Where we are
If Mosiah 3 was the doctrine, Mosiah 4 is what happens when doctrine lands on a real crowd of real people. The angel's message about Christ has just been delivered, and the whole multitude goes down. They collapse. They cry out. They receive mercy. And then Benjamin, watching them rise, tells them how to keep what they've just been given. That's the shape of the chapter: doctrine, then experience, then a way of life.
You can watch it move in four steps. First the people fall, cry, and are forgiven (vv. 1–3). Then Benjamin presses the point home — believe in this God, and if you believe it, do it (vv. 4–10). Then comes the long middle, the heart of the chapter: here is how you retain the remission you just received (vv. 11–26). And finally the close — watch yourselves, and do it all in wisdom and order (vv. 27–30).
Five verses in this chapter carry most of its weight, and it's worth knowing them going in:
- v. 2 — O have mercy, and apply the atoning blood of Christ that we may receive forgiveness of our sins. The cry itself.
- v. 12 — ye shall always rejoice, and be filled with the love of God, and always retain a remission of your sins. Forgiveness as something you keep, not just something you get.
- v. 19 — are we not all beggars? Do we not all depend upon the same Being, even God, for all the substance which we have? The line people quote for the rest of their lives.
- v. 26 — for the sake of retaining a remission of your sins from day to day… I would that ye should impart of your substance to the poor. Charity tied straight to forgiveness.
- v. 30 — watch yourselves, and your thoughts, and your words, and your deeds. The whole ethic in a breath.
The collapse, the cry, and the remission (verses 1–3)
And now, it came to pass that when king Benjamin had made an end of speaking the words which had been delivered unto him by the angel of the Lord, that he cast his eyes round about on the multitude, and behold they had fallen to the earth, for the fear of the Lord had come upon them. — Mosiah 4:1
Benjamin finishes, looks up, and the crowd is on the ground. Notice what put them there: the fear of the Lord had come upon them. This isn't terror the way we usually mean it. It's the old reverent kind, the response a person has when heaven gets close and the natural thing to do is fall down. It's the same thing that happens all through scripture. When fire came at the tabernacle, the people shouted, and fell on their faces (Lev. 9:24). On Carmel they dropped and cried the Lord, he is the God (1 Kings 18:39). Ezekiel saw the glory and said simply, I fell upon my face (Ezek. 1:28). John on Patmos fell at his feet as dead (Rev. 1:17). Benjamin's people are in that company. Real nearness to God tends to take you off your feet.
And they had viewed themselves in their own carnal state, even less than the dust of the earth. And they all cried aloud with one voice, saying: O have mercy, and apply the atoning blood of Christ that we may receive forgiveness of our sins, and our hearts may be purified; for we believe in Jesus Christ, the Son of God, who created heaven and earth, and all things; who shall come down among the children of men. — Mosiah 4:2
Here is the cry, and it's precise. They don't ask for mercy in some vague, general way. They ask him to apply the atoning blood of Christ. That word "apply" is doing real work. Think of the first Passover, blood brushed onto the doorposts so the destroyer would pass by (Ex. 12:7) — blood that had to actually be put on something to do anything. That's the picture. And Hebrews says the same thing looking back: how much more shall the blood of Christ… purge your conscience from dead works (Heb. 9:13–14). Benjamin's people are asking for that, centuries early, by name.
Notice, too, how they saw themselves — in their own carnal state, even less than the dust of the earth. That's the same self-view Benjamin used back in Mosiah 2:25. And it isn't a mood they've talked themselves into. It's a sight. Isaiah had the same experience: he sees the Lord high and lifted up, and the very next thing out of his mouth is woe is me! for I am undone… for mine eyes have seen the King (Isa. 6:5). When you really see God, you see yourself. The two go together.
And look what they confess in the middle of collapsing — we believe in Jesus Christ, the Son of God, who created heaven and earth… who shall come down among the children of men. That's a full confession, not a half one. Son of God, Creator, the Coming One. Paul says one day every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord (Phil. 2:10–11). These people aren't waiting for that day. They're doing it on the ground, right now.
