Study Guide to the Jedi Masters Holocron

Preamble

Living with Nephi – Through the Eyes of Sam

They always talk about Nephi.

And rightly so.

He saw angels. He built ships. He stood up to our elder brothers over and over. But what they often forget is that before he was a prophet, before he was a visionary, before the brass plates and the bows and the storms—he was my big brother.

I watched him grow. I watched our father, Lehi, favor him with trust. I saw the Spirit shape him. And I also saw the cost.

Nephi carried a weight that would have crushed most men. Visions that interrupted his sleep. Commands from the Lord that went against logic, tradition, even family peace. There were days I saw the weariness in his eyes—right before he rose to do something impossible again.

Living with Nephi was like sharing a tent with a thunderstorm and a sunrise at the same time.

He was intense. Exacting. He took the Lord seriously. Not just in public. Always. His prayers were real. His questions were real. His tears were real. Sometimes I envied his closeness to God. Other times, I feared what that closeness might demand of me.

But I followed him—not because I was weak, but because I saw that he was right.

I saw him forgive Laman again and again, even when he had every right to walk away. I saw him take the verbal lashings, both literal and emotional, from my brothers who should have protected him. I saw him pray before building a ship when none of us knew how to shape wood, let alone sail the sea.

He was not perfect. But he was faithful. And that made him powerful.

Living with Nephi wasn’t easy. But I never doubted the Spirit that burned in him like fire in his bones.

And to this day, I still call him my brother—and my teacher.

— Sam, son of Lehi

Jedi Memory Entry — Padawan Sam
Location: Valley of Lamentation
Mission Log: The Breaking of the Bow
Holocron Classification: Field Lesson – Patience and Power


“It wasn’t just the bow that broke. It was our spirit. But Nephi held the line.”

The hunger was real. Not just stomach-deep, but soul-deep. Our journey had already taken so much—our wealth, our comfort, our city. Now it was taking our strength.

The wilderness is quiet, until people are starving. Then it gets loud.

Laman and Lemuel murmured, as always. But this time, even Father’s voice—usually so steady—wavered. I had never seen him despair like that. It scared me. Maybe more than the hunger itself.

And then Nephi’s bow broke.

It was a weapon of fine steel. Strong, like him. And when it snapped, something shifted in the camp. Even I felt it: If Nephi can fail, then maybe we’re all doomed.

But Nephi didn’t flinch. He didn’t murmur. He didn’t preach.

He just built.

From the remains of our broken confidence, he carved a new bow out of wood. Crude, but functional. I watched his hands work even as his stomach must’ve ached. I remember thinking: He’s not waiting for a miracle. He’s becoming one.

But what struck me most wasn’t the craftsmanship—it was what he did next.

He didn’t charge off on his own. He could have. He was capable. The Lord had spoken to him before. But instead, he went to Father.
He asked our father, broken in spirit, where he should go to find food.

It was honor. It was humility. It was healing.

Nephi wasn’t just seeking game. He was restoring leadership, reminding Father who he was—and who we were.

He went. He hunted. He brought back meat.
And with it, he brought back hope.

I watched him that day not just as a little brother, not as a fellow sufferer—but as an apprentice witnessing the fullness of a master. A man who could suffer quietly, serve faithfully, and still honor others, even when they had failed him.
That is the kind of strength the Force cannot teach you with lightning or blades.

That is the strength of righteous leadership.

— Sam, Padawan of the Desert Trial

✧ Witness of the Broken Bow
✧ Apprentice to the Patient One
✧ Student of Honor Under Pressure