Spoken Word Messages - Page 73

Perhaps it would not be amiss again to remind ourselves that every man should have a set of sound principles to which he can turn when any proposal is presented to him. 

No doubt the course of history has many times been altered because someone has had his feelings hurt.  There are some classic examples that suggest themselves, one such at the siege of Troy with Achilles sulking in his tent.  But for every such that has been publicly cited, there are millions more where the lives of people have been blighted, some seriously and some superficially, because someone has had hurt feelings. 

William Penn is credited with the statement that "If men be good, government cannot be bad."' On first hearing, one may be inclined to challenge the idea altogether.  Certainly, there would seem to be many exceptions. 

There is an old proverb that reads, "When a mouse falls into a meal sack, he thinks he is the miller himself"1—which suggests something of the sincere humility that all of us should feel in great degree. 

When we are supposed to be doing something we don't do, often we have to argue with ourselves inside.  A man has to give himself a reasonable reason for what he does or fails to do, and if the reason isn't a good reason, it may involve an uncomfortable contest between two sides of himself.  This is true in all our obligations and activities. 

There are periods perhaps in the lives of most young people when they are impatient with counsel and precautions, when they wonder why they have to be responsible to parents, why they cannot have complete independence. 

Most of the men and women who move about us from day to day are carrying hidden within their hearts their share of trouble and disappointment and sorrow of one kind or another, and we, with unseeing eyes, often walk roughshod over them, not knowing their cares, not understanding their burdens. 

In thinking upon the accomplishments of the pioneers and patriots of the past, we cannot help pausing in humble acknowledgment of what they did with what they had, and with gratitude for what we have that we wouldn't have had if they hadn't offered their all for the preservation of principles—the principles of truth and of freedom to follow truth. 

Perhaps most of us give way at times to actions and attitudes and utterances which we would not ordinarily approve in ourselves or in others. 

Sometimes we hear someone defensively say, "I haven't done anything" which suggests a subject:  Innocence isn't always merely a matter of not doing anything.  The privilege of life calls for positive performance, and sometimes the sins of omission are as serious as are the sins of commission.  It isn't enough merely not to have done the wrong things. 

"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness."

We are sometimes disposed to look upon people and their problems impersonally.  In the many complexities of living life, in a world of so many millions of men, other people—that is other than ourselves—tend to become population per square mile, to become prospects for our products, customers for our shoes or our shirts, clients for our services, votes for our political ventures, patrons for our performances. 

It sometimes seems that we are waiting for some better time to begin, for some tranquil time that doesn't come, for some starting point that is superior to the present; and we often hesitate to build, hesitate to prepare, hesitate to commit ourselves to any future plan or purpose because we don't know exactly what we can count on. 

As each season closes to be followed by each successive season, we become aware that life is a series of scenes separated by closing curtains and commencements.  Sometimes these commencements are formally obvious as on academic occasions, but sometimes we step almost imperceptibly from scene to scene. 

A little less than a century ago Emerson offered this observation: "These times of ours are serious and full of calamity, but all times are essentially alike."1 The statement may seem somewhat oversimplified, but the very fact of its having been said suggests that in some things all times have some essentials that are the same. 

One of the persistent practices of children—and of others also—is to justify what they want to do by saying that "everyone" is doing it.  Parents are familiar with these phrases: "All the others are doing it." "All the other mothers are letting their children do it....... If my friend's mother will let him go, may I go?"

Somehow or other it seems that the use of language which profanes the name of Deity, has become a most flagrantly casual custom, until one may hear it sometimes in the most unexpected places and from the most unexpected people. 

There come before us this day the memories of mothers.  Many mothers blessedly are with us, to whom we may turn our grateful attention, but many are unreachably far from us, and when they are gone, somehow, we seem to have a sense of things we wish we had done that we didn't do. 

Upon the lips and to the hearts and minds of many there sometimes comes the question: Why would an omnipotent and all-wise and just and merciful God permit such unjust and adverse events as we are all each day aware of?  And, failing to find the answer that brings peace to their troubled hearts, men frequently lose faith and become critical and sometimes cynical. 

As we remember our impressions of other people, we may well ask how we would want to be remembered.  If we were posing for a portrait, we would likely take great pains to be at our best; and after all our own preparations we would expect the photographer or the artist to retouch where he found obvious flaws because with anything as permanent as a portrait it seems important to appear as we would want to be remembered. 

The forces that are at work in the physical world have a close counterpart in the forces that are at work in the lives of men.  In nature there is a constant leveling process which relentlessly attempts to offset what is being built. 

There are many thoughts that come to us at Easter concerning the eternally vital events that this season suggests.  It brings always before us the question of death, the question of the loss of those we love, the question of the reality of the resurrection and of everlasting life—and many other problems that most men ponder upon. 

"All real joy and power of progress . . . depend on finding something to reverence, and all the baseness and misery of humanity begin in a habit of disdain."1 These words of John Ruskin suggest some of the results of irreverence and also some of the symptoms.  Some irreverence is more a matter of thoughtlessness, as the boisterousness of boys.  Some, as Ruskin wrote, partakes of deliberate, cynical disdain.  Some shows itself in profane and offensive speech.  Some is evident only in attitude.  Some is apparent by confusion and disorder in places where there should be quiet and contemplation. 

It seems that there are many important principles on which most of us can agree.  And there are many standards of conduct that most of us feel others should observe.  But the point where we often part company is the point of deciding when and to whom the principles should apply. 

When a person has lost the desire to learn, it is something of a symptom that he has largely lost the capacity for progress.  In a sense we should never be content with what we know.  But neither should we be cynical about what we don't know. 

We often hear of people defeated by adverse physical factors, of failures caused by cruel climates, of storms that take their toll, and of all manner of material obstacles that cause failures among men.  But the most perplexing problems in the world aren't the problems of the outside elements. 

If we were to take an inventory of the things that people start and prematurely stop, it would no doubt add up to an appallingly long list.  There are so many once-promising projects and personal pursuits that have been abandoned—like roads that start to go somewhere but fade out before they arrive anywhere. 

No doubt most of us are aware of things we should like to alter—in our own lives, in the lives of others, and in the whole outlook of events; and often we are kept going by our faith and hope that there will come a time when things will be better. 

It is true that we tend to find what we want to find.  If it is trouble, we are looking for, it is almost certain we shall find it.  If we're looking for faults, we shall find faults.  If it's flaws, we want, they are always there.  What we see depends much upon what we want to see. 

In the days and years before and immediately following the martyrdom of Abraham Lincoln, many earnest and eminent men expressed themselves concerning his qualifications and contributions to his country.  From these we sample some few excerpts at this hour, first one from Frederick Douglass, born to the people whose slavery was at issue.  As to Lincoln, he said:   “We saw him, measured him, and estimated him; not by stray utterances . . . not by isolated facts torn from their connection; not by any partial and imperfect glimpses, caught at inopportune moments; but by a broad survey, in the light of the stern logic of great events: and, we came to the conclusion that the hour and the man of our redemption had met in the person of Abraham Lincoln. . . His moral training was against his saying one thing when he meant another."