And it came to pass that after they had spoken these words the Spirit of the Lord came upon them, and they were filled with joy, having received a remission of their sins, and having peace of conscience, because of the exceeding faith which they had in Jesus Christ who should come, according to the words which king Benjamin had spoken unto them. — Mosiah 4:3
Watch the order here, because the order is the lesson. They cry first. Then the Spirit comes. Then joy, then remission, then peace of conscience. The cry comes before the Spirit does. It's exactly what happens at Pentecost: the crowd is pricked in their heart, they ask what shall we do?, and only then comes the promise of the Holy Ghost (Acts 2:37–38). Cry, Spirit, joy, forgiveness. That's the pattern, and Benjamin's people are living it six centuries early.
And that last phrase, peace of conscience — that's the quiet on the other side of the cry. Paul knew it: being justified by faith, we have peace with God (Rom. 5:1), a peace that passeth all understanding and keep[s] your hearts and minds (Phil. 4:7). They cried out undone, and they came up quiet.
Believe it — and if you believe it, do it (verses 4–10)
And king Benjamin again opened his mouth and began to speak unto them, saying: My friends and my brethren, my kindred and my people, I would again call your attention, that ye may hear and understand the remainder of my words which I shall speak unto you. For behold, if the knowledge of the goodness of God at this time has awakened you to a sense of your nothingness, and your worthless and fallen state — I say unto you, if ye have come to a knowledge of the goodness of God, and his matchless power, and his wisdom, and his patience, and his long-suffering towards the children of men; and also, the atonement which has been prepared from the foundation of the world, that thereby salvation might come to him that should put his trust in the Lord, and should be diligent in keeping his commandments, and continue in the faith even unto the end of his life, I mean the life of the mortal body — I say, that this is the man who receiveth salvation, through the atonement which was prepared from the foundation of the world for all mankind, which ever were since the fall of Adam, or who are, or who ever shall be, even unto the end of the world. — Mosiah 4:4–7
Benjamin gets them back on their feet and keeps teaching, and he names what just happened to them. It was the knowledge of the goodness of God that awakened you to a sense of your nothingness. Sit with that a second, because it's not what you'd expect. It wasn't fear of punishment that broke them open. It was goodness. Paul says the same thing flat out: the goodness of God leadeth thee to repentance (Rom. 2:4). Mercy and humility come out of the same moment. Seeing how good God is is exactly what shows you how small you are.
Then he reaches back before the beginning of the world. The atonement was prepared from the foundation of the world. That's not loose language; it's a specific phrase the New Testament uses over and over. We were chosen in him before the foundation of the world (Eph. 1:4). Christ was foreordained before the foundation of the world (1 Pet. 1:20). He is the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world (Rev. 13:8). And its reach is total — all mankind, which ever were since the fall of Adam, or who are, or who ever shall be. Every person, every age. God will have all men to be saved (1 Tim. 2:4); Christ tasted death for every man (Heb. 2:9). Benjamin leaves no one out.
And this is the means whereby salvation cometh. And there is none other salvation save this which hath been spoken of; neither are there any conditions whereby man can be saved except the conditions which I have told you. Believe in God; believe that he is, and that he created all things, both in heaven and in earth; believe that he has all wisdom, and all power, both in heaven and in earth; believe that man doth not comprehend all the things which the Lord can comprehend. — Mosiah 4:8–9
Now he lists what to believe, and it climbs. Believe God is. Believe he made everything. Believe he has all wisdom and all power. And then the humbling one: believe that man doth not comprehend all the things which the Lord can comprehend. That last item is really an act of surrender. Hebrews says whoever comes to God must believe that he is (Heb. 11:6), and Paul, staring at the same mystery, just gives up trying to measure it: O the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! how unsearchable are his judgments (Rom. 11:33). Part of faith is admitting there's a floor you'll never see the bottom of.
And again, believe that ye must repent of your sins and forsake them, and humble yourselves before God; and ask in sincerity of heart that he would forgive you; and now, if you believe all these things see that ye do them. — Mosiah 4:10
And here's the hinge of the whole first half — if you believe all these things see that ye do them. Belief that stops at belief isn't finished. James built a whole letter on this: be ye doers of the word, and not hearers only (James 1:22), and shew me thy faith without thy works, and I will shew thee my faith by my works (James 2:18). Benjamin says it in nine words, and then he spends the rest of the chapter showing them what "do them" looks like.
