24 Days of Christmas Day 6

December 6

“Behold, the days come, saith the Lord, that I will perform that good thing which I have promised unto the house of Israel and to the house of Judah. In those days, and at that time, will I cause the Branch of righteousness to grow up unto David.”

Jeremiah 33:14-15

Day 6: Fishers of Men

Ornament: Fish 

Scripture: Luke 5: 1-11, Luke 6:12-16

Picture By: Harry Anderson 

“Have you ever wondered what it must have been like to have lived in the days of the Savior? If you had been there, would you have heeded His call “Follow me”? Perhaps a more realistic question might be, “If the Savior were to call you today, would you be just as willing to leave your nets and follow Him?” I am confident that many would. But for some, it may not be such an easy decision. Some have discovered that nets, by their very nature, are sometimes not so easy to leave….

“Nets are generally defined as devices for capturing something. In a more narrow but more important sense, we might define a net as anything that entices or prevents us from following the call of Jesus Christ, the Son of the living God. Nets in this context can be our work, our hobbies, our pleasures, and, above all else, our temptations and sins. In short, a net can be anything that pulls us away from our relationship with our Heavenly Father or from His restored Church….

As Jesus the Christ stood on the shores of the Sea of Galilee 2,000 years ago, so stands He today, issuing the same call He gave to those faithful fishermen and now to all who will hear His voice: “Follow me!” We have nets that must be tended and nets that must be mended. But when the Master of ocean, earth, and sky calls to us, “Follow me,” we should leave the entangling, worldly nets behind and follow His footsteps.”

Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin, Follow Me, May 2002 Ensign Magazine

Photo Credit

Carol: Once in Royal David's City

Click on the link for sheet music

Once in Royal David's City

Once in royal David's city

Stood a lowly cattle shed
Where a mother laid her baby
In a manger for his bed
Mary was that Mother mild
Jesus Christ her little child

He came down to earth from heaven
Who is God and Lord of all
And his shelter was a stable
And his cradle was a stall
With the poor and mean and lowly
Lived on earth our Savior holy

And our eyes, at last, shall see him,

Through his own redeeming love;

For that child so dear and gentle

Is our Lord in heaven above

And he leads his children on

To the place where he is gone.

Shepherds Learn of Christ's Birth

The Cobbler and His Guest

by Anne MuCollum Boyles

There once lived in the city of Marseilles an old shoemaker, loved and honored by his neighbors, who affectionately called him Father Martin. One Christmas Eve as he sat alone in his little shop reading of the visit of the Wise Men to the infant Jesus, and of the gifts they brought, he said to himself, “If tomorrow were the first Christmas, and if this Jesus were to be born in Marseilles this night, I know what I would give him!” He rose from his stool and took from a shelf overhead two tiny shoes of soft snow-white leather with bright silver buckles. “I would give Him these, my finest work.” Then he paused and reflected. “But I am a foolish man,” he continued, “the Master has no need of my poor gifts.”

Replacing the shoes, he blew out the candle and retired to rest. Hardly had he closed his eyes it seemed when he heard a voice call his name, “Martin! Martin!” Intuitively he felt a presence. Then the voice spoke again, “Martin you have wished to see me. Tomorrow I shall pass by your window. If you see me and bid me enter, I shall be your guest at your table.”

Father Martin did not sleep that night for joy, and before it was yet dawn he rose and swept and tidied up his little shop. He spread fresh sand upon the floor and wreathed green boughs of fir along the rafter. On the spotless linen-covered table he placed a loaf of white bread, a jar of honey, and a pitcher of milk.

When all was in readiness, he took up his patient vigil at the window. Presently he saw an old street-sweeper pass by, blowing upon his thin, gnarled hands to warm them. “Poor fellow, he must be half-frozen,” thought Martin. Opening the door he called out to him, “Come in, my friend and warm yourself, and drink something hot.” And the man gratefully accepted the invitation.

An hour passed, and Martin saw a young, miserably clothed women, carrying a baby. She paused wearily to rest in the shelter of his doorway. The heart of the old cobbler was touched. Quickly he flung open the door. “Come in and warm while you rest,” he said to her. “You do not look well,” he remarked.

“I am going to the hospital. I hope they will take me in, and my baby boy,” she explained. “My husband is at sea, and I am ill, without soup.”

“Poor child,” cried Father Martin. “You must eat something while you are getting warm. No? Then let me give a cup of milk to the little one. Ah! What a bright, pretty little fellow he is! Why you have put no shoes on him!”

“I have no shoes for him,” sighed the mother.

“Then he shall have this lovely pair I finished yesterday.”

And Father Martin took down from the shelf the soft little snow-white shoes he had admired the evening before. He slipped them on the child's feet, they fit perfectly. And shortly the poor young mother went on her way, two shoes in her hand and tearful with gratitude.

And Father Martin resumed his post at the window. Hour after hour went by, and although many people passed by his window, and although many people shared the hospitality of the old cobbler, the expected guest did not appear.

“It was only a dream,” he sighed, with a heavy heart. “I did hope and believe, but He has not come.”

Suddenly, so it seemed to his weary eyes, the room was flooded with a strange light, and to the cobbler's astonished vision, there appeared before him, one by one, the poor street sweeper, the sick mother and her child, and all the people whom he had aided during the day. And each smiled at him and said: “Have you not seen me? Did I not sit at your table?” Then they vanished from his view.

At last out of the silence, Father Martin heard again the gentle voice repeating the old familiar words: “Whosoever shall receive one such in my name, receiveth me...for I was hungered, and ye gave me meat; I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink; I was a stranger, and ye took me in...Verily I say unto you, inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.”