The Story From Laman's Perspective

This story follows the events of 1 Nephi (and a portion of 2 Nephi), reimagined from Laman's perspective. While the events follow the Book of Mormon narrative, Laman's thoughts and motivations are fictional.

Today Father announced that we are leaving Jerusalem. He claims he had a vision where the Lord commanded him to take his family into the wilderness.

I still can’t quite believe it.

We have a good life here. We have a home. We have land. We have possessions. We have family and friends. And now Father intends to abandon all of it because of a dream he had.

I do not know what to think. I'm still in shock. Father is a good man. A little old fashioned at times maybe, a little inflexible in his views. But also wise and good at heart--a man who truly loves God. 

So when he came home a few days ago going on about his dream that Jerusalem would be destroyed, and the wickedness of all of the people in the city, I thought it sounded a bit odd, but I wasn't too concerned. And then when he moved on to actually standing in public streets berating the people for their “wickedness,” I was definitely uncomfortable, but I assumed it would pass. If he wanted to spend his days arguing with strangers in the marketplace, then that was his choice. 

But now, he wants to move our whole family to the wilderness? Leave our home, our life here, all of our things, and go camp out in the desert? This notion of his that Jerusalem will be destroyed has moved from a harmless belief to real-life action, and now it's not just his life that is being affected anymore.

I tried reasoning with him, tried making him see what an enormous mistake this would be. But it was too late. Once Father gets it into his head that God has spoken, there is no reasoning with him anymore. No room for question. He dismissed our concerns as “murmuring” and wouldn't hear of anything except absolute submission to his will.

Tomorrow we leave Jerusalem.

--

We’ve been in the wilderness for days now. The journey has been miserable. Endless walking, heat, and dreary sand. My back aches from sleeping on hard ground. I'm still reeling from the loss of our home, our beds, our friends. It still doesn't feel real.

Today Father gathered us near a valley and a river. He declared that the valley would be named after Lemuel and the river after me. 

I was a bit surprised. Was this his attempt at some kind of a peace offering? It’s not much, I thought, he’s delusional if he thinks this will make me feel better about the loss of our homes, but it’s something, perhaps.

Then he explained the reasoning: The valley was to remind Lemuel to be firm and steadfast in keeping the commandments of the Lord. The river was to remind me to flow continually in righteousness. 

There it was.

Another lesson. Another veiled commentary. Another transparent attempt to “inspire” us to change our ways. I shouldn’t have been surprised.

Ever since we left Jerusalem, Father has treated nearly every concern we raise as some kind of spiritual failure. Questioning the decision to abandon our home on the strength of a dream is called murmuring. Asking where we are being led is murmuring. Even just bringing up the possibility that his senses could be fooled--that what he experienced may have been the result of his own thoughts and imagination rather than a true vision from God--and asking that we consider that possibility before acting, is still called murmuring.

I made one last effort to get through to him. I pointed out that the whole premise of his vision doesn't even make any sense--Jerusalem, destroyed? It is a fortified city with walls, armies, and alliances, long established and accustomed to threat. Cities do not simply fall because someone declares them wicked. If Jerusalem were truly in danger, there would be signs of siege or war. Yet we see none. To abandon everything on the basis of something so untestable is to me no different than being guided by fear or imagination rather than reality.

But it was no use. He went off on a ranting tirade against us, said a lot of harsh things, and Lemuel and I fell silent. I suppose he'll see this as victory, as proof that he has confounded us with the word of God. But in reality, we’re simply resigned.

There is little point arguing with a man who has already decided that every disagreement is rebellion.

--

Today Father told us he had another dream, where the Lord told him that we need to go back to Jerusalem to get the brass plates from Laban.

I couldn't believe it. What, just go up to a man said to be one of the most notoriously impatient and unpredictable in the city, and ask him to hand over his prized ancestral record to a bunch of people he’s never met? It's impossible. I told him so, and asked why he was asking this of us. If it's so important, why doesn't he risk his own neck for it? The response? It wasn't he, Father, who required it of us, but the Lord. Of course. How convenient. The Lord--the ultimate conversation-ender.

