I’ve been trying to come up with something meaningful and heartfelt to say for Christmas and I was struggling. I’ve already shared my feelings about Christmas this year, the shepherds and their sheep and the thoughts and feelings that sight invoked. But I wanted to share something more but struggled with exactly what to say.
Then I received this article from the LDS group leader at Bagram. As I read this article I realized it captured everything I would have wanted to say this year. I love President Hinckley. I love to listen to him speak. I love to listen to his words. So I suppose it’s more than fitting to share his message with you all.
Before I do though, let me say thank you to all of you have offered a prayer on my behalf. I can’t tell you how grateful I am for the tremendous amount of support I have received since I’ve been here. Thank you for the support you have given my family. They have been so blessed while I’ve been here.
To my family and friends know that I have a testimony of the Savior. I am so grateful to Him for his atoning sacrifice. With all the mistakes I make I am grateful that He has provided a way to save me from myself. Can you imagine how awful life would be without the hope that He has provided for us.
And it all started one night, so long ago.
May the spirit of the season fill your hearts and homes. Know that my thoughts and prayers are with you. And even though I can’t physically be there, I am in spirit.
I love you!!
Merry Christmas!!
The Wondrous and True Story of Christmas (by Gordon B. Hinkley)
What a glorious season is this time
of
Christmas. Hearts are softened. Voices are raised in worship. Kindness
and mercy are reenthroned as elements in our lives. There is an accelerated reaching out to those in distress. There is an aura
of peace that comes into our homes. There is a measure
of love that is not felt to
the same extent at any other time
of
the year.
With you, I have sung, as others have sung for almost three centuries,
the words
of Isaac Watts set to
the music
of George Frideric Handel:
Joy to
the world,
the Lord is come;
Let earth receive her King!
Let ev’ry heart prepare him room,
And Saints
and angels sing.
Rejoice! Rejoice in
the Most High,
While Israel spreads abroad
Like stars that glitter in
the sky,
And ever worship God.(Hymns, no. 201)
My heart is subdued when I think
of
the great love
of my Heavenly Father. How grateful I am to know that God loves us.
The incomprehensible depth
of that love found expression in
the gift
of His Only Begotten Son to come into
the world to bring hope into our hearts, to bring kindness
and courtesy into our relationships,
and above all to save us from our sins
and guide us on
the way that leads to eternal life.
Marvelous is
the chronicle that began with
the singing
of angels at Bethlehem
and ended on Golgotha’s cruel cross. There is no other life to compare with His life. He was
the one perfect man to walk
the earth,
the paragon
of excellence,
the singular example
of perfection.
I sense in a measure
the
meaning
of His Atonement. I cannot comprehend it all. It is so vast in its reach
and yet so intimate in its effect that it defies comprehension.
“Oh, eloquent, grand,
and mighty death!” said Sir Walter Raleigh as he was about to die in
the Tower
of London.
I remember speaking at a funeral service
of a good man, a friend whose goodness caused me to reach a little higher. Through
the years I had known his smiles, his kind words,
the play
of his brilliant intellect,
the great breadth
of his service to others.
And then he who had been so bright
and good suddenly died. I looked upon his lifeless form. There was neither recognition nor motion nor word
of any kind. With such stern finality
the mantle
of
the reaper had quickly enfolded him
and made him so different.
I looked up at his weeping widow
and children. They knew, as I knew, that never again in mortality would they hear his voice. But a tender sweetness, indescribable in nature, brought peace
and reassurance. It seemed to say, “Be still,
and know that I am God” (
Ps. 46:10).
It seemed further to say, “Don’t worry. All
of this is part
of my plan. None can escape death. Even my Beloved Son died upon
the cross. But through so doing He became
the glorious firstfruits
of
the Resurrection. He took from death its sting
and from
the grave its victory.”
I could hear in my mind
the Lord speaking to
the sorrowing Martha: “I am
the resurrection,
and
the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live.
And whosoever liveth
and believeth in me shall never die” (
John 11:25–26).
When all is said
and done, when all
of history is examined, when
the deepest depths
of
the human mind have been explored, nothing is so wonderful, so majestic, so tremendous as this act
of grace when
the Son
of
the Almighty,
the Prince
of His Father’s royal household, He who had once spoken as Jehovah, He who had condescended to come to earth as a babe born in Bethlehem, gave His life in ignominy
and pain so that all
of
the sons
and daughters
of God
of all generations
of time, every one
of whom must die, might walk again
and live eternally. He did for us what none
of us could do for ourselves.
I have a simple story I would like to recount. It is something
of a parable. I do not have
the name
of
the author. Perhaps it will have special interest for our children. I hope it will be a reminder for all.
“Years ago there was a little one-room schoolhouse in
the mountains
of Virginia where
the boys were so rough that no teacher had been able to handle them.
“A young, inexperienced teacher applied,
and
the old director scanned him
and asked: ‘Young fellow, do you know that you are asking for an awful beating? Every teacher that we have had here for years has had to take one.’
