8 Christmas Symbols to Help Us Remember the True Meaning of the Season

Around this time of year, we’re often encouraged to remember the true meaning of Christmas. As President Thomas S. Monson has taught, “we find real joy when we make the Savior the focus of the season.” Unfortunately, this can be easier said than done. Despite our best efforts, we may often become distracted by the many tasks and preparations that accompany this season.

So how can we maintain a focus on Christ even amidst the holiday hustle and bustle? One way my parents taught me in my youth is to recognize and reflect on the many symbols of Christmas that are so prevalent around this time of year. These symbols point to Christ and can help us center our thoughts and minds on Him.

5 memorable stories from past First Presidency Christmas Devotionals

The new Christmas message found on mormon.org is a reminder of what this season is about: A Savior was born, over 2,000 years ago.

Here are some stories from past First Presidency Christmas Devotionals to help you feel the spirit of Christ this Christmas season.

10 Encouraging LDS Quotes to Lift a Troubled Heart

If there’s one thing for certain in this life, it’s that we will be tested and go through trials. The pain from these trying times can at times feel soul-crushing and incredibly lonely. But there is a light in the darkness, One who perfectly understands what we are going through.

While the Lord might not always lift our burden immediately, there is help available if we ask. In Christ, we can find peace and solace from our pain and sins. Here are some words of wisdom to help lift your heart when you’re feeling down.

19 Images of Christ That Will Inspire You

Easter is a special time of the year. Spring has sprung, school is winding down, and summer is around the corner. Here in College Station, Texas, the wild flowers paint both sides of the highway and are a constant reminder of the God's beauty, power, and grace.

Each Easter, I am reminded of the interaction between the angels at Christ's tomb and his disciples...

Luke 24: 5-9

And as they were afraid, and bowed down their faces to the earth, they said unto them, Why seek ye the living among the dead? 

He is not here, but is risen: remember how he spake unto you when he was yet in Galilee, Saying, The Son of man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men, and be crucified, and the third day rise again. 

And they remembered his words, And returned from the sepulchre, and told all these things unto the eleven, and to all the rest.

I hope that we will always remember His words and seek Him in every area of our lives. Each of these unique images of Christ can remind us of different ways He blessed and healed and lifted everyone around Him. As you look at these images, I hope you will feel the peace and hope that come from knowing His tomb was empty, and Jesus Christ lives again today. I testify that He lives!
  

Christus - Bertel Thorvaldsen

Christ and the Rich Young Ruler - Heinrich Hofmann

The Crucifixion - Carl Bloch

Christ Walking on Water - Julius Von Klever

Christ in Gethsemane - Carl Bloch

Healing at the Pool of Bethesda - Carl Bloch

Let Your Light So Shine - Simon Dewey

Greatest in the Kingdom - J. Kirk Richards

Stilling the Storm - Ted Henninger

Christ and a Boy - Carl Bloch

Lost and Found - Greg Olsen

Lead, Kindly Light - Simon Dewey

The Lord is My Shepherd - Morgan Weistling

O Jerusalem - Greg Olsen

In the arms of His love - Greg Olsen

Jesus Christ visits the Americas - John Scott

Gentle Healer - Greg Olsen

Jehovah Creates the Earth - Walter Rane

He Is Risen - Del Parsons

Discovering the Dash: Why I Love Family History

“In all of us there is a hunger, marrow-deep, to know our heritage—to know who we are and where we have come from. Without this enriching knowledge, there is a hollow yearning.” 

Alex Haley

Henry Bigler, Stephen Courtright's great-great grandfather

It was usually after we crossed the Wyoming border when my father—who each summer packed our family of seven into a mini-van to drive 1,400 miles from Wisconsin to Idaho to visit family—would begin telling his travel-weary children stories of their “western heritage.” There were stories told of ancestors like my great-great grandfather Charley Courtright, a young backwoods blacksmith in California who stole the heart of a beautiful, proper English woman in a love story which rivals that of any other in the Old West. Dad also told of ancestors like Henry Bigler, who after joining The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (LDS Church) traversed nearly the entire western U.S. landscape as a member of the Mormon Battalion, an outfit in the Mexican-American War credited with undertaking the longest domestic military march in U.S. history.

