Thomas S. Monson - Thomas S. Monson Christmas Bundle: 4-in1 eBook Bundle

IN SEARCH OF THE CHRISTMAS SPIRIT

In Search of the Christmas Spirit

Temple Square in Salt Lake City is a site known throughout the world. It is particularly attractive at Christmastime, with its thousands of twinkling lights, traditional nativity scene, carolers singing those songs so dear to us all, and, of course, the lighted statue of the Christus, which seems to say to the world, The spirit of Christmas is indeed the Christ spirit.

As I make the long-awaited family trek to Temple Square each year to observe its Christmas adornment and to renew more vividly the meaning of this special season, my thoughts inevitably turn backward to Christmases of long ago, and there courses through the memory of heart and mind a cherished experience.

As a very young elder, I was asked to join the president of my quorum in a visit to the old Primary Childrens Hospital, situated then on North Temple Street in Salt Lake City, to provide blessings for the sick children who desired to receive them. As we entered the large front door, we noted the Christmas tree with its bright and friendly lights. Carefully wrapped packages were spread beneath its out-stretched limbs. Then my heart was penetrated and my spirit subdued as I read a specially prepared message that had been framed and placed on the wall:

I wonder, what does Christmas mean,

With its stars and shiny balls?

Is Christmas more than Christmas trees

And toys and games and dolls?

Of this Im sure: Theres something more,

For Ive heard many say

That in a strange and far-off land,

A child was born this day.

And Christmas is to celebrate

His coming from above.

He showed us how we all should live

And told us we should love.

We walked through the long corridors in silence. It was a hallowed scene. Tiny boys and girlssome with a cast upon an arm or upon a leg, others too ill to stand or sitstared with looks of appreciation. We walked toward the bedside of a small boy, who greeted us with the question, What are your names? He then asked, Will you give me a blessing? The blessing was provided, and, as we turned to leave his bedside, he whispered a reverent Thank you. We walked a few more steps and then heard his feeble call, Brother Monson. We turned and heard him say, Merry Christmas to you, and a bright smile flashed across his countenance. That little one had the Christmas spirit. It was contagious. We walked from the hospital more appreciative of our priesthood callings, more grateful for our blessings. We had received the Christmas spirit.

How different was this boy when compared with seven-year-old Michael and his Christmas experience. The newspaper heading read Christmas Spirit Comes to Michael, then continued: For five minutes on Saturday morning, Michael lived in a fantasy world that seven-year-olds dream about. He spent the five most exciting minutes of his life in a toy department hauling away every item he could put into, onto, around, and through a grocery cart. And it was all for free.

That dream-come-true was his prize for winning a contest which sought the number of lights on Salt Lake Citys community Christmas tree. His guess was 9,624one shy of the 9,625 lights on the 65-foot tree which stands on Main Street. Bespectacled, dressed in tennis shoes so he wouldnt slip, and with his two front teeth missing, Michael took the controls of a giant grocery cart he barely could see over at exactly 11 a.m.

Five minutes later he had rolled up a bill of $109.14. His toy list included a bicycle, two road raceway sets, a tommy gun, camping set, western rifle, a long toy snake, a dart set, an astro track space toy, and countless small cars.

Remaining amazingly calm throughout the five minutes, Michael attracted a large crowd of shoppers who moved aside as he pushed his cart through the aisles.

As I read the account, the words of Ralph Waldo Emerson seemed to acquire a new depth of meaning: Rings and jewels are not gifts, but apologies for gifts. The only gift is a portion of thyself. (Essays: The Poet.)

The true Christmas spirit is never found in a surfeit of things. It is less obvious in arrival and more lasting in impact.

An unknown author wrote:

I am the Christmas Spirit.

I enter the home of poverty, causing pale-faced children to open their eyes wide in pleased wonder.

I cause the misers clutched hand to relax and thus paint a bright spot on his soul.

I cause the aged to renew their youth and to laugh in the glad old way.

I keep romance alive in the heart of childhood and brighten sleep with dreams woven of magic.

I cause eager feet to climb dark stairways with filled baskets, leaving behind them hearts amazed at the goodness of the world.

I cause the prodigal to pause a moment on his wild, wasteful way, and send to anxious love some little token that releases glad tearstears which wash away the hard lines of sorrow.

I enter dark prison cells, reminding scarred manhood of what might have been, and pointing forward to good days yet to come.

I come softly into the still, white home of pain; and lips that are too weak to speak just tremble in silent, eloquent gratitude.

In a thousand ways I cause the weary world to look up into the face of God, and for a little moment forget the things that are small and wretched.

I am the Christmas Spirit.

This is the spirit each true Christian seeks. This is the spirit I pray each may find. This is the Christ spirit. No quest is so universal, no undertaking so richly rewarding, no effort so ennobling, no purpose so divine. The Christmas season seems to prompt anew that yearning, that seeking to emulate the Savior of the world.

This search for Jesus is not new. In his touching and tender farewell to the Gentiles, Moroni emphasized the importance of this search: And now I, Moroni, bid farewell.... I would commend you to seek this Jesus of whom the prophets and apostles have written. (Ether 12:38, 41.) For generations, enlightened mankind anxiously sought the fulfillment of prophecies uttered by righteous men inspired of God. For did not Isaiah declare: Behold, a virgin shall conceive, and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel. (Isaiah 7:14.) And again, For unto us a child is born... and his name shall be called... The Prince of Peace. (Isaiah 9:6.)

On this continent, Gods prophet declared, The time cometh, and is not far distant, that with power, the Lord Omnipotent... shall dwell in a tabernacle of clay.... He shall suffer temptations, and pain.... And he shall be called Jesus Christ, the Son of God. (Mosiah 3:5, 78.)