The Glad Tidings

In 66 years I have memories of only two ward Christmas parties. Actually, I wish I could forget the first one, but terribly embarassing incidents stick with you whether you like it or not. It happened in Sacramento in the mid-1950's. I was seven or eight years old and played an elf in skit about Santa's workshop. They made me wear a skimpy little costume but didn't tell me where I could change into it. So I chose an empty classroom that had one of those folding dividers used to make two classrooms out of one.

After the performance -- in which I'd put my mouth much too close to the microphone and almost blew out the speakers with my only speaking part ("Isn't it beautiful?" -- referring to Santa's Christmas tree), I retreated back to the classroom to change clothes. As if on cue, after removing my costume but before putting my pants on, someone opened the divider. It seemed like the entire ward was peering in at me -- as I crouched behind a chair -- in my underwear. My face was redder than Rudolph's nose.

In my old age, even though I may eventually forget my own name, mental images of that embarrassing incident will live forever.

The second memory is one I hope never to forget because of the insights it generated. At a ward Christmas dinner a few years ago I was seated across from a young couple I didn't know. So I introduced myself, and, typical of introductory conversations, we soon reached that inevitable pause where people ask one another, "So, what do you do?"

However the conversation developed after that is of no matter. What makes this incident especially memorable is that a few days later as I contemplated the meaning of Christmas, I thought about how Christ would answer that question, "So, what do you do?" And I seemed to hear Him say:

"What do I do? I offer hope to the hopeless. I lift up the hands that hang down and strengthen the feeble knees (Doctrine & Covenants 81:5). I was wounded for [your] transgressions . . . bruised for [your] iniquities" (Isaiah 53:5).

"What do I do? I have suffered temptations, and pain of body, hunger, thirst, fatigue, even more than man can suffer, except it be unto death; for nehold, blood cometh from every pore" (Mosiah 3:7).

"What do I do? "Behold, I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands" (Isaiah 49:16).

"What do I do? I fix broken things, and I specialize in mercy."

A few months later, I attended a stake conference where Elder Jeffrey R. Holland gave further details about what Jesus and His Father do:

"They spend all day and night, working without sleep or slumber, looking for ways to bless us . . . If you feel that life is dark and that the sun doesn't ever seem to come up . . . don't give up! . . . God loves broken things . . . While you're plummeting downward and feel like you're at the end of your rope, the road you say you cannot walk--YOU WALK; and the load you say you cannot carry--YOU CARRY. It is a refining process that will help you discover the gold in your life. A new world of divinity unfolds, and we get a glimpse of the gods and goddesses we were meant to be. That day WILL come. Trust me, it will come."

As I was leaving that meeting I passed an older woman who has always been an example to me of a true and faithful Christian. Shaking my hand, and with tears in her eyes, she said, "I'm one of those broken ones."

If ever you feel that way -- that you're "one of those broken ones" -- take time to ponder the meaning of the words "glad tidings." The angel who announced Jesus' birth to the shepherds used those words NOT because every December thereafter they'd be getting Christmas gifts and vacation time. The "glad tidings" are all about Jesus Christ -- and His response to the question: "So, what do you do?"