At times, my father must have felt that such stories were falling on deaf, uninterested ears. Yet, year after year, on those long treks across the western wilderness, the storytelling persisted. Why would Dad continue telling us of our heritage, even while being uncertain that his children would actually appreciate the stories? Now as a young father myself, I can see why.

We live in a world where it is increasingly difficult for family members to create strong, lasting bonds. Moreover, youth and adults alike are increasingly being given mixed messages about their worth and where that worth comes from, resulting in less resilience to life’s challenges and undermined faith in Jesus Christ. Parents and others like myself are thus asking themselves, “How can we strengthen bonds in our family?”, “How can we help our children to be more self-confident and resilient?” and “How can we develop greater individual and collective faith in Jesus Christ?”

This is why I love family history—because, perhaps surprisingly, it helps families and individuals to address each of these questions. In particular, let me highlight two blessings that can come from discovering and sharing about our family heritage.

1. Discovering and sharing about our heritage strengthens family bonds and helps individuals to be more resilient to life’s challenges.

Recently, I was intrigued by a study discussed in the New York Times and conducted by a group of Emory University psychologists who showed that the single best predictor of children’s emotional well-being and happiness was the extent to which children knew about their family history. Moreover, the researchers found that the more children knew the history of their families, the more successfully they believed their families functioned. Finally, families who told family history narratives which emphasized both the “ups” and “downs” of life had the most resilient children. All of these findings were attributed to family members forming a strong “intergenerational self”, or a sense that they belonged to something greater than themselves.

The implications of this study are profound. They show that family history is more than just an activity for “old” people, or a ploy to keep children quiet in a crowded mini-van (as I used to think on those long treks from Wisconsin to Idaho). Moreover, it is not just a process of collecting birth and death dates, such as finding out that Charley Courtright lived from 1853-1921. Instead, family history is about discovering the dash that lies between those dates—the life stories of these ancestors. And it is in “discovering the dash” and weaving family stories into a narrative that the blessings of strong family bonds and greater resiliency become more attainable.

For that and other reasons, across the global LDS Church and well as in our College Station congregation, there has been an ongoing emphasis on helping members to discover their heritage. In turn, I have witnessed how “discovering the dash” has helped our members, particularly our youth, to build stronger family bonds and become more resilient.

For instance, during a recent activity on a Wednesday evening, the youth in our congregation each used laptops and other devices to look at their family tree and to input stories and pictures of their ancestors on the familysearch.org website, which is sponsored by the LDS Church. While standing in the background and observing the youth, I noticed that one youth, who was reading a story of a grandfather whom she had never met, began to weep. Just as I was about to ask her if everything was okay, a friend sitting nearby asked her that same question. In response, I overheard the youth tell her friend: “Sometimes, when I’m reading about my grandparents, I am just overwhelmed by how grateful I am for them. It’s amazing to see that they faced similar challenges as me, and I know I can be helped through my trials just like they were.” 

2. Discovering our heritage can draw us nearer to the Savior Jesus Christ.

Yet, beyond even those blessings, I have found in my own life that discovering my heritage has drawn me closer to the Savior. I learned this lesson as a young LDS missionary in Chile.

Though my trials were not unique to what many young and inexperienced missionaries face, I struggled at first with learning a new language, the effects of food poisoning, and pangs of homesickness. I was admittedly doubtful as to how I could complete a two-year mission when the challenges I faced at the time seemed insurmountable. However, in the midst of those challenges, I remembered the stories about Henry Bigler that my father had shared all those years ago in our crowded mini-van.

Shortly after his service in the Mormon Battalion, Henry was part of the first group of LDS missionaries in Hawaii. Like me, Henry struggled with learning a new language and experienced bouts of homesickness and difficult adjustments to the new culture. However, unlike what I went through, Henry spent the nearly three years on his mission without a single pair of shoes, and he faced persecution and sicknesses to a degree that I could scarcely imagine.

