Spoken Word Messages - Page 60

In past comments on qualities of character, we have talked of faith; of courage and kindness; of integrity, sincerity, and loyalty, which seem in a sense to add up to a simple word—a word which doesn't include them all, but without which all else would be of little use—and what they add up to is a kind of guilelessness, which in a sense is simply simple honesty.  The Psalmist said it in this sentence: "Blessed is the man unto whom the Lord imputeth not iniquity, and in whose spirit there is no guile."1

Before we conclude these comments on qualities of character, there are some that should not be overlooked, including the quality of loyalty.  Loyalty is essential in every worthy relationship of life: in families; among friends; between teammates; between employer and employee; loyalty to those who work for us, and with us, and loyalty to those who provide employment.  When we work for someone in honorable employment, we should give full service—for only by the success and solvency of constructive ventures can there be assurance of security.  So long as we receive benefits from an honorable source, we should be loyal to it, and contribute to its success.  Like other essential qualities of character ' loyalty gives the assurance of what we can count on.  It gives the assurance that friends will not faintheartedly fade from us at the first failure of fair-weather.  This does not mean that a person should protect another person in evil, or in violation of law, but should insist on fair presentation of facts. 

In considering some essential qualities of character, we have talked of integrity, of faith, of courage, and last week quoted from a British industrialist concerning the quality of kindness.  Another essential is suggested from the same source sincerity: of this he said, "I am as certain as one can be, . that a great deal of any absence of industrial goodwill from which we may be suffering, and to go even farther, of our industrial unrest, is due to the fact that we have failed time and time again to convince each other of our sincerity and honesty of intention and purpose."1 This sentence suggests, among other things, that sincerity is simply honesty of intent. 

We have considered in past weeks some essential qualities of character, including the faith and courage and integrity from which come a quiet conscience.  In the recent remarks of an eminent British industrialist, we find some others also added, including the quality of kindliness: “Next I think I would choose kindness in its widest sense.  […]

In recent weeks, we have commented on some essential qualities of character, including faith, integrity, and courage—and today would turn for a moment or two to the question of a quiet conscience, which is in a sense simply self-respect, the real respect that comes with being free from the inward accusation that surely follows offenses.  […]

We have talked of some qualities of character associated with men whose names are honorably remembered, and last week recalled the quality of courage.  Now for a moment or two we would turn to integrity—a word which urgently suggests itself for consideration.  The words associated with it are themselves reassuring: " . . . the quality of being complete. . .. unbroken—unimpaired—moral soundness, purity, honesty, freedom from corrupting influence or practice, strictness in the fulfillment of contracts . . . and in the discharge of trusts."

Last week we quoted William James on faith as an essential element to the success of all ventures.  Now we should like to pursue a further phase of the same subject, beginning with some sentences from Emerson who said: "Whatever you do, you need courage.  Whatever course you decide upon, there is always someone to tell you are wrong.  There are always difficulties arising which tempt you to believe that your critics are right.  To map out a course of action and follow it to an end requires . . . courage...…. There is no significant decision of life that doesn't require a kind of courage, and no typical day of life that doesn't require a kind of courage; and certainly, there is no great venture in life that doesn't require courage.  Sometime ago we quoted a phrase to the effect that "1

There is a sentence accredited to William James, which says, "Our belief at the beginning of a doubtful undertaking is the one thing that insures the successful outcome of our venture."' This suggests comment on the question of belief, of faith, of courage: the will to succeed, the will to study, the will to know, the will to accomplish—even the will to live, which may at times be the difference between living and not living. 

We have talked these recent weeks of repeating errors, of repenting, of improving, of going deeper into debt, and of the importance of reversing any wrong process, and of turning toward the right way.  And now we should like to summarize somewhat before the season slips too far from us.  Often we think what we are going to do tomorrow, next week, next time, next season.  We often plan; we often postpone.  And sometimes, after postponing, we suddenly push ourselves at a fevered pace, and sometimes forget the effectiveness of quiet consistency. 

Often we become so busy in life that we ignore the symptoms and the warning signs in many matters.  Under the pressures of a complex living pattern, we sometimes become so intent on the next place we have to be, on the next thing we have to do, that we fail to follow impressions.  Parents, for example, sometimes become so busy with other obligations and interests that they fail to see, or, if they see, fail fully to sense the first signs of changes in their children—changes of attitude, of affection, of interest and activity changes in the company they keep.  These may be for better, or may not be for better, but at least parents should pause and look and sense and see—should watch the warning signs—should watch the symptoms. 

