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?"

The Hosts of Heaven

According to the familiar account in Luke, Chapter 2, on the night when Jesus was born, a lone angel appeared to shepherds in the darkness and announced the birth of “a Savior, which is Christ the Lord” in nearby Bethlehem.

Can you imagine being one of those shepherds and the awe they must have felt at seeing an angel from heaven? But that was only the beginning. Immediately after hearing the angel tell them the babe could be found “wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger,” a much greater event occurred. For “suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God.” That lone angelic messenger was joined by a multitude of other angels, and they all literally sang praises to God because of the Savior’s birth.

Have you ever wondered, Who were those angels? Were they the musically gifted members of a special choir who had auditioned for this event while the rest of God’s spirit children who didn’t sing quite as well -- or who couldn’t carry a tune at all -- stayed home to watch it all on a heavenly widescreen?

We find the answer as we explore the meaning of the words “heavenly host” or “hosts.” Moses used the word “host” as he described the completion of the Creation: “Thus the heavens and the earth were finished, and all the host of them” (Genesis 2:1; Moses 3:1). A clear definition of just who these “hosts” are is found in a revelation about the war in heaven, where the Lord said this to the Prophet Joseph Smith: “The devil . . . rebelled against me, saying, ‘Give me thine honor,’ which is my power; and also a third part of the hosts of heaven turned he away from me . . .and they were thrust down, and thus came the devil and his angels” (Doctrine & Covenants 29:36).

Here we see that, originally, the term “hosts of heaven” referred to all of God’s spirit children. But after Satan and his followers rebelled against God’s plan, they were cast out of His presence. Thus, Satan and his followers became the “hosts of hell” (see Doctrine & Covenants 88:113). The “hosts of heaven” are the two-thirds of God’s spirit children who did not rebel. And that included you and me.

So back to my original question: Who were those heavenly singers the night the Savior was born? Luke says they were the "host of heaven" – the entire host, the remaining spirits who did not rebel -- not just a portion of them, not just the ones who could carry a tune, but all of them – including you and me. We were there! Our voices were part of that heavenly choir!

Given this perspective, it is all the more puzzling to me when I observe members, and often entire families, sitting silent in our meetings during the singing of hymns, particularly the sacrament hymns. Usually it’s because they don’t consider themselves musically “gifted.”

And I find myself wanting to lean over and whisper, “How can you remain silent? Don’t you remember? You were once part of that choir of heavenly hosts. Granted, you may not feel musically gifted, but that didn’t stop you then. Please don’t let it stop you now.”

Let us remember our part in that great choir – and remind our children that they were in it as well. Singing is not just for the musically gifted. Nor is it just something added to the program to give us a break from the speakers. It is our gift to Him, albeit humble -- a sacred offering.

And to those who sing there is a promise from the Lord Himself: “The song of the righteous is a prayer unto me, and it shall be answered with a blessing on their heads” (Doctrine & Covenants 25:12).

Tribute to a Great Man: Bill Porter

An obituary in today's New York Times has stirred up guilty childhood memories and not a few tears.

As you'll learn from reading that obituary, Bill Porter was a salesman in my hometown of Portland, Oregon. He sold Watkins products door-to-door. Bill was much younger then, probably around 30. He came to our house about once a month. I was in my early teens, and I confess that I didn't like being the one who had to open the door when Bill came. I didn't know his name then. All I knew was that his slurred speech and jerky way of walking scared me.

How he managed to walk up the eight or ten steps to our front porch without falling was a mystery to me. When I opened the door he would hold up a sample of one of his products and speak in an almost unintelligible manner: "D o o o Y e e w w w W a a a n n t t T o o o B u u u y y y O o o n n n e O o o f f f T t t h h e e e e s s s ?" I'd always tell him we weren't interested, hoping he wouldn't come back -- but he always did.

Several years ago, this article about Bill appeared in the Portland newspaper, The Oregonian. Then ABC's 20/20 did a segment about him. I encourage you to watch it here. Then a movie was made about him, starring Bill Macy. I later learned that Bill's assistant, Shelly Brady, had attended the same church as our family when I was growing up.

I have tender feelings towards this extraordinary man after reading those articles and watching that 20/20 segment. I marvel at how incredibly resilient he was, and I regret very much the negative feelings I had about him when I was an uncaring teen.

From Bill Porter I've learned that we need to look past peoples' outward infirmities and see the real person within. You may not have been able to button your own shirt cuffs, Bill Porter, but you're a better man than I am.

