At ease in Zion

If you're at least 20 years old and grew up in the LDS Church, chances are you recognize this picture--my favorite Mormon painting of all time. It used to be included in each generic copy of the Book of Mormon. (Not sure what the proper term is for these copies--on the mission we called them "pros copies" because they were the ones we gave away while proselyting. I'm talking about the free copies from a missionary or by calling a toll-free number you see on a commercial. Of course, it's all moot, since more recent printings no longer contain this painting.)

This is, of course, Arnold Friberg's depiction of Abinadi testifying before the wicked King Noah and his priests. He calls them to repentance, they get angry and try to kill them, and he commands them not to touch him or else--or else the power of God within him would cause them to wither. Abinadi's countenance glows as he continues to deliver his message.

There are so many reasons to love this picture. There's Abinadi, looking regal, super-ripped, and maybe a little deranged. There's Noah and his priests listening intently, even though their soldiers have apparently had their swords shattered by this valiant prophet and are now cowering in fear. There's King Noah himself, decked out in gold and jewels and a flowing robe and pointy elf shoes. And, of course, there's the two leopards. I like to think Noah named them Curelom and Cumom.

If I were a king, I'd probably be just like Noah and his priests, minus the evil. What I'm saying is that it would be all comfort and luxury, all the time. You've got to respect people who are so into laziness that they built a ledge to sprawl out on while they tell lies to their people (see Mosiah 11:11). If I were a king, I'd sit on my throne all day surrounded by my fancy jungle cats, giving audience to my adoring subjects. I would rarely get up, mainly because I'm the king and I don't have to, but also because it's tough to walk around in those pointy elf shoes. I'd probably get so rotund that it would make portly Noah and the obese Eglon (the wicked Moabite king who was so fat that when he was stabbed in the belly his blubber consumed the cubit-long blade, "and the dirt came out"--see Judg. 3:17-22) seem as buff as Abinadi. But I'm not ever going to be a king, so I'll have to settle for some secondary luxuries: eating a package of cookies, looking at cat pictures online, and getting a massage from my friend Amy. She's great.

The story of Abinadi, covered in this week's Sunday School lesson (this will help you get ready, but hurry, there's not much time left), also includes a scene that always makes me laugh when I read it. After Abinadi's initial round of preaching to the people, they get angry and try to capture him, but he escapes. Two years later, he returns "in disguise, that they knew him not, and began to prophesy among them, saying: Thus has the Lord commanded me, saying--Abinadi, go and prophesy..." (Mosiah 12:1). Um, I don't think you really grasp the concept of a disguise, Abinadi.

I know, I know...the disguise was probably just to get back into the city and have a chance to start preaching again, and he never intended to remain incognito. But it still makes me smile every time. Not as much as having my own leopards and pointy elf shoes would make me smile, but hey, we can't all be wicked kings.