Spoken Word Messages - Page 76

When a man drives a stake down deep without being sure he is putting it in the right place, be may have to pull it up again with a good deal of difficulty.  And when a person proclaims a positive opinion without being sure of his facts, he may have to modify it with much embarrassment.  Some people with strong, opinions can put them over without irritation, while others let their opinions protrude to the point where everyone stumbles over them. 

Fourscore and seven years ago, an immortal American uttered an immortal message.  On November 19, 1863, Abraham Lincoln gave his Gettysburg address.  We are thankful that America has had such men; we are thankful for the faith and for the freedom on which this nation was founded, and for the patriots who have placed principle above power and position.  We are thankful for "the brave men, living and dead," who have consecrated their comfort, their convenience, their careers—their lives—to this country and its cause.

In the many complexities of our way of life, there sometimes seems to be a tendency to look upon the problems of other people as statistical rather than personal.  Unless we guard ourselves against it, we are inclined to think of men in terms of numbers and groups rather than of each man as a personal and important individual.

If we were called upon to make a list of the dangers of our day, the danger of indifference would be well toward the top.  Collectively, men appear to be indifferent toward many things which do not directly affect their own immediate manner of living, their comfort and convenience.  A calamity a thousand miles removed has its passing effect upon people when first reported, but comparatively few people seem to be stirred, to urgent action by a calamity which doesn't immediately come close to them.

In three lines of flawless poetry, Alexander Pope portrays how gossip is passed from person to person: And all who told it added something new, And all who heard it made enlargements too; In ev'ry ear it spread, on ev'ry tongue it grew."

We have long since learned that among the chief weapons of the war of nerves are fear and falsehood and confusion.  But fear, it seems, is foremost.  If you can strike fear into the heart of a man, you have already gone far toward destroying his effectiveness.

Often young people who are beginning life together become discouraged because they can't begin where their parents "left off." There are many things they want.  And working and waiting and going without aren't always easy.  Often they come from comfortable homes.  Some have lived in comparative luxury.  They have entertained their friends in surroundings that it has taken the family much working and waiting to acquire.

In times of disappointment and disturbance, there are always those who would question the Creator, and there are also those who would rule Him out of existence.  There are those who, in their resentment against the evils of the days, ask: If indeed there be a God, why would He permit men to bring about such unthinkable conditions?  And not finding the answer, or not having sufficient faith, they sometimes deny His power and personality.

Sometimes we become impatient with the present.  We see its evils, its uncertainties, its imperfections, and eagerly we wish for the day when things will be different.  It is proper and expected that immortal man would hope for and have faith in a finer future—but of utmost importance also is the power to appreciate the present.  No matter what far futures lie before us (and we earnestly believe that they are limitless and everlasting), yet always we live in the present. 

For many purposes, people are constantly being classified.  But quite apart from the classifications into which other people place us, we also constantly classify ourselves.  It is a common human characteristic for men to seek their own element, and to associate with such people as they themselves are.  Granted freedom, humankind gravitate to congenial surroundings and to congenial associations. 

A century and sixty-three years ago the Constitution of the United States was signed by the Constitutional Convention.  Less than a century later it was described by Britain's Gladstone as "the most wonderful work ever struck off at a given time by the brain and purpose of man."

One of our modern minds is responsible for giving utterance to the idea that it is useless to educate our children for the world today because the world twenty years from now will be different; and it is useless to educate our children for the world twenty years from now because no one knows what it will be like.  Suppose that our parents and grandparents had assumed a similar attitude concerning us! 

With false philosophies, world-shaking weapons, and unwelcome world events added to all our other perennial and personal problems, men's fears are multiplied, and men's hearts fail them—and it is apparent that we need a tonic for our times.

If we were to list the things that make men most miserable, we should surely have to place jealousy well toward the top.  Jealousy has played a prominent part in many, if not most, human heartaches, and it is so closely associated with some other evils that it is sometimes difficult to separate.  It is a first cousin of envy, which in turn is close kin to covetousness, and all of them keep company with hate and bitterness. 

There is an old word often used to describe the means by which men pursue their purposes.  The word is "strategy." We hear of the strategy of arriving at all manner of objectives—sometimes by deception, But the most effective strategy is "the strategy of truth," and there is no other strategy that can consistently withstand it.

