Will we hear what the consequences of G3s reaction are? Will there be a butterfly effect? What makes them decide what role people should have?
Now that the church has officially disavowed the past doctrine that we will be given our own planet(s) and dominion to rule, I think a plausible ending could be that after millions of years of service, MG 3.1 will become disillusioned and finally realize that he is actually in Hell.
I pick up my journal from the cold stone floor without breaking my stride as I push through the smoked glass doors to the brilliant world. After a long flight of stairs, I quickly find a hotel nearby. There's a guy at the front desk like at any other hotel, but unlike in mortality, here, I didn’t need to pay. He sees I'm flustered as I ask for a room.
"Tough day? I mean that figuratively,” he says.
"Boy, you could say that. Just got back from across the way. I'm new here."
His eyes brighten. "Ohhh. I see. Did you get the ‘box’ treatment?” An eyebrow raises and his head teeters side-to-side. “You know, big empty room where nobody can hear the screams?” And then he forces a quick cough to suppress laughter.
I start to open my mouth, but as I do, the mirth withers from his face, his hands slam over his ears and he continues on, “Don't tell me anything! Shhh! I was just kid-ding!” And he sings the back half of “kidding”. “I’ve been here — a while, shall we say — long enough that not only do I walk by faith, but it’s by faith that I believe I even have feet!” And then he cautiously lowers his hands from his ears as he studies my lips.
Very carefully, I venture, “No spoilers, friend. I promise. But imagine trying to get down the steps of that building after a session. It’s two hands on the guardrail, and what if you’re carrying one of these?” And I hold up my journal.
My host is smiling again. “Oh, that would take balance and a strong neck. Who knew we were in for an eternal tightrope act, huh?”
“Good one,” I say, and chuckle with him. "I will say I'm here for a nights sleep — figuratively — to get some things off of my mind."
My host nods. "Oh yeah. You aren’t the first to collapse on one of my beds after coming down those steps you mention."
"Want to tell me what you know? Maybe we’re not even talking about the same thing."
"Folks call it differently, depending on their — occupation. Those of us content working a front desk call it ‘the box,’” he says, while supplying air quotes, and then he clears his throat, furrows his brow and deepens his voice while looking right at me: "Are you a man, or are you -- a God?" and he pauses for effect before cackling.
"Ha," I respond. "Sounds like you've had the benefit of some inside information. I just walked haplessly into it, whatever it is."
"Might be for the best to get it over with. I’ve put it off so long my worst fear is that I’ll psyche myself out, if and when, I finally try."
"Well, friend, my plan is to get a nights sleep as my -- instructor -- recommends and then march right up those steps and get back on the horse."
"Good for you! It’s inspiring to hear that. It makes me want to check you in, head across the way and dive into destiny myself. I probably won’t, but, you never know.” And then he pauses a moment to think. “How about you try room three hundred nine. That’s the third floor and we do have an elevator. You’ll love the digs."
My new friend sure is right about ‘loving the digs’. My room has everything I need. A shower, crisp sheets, and even a little color. I bury myself into the mattress and sleep deeply. I arise renewed, but not quite ready to meet up with Zeke again. So I’m lounging about, thinking about what to do next, and then, suddenly, there's a brief sound and then glowing words appear on a section of the wall. My vision is very good, and so I simply draw my attention to the words.
Hey buddy, I got word you're here. Let's do lunch soon.
"Who is this?" I say, and my words appear beneath the original text on the section of wall.
Who do you think? It's your Uncle Richie.
My prayer is answered.
"Richie!" I exclaim, "You bet I want to grab lunch, but I don't understand, I was told that isn’t possible."
There was a long pause before the words continued, Hey kiddo, I made some mistakes, but no rest for the wicked - ha ha - I've been working on it. Line upon line. I can't come to you, but you can come to me. Just do that thing you folks do while thinking about your poor old uncle Richie.
"But -- it's too far -- down."
Just try, I've made a little progress, at least that's what I tell myself, anyway.