Retaining a remission (verses 11–26)
And again I say unto you as I have said before, that as ye have come to the knowledge of the glory of God, or if ye have known of his goodness and have tasted of his love, and have received a remission of your sins, which causeth such exceedingly great joy in your souls, even so I would that ye should remember, and always retain in remembrance, the greatness of God, and your own nothingness, and his goodness and long-suffering towards you, unworthy creatures, and humble yourselves even in the depths of humility, calling on the name of the Lord daily, and standing steadfastly in the faith of that which is to come, which was spoken by the mouth of the angel. — Mosiah 4:11
So how do you keep it? Benjamin says: hold two things in memory at once. The greatness of God, and your own nothingness. Not one without the other. Keep them both, side by side, every day. Isaiah caught the same pairing — the high and lofty One that inhabiteth eternity is the very One who dwells with him also that is of a contrite and humble spirit (Isa. 57:15). The highest and the lowest, held together. That's the posture Benjamin wants to become permanent.
And notice he says they tasted of his love. That's a physical word for it, and scripture loves it. O taste and see that the Lord is good (Ps. 34:8). Those who have tasted of the heavenly gift… and have tasted the good word of God (Heb. 6:4–5). If so be ye have tasted that the Lord is gracious (1 Pet. 2:3). Conversion here isn't an idea they agreed to. It's a flavor they got in their mouths.
And behold, I say unto you that if ye do this ye shall always rejoice, and be filled with the love of God, and always retain a remission of your sins; and ye shall grow in the knowledge of the glory of him that created you, or in the knowledge of that which is just and true. — Mosiah 4:12
This is the promise the whole middle section is built on: keep those daily practices and you always retain a remission of your sins. Remission isn't a one-time transaction that's over the moment it happens. It's a state you stay in. What you received back in verse 3, the practices of verse 11 keep alive. Paul says don't grieve… the holy Spirit of God, whereby ye are sealed (Eph. 4:30), and John says if we walk in the light… the blood of Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth us from all sin (1 John 1:7) — cleanseth, present tense, ongoing. Forgiveness is meant to be lived in, not just visited.
And ye will not have a mind to injure one another, but to live peaceably, and to render to every man according to that which is his due. — Mosiah 4:13
Now watch what forgiveness does on the outside. It changes how you treat people. No appetite to hurt anybody, a settled peaceableness, and giving each person what's actually theirs. Paul again: live peaceably with all men (Rom. 12:18), and render therefore to all their dues (Rom. 13:7). A person who's kept clean on the inside starts leaving other people better off on the outside.
And ye will not suffer your children that they go hungry, or naked; neither will ye suffer that they transgress the laws of God, and fight and quarrel one with another, and serve the devil, who is the master of sin, or who is the evil spirit which hath been spoken of by our fathers, he being an enemy to all righteousness. But ye will teach them to walk in the ways of truth and soberness; ye will teach them to love one another, and to serve one another. — Mosiah 4:14–15
Then it comes home, literally. You feed your children and clothe them, and you don't let them run wild either — you teach them truth, and you teach them to love and serve each other. It's the old command to press the covenant into the next generation, teach them diligently unto thy children (Deut. 6:6–9), bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord (Eph. 6:4). A retained remission doesn't stay in the person who has it. It spreads to the people they're raising.
And also, ye yourselves will succor those that stand in need of your succor; ye will administer of your substance unto him that standeth in need; and ye will not suffer that the beggar putteth up his petition to you in vain, and turn him out to perish. — Mosiah 4:16
And now the beggar. This is where the chapter turns and becomes the thing people remember it for. You help the one who needs help. You share what you have with the one who has nothing. And ye will not suffer that the beggar putteth up his petition to you in vain. Don't send him away empty. Proverbs warns that whoso stoppeth his ears at the cry of the poor, he also shall cry himself, but shall not be heard (Prov. 21:13). Jesus makes it the whole standard: I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat (Matt. 25:35). And James pins the hypocrisy of the alternative: telling a hungry person depart in peace, be ye warmed and filled while giving them nothing — what doth it profit? (James 2:15–16).