For Latter-day Saints, the "Dancing" Is the Easy Part

Cecil Jenkins was one of my favorite high school teachers--easily distinguished from the rest of the faculty by his trademark crew cut, sport coat, and ever-present bow tie. Sure, other instructors could have taught the same principles of geometry that he did, but nobody could match his subtle humor, boyish grin, and those piercing blue eyes. Unlike most other classes, I looked forward to this one because he created such an enjoyable learning environment. On Friday, November 22, 1963, I was sitting in Mr. Jenkins' classroom when events in Dallas, Texas, rocked everyone's world. It was shortly after 10:30am, and the class routine was suddenly interrupted by Mr. Copper, Senior Math instructor from across the hall. He stepped into the room and said to Mr. Jenkins, "El Presidente (meaning John F. Kennedy) has been shot." Strange how our minds work when tragic or historic events occur. Not only do we recall precisely where we were at the time, but we retain a crystal clear recollection of the sights and sounds. That tragic event isn't the only memory I've retained from Mr. Jenkins' class. Surprisingly, I actually remember some basic geometry, such as: -- Parallel lines are like railroad tracks, always equidistant and never touching. -- Perpendicular lines are like those in a "+" sign, intersecting at a perfect 90-degree angle. -- And then there are the congruent lines. These are unique because, while there may be two or more of them, they have the same length, so when one is placed on top of the other, they are a perfect match. The word "congruent" doesn't just apply to geometry. It can also apply to human behavior. The dictionary says that a person has congruency when his behavior mirrors his beliefs. Many public figures have seen their careers flame out prematurely when their private behaviors were found to be shockingly incongruent with what they always claimed to be. This is why the media make such a big deal when a Latter-day Saint commits a crime; the criminal act is incongruent with the person's professed beliefs. The challenge of living a congruent life is faced by everyone, not just Latter-day Saints. Because worldly influences are so appealing--and even appetizing--we are constantly pressured to behave in ways that are in direct conflict with our moral principles. I once saw evidence of this in a Texas airport. Love Field in Dallas is the home base for Southwest Airlines. Many years ago, every Southwest gate in the airport offered free donuts, muffins, juice and coffee to all early-morning fliers. The gate area where I waited for my flight was almost empty, so it seemed strange when a woman chose to make a rather personal phone call while standing within six feet of me. As a result, I overheard every word as she called her doctor's office and confirmed the date and time of an upcoming surgery. Once the call was completed, she walked over to the free refreshments and helped herself to a large glazed donut. Now you may not see any incongruency in this, but I did. You see, I'd overheard the conversation in which she'd mentioned the specific nature of her upcoming surgery: a "stomach stapling" procedure, designed to help curb the appetite of people fighting obesity. The Lord gives members of His Church a remarkable gift to assist us when we’re tempted to make choices that are incongruent with our gospel commitments. When we're in tune with this gift of the Holy Ghost, we receive reminders—spiritual nudges—helping us remember the behaviors expected of those who've made sacred covenants with the Lord. But these nudges from the Holy Ghost don't come automatically. Church membership alone is no guarantee of personal revelation. Don't take my word for it. It was President Joseph Fielding Smith who said that while he couldn't prove it, it was his belief that most Latter-day Saints had never had a personal manifestation of the Holy Ghost. Never? Never? How could this be? I think the following story may help us understand why he held this belief. One day an old man came into the waiting room of a health clinic on an Indian reservation. Instead of signing in at the front desk like the others in the room had done, he just stood at the back. Noting that this man did not look at all well, the admitting nurse left the desk and approached him. She said he needed to register in order to be seen by a doctor. He made no reply, nor did he move toward the desk. Once more she suggested he follow the regular sign-in process, and once more he remained silent, not moving. The nurse then went into the back offices, found one of the doctors, and told him about the old man. Soon the doctor came out and invited the man to accompany him to an exam room. This time the man responded, following along behind the doctor but still saying nothing. Taking a seat across from the old man, the doctor said, "I can tell by your clothing that you are a medicine man, so I would like to ask you a question: Can you teach me to dance?" There was silence as the old man considered the doctor's request. And then he said, in a low voice: "I can teach you to dance . . . but I cannot teach you to hear the music." Now, if you go back and read President's Smith's statement again, this story may help you understand it. You see, for Latter-day Saints, there is "dancing" and then there's "hearing the music." The "dancing" part is when we attend our Church meetings and activities. In Mormon-speak this is commonly referred to as "being active." But, according to President Smith, far fewer members have learned to "hear the music"--to recognize and feel the promptings of the Holy Ghost, the whisperings of His still small voice, what Joseph Smith called "sudden flashes of inspiration." And just as the old medicine man said, the ability to “hear the music” of these spiritual promptings cannot be taught. It only comes when our thoughts, words, and actions are congruent with our covenants, congruent with the temple recommend standards, and congruent with the Savior's expectations. We can routinely "dance" day after day, week after week. But only when our lives are congruent with gospel principles will we qualify to "hear the music." slk 12/4/13