Week 2: God's Work and Glory

Moses 1 and Abraham 3 weren't originally part of the Bible. They come to us through Joseph Smith's inspired translation work — Moses 1 restored in 1830 as part of the JST project, Abraham 3 translated from Egyptian papyri in 1835. These chapters function as cosmic prologues, pulling back the curtain on divine purpose before the Genesis narrative begins. Moses 1 opens immediately after Moses' Sinai theophany described in Exodus, though the biblical text omits this entire experience. Abraham 3 comes after Abraham's covenant renewal but before the destruction of Sodom, positioning astronomical knowledge within Abraham's prophetic education. Both chapters share a common structure: the prophet receives a vision of cosmic scope, learns about pre-mortal existence and divine hierarchy, encounters opposition, and emerges with clarified identity and mission. The central theological architecture of both chapters is the doctrine of divine anthropology — the stunning claim that humans are not created ex nihilo but are co-eternal intelligences organized into spirit bodies, then mortal bodies, then potentially into glorified immortal bodies. This contradicts nearly all ancient Near Eastern and later Christian cosmology, which viewed creation as making something from nothing. The Hebrew word *bara* (create) in Genesis 1:1 can mean "organize" or "fashion," and the JST and Book of Abraham deliberately preserve this meaning. "Worlds without number have I created," God tells Moses, establishing that our cosmos is one of many, our earth story part of a vaster pattern. Abraham learns that some intelligences are "more intelligent than another" and that he was chosen before birth — not arbitrarily, but based on pre-mortal nobility and capacity. The linguistic texture matters here. When Moses declares "I am a son of God, in the similitude of his Only Begotten," he's making two claims: literal divine parentage and Christological typology. The Hebrew concept of *tselem* (image) and *demut* (likeness) from Genesis 1:26-27 gets its fullest expression here — humans bear both physical and spiritual resemblance to deity. Abraham's astronomical vision uses Egyptian star names (Kolob, Kokaubeam, Oliblish) that may reflect ancient cosmological traditions now lost, but the chapter's insistence on measured time, hierarchical organization, and governing intelligences echoes both Mesopotamian astronomical texts and Enochic literature. The Restoration adds specificity: Kolob is nearest God's throne, its revolution marking divine time, connecting celestial mechanics to sacred temporality. Both chapters climax with divine purpose statements. God tells Moses: "This is my work and my glory — to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man." Every word carries weight. "Work" (*mela'khah* in Hebrew contexts) implies ongoing labor, not completed creation. "Glory" (*kabod*) means weightiness, substance, the manifestation of divine presence. "Immortality" (*athanasia* in Greek translation) is resurrection — universal, unconditional, accomplished through Christ's atonement. "Eternal life" (*zoe aionios*) is qualitative, not just quantitative — it's God's life, the kind of life God lives, requiring covenant faithfulness and transformation. Abraham learns he was chosen to carry this mission forward: to bear priesthood, to form a covenant people, to prepare the way for Christ. The chapters aren't abstract theology; they're mission briefings. The Christological thread runs through both texts. Moses sees "the world and the ends thereof, and all the children of men which are, and which were created" — but only through God's Spirit, "which is my Only Begotten." Seeing creation requires mediation through Christ. Abraham learns that "one among them that was like unto God" — the preeminent intelligence — would be the Creator and Redeemer. These chapters establish that Christ wasn't an afterthought following Adam's fall but the organizing principle of creation itself. The atonement was foreordained, the plan of salvation architected before the foundation of the world. Every soul's journey from intelligence to exaltation depends entirely on the One who was "like unto God" condescending to become like us.