Ever-eager Nephi of course agreed instantly. Couldn’t pass up an opportunity to show how obedient he is now, could he? He launched into a grand speech about how he would “go and do” what the Lord commands. Never a moment’s doubt for our revered younger brother. If only the rest of us mortals were blessed with such certainty.

--

We arrived in Jerusalem earlier today, and it turns out our great “Go-And-Do” brother himself is no more eager than the rest of us to be the one to talk to Laban. So we cast lots. And the lot fell to me. Naturally.

Just as I predicted, just as I told Father, Laban was not pleased by my request. He accused me of being a robber and declared he would kill me. I barely escaped with my life.

I made it back to the edge of the city, where my brothers were waiting. Told them what happened. They were dismayed. We started heading back to Jerusalem. 

But then Nephi intervened. Speaking as if he were our older brother. He said we can’t go back until we do what the Lord told us to do. What nonsense, we tried doing exactly what the Lord supposedly told us to do, and we failed! But before I could say anything, he kept talking. He suggested we gather all of our gold and silver from our home in Jerusalem and offer to buy the plates. Then he launched into the familiar line about Jerusalem’s wickedness and the supposed importance of the plates, but I had stopped paying attention by then.

Give up all our money? I know that we won't need it out in the wilderness, but…something about the finality of this disturbs me. What if Father comes to his senses and decides to let us return?

Moreover, I'm not eager to go back to Laban’s house. He’s already tried to kill me once. I’m not sure it would be a good idea to put ourselves in his power again. Then again, perhaps a mountain of gold would put him in a better mood.

I thought about pushing back, but Sam joined Nephi’s side, and in the end, I decided not to waste my energy. None of these arguments would have any chance of swaying Nephi--he’s just like Father. Once he gets it into his head that God wants something, there is no moving him from it. We’ve come this far, may as well see the job through.

--

So much has happened since my last entry. I can scarcely believe it was only a day ago. Everything has changed.

This morning, we returned to Laban’s house, bearing all of our gold and silver. As we predicted, he was very interested in getting his hands on it. But when he heard what we wanted in return, his face grew cold. He wasn’t willing to part with the plates, but I guess he wasn’t willing to part with our riches either, because he ordered his guards to kill us. 

I found myself running for my life for the second time in as many days. 

We barely escaped, hiding in some filthy cave like hunted animals.

We laid there, huddled in that miserable dank hole in the ground, gasping for breath. We had come within a hair's width of death. Lost all of our wealth. Nothing to show for it.

The more I thought about it, the angrier I became. 

We could have been back at Father's tent by now. Could have been safe, our wealth secure, a life to go back to intact. But no, Nephi knew best! Nephi, our younger brother, who yet sees himself as somehow above us, knew better than his unenlightened older brothers! He "knew" that the Lord would deliver the plates to us!

Well?

Where are the plates? Were they delivered to us? No, and instead we nearly lost our lives!

And then I looked up. Saw his face. Saw that look of quiet certainty, as if this disaster somehow changed nothing. As though he still expected us to march back into Jerusalem and risk our necks all over again.

Suddenly I was on my feet. Got in his face, started shouting at him. Every grievance l'd swallowed for weeks came out at once. The loss of our home. The visions. The sermons. The deaths we’d narrowly avoided. The gold we'd lost. I hardly stopped to breathe.

Nephi did not shrink back. If anything, he looked more resolved than ever. Sam stepped toward him, looking as though he meant to defend him.

That was enough. I grabbed a nearby stick. Lemuel did the same. And we fell upon them, beating them.

Then all of a sudden there was this blinding light. A loud voice, commanding us to stop.

I froze, the stick slipping from my hand. There was a figure in the middle of the light. 

An angel.

Shock and terror seized my heart.

He rebuked us for hitting our younger brothers. Said that because of our sins, the Lord has chosen Nephi to be a ruler over us. Ordered us to go back to Jerusalem, and said the Lord would deliver Laban into our hands.

And then he left.

We sat there shaking for some time. I couldn’t believe it. An angel. 

It was all true. God speaks. 

