Dec. 12

Dec.12

The Master taught that it isn't what you have that counts; it's what you give. Giving of yourself can fill your world with joy, not only at Christmas, but all year long.

SCRIPTURE: 3 Nephi 13:19-20

SUGGESTION: You'll treasure the time you spend helping others. Do volunteer work for some worthy cause.

SONG: " I Heard The Bells on Christmas Day", Hymns, Page 214


If He Had Not Come
by Norman Vincent Peale

There are many Christmas stories whose warmth and wonder touch our hearts. This is one I used to tell my children when they were small because, simple though it is, it reminds us all of something we sometimes tend to forget: the importance of keeping Christ in Christmas...

It was Christmas Eve the one night in the year when 7 year old Bobby was in a hurry to go to bed. His stocking was tacked to the mantel; the beautiful tree stood in the corner. He kissed his mother and father good night. Then he races upstairs and leaped into bed.

It seemed to Bobby that he hadn’t been asleep any time when a harsh voice shouted "Get up!" He opened his eyes, blinking in the bright sunlight. Then he remembered what day it was. With a joyful shout he hurried into his clothes and bounded down the stairs.

On the bottom step he stopped. No stocking hung from the mantel. The Christmas tree was gone too. "But . . .but I put the angel on myself," Bobby began, when the shrill whistle from the factory made him jump.

"The factory cant be open on Christmas!" Bobby thought, as he put on his coat and ran out of the house. The gateman at the factory was his friend. He would tell Bobby why

"Clear out of here, you!" The gateman jerked his thumb at him. "No kids allowed!"

As Bobby slowly turned to go, he saw to his amazement that up and down the street all the stores were open. "Why are they open on Christmas?" he asked a woman coming out of the supermarket.

"Christmas?" The woman asked. "What’s that?"

The hardware store, the bakery, the five-and-ten everywhere it was the same. People were busy. They were cross. They’d never heard of Christmas.

"I know one place where they’ve heard of Christmas!" Bobby cried.

"At my church! There’s a special service this morning!"

He started to run. Here was the street! At least he thought it was. But here was only a weed-grown vacant lot. The tower with the carillon bells, the Sunday School windows where Bobby had pasted snowflakes there was nothing here.

Just then, from the tall grass near the side of the road, Bobby heard a moan. A man was lying on the ground.

"A car struck me!" he gasped. "Never even stopped!"

"Help!" called Bobby to a lady walking past. "This mans hurt!"

The lady jerked Bobby away. "Don’t touch him! He doesn’t live here. We don’t know anything about him."

"I’ll run to the hospital, mister," Bobby promised. "They will send an ambulance." And he tore off down the street.

"Hospital of the Good Samaritan," Bobby had often read the name over the archway in the great stone wall. But now the stone wall ran around an empty field. Where the name of the hospital had been, was carved instead, If He Had Only Come.

Suddenly Bobby was running home as if his life depended on it. Last night his father had read from the Bible! Maybe the Bible would tell him why everything was changed.

The Bible was still lying on the table in the living room. Bobby snatched it up, ran upstairs to his room. But where the new Testament should have started, there were only blank pages. There was no Christmas story no Jesus at all. Bobby flung himself on his bed and began to cry. . .

"Merry Christmas, Bobby!" It was his mother's voice from downstairs. "Aren’t you getting up on Christmas morning?"

Bobby sprang out of bed and ran to the window. There was a Christmas wreath on the house across the street. And suddenly the carillon bells from the church tower began to ring: Joy to the World! The Lord is Come!

"Here I come, Mother!" Bobby called. But he paused at the door and shut his eyes.

"You came!" he whispered. "Thank you for coming!"