tribes. “Hey, Nephites and Lamanites! You cannot live in seclusion forever. You are human. And humans need to be around other humans. All different kinds of humans. We need people around us to learn, and to disagree, and to help, and to be helped, and to practice being kind, and to practice receiving kindness. We need each other. We need people who are tall and people who are short. People who are clever and people who are generous. People who are liberal and people who are conservative. We need people who are fun and people who are thoughtful. We need everybody from all of the houses. “So come out now. Please. Come back together. Come and be human, and let other people be human too. And we’ll learn to be kind, all together, all over again.” But the people just hid in their houses until Nephi went away. And Nephi went and sat down by a stream and cried. Everything seemed upside down and inside out. Everybody should be happy, not hiding. They should be together, not divided. They should be singing, not sighing. And the more he cried, the more unhappy Nephi became. Because his people had given up on each other. They had never been further from peace. And then it happened. The other sign that Samuel had predicted. The ground started to shake. First pebbles rattled, then big boulders started falling down from the mountains. There were bolts of lightning, and streaks of fire fell from the sky and split across the earth. Dust and smoke filled the air. It was a new storm as terrible as the new star had been beautiful. Clouds spilled over the sky. They were dark and they hid the sun away from the earth and everything everywhere was dark and shaking and tumbling and confused. And Nephi looked up to the dark black sky, and he looked down at the angry thrashing earth, and he dropped onto his knees and cried because he knew what the storm meant. Jesus had been killed. It was the biggest, baddest, saddest, most terrifying storm anyone had ever seen. And after the storm stopped there was only darkness. They could feel the darkness. It crawled over them, blew down their backs, snuck into their noses and made them cough. And when they tried to rub it out of their eyes, they only rubbed it in deeper. They could not light candles to see their moms and dads or brothers and sisters. There was nothing in the world but darkness. For the first time in history, the earth was without Jesus. He had been the light of the world from the very beginning. And without him, there was nothing but shadow upon shadow upon shadow. And the darkness grew deeper and darker for three days. And as the darkness poured down their throats and into their hearts, Nephites and Lamanites began to choke and cry and sob. “The world has become a nightmare,” they said, and then hid under their blankets and they cried and cried. “Jesus!” they cried. “We will be true to you. Come back. Please come back to us. We need you.” And on the third day, as the people were about to give into despair, there was a voice. It was a quiet, soft voice, but it echoed around the kingdom like church bells. It was Jesus. “You think I have left you, but you are the ones who left me. You have run away from me like baby chicks running away from their nest. You ran into each other. You bumped noses. You tripped over roots and pebbles and other little chicken feet. But you did not help each other up. As you ran away, you were running away from each other. And as you ran away from each other, you were running away from me. But I will gather you all up together again, and bring you home to the nest. Because I am your mother. And you are my children. And we are a family. And families are supposed to gather together and play, not just on Christmas or Easter or birthdays, but every day.” And after Jesus finished talking, the people cried again because they wanted to be back in the nest with Jesus and with each other. And they cried themselves to sleep. And when they woke up in the morning, the darkness was gone. And the people stepped outside and blinked in the bright light. They walked around to find their neighbors. They whispered together, “Did you hear it? Did you hear the voice too?” And they gathered. The tall people and the short people. The early birds and the night owls. The clever people and the generous people. And they hugged and kissed each other. And no one doubted the miracles walking and talking and hugging around them. “I have missed you,” they said. But this was not the only miracle. Not even the greatest miracle. Because all of the sudden, right in the middle of everybody hugging and crying, there was Jesus. The Jesus. He was standing there in front of them living and breathing and shining and completely alive, like a miracle. His smile was as bright as the sun. “My friends,” he said, and he reached his hands out towards them. And the people saw his hands, and they had holes in them. And Jesus saw that they were looking at his hands. And he smiled again. He said, “Come, look and see how I have written your names down in my hands. All of your names. All together.” And when Jesus lifted his hands, the sun shone through the holes, and they could see their names written in light, like a new star shining in the hands of God. And every single person there came and felt the holes in his hands. And the people wept because it wasn’t just their names that they found written on Jesus’ hands. But there were the