These two chapters exist only because of the Restoration. Moses 1 came through Joseph Smith's inspired translation of the Bible, begun in June 1830, just months after the Church's organization. Joseph wasn't working from alternative manuscripts; he was receiving revelation, restoring truths that had been 'taken away from the gospel of the Lamb' as Nephi foresaw (1 Nephi 13:28-29). Abraham 3 emerged from a different process — translation of Egyptian papyri Joseph acquired in 1835. The papyri's physical content (Egyptian funerary texts) differs dramatically from the revealed content Joseph produced, suggesting the artifacts catalyzed revelation rather than providing a conventional translation base. Both chapters represent Joseph's role as revelatory conduit, restoring cosmic context the Bible had lost. The doctrinal connections to other Restoration scripture are dense. The pre-mortal council Abraham witnesses appears in different form in D&C 29:36-38 and is implied throughout the Book of Mormon's Atonement theology. The 'noble and great ones' connect directly to D&C 138:53-56, where Joseph Smith Sr., Hyrum, Brigham Young, and others are identified as foreordained leaders. Moses' statement about being created 'in the similitude of Christ' echoes 2 Nephi 11:4's teaching that 'all things which have been given of God from the beginning of the world, unto man, are the typifying of him.' The Book of Mormon consistently treats prophets as Christ-types, and Moses 1 establishes the theological foundation. Temple ordinances teach the same pattern: we learn our identity, encounter opposition, receive knowledge of creation's purpose, and are commissioned with sacred work. Prophetic commentary has repeatedly returned to Moses 1:39 as the crystallization of God's character. President Ezra Taft Benson taught that this verse proves God is not capricious or self-absorbed but utterly committed to human flourishing. Elder Bruce R. McConkie called it the 'most majestic utterance' in scripture, noting that God stakes His own glory on our success — making His glory dependent on ours. President Russell M. Nelson frequently emphasizes the distinction between immortality and eternal life, teaching that while resurrection is universal and free, eternal life requires covenant-making and covenant-keeping. The verse transforms our understanding of grace: God's grace doesn't just save us from sin; it transforms us into the kind of beings who can dwell in His presence and share His glory.

For modern covenant members navigating a secular age, these chapters provide ontological grounding. When the world defines humans as evolved primates, accidental arrangements of matter, or economic units, Moses and Abraham declare we are literal children of God with pre-mortal history and post-mortal destiny. This isn't motivational rhetoric; it's revealed anthropology. When Moses declares 'I am a son of God,' he's not claiming special prophetic status that excludes others — he's stating the fundamental truth about human identity that every person confirmed a member of the Church has claimed. The question isn't whether we have divine parentage but whether we'll let that knowledge shape our choices when Satan appears with alternate identities to offer: consumer, victim, self-made success, enlightened skeptic. The practical impact shows in how we handle opposition. Moses' exhaustion after his theophany — losing his natural strength for hours — teaches that divine encounters both elevate and deplete us. Peak spiritual experiences don't make us invincible; they often precede our most vulnerable moments. Satan appears precisely when Moses is physically weakest, yet Moses' spiritual clarity remains. For Latter-day Saints coming out of the temple, returning from missions, or finishing intense spiritual experiences, the pattern repeats: opposition intensifies exactly when we feel spiritually strong yet physically or emotionally depleted. Knowing we're sons and daughters of God doesn't prevent Satan's appearance; it provides the lens to recognize and reject him. Abraham's foreordination doctrine confronts our modern crisis of meaning. If life is random, suffering is meaningless, and purpose is self-constructed, then existence becomes absurdly contingent. But if we were 'noble and great' before birth, if we were 'chosen' for specific missions based on pre-mortal development, then our current circumstances — however difficult — connect to eternal identity and purpose. This doesn't mean every hardship is 'meant to be' or that God micromanages tragedy. It means our spirits chose to come here knowing the risks, that we have capacities developed over eons, and that we agreed to assignments requiring mortality's particular crucible. The parent watching a child struggle with addiction, the single member longing for marriage, the person battling chronic illness — each can ask not just 'why me?' but 'what did I agree to do here, and what capacities did I bring for this specific mission?' That reframe doesn't eliminate pain, but it transforms suffering from meaningless accident to meaningful sacrifice.