Perhaps thou shalt say: The man has brought upon himself his misery; therefore I will stay my hand, and will not give unto him of my food, nor impart unto him of my substance that he may not suffer, for his punishments are just — — Mosiah 4:17
Benjamin knows the excuse before you make it. He brought this on himself. He deserves it. So I'll keep my hand closed. He says it out loud because he's about to take it apart. And it's worth noticing he doesn't argue that the beggar is blameless. He argues that your blame isn't the point. God maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good (Matt. 5:45) — mercy that waits to be earned isn't mercy.
But I say unto you, O man, whosoever doeth this the same hath great cause to repent; and except he repenteth of that which he hath done he perisheth forever, and hath no interest in the kingdom of God. For behold, are we not all beggars? Do we not all depend upon the same Being, even God, for all the substance which we have, for both food and raiment, and for gold, and for silver, and for all the riches which we have of every kind? — Mosiah 4:18–19
And here's the answer, and it lands like a hand on the shoulder: are we not all beggars? You want to look down on the person with his hand out? Look at your own hand. Everything in it — your food, your clothes, your gold, your silver, every last thing — you got the same way he's asking for his. From God. Paul asks it just as bluntly: what hast thou that thou didst not receive? (1 Cor. 4:7). God giveth to all life, and breath, and all things (Acts 17:25). You can't refuse the beggar without refusing what you already are. That's the whole argument, and it's airtight.
And behold, even at this time, ye have been calling on his name, and begging for a remission of your sins. And has he suffered that ye have begged in vain? Nay; he has poured out his Spirit upon you, and has caused that your hearts should be filled with joy, and has caused that your mouths should be stopped that ye could not find utterance, so exceedingly great was your joy. — Mosiah 4:20
And then Benjamin closes the trap gently. Look what you were doing five minutes ago, he says. You were on the ground begging — begging for a remission of your sins. You were the beggar. And did God turn you away? Nay. He filled you with so much joy you couldn't even speak. So the God who just answered your begging is asking you to answer someone else's. You already know what it feels like to put up a petition and have it honored. Now go be the one who honors it.
And now, if God, who has created you, on whom you are dependent for your lives and for all that ye have and are, doth grant unto you whatsoever ye ask that is right, in faith, believing that ye shall receive, O then, how ye ought to impart of the substance that ye have one to another. — Mosiah 4:21
It's a "how much more" argument, and it's simple. If God gives you what you ask, then of course you ought to give to each other. Jesus put the same current in four words: freely ye have received, freely give (Matt. 10:8). The receiving is what creates the obligation. Grace flows down and then it's supposed to flow out.
And if ye judge the man who putteth up his petition to you for your substance that he perish not, and condemn him, how much more just will be your condemnation for withholding your substance, which doth not belong to you but to God, to whom also your life belongeth; and yet ye put up no petition, nor repent of the thing which thou hast done. — Mosiah 4:22
Here's the sting on the excuse from verse 17. You want to judge the beggar? Look at what you're standing on. That substance you're guarding doth not belong to you but to God. It was never really yours; it's on loan, and so is your life. So the person keeping God's goods from God's poor is the one who ought to be nervous about judgment. It's the parable of the steward all over again (Luke 16:1–13) — you're managing what belongs to someone else. As every man hath received the gift, even so minister the same one to another, as good stewards (1 Pet. 4:10).
I say unto you, wo be unto that man, for his substance shall perish with him; and now, I say these things unto those who are rich as pertaining to the things of this world. And again, I say unto the poor, ye who have not and yet have sufficient, that ye remain from day to day; I mean all you who deny the beggar, because ye have not; I would that ye say in your hearts that: I give not because I have not, but if I had I would give. — Mosiah 4:23–24
Now he turns to the other half of the room. He's been talking to people with money. But what about the person who genuinely has nothing to give? Benjamin doesn't let them off the hook, but he moves the hook to the right place — the heart. If you can't give, then say, and mean, if I had I would give. That willingness counts. It's the widow and her two mites, the smallest gift in the temple that Jesus called the largest (Mark 12:42–44). Paul makes it a rule: if there be first a willing mind, it is accepted according to that a man hath, and not according to that he hath not (2 Cor. 8:12). God can read the gift you'd give if you could.