Last week we spoke of the false philosophy of supposing that if we have made one mistake, it won't matter much if we make one more, and of the need for reversing a wrong process if we ever want things to go the right way.  There is yet this further thought on a somewhat related subject, and it has to do with debt.  Debt is a burden, a worry (or should be)—that is, it should be if it is a debt past due.  Debt is a real and actual obligation.  It represents the use of something that actually wasn't ours, or the use of something for which we have postponed payment.  And it is a fallacy to feel that being somewhat deep in debt, it doesn’t matter very much if we go yet deeper. 

Last week we spoke of special days and seasons, and of the danger of delaying repentance or improvement, and closed with this comment (and conviction : "When we need repentance, we need it now." There is this further thought on a somewhat related subject: Sometimes, if we have made one mistake, we may think it won't matter much if we make one more.  We may fall into the fallacy of supposing that the multiplying of mistakes is not, additionally, so serious.  This is, of course, an untenable position to take.  It is certainly no less wrong and it may be much more—to make the second mistake than to make the first. 

We are disposed to attach particular significance to certain times and seasons.  We look to special days and anniversaries and events.  We speak of special hours—the eleventh hour, the midnight hour.  We look to the clock and the calendar, and thus mark off the measures by which we live our lives. 

From Charles Dickens we recall these warm and wonderful words- "I have always thought of Christmas time as a good time; a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time; the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely."

In law we confirm a past occurrence with the word of witnesses.  In scripture it is recorded "that in the mouths of two or three witnesses every word may be established."1 

We recall a comment accredited to Thomas Carlyle: "Conviction is worthless unless it is converted into conduct."1

"Life is a short walk along a narrow thread ... beginning and ending in a mysterious unknown.  Hope keeps us balanced as we walk the narrow line.  Life is short as we see it, but in reality ... never ends—and, long or short, it is all that we have."1 Life is all we have. 

It is an odd thing, in a way, how each generation seems to feel that each preceding generation is somewhat old-fashioned.  Youth is so sure the rules have changed.  Age is sure they haven't.  Youth feels it knows how far it can go.  Age is deeply aware of the danger. 

In commenting on the complex problems of people—the breaking of homes and families, the emotional upsets, the disillusionment and discouragement—an able physician recently suggested three short questions that could be asked to indicate how well a particular person might adjust to the troubles and tensions that most of us might be expected to meet somewhere […]

It is a frightening fact that a man may do a thing right a thousand times, and then do it wrong just once, and tragedy comes.  Except for some very narrow escapes, perhaps any of us or all of us could be numbered with those whom we pity or with those whom we condemn.  And we may never even know how narrowly we may have missed the fate of someone who has fallen into misfortune. 

Last week we cited this sentence: "Make an enemy, and you see him everywhere,"1—and suggested the wisdom of settling differences before sundown.  We often hear the phrase, "Forgive and forget"—but may sometimes forget how much "forgetting" is a part of "forgiving."

Somewhere there is a sentence which says in substance: "Make an enemy, and you see him everywhere."1 If we have ever walked out of our way to avoid speaking to someone, we no doubt remember how uncomfortable we were.  The more people we feel we have to avoid, the more ill at case we are. 

There is a long-told tale of Alexander the Great, who paused, at the age of thirty-two, at the tomb of Cyrus the Great—Cyrus who had preceded Alexander by some two centuries.  Each in his own time had conquered virtually all he could see and had acquired more than his understanding could encompass. 

As a memorial was being considered to commemorate the accomplishment of some great people of the past, one in the group expressed considerable concern in having seen someone peering at a portrait of a great personality of the past, and saying, altogether unimpressed: "Who's he?  What did he do?"

We have read somewhere in some rules of safety the following sentence: “Never point a gun at anything you don’t intend to shoot.” This is basic to a whole series of parallel precautions essentially summarized in this single short sentence: “Don’t start what you shouldn’t do.” It applies to habits, to projects and promises, to […]

There likely isn't a much greater loneliness than the loneliness of a man who cannot find comfort and assurance and help outside himself.  There likely isn't much greater loneliness than the loneliness of a man who has never found effectively in his life the great and moving power of prayer.. 

Perhaps all of us pursue some things which, after we acquire them, seem somewhat shallow or shoddy or at least unessential.  And then we wonder why we wished for them so much and worked for them so hard and passed up more worthwhile things we might have had. There is a parable by John Ruskin […]

The passing of any season is somewhat sobering, or any day, or any period of the past.  When a season begins, when a day begins, we think what we will do with it—what we haven't done—what we should do. 

We closed last week with a quoted comment that “the outlook for our country lies in the quality of its idleness. . . .”1 To this we would add that the outlook of an individual lies in the quality of his idleness also. There comes a time in the lives of those who live longer, […]

These words of dedication from a grateful author currently appear in print: "To my own mother and father and to all parents like them, who have dedicated their lives to providing their children with the world's best inheritance—The Will to Work and the Wisdom to Enjoy It"1