I grab my journal, get myself together and find a nice patch of empty floor and look straight down. A flash of ice glare, and I'm sucked into the IMAX where I see a man sitting in a park. It has to be Richie, but much younger than I remember him and with a full head of black hair. I reach toward him and pass straight through the light tunnel and find myself in a stride toward the park bench upon which he sits. Richie stands and rushes toward me with an outstretched hand. He's wearing a suit. We shake hands and then he speaks.
"It is so good to see you kiddo. Look at you in that robe. Dress isn't so formal here. I prefer a suit, but a lot of folks wear jeans and a button shirt. Some wear sweats. Tunics. Hides. It's diverse."
I look around and boy, is it a beautiful park. Everything is earthy and the sky is deep blue. And as I carefully draw my eyes down, there’s no glare and I’m met with plain grass. A sigh of relief. I walk with Richie a short distance to his condo and it's first rate. I take him up on his offer to put the robe on a hanger and he's got a great pair of stretchy jeans for me along with a burgundy cotton shirt, long-sleeved. Properly dressed, I sink myself into his leather bachelor couch. Home sweet home.
"What are you hungry for, kiddo?" he asks, without expression, save the barest hint of an upturned lip.
"I don't mind a burger, or steak, or steak with a big basket of shrimp. Remember Sizzler, Uncle Richie?"
Richie gestures toward the door and we take the stairs and hit the streets. Lots of people. Clean buildings. The cars are curvy and they float instead of use wheels. We enter a driverless cab and we're off. The place reminds me of City Creek in downtown Salt Lake, although even nicer than that. Rather than overpoweringly majestic, it’s familiar. It's a brief drive to one of many strip malls, and I suppose the only weird thing is that the shops don't actually have signs.
We exit the cab and navigate the modest foot traffic. Everyone is well-dressed, attractive, and polite. Richie suddenly breaks to a heavy wooden door and pulls it open, gesturing for me to enter, which I do. Inside it's quite nice. Hearty bandsaw-cut tabletops with lush, forest green level-loop carpeting. Patronage is light, and we seat ourselves at a table for eight. We make some chit-chat until we're interrupted by a cute blond girl wearing a blue and white uniform.
"What can I get you gentlemen today?" she asks with a smile.
"Well hey there Sally," says Richie.
Sally puts her hands together and says, "Ohh! Richie! I didn't recognize you -- you brought a friend."
"This is MG Three Point One. He's from," and Richie points upwards.
Sally steps back as her eyes widen. "Ooooh! I'm flattered you'd bring him to us."
“Everyone calls me G3,” I interject.
"How about I order for us both?" says Richie, slowly, in his classic monotone. He glances at me and then turns back to our hostess. "For me; the salmon with mashed potato and mixed vegetables, and for G3 -- who is my nephew -- we'd better get him the twenty-seven ounce ribeye; medium, with your famous log-cut fries, asparagus spears, and an extra-large basket of jumbo shrimp. And two root beers."
"That sounds fantastic!" She says. She smiles to us both and skips off.
"Do people work here for money? I was staying in a hotel when you reached out, and I didn't pay."
Richie doesn't answer immediately. His left eye squints as it does when he's deep in thought, and then he wets his lips just a little.
"I want to say I’m unsure about how one would plot out aggregate demand. There is no money. The vehicles are nice. What you’ve seen this afternoon is one of many kinds of cities, but one may also live in an adobe hut on the side of a mountain, if that's what one opts to do. There isn't the same selection of consumer goods but things are well made. People who work do so, frankly, because they feel like it."
"Do you have a job?"
"You know me, kiddo, my life is my work. I found a niche recently in supply chain management. It's -- interesting. When I first arrived here I wondered about, I literally just walked, for the longest time; explored glassy cities as well as castles and huts, all of the ways people build communities. Then I spent some time as a chef."
"A chef? You Richie?"
An eyebrow raises. "Hey now. You don't remember our barbecues? That was the one thing I could unwind and have some patience for in life. Putting on that apron and getting a stack of meat next to the grill..."
"The meat!" I interject, "from Bishop Pearson's butcher shop."
"You remember; I'm impressed,” and Richie pauses a moment. “Bishop Pearson had quite the operation. Thank you for helping me recall that. So much time passes…"
Uncle Richie is zoning out. I give him a minute but it’s getting uncomfortable and so I move the conversation forward.