names of their fathers and mothers. Brothers and sisters. The short people and the tall people. The stargazers and the downlookers. The liberals and the conservatives. And there was the name of a friend who had died long ago. And there was their great-grandmother whose name they had forgotten until now. And there were other names, so many names. Names that would have been forgotten. But God had not forgotten them. Nobody’s name was forgotten. You are there, and I am there. We have been gathered up in Jesus’s hands. I want you to imagine holding his holy hands. Seeing all the names. Because I think this is a little like heaven. I do not know what heaven is, except that it is everyone. You are there, and your mom and dad, and their moms and dads, and their moms and dads, and the cousins and the second cousins and the grannies and grandpas and the uncles and aunts and all of the families which were always actually part of the same family. God has gathered his children together. And there is no crying or tears or tribes or jealousy or seclusion. There is peace. Because Jesus is there. And his broken hands are opened up to us, calling our names. Joshua is an award-winning writer and director. His recent book, Ali the Iraqi, was published by BCC press. Sarah is a literature and theology doctoral student studying the Book of Job in the twentieth century. Artwork by Maddie Baker. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.faithmatters.org/s

Heleman 16:8 And behold, he was never heard of more among the Nephites; and thus were the affairs of the people. The story we are about to tell you was almost forgotten. And it was almost forgotten because it is a story about a Lamanite. And the Book of Mormon is more about the Nephites than the Lamanites. And so even though there were many great Lamanite prophets, we do not know about any of them, except for one. And his name was Samuel. We do not know much about Samuel. We do not know how old he was or if he had walking sandals. We do not know who his parents were or where he came from. Because nobody wrote any of this down. In fact, no one wrote anything down. Not for many years. All we know is a single story about his life. And it’s a story that might change what you think about the Lamanites. You might think that the Lamanites were bad or lazy or wicked and the Nephites were always helping the Lamanites to be less bad and less lazy and more righteous by teaching them about Jesus. But this was not the case. And we know this because of Samuel the Lamanite who came to teach the Nephites about Jesus. And the Nephites would not listen. And so Samuel climbed up the wall of Zarahemla. He stood tall and strong above all the Nephites. He took a deep breath. And the next hour or so of his life is all that we know about Samuel. “Nephites,” he said, “I have something important to tell you. You are all sad and angry and playing a very sad game of hide and seek. You are trying to hide from each other. And you are seeking happiness. But this is impossible. Because you cannot have happiness alone. You need to come out. And you need to come out fast. Because Jesus is coming and you don’t want to miss him.” And the Nephites did come out. But they were not happy with Samuel. The sun was so bright. “Don’t tell us about Jesus,” they said. “You are a Lamanite. We taught you everything you know about Jesus.” Samuel shook his head and said, “But I know something you don’t know. Because God told me a secret. And it’s a big one. A very, very big one.” The Nephites shook their head and threw rocks at him. But they were having trouble seeing him because he was so high on the wall and the sun was in their eyes. “Come down or we will shoot you down,” they said. But Samuel would not come down until he had told his secret. And so some of the Nephites returned to their homes to get bows and arrows so they could shoot him down. The others remained behind and said, “God would not tell you a secret. If God was going to tell us something he would tell Nephi, our prophet. Not some random Lamanite named Samuel.” Samuel only shrugged and said, “Well God did come to me. And God told me that in five years, he is going to send us Jesus. THE Jesus. The one we’ve all been talking about for years and years and years. He’s coming, so we all had better get ready.” “Let us stop you right there,” said the Nephites. “Do you want to know something about Jesus? Jesus isn’t coming here. He will be born very far away, back in Jerusalem. So even if he does come in five years, like you say, we will never know.” “You are mistaken!” Samuel said. “Jesus is not coming to Jerusalem. He is coming to the world. And the whole world will celebrate. When he is born the stars will be so excited that a brand new star will burn sudden and radiant in the sky. And when you see this star you have never seen before, you will say, ‘Ah, there is the diamond in Jesus’s crown. He is come, the prince of peace.’ And when he is born, the sky will be so excited that it will stay up all night watching this new little baby and never get dark. And when you see a day and a night and a day pass all shining brightly like a Christmas tree, you will say, ‘Ah, there is the fire in Jesus’s lantern. He is come, the light of the world.’ “And it will be like this when Jesus is born. The birds and the animals will be singing. The trees and the rocks will be clanging and dancing like church bells. Everything everywhere from the ocean to the smallest specks of dust will weep or shout or tumble for joy that Jesus is born. “And just like we will know when he is born, we will know when he dies. Because when he dies, the whole world will be terribly sad. The sky will cover her face with clouds and cry and sob. And the sun will turn away from the earth and refuse to shine. And the rocks will tear themselves in two. And the waves will churn. And whole cities will fall into the water or into holes in the ground and it will seem like the earth has given up on being happy because the earth will be mourning. “And there will be other miracles. And you will know Jesus is real. And you will realize that even while he was in Jerusalem, he was also here, beside you. He did not forget you. No matter who you are or where you are. He remembers you. And so we all need to believe in him and doubt no more.” “How dare you tell us about Jesus!” the Nephites said. And they took the bows and arrows and tried to shoot Samuel down. It was too much for the Nephites to hear. They had been waiting for Jesus to come for hundreds and hundreds of years. And sometimes when you are so excited you are also scared. Scared that it will not be what you hoped. Scared that it will not happen at all. It was all too wonderful to believe full-heartedly. It is like secretly wishing for a new silver bicycle with tassels on the handles and asking and hoping and praying for the bicycle, but then telling yourself that it will never come, or if it does it will probably be old and rusty and not very fun to ride. The Nephites could not bear to believe that Jesus was not just coming, but he was coming to them. After six hundred years of waiting and waiting and waiting, they needed their doubts. And so they did not want Jesus to visit them in America. He was easier to believe when he was far away in Jerusalem. They would not be there when Jesus walked the streets. They would not be there to see him raise Jarius’s daughter from the dead. They would not sit on the mount or eat from the baskets of bread and fish. They would never meet the woman who touched his hem or be able to ask for her name. They would not be in a single one of those stories. They would not meet Jesus. And that’s what they wanted. Because then there was always room to doubt. And when there is room to doubt, it is safer and easier to hope. And so the Nephites put arrows in their bows, pulled the bowstring back, aimed at Samuel, and released the arrows. The arrows flew right at his heart. But then they fell harmless to the ground like white daisies. And Samuel climbed down the wall and ran away, arrows falling like flowers behind him. And this is all we know about Samuel because no one wrote down his story. Not even Nephi. Because Nephi had not received the same revelation. And so maybe he was scared that Samuel was wrong. And Nephi knew the Nephites could not take much more disappointment. And if Samuel was wrong about Jesus coming to them, his story was best forgotten. It would only crush the people’s hopes. But Jesus was coming, just as Samuel had said. And he was not just coming to Jerusalem. He was coming to the Nephites and the Lamanites. And he was not just coming to the Nephites and the Lamanites. He was coming to the whole world. He was coming for everyone. And when Jesus came, he told the Nephites to write down the story of Samuel. So that it would not be forgotten. And so it’s because of Jesus we have this story. Because Jesus is a rememberer. He remembered Samuel. And he remembered the Nephites and the Lamanites. And he remembers you and me. And if you think he has forgotten you, and you begin to doubt, just remember that hope is a hard thing to do for very long. And so we protect ourselves with doubts. Doubts about life. Doubts about death. Doubts about life after death. Doubts about Christ. Doubts that he even remembers us. And when you have doubts, remember Samuel the Lamanite. He is on a wall somewhere saying, believe a little longer. Believe purely, wholeheartedly that Jesus is real. Because he is coming soon. And he is coming for you. And it is going to be even better than you have imagined. Joshua is an award-winning writer and director. His recent book, Ali the Iraqi, was published by BCC press. Sarah is a literature and theology doctoral student studying the Book of Job in the twentieth century. Artwork by Maddie Baker. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.faithmatters.org/subscribe

Heleman 5:43 Behold, they saw that they were encircled about, yea every soul, by a pillar of fire. Moroni and Pahoran would live the rest of their lives happy at home with their families. But they would sometimes remember the war and they would think to themselves, “That war was terrible, so terrible that no one will ever want to fight again. And for that alone, it will have been worth it. Our terrible memories, our injuries, and the people who died have all served a higher purpose. And that purpose is peace. And we will have peace, finally. After all these years.” And Moroni and Pahoran will die believing they have established peace. A peace that will last a long time if not forever. But they will be wrong. And they die young from their injuries. And the peace they established also dies young. Only ten years later the fighting begins again. The Lamanites take over the Nephite capital, Zarahemla. Brothers