This week I've been studying the first few chapters of 2 Nephi. This is where we are given a front-row seat as Lehi, about to die, gathers his children and gives them a final blessing.
Here I discovered two treasured insights.
Nephi wrote this, and he gives us a detailed account of the blessings given to his five brothers. He also recorded the blessings Lehi gave to his grandchildren -- the children of Laman and Lemuel; and then the blessings to the sons of Ishmael and their families as well as Zoram, the former servant of Laban.
But where's Nephi's blessing? You can search high and low, but you won't find it. Didn't he receive one? There's no mention of it. Some may say, "Maybe Lehi didn't give him one. Maybe the group was so large that Nephi simply got overlooked."
Impossible. Nephi was the one who was most deserving of all. The key to the answer is in remembering that he was the one who wrote this. I am convinced that by not including any reference to his own blessing Nephi confirmed what I've always regarded as one of his most admirable traits: humility. Truly humble people do not seek attention! While others may love attention and have no problem chattering endlessly about themselves, humble people shun the spotlight. They're uncomfortable when placed on center-stage. In this case, I think Nephi purposely avoided saying anything about his blessing in order to avoid the accusation that he was boasting. After all, he probably received the most positive and hopeful blessing of all. For me, he serves as the model for this wise saying: "Let another man praise thee and not thine own mouth" (Proverbs 27:2).
I found the second insight in the first verse of chapter 3. This is where Lehi blesses his youngest son, Joseph, and he chooses some interesting words as he begins: "Thou wast born in the wilderness of mine afflictions," obviously referring to the family's difficult journey after leaving their comfortable home in Jerusalem.
As I pondered Lehi's words, I realized that we all have times in our lives when we could properly say we're going through a "wilderness of afflictions." Some are brief. Others last a day or two. But then there are those afflictions that make us wonder if they'll ever end.
And as we navigate through these personalized "wildernesses of affliction," we are often tempted to murmur and shake our fists at the heavens. And then, if we're not careful, we may even turn away from God altogether and let cynicism and anger and selfishness cloud our vision. What vision? Why, the vision of the bigger picture; the vision of why we're here on earth. Not much has been revealed about the details of our existence before we born, but it makes sense to me that we spent a lot of time in class, receiving instruction about the earth life that was to come.
Job taught that when the earth was created, "the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy" because of the prospects offered by coming to earth (Job 38:7). But as Elder Neal A. Maxwell wisely added, "I grant you there may be days here that we may wonder what all the shouting was about" ("If Thou Endure It Well," BYU fireside, Dec. 4, 1984).
As we go though our own "wilderness of affliction" let's remember how Lehi got through his: (1) he learned not to murmur; (2) he was true to his covenants, even though he didn't always receive immediate relief or answers to prayer; and (3) he learned to trust in God -- always -- regardless of present circumstances.
Elder Maxwell concluded the talk I referred to earlier with these words: "Tonight, as we sang that marvelous hymn together [I Know That My Redeemer Lives], I know that my Redeemer lives. Those words, every time we sing them, ought to have special meaning. Reassuring words like 'grant me rich supply . . . hear my soul's complaint . . . comfort me when faint . . . silence all my fears . . . calm my troubled heart . . . [and] I shall conquer death.' Those lyrics . . . permit us to know, even as our souls are being stretched, why they're being stretched . . . But we must, once again, endure well. Not fitfully, not slothfully, not resentfully, but in that serenity and spiritual submissiveness which you and I have seen in people who have passed through the most difficult extremities; who do so because they know that their Redeemer lives . . . and that He will comfort them when faint."
I add my deep conviction that He will, and He does.