Whether enforced or not, there are on the statute books penalties prescribed for almost every outward act of evil.  There are punishments provided for duplicity and dishonorable dealings of almost every description.  But we are constantly faced with the fact that no present means of physical enforcement can prevent evil itself, so long as the offenses are first committed within the minds and hearts of men. 

If we were to allow ourselves to be unnerved by the daily impact of all we see and all we hear and by all the disappointing circumstances of life, we should soon be so upset that we would lose sight of ultimate objectives.  If we should leave our thoughts and our lives open to all of the actual and potential disturbances of each day, we could easily become utterly ineffective —paralyzed with the fearful awareness of impending doom and with the constant companionship of threatened calamity.

One of the approved ways of teaching and learning is by the process of repetition.  But repetition may become tiresome to the teacher as well as to those who are being taught.  And perplexed parents frequently become weary with the number of times they have to remind their children of even the simplest precepts and precautions—and children sometimes impatiently reply: "We've heard all that before!" No doubt we could save our children many heartaches, many disappointments, and much lost time if they would only listen and learn. 

Perhaps periodically we should look at the principles that prompted the Pioneers and Pilgrims of the past.  Mostly they were men who wanted wider opportunity than the ways of the old world offered, who wanted to live according to conscience, who wanted freedom not only for themselves but also for their children and their children's children.

People are given to wondering what would have happened if they had done something differently: what would have happened if they had turned the other corner; what would have happened if they had taken the other job; what would have happened if they had married the other man; what would have happened if they had seen the doctor sooner; what would have happened if they had chosen the other road. 

If we want to know bow far we can depend upon a person, we should know at least two things about him.  We should know what he believes, what his philosophy of life is, what his ultimate objectives are, and then we should know under what circumstances, if any, he would depart from what he believes. 

We have come to another day of national remembrance—a day to remind us of what this nation meant to those who offered their lives to bring it into being and to remind us of what it now means to us, and to the rest of the world.  It is a time when we have been sobered in our thinking, for we find that freedom is still forcibly challenged in the earth, and there is no denying the seriousness of the situation.  It is a time when every standard of value is subject to re-examination.

Timing in life is exceedingly important. What we do may be all right, but when we do it may be all wrong. A dress that was a dream a few years ago has by now likely lost much of its allure—not that the dress has changed, but that the styles have changed. Whether we like it or not, whether we agree with it or not, timing is the essence of fashion.

May we quote a sensible sentence: "No one ever falls over a precipice who never goes near one." Crowding things to the outer edge is always an invitation to disaster. And it is frequently true that people partly invite their own difficulties and disasters. They often flit and flirt on the edge. They often start things without thinking through beforehand how or where they can stop them.

Much is said at this season concerning those who have successfully completed their academic objectives. But graduation has correctly come to be called commencement, for it is the very essence of life that the completion of one objective should mean the commencement of another.

An honest and earnest tolerance is a wonderful quality of character. But like all other great virtues, tolerance can be abused. And the abuse of tolerance, or of any other virtue, may cause it to defeat its own end.

One of our most common characteristics is that we seldom seem to arrive at precisely where we think we want to go. It is a restless world. And the chances are that even those who have what we think they would want, don't have quite what they think they want.

The past is sometimes said to repeat itself—not in detail, perhaps, but in principle and in broad patterns. And by the pattern of the past, acute observers and thoughtful philosophers have often played their part in predicting what might be expected if certain practices are persistently pursued. In addition, there are also the predictions of the prophets, which are frequently referred to for the lessons that they leave us.

Looking forward from our youth and looking back after youth has passed present two very different perspectives. As parents we see the future in our children. But as children we see the present and the future in ourselves. When we are young, our parents may look very old to us.

We sometimes assume that we have -fully repented and made amends when we have said we are sorry. But there is a side to being sorry that is more serious than mere polite apology. And there are circumstances in which much more than casual regret is called for. Saying we're sorry doesn't undo physical damage. Saying we're sorry doesn't restore things that are lost. Saying we're sorry doesn't always heal a broken heart.