And He truly did speak to Father, telling him to send us to fetch the brass plates.

But after the shock of the angel’s visit passed, I got to thinking. The angel said that the Lord would deliver Laban into our hands. But how is that possible? Laban is a mighty man, capable of commanding fifty. Of killing fifty. Why should four unarmed men do any better?

I made the mistake of voicing this question out loud. Nephi pounced upon the opportunity for another reproach. His superior tone grated upon my nerves. The memory of the angel’s visit was the only thing that stood in the way of him receiving a swift punch in the face. If this is truly what it looks like to be the Lord’s chosen, I'm not so sure I care to be chosen.

We followed him back into Jerusalem, hiding just outside the city walls. This time Nephi went. We waited. A while later, Laban and his servant appeared! I nearly died of fright before Nephi called out to us--apparently it was Nephi in Laban’s clothing. This revelation spooked Zoram, but Nephi subdued him and was able to convince him to come with us in the wilderness.

On our way to find shelter for the night, Nephi gave us his account of what happened. Apparently he found Laban passed out drunk on the ground, and slew him where he lay. He claimed the Lord commanded him to do it. It disturbed me, seeing just how far Nephi will go in carrying out what he believes to be God’s will. And now we’ll be wanted for murder in Jerusalem. 

No going back now.

--

We’re back at Father’s tent, having made our way back from Jerusalem. Our parents were very relieved to see us. Apparently our delay caused Mother to fear we had died. Sounds like she got into a big argument with Father. I wish I had been there to see that. Would have been nice hearing someone else talk back to him for once.

This morning, Father told us that we need to go back to Jerusalem. Again. I guess there’s some family there that needs to join us in this barren wasteland. It sure would have been nice if the Lord had seen fit to let us know of this plan before we journeyed several days back into the wilderness from Jerusalem!

It was a nerve-racking experience, sneaking back into the city and explaining our visit to Ishmael. But in the end, we were never caught, and we managed to persuade Ishmael and his family to join us.

--

Today we headed back into the wilderness. After enjoying the comforts of Ishmael’s home, and glimpsing civilization, it was almost more than I could bear. I just kept thinking about everything we are leaving behind, and the insanity of going into the wilderness on nothing more than the word of our visionary father and his devoted shadow. God may speak to them, but that doesn’t mean I always trust their interpretations of what He says.

I spoke to some of the others and they felt the same way. We started speaking quietly of going back to Jerusalem, making plans to lie low for a little while until the whole episode with Laban is forgotten. Nephi overheard, and true to form, started lecturing us. 

He kept carrying on about our “hardened hearts” and our “blind minds,” and I tried to keep it together. Honestly I did. Kept my mouth shut when he made his little remark about how he has to “set an example for us.” Ignored him throughout his whole long speech about being “faithful” to the Lord and the destruction of Jerusalem and all that crap. 

And then he actually had the gall to suggest that if we weren't happy going along with this madness, that we could feel free to go back to Jerusalem! After we lost all of our riches and are now wanted murderers in Jerusalem because of him!

That was the last straw. Something inside of me snapped. I was just about ready to strangle him, but I couldn't do it in front of the women. So I grabbed him, and with Lemuel's help, tied him up. In our anger, we spoke of leaving him in the wilderness and heading back to Jerusalem. We wouldn't have really done it, of course. Maybe we would have let him sweat for a day or two. But after we calmed down, we would have let someone go free him. We wouldn't have let him starve.

But then Nephi slipped his ropes somehow, and Lemuel and I started back towards him. Who knows what would have happened if we’d reached him, in the mood we were in. But thankfully, a few of Ishmael’s family members intervened, and talked us down. 

After cooling off, we realized we'd gone too far. Nephi may be an insufferable upstart, too convinced of his own wisdom, but that doesn't mean he deserves to be tied up and left behind in the wilderness, believing he’s going to get eaten by wild animals. I couldn't believe how far we’d gone. I think Lemuel was pretty shaken up as well, and the whole movement to go back to Jerusalem lost steam. 

We begged Nephi’s forgiveness, and to his credit, he accepted easily. He told us to pray for forgiveness, and I just bit my tongue and did it. We continued our journey.