Nevertheless, while I did not face nearly as dire of circumstances, I felt the presence of Henry Bigler encouraging me on in my missionary service. Indeed, thanks to the narratives shared by my father, I remembered how the Savior, through His grace, had strengthened Henry in his afflictions and how he had come to know the Lord through the sacrifices he made on his mission. I came to know that the Lord could do the same for me if, like Henry, I pressed on in His service.

In the end, my mission to Chile turned out to be the greatest adventure I could have ever experienced as a 19-21 year old young man. Though some will surely argue with me on this point, I believe that no young man was affected or changed more by an LDS mission than I was. I came to know the Savior and His mercy, a process that was aided by an ancestor who had died 100 years earlier but with whom I found a kinship as real as any earthly kinship. I continue to feel Henry Bigler’s presence in my life and feel nearer to Jesus Christ as a result.

And that is why I love family history.

“In all of us there is a hunger, marrow-deep, to know our heritage.” I invite all who read this post to respond to this hunger and “discover the dash” as it relates to their own heritage. In doing so, I pray that you will be able to strengthen family bonds, be more resilient to life’s challenges, and draw nearer to Jesus Christ, who I testify is the Savior and Redeemer of the world.

***For more information on doing family history, visit familysearch.org or, if you live in the B/CS area, visit our church’s Family History Center at 2500 Barak Lane in Bryan.***

Stephen Courtright is an assistant professor in the Mays Business School at Texas A&M University and currently serves as second counselor of the College Station 3rd Ward bishopric of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He grew up in Sun Prairie, Wisconsin and Kuna, Idaho and served a full-time mission for the Church in Concepcion, Chile from 2002-2004. He later graduated from Brigham Young University-Idaho and the University of Iowa. He and his wife, Nicole, met when they were six years old and grew up together as close friends. They married in 2004 and are the proud parents of three children.  

Hope in Christ

A few weeks ago I was in an emergency room with a friend of mine who was my missionary companion. As missionaries for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, we are supposed to stay with our companion at all times. He was in some serious pain, and they were running tests to find out what was going on with him.  As some of these tests were pretty serious, I was asked to stand out in the hallway outside the door, doing my best to stay as close as I could in the situation we were in. We were in the hospital for most of that day, somewhere around 14-15 hours. Alone time is something you don't get a lot of as a missionary; but as I spent a good part of those 14 hours standing or sitting in a hallway, alone, I had a lot of time to think, read the scriptures, and watch the happenings and bustle of the Emergency Room. I have never needed to go to an ER before then, so I was captivated watching the diverse variety of people coming in and out, bringing with them a host of seemingly endless problems and concerns. Every so often a team of paramedics would arrive with an ambulance, burst through the door, and move with practiced efficiency as they went about their duty of maintaining life.

Then something happened that forever changed my outlook on life. During my stay there in the hallways of that hospital, I watched as two people left this life. I had seen death before, but never in this setting. As I watched these two individuals slip from mortality, I could see the effect of their departure on those around them. 

The first person was an older woman, who appeared to be on a DNR (Do Not Resuscitate) basis. As the heart rate monitor flat-lined, several nurses rushed to the room only to quietly exit a few moments later to give the small group of what must have been loved ones and friends that stood near the bed their privacy; their heads bowed in quiet reverence as they shed tears of grief. 

The second was a young boy, probably no older than 6 or 7. As his small form went limp and still, I watched a young couple who must have been his parents slip into a desperation-fueled frenzy of sorrow. The mother fell to her knees, screaming, desperately trying to wake her son from his final rest. His father turned and begged the doctors and nurses who stood nearby to do something, anything to bring him back. The doctor confessed that there was nothing that he or anyone else could do.   

Though the older woman appeared to have been ill for a while and her passing seemed to be more expected than the young boy's, the loss of a loved one is always difficult. When that loved one is a child, it can be one of the most tragic things that happens here on this earth. But why was there such a difference in the reactions of these families? As I observed and thought about it more and more, some realizations came to me. The parents of the young boy had no hope. To them, their son was gone forever. As they watched him slip away, all their hopes and dreams went with him; and they were left with nothing but their regrets and their pain. As I watched them from a distance, I too started to feel that pain. That crushing, soul-tearing, sense of vulnerability. 

