Corianton watched the Zoramite climb down from the high tower, his robe, ornamented with golden thread, shimmered as he moved. The sun sparkled on the man's jangling ringlets and bracelets.
"Wow, that's quite an outfit," Shiblon, Corianton's brother whispered to him.
"Yeah, the man can dress, but he sure is dumb." Corianton replied. "How can he think that he is saved yet in the same breath deny the Redeemer."
Shiblon looked to his father, Alma. "Father, where do they get these strange ideas?"
"Satan is very cunning. These people want to believe that they can be saved without any effort on their part. They want to justify their sins rather than forsake them." Alma's glance fell briefly on Corianton with his last words.
Corianton rolled his eyes. "How stupid. Won't they be surprised come judgement day!"
Alma looked again toward the Rameumptom. The first man had reached the bottom and a second man now ascended the tall ladder that lead to the top of the tower. His clothing was as elaborate as his fellow Zoramite's. When he reached the platform, the man stretched his hands up, as if reaching for heaven and began reciting the same prayer as the previous man.
Corianton snorted. "Not very creative are they?"
"Corianton," Alma chastised, "What have we been commanded concerning judging others?"
"I'm not judging them," Corianton protested, shaking his head. "They're condemning themselves with their blasphemy."
"I see the contempt in your eyes when you speak. You see these Zoramites as being less than you, sinners that deserve to feel the wrath of the Almighty." Alma paused to watch and listen as another Zoramite began his prayer. "When you condemn them, are you not ascending your own Rameumptom and thanking the Lord that you're saved and they are not?"
"Well, we do have the true gospel, don't we?"
"We do have the true gospel, yes. But we are only following it when we are humble and show charity to those around us. Corianton, these are precious souls, many of them are our brethren. We cannot merely mark them as lost and move on without even trying to bring them back to Christ."
Corianton took a deep breath. "Look at them, Father!" He gestured toward the tower and the people gathered around. "Do you really think they'll listen?"
"We all have our weaknesses, my son." Alma's blue eyes caught his son's gaze and held it. "We are all sinners in need of the Lord's redeeming love to save us. It matters not if they will listen, it only matters that we try, for their sake and our own."
Corianton looked away and said nothing.
"Come my son; climb down from your lofty thoughts, humble yourself. We have a mission to fulfill."