--

Today our father got mad at us about something we did in a dream of his. In a dream! I couldn’t believe my ears.

--

Our father subjected us to one of his long rambling sermons today. I was commiserating with Lemuel about it, but then somehow we got into a bit of an argument over something our father said, about what he meant. It was stupid, I shouldn’t have even engaged, what’s the point? It doesn’t matter what he meant, it’s probably all just a bunch of nonsense anyway. But our Favored-Of-The-Lord brother overheard us arguing, and decided to butt in. 

He asked us if we’d asked the Lord. Ridiculous. Of course not, we’re not the ones pretending to have a direct line to heaven! I told him that the Lord doesn't make these things known to us, and of course that set him off. Going on about our “hard hearts” and so on. But then he went on and actually had a few interesting things to say, ideas for what different things meant that our father was talking about. I was curious enough to play along for a while, ask him different questions. It held my attention, though there was plenty of talk of the wicked and judgement and being “cast off” and so forth mixed in. After a while, we got sick of it and pushed back a bit, and he told us “the guilty take the truth to be hard.” Of course.

Even so, he gave us a lot to think about. I can’t stand him sometimes, the sound of his voice is enough to test my patience. And yet, especially given the angel, I can’t help but wonder…what if he’s right?

--

Time marches on. My brothers and I have each taken one of Ishmael’s daughters to wife. Every day, we walk. And hunt. And hunger. And walk some more. Every day, it’s the same. 

Except that this morning, my father found a strange ball outside his tent. The “Liahona” they call it. Apparently it is pointing the way to the so-called “promised land”? It’s bizarre. I don’t know where it came from, but I don’t trust it. It feels like just one more tool of manipulation to keep us moving further into this wasteland, dependent on a magic trick rather than common sense.

--

I am so sick and tired of being hungry.

This morning Nephi’s bow broke. I was furious. It was our last bow, he knew how important it was, how did that little screw-up manage to break it? 

An odd thing happens when people have not eaten properly for several days. Suddenly practical concerns seem more important than sermons. For once, no one was talking about hardened hearts. No one was talking about obedience. No one was talking about visions. People were talking about food. Even Father was upset. I heard him complaining about our situation. I cannot remember the last time I heard him speak that way. It seems that visions are no substitute for a full stomach, even for Father. A lot of good the Lord is doing us now.

And then, as we’re all hanging on by a thread, Nephi digs deep and finds the energy to berate us about our hardened hearts after all! Was this all his plan? Did he break his bow on purpose? Is this all just some twisted way of asserting his dominance? To teach us all some kind of sick lesson? That would be just like him, to break his bow on purpose, so that we’ll “turn our hearts to the Lord” or something!

I would have wrung his neck if I wasn’t just so. Blasted. Hungry.

Eventually, Nephi eventually made another bow and went hunting. He came back with food.

Everyone was relieved. I was relieved. I suppose Nephi will find some spiritual meaning in all of this to lecture us with. 

If he does, I hope he keeps it to himself. At least until after supper.

--

Ishmael died today.

The daughters of Ishmael wept for hours. The sons sat with us long after dark, speaking in low voices. Nobody had much appetite for Father’s sermons. Nobody wanted to hear about faith. Their father was dead.

Eventually someone asked what we were all thinking: What has this all gained us? We gave up our homes. We gave up our property. We became wanderers. Every day is walking and hunting. It is hunger and thirst and exhaustion. We sleep on the ground, and wake only to suffer it all again.

And now Ishmael is dead.

For what? Because Father had a dream? Because Nephi says the Lord speaks to him? They say we are being led to a promised land, but it looks to me like all we are really being led to is our graves. And now Ishmael’s daughters see it too.

The more we talked, the angrier I became. I thought of all the times Nephi had preached at us about obedience. All the times he had spoken to us as though he were our master rather than our younger brother. All the times that our suffering has become another opportunity for Nephi to reprimand us, to set himself above us, to assert his authority over us.

Everything always comes back to Nephi.