The other group, though they too were mourning, had a… light about them. They had hope. They knew that death was not the end of life, but yet another step in the path our Father in Heaven has established for us. Through the darkness of the sorrow in their hearts, the glorious light of hope burst into a brighter day. That hope is what keeps us going when there appears to be no way to continue, what saves us from drowning in our misery and gives us the energy and power to overcome.

That hope is found in Christ, “our Saviour, [the] Lord Jesus Christ [who] is our hope" (1 Timothy 1:1). Through Him, all our trials can be overcome. Death, sin, and hell itself were defeated by our Heavenly King. Because of His atoning sacrifice, we can have hope. The perfect love of Christ enables us to endure the trials and challenges we face in this life, and to do so with the knowledge and assurance that we will be with the ones we love again. 

As this new year commences, may we all remember the cry of the angels to the shepherds: “Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord…  Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.” (Luke 2:10-11, 14) God be thanked for the glorious gift of His Son!

Elder Duvall is a full-time LDS missionary serving in the Texas Houston Mission but originally hails from Cache Valley in Northern Utah.

My ESPN/BYU football Christmas miracle

O little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie.

Above thy deep and dreamless sleep the silent stars go by;

Yet in thy dark streets shineth the everlasting Light.

The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight.

Most of us receive the blessings of heaven silently, in small moments of our lives, to lift us up when we are down or to help us in great times of need. The Lord entered this world in a small and silent way. He came on a quiet night to a little stable in Bethlehem. But that quiet, little stable held the Savior of the world, who would give us the greatest gift of all.

Christmas is a wonderful time to remember our Savior. It is a wonderful time to reflect on the many, many blessings of Heaven He has given us. This week, my mind has gone back to a Christmas miracle I experienced just seven years ago.

Morning came way too early for me on Dec. 21, 2006. My alarm clock blared at 3:30 a.m. I hit the snooze button several times over until the last possible minute. I dragged myself out of bed, got dressed, grabbed a few things, and set off to pick up some of my friends.

We were headed down to Las Vegas to work for ESPN at the BYU vs. Oregon bowl game. As a future sports broadcaster, I was excited to get ESPN on my resume. I had offered to use my car for the drive down. It was a Ford Focus that was only a few years old and my first real car. I loved that little silver thing. My parents helped me buy it during my junior year of college so I could travel back and forth to the BYU Broadcasting building, which was several miles south of campus.

A few weeks prior, my fellow broadcasting students and I found out we were hired to work the game. My friend James* had offered to drive down in his little car, but I shrugged off his offer---my car was newer, bigger and would be a lot more comfortable. Plus, this was the first time that I could drive out of state with my own car. It was a pretty selfish and prideful reason.

The moment I made the decision to take my car, I felt uneasy. I wasn’t quite sure why, but I knew something wasn’t right. I called my dad and asked his opinion. He said I should take another car and leave mine in Utah. But no, no, my dad doesn’t know what he’s talking about, I thought. I brushed off his warning and made plans to take my car.

Dec. 21 was a cold day in Provo. My friend James offered to drive first. We were all so excited to be on the sidelines for the game, as we were all avid BYU fans. We chatted back and forth until we got to Beaver, Utah. That’s when the trouble started.

The little Ford Focus revved its engine but was stuck in second gear. My friend James tried to get the car to shift up, but it wouldn’t. My heart plummeted to my stomach. We were going to be stuck on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. I realized what happened while I was on the phone with my dad--- the Holy Ghost was warning me not to take my car.

At that time in my life, I was busy with school, work, friends, my first college boyfriend. The Lord came too far down on my list. Yes, I believed, but I was too busy to read my scriptures every day. I gave  half-hearted prayers before bed at night. I was 20 and my world revolved around me. I wasn't thinking of Christmas or the birth of our Savior. Even though it was days before Christmas, I was thinking of myself.