“I’m a little surprised you chose the fish, to be honest. I recall something about fish not having real blood,” I say.
That got a smile from Richie, flat though it may have been.
“I’ve found it — prudent — given my journey, to stay just a little hungry.”
I don’t have time to respond as the kitchen staff are at our table decorating the barren wood with mats and rolls of silverware. And then they set our food and drink before us. I've never smelled a steak so good. And the shrimp! I reach into the sizzling basket and grab two pieces and wolf them both down. Heaven!
"Is all this stuff real?" I ask.
"Does it taste real?"
I grab a bone-handled knife and carve into the steak before me, it's aglaze with molten fat.
"It's beyond real, Richie, never have I had -- um, except at your barbecue -- a steak this good."
And that comment earns me a full chuckle.
"It's real, kiddo. As Joseph taught, life here is a continuation of our earthly lives in a more perfect way. For me, perfection might be fish, but I can’t think of anyone who deserves a thick twenty-seven ouncer more than my nephew does."
And then he takes his first bite of his salmon. I let him enjoy his food for a few moments, before I dig deeper into his soul.
"How about your family, Richie, anyone cross over yet?"
His face betrays concern, which is what I’m going for. Let’s get past the barrier of Richie; the businessman, who occasionally mans a barbecue.
"I don't know, champ. Since you reached out to me I was, eventually, able to get back to you. The ball is in their court. But, time, you know..."
I’m so anxious that I cut him off. "I'll put in a good word if I see them. As far as I'm concerned, you're the same Uncle Richie we all knew and loved."
"I appreciate that, kiddo," he says, and he smiles. And it’s full smile this time.
Social distancing has likely already begun to flatten the curve...Continue to research good antivirals and vaccine candidates. Make everyone wear masks. -- J.D. Vance
Now that the church has officially disavowed the past doctrine that we will be given our own planet(s) and dominion to rule, I think a plausible ending could be that after millions of years of service, MG 3.1 will become disillusioned and finally realize that he is actually in Hell.
Meh...this gets old.
Regards,
MG
Yes, the doctrine is old and decrepit. That is the point. So why continue believing it?
MG, what is the Mormon position on whether or not Adam and Eve had belly buttons? Feel free to consult an A.I. if that helps.
Prompt: did Adam and Eve have belly buttons?
Answer: The question of whether Adam and Eve had belly buttons is a topic of debate among theologians and biblical interpreters. The answer largely depends on one's interpretation of the biblical account of creation.
Arguments Against Belly Buttons:
Biological Perspective: Adam and Eve were created directly by God, not born through a natural process involving an umbilical cord. Therefore, they would not have had belly buttons, which are remnants of the umbilical cord
Theological Perspective: Some argue that God would not create false signs of a natural birth process, such as belly buttons, since Adam and Eve were created in mature form without undergoing fetal development
Arguments For Belly Buttons:
Mature Creation: Some interpretations suggest that if God created the world and its inhabitants in a mature state, it's possible that Adam and Eve could have had belly buttons as part of their fully formed human bodies, even if they didn't develop in a womb
Theological Flexibility: Others argue that God could have created them with or without belly buttons, as it is not a crucial aspect of the biblical narrative
Ultimately, the question of whether Adam and Eve had belly buttons remains speculative and is not definitively answered in the Bible.
Perplexity A.I.
Not in the Book of Mormon either as far as I know.
Gee, you could have done that.
Regards,
MG
Irrelevant. There is a lot not in that book. Doesn't mean it's not meaningful the parts the Book of Mormon skips over.
Because it's been around a long time and the core doctrines have withstood the test of time.
Regards,
MG
What "core doctrines" are there within Mormonism that don't exist outside of it?
Godhead-nature of God.
Full understanding of the Atonement.
God speaks and Scripture is maintained/created/canonized.
Continuing revelation through prophets.
Comprehensive plan of salvation.
Ordinances and authority.
Sure, there are remnants and bits and pieces of core doctrines scattered amongst Christianity and other beliefs systems. The Church claims a fullness of the gospel as far as it has been given/revealed in our day.
This was stuff we learned in Seminary and Sunday School.