What proof do we really have that the Lord still speaks to him? His word. What proof do we have that angels minister to him? His word. Everything rests on his word. The only real piece of evidence we’ve ever had of his connection to God--the angel’s visit--happened years ago. Yet we’ve had countless revelations from him in that time. And somehow every revelation places him higher and the rest of us lower.

The more I considered it, the more obvious it seemed. He has led us farther and farther into this wilderness. He speaks of commandments and faith, but what if there is another reason? What if all of this serves his purposes perfectly?

I looked around at the faces of the others. Angry. Hungry. Grieving. Ready to listen. And for the first time, I spoke aloud the thought that had been growing in my mind for months. That we are being manipulated. Deceived. Led away into a godless wasteland where Nephi can establish himself as a leader and ruler over us.

It is time for all of this to end. Lehi and Nephi must die.

--

I am still shaking. I can barely write. After deliberating late into the night, we turned in and slept, intending to continue our plans today. But mere minutes into our gathering this morning, we heard a voice. A powerful voice. The voice of the Lord. He spoke to us of many things, rebuking us sharply for what we thought and said and planned, and there was no answer to give. 

I am still in shock. Last night I knew exactly what was true. Today I don't know what is true at all.

Only that the Lord truly is with Father and Nephi.

--

After years of traveling through the wilderness, our wives bearing children, going through all kinds of difficulties, we finally made it to the shore. The land here is beautiful, and there is plenty of fruit and honey to eat. I am so happy I could weep.

--

The last few days Nephi has been disappearing into the mountains for long stretches. Today, he came back with a pile of metal scraps and started building a fire. I later learned he is building a boat. A boat. To cross the ocean. He claims that the Lord commanded him to build a boat so that we could travel to the promised land.

I couldn’t believe my ears. After years, years of starving, suffering, fighting to survive in the wilderness, we finally make it to a beautiful land, and now he wants to leave? In a boat? Trying to cross the ocean?!

It is pure insanity. Whatever connection he claims to have with the Lord, he has clearly lost. It is impossible to cross the ocean in a homemade boat. If the Lord were still with Nephi, he would have told him so.

And now Nephi wants us to help him with the boat. I laughed in his face. I explained all the impossibilities of building a boat capable of crossing the ocean. He got all quiet and looked defeated. And maybe I should have left him alone then, and not kept piling on. But after hearing his intention to leave this land after all of our sufferings, all the frustration just came boiling over, and I just couldn’t help but really let him have it. He needs to understand. To know.

So I kept pushing. I told him that of course he couldn't build this ship. I told him that he is just like Father, just as delusional and foolish. And that because of them, we’ve suffered, and our wives have suffered, bearing children in the wilderness in hellish conditions, enduring torments so brutal that it would have been better for them if they had died before coming out of Jerusalem, rather than go through the tortures of this journey. Because of Father and Nephi, we’ve been suffering in the wilderness, when this whole time, we could have been living happy and rich back in our home at Jerusalem. And for what? To escape some supposed destruction? The people in Jerusalem were righteous, they kept the Law of Moses! But no, Father knows best. He judged them, letting his prejudice and self-righteous attitude blind him to the truth, seeing wickedness where there is none, and Nephi is just like him.

I don't know what I expected. Perhaps his look of dismay brought me a false sense of hope, a hope that maybe, just maybe, he could start to see the error of his ways. 

But far from apologizing, or showing the least sign of remorse, he launched right into a rebuke, going on about the Lord leading the children of Israel out of Egypt, casting us into the role of the ungrateful Israelites--in which scenario, I suppose, Nephi sees himself as Moses!

He went on, raving about the wickedness of the people in Jerusalem, and saying that because we considered killing Lehi, that we are “murderers in our hearts” and just like them--this, coming from the only one of us to actually murder someone! 

Then he whipped out his tired old “hard hearts” line, and had the nerve to say that his soul is “rent with anguish” because of us. How dare he patronize us and blame us after everything he put our wives and children through?

That was it. I saw red, and I charged forward, ready to throw him into the ocean.