But as soon as something went wrong, I turned to God. My faith might not have been strong enough at the time, but I believe the faith of the others in the car with me was strong. With the help of prayer and determination, we slowly made our way to a mechanic in Vegas, down the street from the stadium.

We waited for about 45 minutes until the mechanic came out and gave us the diagnosis---it was bad. He needed four days and $1,000. I. Freaked. Out. All four of us riding in the car had to be back in Provo the next day to make our flights home for Christmas. I called my dad crying. My dad, ever calm, gave me the worst case scenario: I would have to leave my car and rent one to get back to Utah, then somehow get back to Vegas to pick up my car and drive it home. Praying silently, I asked Heavenly Father to please let us get back home okay. I said the prayer, over and over and over. Please let us make it home in time for our flights.

Unsure what to do, we all decided to head over to the stadium. To my surprise, the car made it there okay. From there, however, we got even more bad news: the worst storm of the season was headed right in our direction. We would be crossing a dangerous mountain pass between St. George and Cedar City, right in the middle of what was supposed to be a blizzard. I knew my car couldn't make it up those steep hills with snow and ice on the ground when it was working normally. But now that the transmission was not working right, I knew in my heart it would be a life-threatening situation.

I couldn't enjoy the rest of the day, even while working for my dream-job company, ESPN. My stomach was in knots as I prayed harder than I ever had before in my life. Please, Heavenly Father, help us to make it home. I know I haven’t been as faithful I should be lately, but hear the plea of my heart. Help us to make it home before the storm.

I repeated this prayer in my head for the rest of the day. BYU won 38-8. We helped put away the equipment and ESPN let us off after 11 p.m.

My heart was heavy as James, Taryn* and I made our way to my car. James held the Melchizedek priesthood. I put my faith in his faith and the power of the priesthood and asked him to say a prayer before we started our journey. He did, asking the Lord to bless us with safety, bless the car that it would work, bless us to beat the storm home. I immediately felt the Spirit strongly in that little car. I knew that everything was going to be okay. I had a feeling of peace in my heart.

James took the first shift driving. We turned the corner. Entered the street. And the car shifted fine. We made our way to the freeway. And the car drove perfectly. We got onto the freeway, and the car shifted up to fourth without a problem. The check engine light was gone.

At that moment, I knew I was witnessing a miracle. I wasn’t sure if it was because of my faith, the faith of my friends, or the faith of our families praying for us, but we were truly blessed that night driving home.

Thousands of stars sparkled in the winter night. There was not a cloud in the sky the entire way home. There was no dangerous storm in our path. We were passing cars on the freeway who did not know of the miracle that was happening in our car. We passed cities that were unaware that the Lord was giving us heavenly blessings. Why? Why would the Lord so mercifully bless someone who had neglected Him for months?

How silently, how silently the wondrous gift is giv'n!

So God imparts to human hearts the blessings of his heav'n.

My faith was strengthened and renewed during that quiet ride home to Provo. I will never forget that tender mercy of Heaven. It was just a little thing, so inconsequential-- to make it home in enough time to make our flights home for Christmas. But the Lord heard our prayers and my heart was turned toward Christ.

It is still easy for me to get distracted. I have two little girls, a job, a home to take care of, friends to see, parks to go to, gym classes to attend, dates to go on with my husband, who is in turn equally busy with grad school… it is still so easy to forget who should be at the center of my life. I want to always remember Him. And it is my job, my responsibility and my deepest desire to teach my daughters to always turn to Him, too.

That’s why Christmas time is so special and powerful and wonderful. If we let it, we can take a step back from our busy lives and reflect on the Savior, the greatest miracle of all. We can right our course and let Him become the center of our lives again.

The quiet miracles of Christ are still ever-present in my life. I am grateful for the chance every December to remember the blessings of Heaven in my life.

I invite you to reflect and write down your small, quiet miracles and blessings of Heaven you have experienced and let Christ enter in to your heart this Christmas season.

How silently, how silently the wondrous gift is giv'n!

So God imparts to human hearts the blessings of his heav'n.

No ear may hear his coming; but in this world of sin,

Where meek souls will receive him, still the dear Christ enters in.