This is the story that came to my mind.

The hero is one of us. An American in our world. Probably a teenager or young adult.

Something happens, and he is called out of our world into a land of villages. It is a real world, but it is also something like a game. He is a Level 1 Hero with stats. He gets little notifications and can see popups giving basic information about the people he meets.

He starts doing small favors for the villagers, fights animal pests, and grows in level. He unlocks achievements and new skills. He becomes more capable and faces larger and larger threats. The villagers cooperate with him and eventually he even acquires the ability to recruit them as militia and watchmen. But it bothers him that so much depends on him. Granted, he is a Hero and they are Villagers, but they aren’t just props in a game, they are real people, and it bothers him that they are so oddly unconcerned about their own safety. So willing to just leave it to him.

But one Christmas Eve he is out in the lonely moonlit snow on patrol. And he looks down from the slope he’s on, and through the firs he can see one of his villages, windows lit, the people spilling out into the streets singing and rejoicing together, the little church, post out over fires cooking good things, and he feels that it is all worth it. He feels their happiness, and he wants them just they way they are.

Achievement unlocked: love.

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There is a piquant contrast between the little infant Jesus of his first coming and the all-conquering Christ of his Second Coming at the head of his legions of angels.

But the contrast is only apparent. The title Prince of Peace is not an oxymoron.

Peace is what comes through victory.

Only the complete and utter victor can offer true peace. You can know His power when you know His peace.

That night, that peaceful night, when he was born . . . it was peaceful because the Romans had pacified the area. It was peaceful because Mary had fought the fight of childbirth and had won. It was peaceful because the angelic hosts were swarming, a devil couldn’t so much as have sneezed.

We somehow managed to keep a few of our last harvest of tomatoes for the two months until Christmas.

Very wrinkled, very delicious.

Christmas is one of the merriest sadnesses that I know.

There is a real Christmas out there, but our actual Christmases never quite reach it.  There is a film between us and that perfect transcendence.  Only in memory can we see how golden the day was.  But even at the time, we are close, so close, and no one wants the day to end.  Last night we sat around, looking at  the tree, talking just a little.  We were going over the events of the day as if it were already golden memory.

We have a picture of Betsey hanging on the tree.

Most of our loved ones were far away this Christmas.  I remember Christmases as a child, when my grandparents were still alive.  “Through the years we all will be together . . . ”  Yes, very true.  But not factual.  Why can it be so sad to be so happy?  Why can it be so happy to be so sad?

The 12 Days of Christmas, after Christmas, are a way of slowly coming back up into the regular January air, lest you do it too quickly.  Most of you who take down the tree the day after, its no wonder you get the bends.

And behold, he shall be born of Mary, at Jerusalem which is the land of our forefathers, she being a virgin, a precious and chosen vessel, who shall be overshadowed and conceive by the power of the Holy Ghost, and bring forth a son, yea, even the Son of God.

11 And he shall go forth, suffering pains and afflictions and temptations of every kind; and this that the word might be fulfilled which saith he will take upon him the pains and the sicknesses of his people.

12 And he will take upon him death, that he may loose the bands of death which bind his people; and he will take upon him their infirmities, that his bowels may be filled with mercy, according to the flesh, that he may know according to the flesh how to succor his people according to their infirmities.

13 Now the Spirit knoweth all things; nevertheless the Son of God suffereth according to the flesh that he might take upon him the sins of his people, that he might blot out their transgressions according to the power of his deliverance; and now behold, this is the testimony which is in me.

Christ’s  mortality is the hook on which all our intimacy with him, all his understanding, all his succor, hangs.

A tremendous weight to be born by one little baby.

He bears it easily.  He draws one breath, then another.

Is it any wonder the heavens burst with light?  Is it any wonder the angels make a tumult?

Merry Christmas!

Now and then you get to witness a miracle.

I live in a small rural ward.  We aren’t a singing bunch.  Still, we have a few regulars and in years past I’ve had fun singing with them in a Christmas choir.

This year, nothing was announced.  So around Thanksgiving I said, ‘Bishop, is anybody doing a choir this year?’  “Sure,’ he says, ‘would you mind putting one together.  IN FACT, do the whole Christmas program for that Sunday.’

I have never run a choir before nor had any sort of vocal training.  Also, time was pretty short. (more…)

A website by a temple fan gives a chronology of the initial dedications of the 167 current temples of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, plus the Kirtland temple and the first Nauvoo temple. Twelve of those were carried out by a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles instead of a member of the quorum of the First Presidency:

Nauvoo by Orson Hyde (1846)
Manti by Lorenzo Snow (1888)
Regina by Boyd Packer (1999)
Brigham City by Boyd Packer (2012)
Sapporo by Russell Nelson (2016)
Provo City Center by Dallin Oaks (2016)
Star Valley by David Bednar (2016)
Kinshasa by Dale Renlund (2019)
Fortaleza by Ulisses Soares (2019)
Port-au-Prince by David Bednar (2019)
Lisbon by Neil Anderson (2019)
Arequipa by Ulisses Soares (2019)

It’s a curious pattern. (more…)

Christmas starts next week. Merry Christmas, friends. I haven’t met you all, but all of you make me laugh and feel tender at the same time, and if that isn’t the true meaning of being merry I don’t know what it is.

Enjoy the season, enjoy your families, enjoy celebrating his birth as we loo forward to seeing him again.

For those who like that sort of thing, we have some excellent Christmas writing from over the years. We’ve made it into a page that you can get to from the top of the blog.

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Righteous dominion is power + love.

Power + Love.

This is the formula.  This is the insight I had.

Both are necessary.

***

Men among the Saints work for the love but flee from the power.  They practice unrighteous dominion because of it.  That’s the irony.  They maintain their power just because of their ordination.

Oops.  “No power or influence can or ought to be maintained by virtue of the priesthood.”

They think that ordination=authority=power.

The ordination makes your power legitimate and loving.  It should not be the basis of your power.  Imitate Christ.

Remember the reason

for the season

a reason you can’t forget

To get gifts beyond reason

his gifts that are legion

without limit or merit or let.