“ ‘I will risk it,’ he replied.
“
The first day
of school came,
and
the teacher appeared for duty. One big fellow named Tom whispered: ‘I won’t need any help with this one. I can lick him myself.’
“
The teacher said, ‘Good morning, boys, we have come to conduct school.’ They yelled
and made fun at
the top
of their voices. ‘Now, I want a good school, but I confess that I do not know how unless you help me. Suppose we have a few rules. You tell me,
and I will write them on
the blackboard.’
“One fellow yelled, ‘No stealing!’ Another yelled, ‘On time.’ Finally, ten rules appeared on
the blackboard.
“ ‘Now,’ said
the teacher, ‘a law is not good unless there is a penalty attached. What shall we do with one who breaks
the rules?’
“ ‘Beat him across
the back ten times without his coat on,’ came
the response from
the class.
“ ‘That is pretty severe, boys. Are you sure that you are ready to stand by it?’ Another yelled, ‘I second
the motion,’
and
the teacher said, ‘All right, we will live by them! Class, come to order!’
“In a day or so, ‘Big Tom’ found that his lunch had been stolen.
The thief was located—a little hungry fellow, about ten years old. ‘We have found
the thief
and he must be punished according to your rule—ten stripes across
the back. Jim, come up here!’
the teacher said.
“
The little fellow, trembling, came up slowly with a big coat fastened up to his neck
and pleaded, ‘Teacher, you can lick me as hard as you like, but please, don’t take my coat off!’
“ ‘Take your coat off,’
the teacher said. ‘You helped make
the rules!’
“ ‘Oh, teacher, don’t make me!’ He began to unbutton,
and what did
the teacher see?
The boy had no shirt on,
and revealed a bony little crippled body.
“ ‘How can I whip this child?’ he thought. ‘But I must, I must do something if I am to keep this school.’ Everything was quiet as death.
“ ‘How come you aren’t wearing a shirt, Jim?’
“He replied, ‘My father died
and my mother is very poor. I have only one shirt
and she is washing it today,
and I wore my brother’s big coat to keep me warm.’
“
The teacher, with rod in hand, hesitated. Just then ‘Big Tom’ jumped to his feet
and said, ‘Teacher, if you don’t object, I will take Jim’s licking for him.’
“ ‘Very well, there is a certain law that one can become a substitute for another. Are you all agreed?’
“Off came Tom’s coat,
and after five strokes
the rod broke!
The teacher bowed his head in his hands
and thought, ‘How can I finish this awful task?’ Then he heard
the class sobbing,
and what did he see? Little Jim had reached up
and caught Tom with both arms around his neck. ‘Tom, I’m sorry that I stole your lunch, but I was awful hungry. Tom, I will love you till I die for taking my licking for me! Yes, I will love you forever!’ ”
To lift a phrase from this simple story, Jesus, my Redeemer, has taken “my licking for me”
and yours for you.
Declared
the prophet Isaiah:
“Surely he hath borne our griefs,
and carried our sorrows: …
“… He was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities:
the chastisement
of our peace was upon him;
and with his stripes we are healed” (
Isa. 53:4–5).
This is
the wondrous
and
true story
of
Christmas.
The birth
of Jesus in Bethlehem
of Judea is preface.
The three-year ministry
of
the Master is prologue.
The magnificent substance
of
the story is His sacrifice,
the totally selfless act
of dying in pain on
the cross
of Calvary to atone for
the sins
of all
of us.
The epilogue is
the miracle
of
the Resurrection, bringing
the assurance that “as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive” (
1 Cor. 15:22).
There would be no
Christmas if there had not been Easter.
The babe Jesus
of Bethlehem would be but another baby without
the redeeming Christ
of Gethsemane
and Calvary,
and
the triumphant fact
of
the Resurrection.
I believe in
the Lord Jesus Christ,
the Son
of
the Eternal, Living God. None so great has ever walked
the earth. None other has made a comparable sacrifice or granted a comparable blessing. He is
the Savior
and
the Redeemer
of
the world. I believe in Him. I declare His divinity without equivocation or compromise. I love Him. I speak His name in reverence
and wonder. I worship Him as I worship His Father, in spirit
and in truth. I thank Him
and kneel before His Beloved Son who reached out long ago
and said to each
of us, “Come unto me, all ye that labour
and are heavy laden,
and I will give you rest” (
Matt. 11:28).
For each
of you may this be a merry
Christmas. But more importantly, I wish for each
of you a time, perhaps only an hour, spent in silent meditation
and quiet reflection on
the wonder
and
the majesty
of this,
the Son
of God. Our joy at this season is because He came into
the world.
The peace that comes from Him, His infinite love which each
of us may feel,
and an overwhelming sense
of gratitude for that which He freely gave us at so great a cost to Himself—these are
of
the
true essence
of
Christmas. (Gordon B. Hinckley, “
The Wondrous
and
True Story
of
Christmas,” Ensign, Dec. 2000, 2)