And now, if ye say this in your hearts ye remain guiltless, otherwise ye are condemned; and your condemnation is just for ye covet that which ye have not received. And now, for the sake of these things which I have spoken unto you — that is, for the sake of retaining a remission of your sins from day to day, that ye may walk guiltless before God — I would that ye should impart of your substance to the poor, every man according to that which he hath, such as feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, visiting the sick and administering to their relief, both spiritually and temporally, according to their wants. — Mosiah 4:25–26
And here Benjamin ties the knot that holds the whole chapter together. Why give to the poor? For the sake of retaining a remission of your sins from day to day. Charity isn't how you earn forgiveness — you already received that on the ground in verse 3. Charity is how you keep it. It's a spiritual discipline, the way prayer is. In Acts an angel tells Cornelius, thy prayers and thine alms are come up for a memorial before God (Acts 10:4), and Hebrews says to do good and to communicate forget not: for with such sacrifices God is well pleased (Heb. 13:16). Giving keeps the channel open.
And look hard at the list he uses — feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, visiting the sick. You've heard that list before, but from later. This is Matthew 25 almost word for word: I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat… Naked, and ye clothed me… I was sick, and ye visited me (Matt. 25:35–36). Benjamin is naming the criteria of Christ's own judgment of the sheep and the goats — and he's naming them roughly six hundred years before Jesus stood on the Mount of Olives and said them. Same test. Same words. Long before the sermon that made them famous.
Watch yourselves (verses 27–30)
And see that all these things are done in wisdom and order; for it is not requisite that a man should run faster than he has strength. And again, it is expedient that he should be diligent, that thereby he might win the prize; therefore, all things must be done in order. — Mosiah 4:27
After all that pressure to give and serve, Benjamin does something kind. He slows you down. It is not requisite that a man should run faster than he has strength. Be diligent, yes — run to win the prize — but don't burn yourself out trying. Paul used the same footrace image: so run, that ye may obtain (1 Cor. 9:24), and let us run with patience the race that is set before us (Heb. 12:1). This is one of the most pastoral lines in the Book of Mormon. It's a caution against spiritual frenzy, a word for everyone who has ever tried to be good so hard and so fast that they collapsed. Diligence isn't frantic motion. It's steady direction.
And I would that ye should remember, that whosoever among you borroweth of his neighbor should return the thing that he borroweth, according as he doth agree, or else thou shalt commit sin; and perhaps thou shalt cause thy neighbor to commit sin also. — Mosiah 4:28
Then, almost surprisingly, a very ordinary rule: give back what you borrow. It's plain neighbor-ethics, straight out of the law (Ex. 22:14–15). But notice the extra warning — your carelessness can cause thy neighbor to commit sin also. A retained remission shows up in whether you actually return the ladder. Holiness isn't only in the big moments; it's in the small honesties that keep other people from being wronged.
And finally, I cannot tell you all the things whereby ye may commit sin; for there are divers ways and means, even so many that I cannot number them. — Mosiah 4:29
Benjamin admits he can't finish the list. There are too many ways to go wrong to name them all. And that admission is actually the setup for his final instruction — because if you can't memorize a complete catalog of sins, then the catalog was never going to be the standard. Who can understand his errors? cleanse thou me from secret faults (Ps. 19:12). There is not a just man upon earth, that doeth good, and sinneth not (Eccles. 7:20). No checklist is long enough. So Benjamin gives them something better than a list.
But this much I can tell you, that if ye do not watch yourselves, and your thoughts, and your words, and your deeds, and observe the commandments of God, and continue in the faith of what ye have heard concerning the coming of our Lord, even unto the end of your lives, ye must perish. And now, O man, remember, and perish not. — Mosiah 4:30
Watch yourselves, and your thoughts, and your words, and your deeds. There's the standard — and it's four layers deep, from the inside out. Not just what you do, but what you say, and under that what you think, and under all of it who you are. That's why no list could ever cover it; the standard reaches all the way down. Jesus said it in the garden — watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation (Matt. 26:41). Paul said it to the Corinthians — watch ye, stand fast in the faith (1 Cor. 16:13). Benjamin got there first.