But before I could reach him, he put his hand out, declaring loudly in the name of the Almighty that anyone who touched him would wither like a reed and be smitten. Something about his tone made me pause, and I was reminded forcibly of the angel’s rebuke after we beat Nephi and Sam all those years ago, and also of the Lord’s reproof after we plotted against Nephi and Father. I stopped cold, and didn't dare touch him.

--

It has been 3 days, and I’ve been steering clear of Nephi. But then today, Nephi reached out and touched me. My entire body shook violently, as if it were no more than a rag doll in the hands of a child. It was like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. It had to be God’s power. 

I am still angry. Thinking back to what Nephi said still makes my jaw clench. But now I also cannot deny that I was wrong: The Lord has not left Nephi; He is with him still. I do not understand it, but I cannot deny what I felt. He has commanded us to build a boat. And so we shall.

--

We’ve been working for many days on the ship. Nephi directs us, telling us how the Lord wishes it to be done. I must confess, it is a very fine ship. The workmanship is beyond anything I have ever seen, far beyond anything Nephi could have ever learned himself.

--

Several days ago, we finished the ship. We gathered our provisions and made other preparations for our journey. Then we set sail. It has been a few days at sea, and things have been surprisingly pleasant. No hunting, no work; only the open water, good company, and plentiful food and drink. There’s a group of us--Lemuel and I, our wives, and Ishmael’s sons--that get along well, and we’ve been having a great time together. People have really loosened up, dancing and singing and making jokes. 

And so naturally, as with all good things, it is extremely offensive to Nephi. He complains of our "rudeness" and "excessive merry-making." Just unbelievable. I mean, what does he expect us to do out here? Sit solemn faced and serious with our hands folded in our laps? We built this incredible ship with our own hands, and for once there is nothing to labor over, nothing to fear. But to him it is never enough--there must always be something wrong with us, some reason we are not enough, some way we are falling short. 

His reprimands are the only annoyance in what has otherwise been a pleasant time out here, but we do our best to ignore him.

--

Today, Nephi crossed a line.

Up until today, he was a minor irritation. Always making some little comment, casting all these looks of disapproval our way. But that was all. In some ways, his behavior actually added to the fun, because it provided something to laugh about. But today, all of that changed.

He would not let the matter rest. Every song became another occasion for a lecture. For every joke, another accusation that we had forgotten the Lord. He kept inserting himself into our conversations, and just. Wouldn't. Stop.

At first we ignored him. Then we answered him. Before long we were arguing. 

He kept insisting that the Lord was displeased with us. That we were inviting His anger upon everyone aboard the ship. He spoke as though he had every right to correct us--as though we were children, and he was our father!

He’s always thought himself so superior. So sure of himself and his opinions. So confident in his image of himself as wise sage and “chosen of the Lord” that he actually thinks himself entitled to lead us and reprove us--we, his older brothers!

I warned him that we won't accept any more of this. That we won't allow him to set himself up as our ruler. He responded that it is not he who set himself up as our ruler, but Lemuel and I, because of our wickedness.

That was it. I’d had it.

I seized him, pushing him against the mast, and had Lemuel help me tie him up. I won't tolerate his insults any more.

Father and Mother tried to intervene, but I’ve had it with them too. Neither of them have ever spoken a word against Nephi’s encroaching behavior, have done nothing except encourage their favored son.

Lemuel and I stood guard, preventing Nephi’s wife or anyone else from trying to free him.

Shortly after, the winds picked up. The rain started coming down. Pretty soon, we were in the middle of a major storm.

--

It has been a big job keeping everyone off our backs about Nephi. Father claims that the Liahona won't work anymore due to our “wickedness.” That’s also his explanation for this storm we’re in as well. Probably the same explanation that he’ll use for every bad thing that happens from now until the day we die.

The storm hasn't let up. It is by far the worst storm we’ve encountered on our journey so far. The waves grow larger by the hour. People keep asking us to free Nephi. We keep telling them the same thing: Storms happen. We are not about to let every passing storm convince us that God's judgement is upon us.

--

It's been three days since the storm began.

I have never seen the sea like this. The winds are deafening. Rain lashes our faces with an interminable fury. Waves crash over the deck without warning, throwing men to the ground as though they weigh nothing. 