and sisters and family, fighting and fighting and fighting. And the fighting goes on for years. And that is terribly sad because it means the war that Moroni and Pahoran fought did not accomplish what they had hoped. And what so many people had fought and died for. Because in our deepest soul, we all want peace. Peace, a definition: Peace is like a plant. We will call it a tree. From what you have read so far you might believe that peace is fragile. But it is not. It is strong like iron, but it does not rust. It is as powerful as a waterfall, but it does not fall. It is like a river. But for peace to be strong and powerful it must also be particular. It does not grow like most plants. If you plant it in the soil, it will shrivel up and die. Peace can only grow and blossom if it is planted on a rock. And not just any rock. There is only one rock. And it is the most perfect rock you have ever seen. Because the rock is Jesus. Peace is a tree that grows from Jesus. And without Jesus, it shrivels. It dies. And that’s why, even though everyone wants peace, we are not very good at keeping it around. And when the wars started again between the Nephites and the Lamanites, people lost hope. They said, “We will never have peace.” Even when there was peace, they slept with their swords under their beds because they knew the peace would not last very long. And when the fighting started again, they nodded their heads and said “Yes, we knew this would happen.” And this is despair. And when you feel despair, it is very hard to care about other people. And the Nephites and the Lamanites could only care about themselves and their own families. And they formed secret alliances with friends and everyone did what they could do to survive in their world of despair. In a world where they had given up on peace. But there was one man who had not given up. His name was Nephi. He was named after the Nephi from the beginning of this book. He was the leader of the Nephites and of the church. And he looked around and saw everybody fighting and preparing to fight, and he saw the despair behind it all. And he began to cry big hot tears. “God,” he said, “everybody is so so sad and so so tired. Please help me to have hope. People need hope. And I want to give it to them so we can end this war.” And then he did the same thing that his great-great-grandpa Alma had done. He asked someone else to be the Nephite leader, he put on his best walking sandals, and he went out the door. And he walked straight into the middle of all the fighting, to the land of Zarahemla where the Lamanites had taken over the city. But Nephi did not bring an army or a sword or even a pocket knife. He only brought himself and his little brother, Lehi. And they stood together. They were nervous. They were about to speak. And what would happen when they spoke? They could be ignored. They could be arrested. They could be killed. That all seemed a lot more likely than the battle-worn, despair-laden Lamanites sitting down and listening. And for a moment the two Nephite brothers felt the despair too. And they began to doubt if peace was possible. Because for peace to be possible, they needed Jesus’ help. And maybe Jesus had given up on the Nephites and the Lamanites. They thought of their history. Their names’ sake. They remembered their great-grandparents, Lehi and Nephi and Mosiah and Alma. They could see their mistakes. Their failures to establish peace. The many many times the Nephites had been angry, and prideful, and mean. But God had still come to them, and blessed them, and helped them. Would he stop now? No. God would come again. They had to believe it. God had not given up on the family of Lehi. And in that moment of hope, they felt God. God was coming into their memories. They were seeing their ancestors again, still imperfect, but great, bright, beaming souls, covered in white robes, walking with God. And the two brothers’ eyes were opened and they could see the bravery, the humility, and the kindness of their ancestors. And they knew that their ancestors were good and had tried to be good and that they themselves were good. And when the two brothers began to speak to the Lamanites, it was not with their own voices. The words were their own. But in the words one could hear the ancestors echoing, filling the air, and in each echo, there was a deeper sound. A sound simple and beautiful, like an exhale. And that sound filled Zarahemla. They were there. The ancestors. The angels. And God. And the Lamanites listened and could hear the ancestors, the angels, and maybe even God. And Nephi and Lehi’s eyes filled with tears because even though they had doubted, God had come. And the Lamanites were baptized and peace was restored to Zarahemla. And the two brothers continued to other cities. And one of the cities tried to stop Nephi and Lehi from speaking. They put them in prison. And tried to kill them. But the brothers kept preaching peace. Because they knew now that God had not given up on the family of Lehi. And when the Lamanites tried to kill the two brothers, the prison filled with fire! And the brothers were standing in the middle of the fire. But they weren’t burned or even hot. They were comfortable. And the Lamanites were scared. And they knew God was protecting the two brothers. But this did not bring the Lamanites hope. They only felt greater despair. “We are cursed,” they said. “We