And then the last four words, and they're gentle: remember, and perish not. It's not a threat so much as a plea from an old king to people he loves. Moses ended the same way — take heed unto yourselves, lest ye forget the covenant (Deut. 4:23) — and Ecclesiastes too, remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth (Eccles. 12:1). Remember, and you'll live.
The chapter's architecture
Step back and the chapter is a clean four-panel piece. Verses 1–3 are the collapse, the cry, and the remission. Verses 4–10 are the call to believe and then do. Verses 11–26 are the long instruction on keeping the remission through charity. Verses 27–30 are the pacing and the watchword. And the center of gravity sits in verses 19 and 26 — are we not all beggars and impart of your substance to the poor for the sake of retaining a remission of your sins — where the doctrine of universal need and the practice of charity meet and lock together.
There's a larger pattern under it, too. The whole chapter runs like Pentecost. In Acts 2 the message pricks the crowd's heart, they ask what to do, they receive baptism and the Holy Ghost, and they come out of it a sharing community — all things common… as every man had need (Acts 2:37–47). Benjamin's people move through the very same stages: the message drops them, they cry out, they receive the Spirit and remission, and Benjamin immediately turns them toward the poor. Conversion that's real ends in an open hand.
Which is finally what this chapter teaches about charity. It's not how you buy your way in; you're already in. It's how you stay soft once you're there. John asked the hard question: whoso hath this world's good, and seeth his brother have need, and shutteth up his bowels of compassion from him, how dwelleth the love of God in him? (1 John 3:17). Benjamin's answer, worked out across twenty verses, is that a closed hand and a retained remission can't live in the same person.
How this sits in the literature of its time
What's striking is how much company Benjamin has here. The wisdom writers of the intertestamental world couldn't stop talking about the poor. Sirach pleads with a son not to make the needy eyes to wait long and to stretch thine hand unto the poor. Tobit tells his son to give alms of thy substance and models it by burying the dead and feeding the hungry. And out at Qumran, the community that copied the Dead Sea Scrolls actually built Benjamin's ethic into a budget — the Damascus Document sets aside days each month specifically for the orphan, the poor, and the stranger. Benjamin isn't a lone voice. He's the clearest voice in a long conversation his whole world was having.
Hidden providence
Three things worth carrying out of this chapter.
First, verse 26's feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, visiting the sick is Matthew 25 arriving early. It's the same list Jesus would use to divide the sheep from the goats, and Benjamin has it six centuries ahead of the sermon. It's one of those places where you can feel the gospel is older than its most famous statement — the criteria of the final judgment were already being preached to a Nephite crowd.
Second, verse 19's are we not all beggars is the foundation the whole ethic rests on. Paul's what hast thou that thou didst not receive? (1 Cor. 4:7) is the same insight. You can't look down on the person with the outstretched hand, because in the ledger that matters you're standing right next to him with your own hand out. Every disciple is a beggar. That's not an insult; it's the ground of every kindness.
Third, verse 30's watch yourselves, and your thoughts, and your words, and your deeds is Gethsemane's watchword, spoken early. When Jesus told Peter to watch and pray (Matt. 26:41), he was naming a discipline Benjamin had already handed his people — a self-watching that goes all the way from the deed on the surface down to the thought at the root.
Where this lands
Three practices.
First, when you pray for mercy, be specific about it. Don't ask vaguely to feel better about yourself. Ask, the way this crowd did, for God to apply the atoning blood of Christ. There is a real agent doing a real work, and Hebrews says it purges the conscience (Heb. 9:13–14). Aim your prayer at that.
Second, help the beggar without auditing him first. Benjamin already anticipated your excuse and answered it: are we not all beggars? When you meet someone in need, the question isn't whether they earned it. You didn't earn what's in your own hand either. Give what you've been given. Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me (Matt. 25:40).
Third, don't run faster than you have strength. This is the one people skip, and it may be the one they need most. Discipleship is a long race, not a sprint you win by exhausting yourself. Be diligent, stay pointed the right way, and let it be done in wisdom and order. You'll last longer, and last is the point.