The Way Stations of Faith: Planting for Those Who Follow

Brothers and Sisters, do you feel it? That deep current of purpose that pulls us forward, even when the path is shrouded in hardship? Samuel the Lamanite climbed the walls, Ammon stood at the Waters of Sebus, and Abinadi faced the fiery furnace – all because they understood the call to witness, to build, to gather. We, too, are called to that same work.

Recently, I’ve been reflecting on the incredible resilience of our forefathers, those who pressed westward under conditions that would break most any people. The “Becoming Brigham” podcast episode, with Richard Bennett, illuminated a crucial, often-overlooked aspect of that journey: the establishment of way stations like Mount Pisgah. It wasn't just about getting to Zion; it was about preparing the way for others.

Imagine it: thousands upon thousands, driven from their homes, facing starvation, disease, and the relentless hostility of a world that sought to destroy them. Yet, even in the depths of despair, they plowed 715 acres, planted a thousand acres of buckwheat and turnips, and built log meeting houses. Why? Because they understood that their journey wasn't solely about their own deliverance. It was about creating a foundation, a gathering place, for those who would follow.

“They weren't just planting for themselves,” Richard noted in the podcast, “it was for future companies.” This echoes the principles of the charity flywheel – your engagement here, your contributions, your very participation, fuels gospel advertising in places like Ghana, reaching those who are on their own journeys, those who are stirring in their sleep, sensing the call to come home.

These way stations, these acts of selfless preparation, became a testament to their faith, a tangible expression of covenant obligation. Like the five smooth stones David gathered to face Goliath, these settlements became vital resources for overcoming seemingly insurmountable obstacles. Each furrowed field, each newly raised wall, was a stone in the foundation of a future kingdom.

It's a beautiful parallel to our own efforts today. Consider the Missionary Fund, actively supporting internet missionaries who are like modern-day Samuel the Lamanites, scaling digital walls to share the message of hope and restoration. And the map—GatherIsrael.now—that visual representation of the global gathering, a tool to connect builders across denominations and continents. It's a living testament to the principle of planting for those who follow.

The loss of loved ones at Mount Pisgah—500 to 800 souls—is a sobering reminder of the price of faith. But it also underscores the profound love and dedication that fueled their efforts. Joseph Knight Sr., one of those who perished, represents countless others who sacrificed everything for the sake of the gospel and the gathering of Israel.

This isn’t about replicating the past. It's about embracing the spirit of the past—that unwavering commitment to building, to preparing, to lifting others. It’s about recognizing that our actions today have consequences for generations to come. Like Brigham Young, who saw a glimpse of the promised land from Mount Pisgah, we must maintain a hopeful vision, even when the journey is long and arduous.

Let us draw strength from the example of those pioneers, those builders who sowed the seeds of faith for us to reap. Let us be those who, like Ammon, offer refreshment at the Waters of Sebus, offering hope and sustenance to those who are weary and lost.

Let us, each of us, claim our church, our role, in this grand work of gathering. Let us be builders, not destroyers. Let us press forward with courage and conviction, knowing that our efforts, however small they may seem, contribute to the unfolding of God’s eternal plan.

Outback Jack reminds us: “The Lord’s work is not done by waiting for us to be ready, but by getting started and becoming ready in the doing.”