are bad. And our ancestors were bad. God does not love us like he loves the Nephites.” And they dropped their swords and gave up and waited for the fire to consume their bodies. But the fire did not grow. It did not burn them. And then, they heard a still small voice. And God whispered in their ears and told them a secret. A secret he tells all of his children. “I love you,” God said. “Turn to me, take my hand, and I will open your eyes even more.” And the Lamanites’ eyes were opened and they realized the fire was not a fire at all. And it was not just around the two Nephite brothers. All of the Lamanites, too, were surrounded by the same fire that was not a fire. And they knew God loved them too, just as he loved the Nephites. And they found hope that night. Hope enough to try once more for peace. No one really knows what the fire was. But I believe it was the love of God that cloaks, fills, and surrounds all of his children. And if we are ever blessed like the Lamanites were that night, we will see the same fire covering the world, surrounding every bus driver, every mother, every father, every school teacher, every zoo keeper, every restaurant waiter, every student, every brother, every sister. Everyone. Which is to say, the world is on fire. It burns brightly, softly, tenderly with the inextinguishable, inexhaustible love of God. We do not normally see the fire. But there are times of despair when we think there is no hope for peace that God blesses our eyes to see. And we see. Joshua is an award-winning writer and director. His recent book, Ali the Iraqi, was published by BCC press. Sarah is a literature and theology doctoral student studying the Book of Job in the twentieth century. Artwork by Maddie Baker. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.faithmatters.org/subscribe

Alma 56:45 And now I say unto you, my beloved brother Moroni, that never had I seen so great courage, nay, not amongst all the Nephites. This is a story about the children of the people with the long name. Do you remember how they buried their weapons and their pride in a hole? And they promised God that they would never dig up their weapons or their pride again. Well, that promise quickly became very hard to keep because when they went to live with the Nephites, they were chased by a Lamanite army. And the Nephites had to protect the people with the long name. They had to take their own swords and give up their own lives simply because the Anti-Nephi-Lehies had made a promise and didn’t want to break it. And that was hard enough the first time. But the wars between the Lamanites and the Nephites continued on and on and on. Amalickiah was just one leader among many leaders, and when he died, his brother Ammoron took over so the war wouldn’t stop. And the war went on and on and on for far too long. And it was harder and harder for the Anti-Nephi-Lehies to keep their promise. Because they had to rely on the Nephites to fight and die and fight and die again. But just because the Anti-Nephi-Lehies couldn’t fight, that didn’t mean they were useless in a war. When you think of war, you might think it’s all about fighting. But that is only part of war. It is also about how and where you fight. It’s about getting food and having water and toilet paper and toothbrushes and tents and pots and places to sleep. And so the Anti-Nephi-Lehies carried soap and food and letters and blankets to the Nephite army wherever they went so that they would be strong and fed and well rested. And the Anti-Nephi-Lehies did this for thirteen years. They supplied more than all the other Nephite cities because the Anti-Nephi-Lehies wanted to do their part. But after thirteen years, and the war was still going, it did not seem like enough anymore. While they were carrying backpacks of supplies, other Nephites were carrying swords onto battlefields. The Anti-Nephi-Lehies were getting sore and tired, but the Nehpites were getting killed. The Anti-Nephi-Lehies wanted to do something more. And so they called a meeting. They invited the prophet, Helaman. And they said “Helaman, we made a promise to God that we would never fight again. But that was a long time ago. And carrying backpacks with supplies makes us feel silly and useless and cowardly. We want to fight like everyone else. Surely our promise to God could not be more important than another person’s life. Helaman, please talk with God. Tell him that we are sorry, but we must help win this war and end the fighting. Nothing could be more important.” But Helaman did not agree. He said, “A promise to God is a precious thing. And so are supplies and suppliers. Trust God, keep your promise, carry supplies, and you will help us win this war.” And so the Anti-Nephi-Lehies were very sad because they had almost broken their promise, and sad because they couldn’t. The meeting was over and Helaman had turned to go, but then a young boy stood up and began to talk. “Thirteen years ago,” he said, “I was just a baby. I did not own a sword. I did not bury a weapon. I did not promise God anything, because I was still learning the alphabet. But now I am nearly grown, and I can fight in my father’s place.” And another boy stood. And another. And another. And another. And then there were two thousand standing. And they said, “We will go.” And Helaman turned back and looked out, and his heart sank. They were just boys. They were too young to be married, too