No one sings anymore.

The food is soaked. Most of us can barely keep anything down. Father and Mother have both fallen ill. Sleep comes only in short bursts before another violent jolt wakes us. Everything aboard is damp, cold, and miserable.

The others have begun asking again for us to free him. I told them the storm cannot last forever. It can't. Storms end. They always do. They’ll see. We just have to hold on a little longer. Then they’ll see it has nothing to do with Nephi.

--

Today the storms were the worst they’ve ever been. Far from showing signs of stopping, they appeared as though they would never end. Each wave looked as though it might be our last. I was terrified.

Finally, I gave in. In such a storm as this, there is nothing I would be unwilling to try.

Once he was free, he said a prayer. Within minutes, the waters fell calm.

I was speechless. Couldn’t make sense of it.

God…supports this? Supports him, after everything he did?

There will be no living with them anymore. Not after this. It will be used against me every time I speak, every time I object, every time I question anything at all. Worse, it will become their proof of everything Nephi has ever said, and raise him up in their eyes beyond anything I can undo.

 --

Much has happened since my last entry. We made it to the promised land. Got settled here. Father died, and we buried him. And through it all, it has been exactly as I predicted.

If I thought there was little room for questions or objections before, there was even less after the storm. I can’t count the number of times it was thrown back into my face. The number of censures I was made to endure. And all the while, Nephi rose in authority and influence, adopting a position second only to Father.

Shortly before he died, Father spoke to each of us. His language towards Lemuel and I was filled with every manner of insult and reproach. Among other things, he dredged up the events of the storm once again, “prophesied” that my posterity would be led by the devil if we did not change, and spoke of the hardness of our hearts and the depth of his “sorrow” about us. And then, as if all that were not enough, he told us to "rebel no more against your brother." Our younger brother. He actually commanded us to obey Nephi!

It was final. Nephi was to rule us.

After Father's death, Nephi became unbearable. His appetite for chastisement and control grew to levels far beyond what it had been before. We argued bitterly, and it became clear that this was to be the rest of our lives unless we took action.

And so we did.

We began to plot his death. Sought out allies to our cause. But then, shortly before our plans were to be carried out, Nephi and all of his followers gathered their belongings and left. Off to some new part of the land, where his authority could go unchallenged.

Free at last.

--

It has been thirty years since the time our boat landed on the shores of this land. It feels as though it were a lifetime ago--the memories of hunger, fatigue, travail, all so distant now. Things are more settled, steady now.

That is not to say that all is peaceful. We have occasional conflicts with the Nephites. And conflicts at home as well.

Just this morning, a man was struck outside the grain store. Recent weather patterns have put stress on our crop yields, and thus stress on our people. Hunger does not merely sharpen the appetite; it dulls the judgment.

There was a man in line for grain for his hungry family. His local store was empty. Feeling that the urgency of his situation warranted an exception, he stepped ahead of those before him. An argument broke out. The shouting attracted the attention of a nearby guard, who had little patience for disruption to the established system, given that so many others in line believed their own need was just as urgent. The guard spoke harshly, and the man, objecting to what he felt to be a patronizing tone, struck the guard.

The matter was brought before me for judgement. The man who struck the guard was ordered to pay compensation. His family’s measure of grain was fulfilled. 

The matter ended there.

Order, rebellion. Inflexibility, indignation. Hunger. Violence. Elements of the episode stirred my memory, and with memory came regret.

Nephi was a difficult man to live with. He was often self-righteous, judgmental. Inflexible in his views. Unwilling to listen to any questioning of what he decided was God’s will.

Yet I have long since ceased wondering whether that excuses what I did. It does not. I was too quick to anger. Too willing to answer offense with violence. As certain of my own judgment, perhaps, as he was of his.

I still believe there is a God.

I do not know him as Nephi claimed to. I have not heard his voice, except once, in rebuke. I do not expect that to change. Most days do not think much about him at all. 

But if he sees men more clearly than men see one another, then perhaps he knows that I was neither the villain my brother believed me to be, nor the man I believed myself to be. 

That is enough for me.