young to own a house, too young to fight a war. But the army needed soldiers. So Helaman bowed his head and said, “Yes. You can fight in your father’s place. But only if I can be your captain.” Then he looked at the mothers of the boys. They were smiling with pride, but they were also crying. Helaman looked into their tearful eyes and said, “I will bring them back alive.” And Helaman tried to keep his word by teaching the boys how to fight. And he grew to love them like a father. And he dreaded danger and war and death, like a father. But when they were ready, he marched them to the battlefront, like a captain. And they arrived not a moment too soon. Because the Nephites were losing the war. They had lost city after city after city. And Helaman and his boys began a long and dangerous task of winning back the cities. To take back the first city, Helaman devised a strategy. Helaman and his child army would march out of their city and march right past the city with the Lamanite army. And the Lamanites would see that the child army was small, and weak, and easy to defeat, so they would leave their city and try to chase the child-army down. But this is what Helaman was hoping would happen. Because when the Lamanite army was out of the city walls, they were vulnerable. And Helaman planned for another army of trained adult fighters to come from behind and defeat the Lamanite army. It was a dangerous plan. So many things could go wrong. There was no guarantee that the Lamanite army would come out. And if Helaman’s child army wasn’t fast enough, they could be captured or killed. But something had to be done. Helman could not keep his child army safe inside the city walls forever. They had to fight. And if they fought, they might die. And if the children died, Helaman would have to tell their mothers. The night before the risky battle, the boys received supplies. And who do you think carried the supplies? The fathers. Their fathers. They came with meat and bread and water and bandaids and candies in their pockets. And in the morning, they watched as their boys sorted into lines and marched out of the gates into the battlefield. At first, it seemed like Helaman’s plan was working. The Lamanite army came out and started chasing the boy soldiers. But then things started to fall apart. Because Helaman’s child army ran as fast as they could, and because the Lamanite army ran as fast as they could, the adult Nephite army had to run even faster because they did not want the children to die. And it went on like this for two days. So by the time the trained adult Nephite army caught up with the Lamanites, they were worn out. And when they fought, it was with half their strength, and half their breath, but all their souls. And many of them died to save the children. And perhaps all of them would have died, if the children had followed the plan and kept running. But on the morning of the third day, the boys woke up and looked around, and they could not see anyone chasing them anymore. No Lamanites. No big strong adult Nephite army. They were all alone. So Helaman looked at his little army of little people. And he hung his head again because they trusted him like a father, and because he was going to ask them to do something very hard. “My boys,” he said, “I do not know what has happened to our adult army. But I do know that if we do not go back to find them, we may not see them again. You are so little. And this is a big and scary thing I am asking. I wish in my bones that I did not have to ask it. But my boys, will you turn back with me and rescue your rescuers?” And the boys looked at Helaman and at each other. And a child in the front raised his hand. “Captain Helaman, sir,” the boy said. “Our fathers made a promise to God. And God made a promise to our mothers. And our mothers put that promise in our hearts. And this is the promise: God will be with us in the world and in this war. And one way or another, he will deliver us. And because of him, we do not need to fear death. We may be little, but we are also strong. We are afraid, but we are also brave. So let’s turn back, and save our friends.” And who knows, perhaps that boy was Abish’s boy. And he was standing tall and brave like his mother. And all the other children stomped their feet and raised their swords and shouted “HUZZAH!” And they picked up their things and they ran quick as they could back the way they had come — headfirst into danger. And sure enough, the big, trained adult army was losing to the Lamanites. And the boy army ran and fought to save the men. And even though they were just children, they prevailed. After the battle, Helaman ran through the battlefield carrying bandages and slings and water. And as he ran he was counting. He wanted to know how many of his children warriors had died in the battle. And all of the boys that he saw were injured. And all of the boys that he saw were hurt. And all of the boys that he saw were still, somehow, miraculously alive. And Helaman fell on his knees and gathered the boys to him like a father. He held them tight and cried and prayed and cried again. Just like their fathers held them when they brought more supplies. Like God held them when they returned to rescue their rescuers. Like God holds you when you are little, and strong, and scared, and brave, and always. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.faithmatters.org/subscribe