Spoken Word Messages - Page 64

The word “friend” is a word of much meaning.  Sometimes it is applied loosely to mean simply someone we know, someone with whom we have become acquainted.  But a friend is much more than merely someone we know or someone with whom we keep company. 

In a talk to young men and boys, a well-known athlete recently commented on a compelling question: What would we thank other people for later in life? 

We often speak of things we would like to do—or like to be. But so often, it seems, there is some distance between where we are and where we wish we were, and it takes effort to cover any distance in any direction—mental or physical effort.  And we have to begin sometime to go where we want to go. 

Every special day calls for some searching as to its significance.  And Easter is no exception.  We are all aware of the outward evidence of it, but what of the real cause for its commemoration: the resurrection of Jesus the Christ, our Lord and our Savior, who redeemed us from death.  "Supernatural" some may say, and in saying so may suggest some unresolved reservations. 

No one of us is perfect.  All of us make mistakes.  All of us do some things we should and some things we shouldn't, and some things that seem to be other than what we earnestly intend—and all of us have need for repentance. 

In all the relationships of life, in all relationships with people, there are times that are rich and rewarding, and times that are tense and trying.  This is true at home; it is true where we work; it is true wherever we live our lives.  There are times when all of us are under pressure. 

This past week or two we have talked of the great need for matching talent and training with intelligence and integrity.  Before leaving the subject, we should like to say something concerning other attributes that would surely be essential in filling any position of trust or any office or assignment. 

Last week we talked talent without character, without integrity, and of the need for moral responsibility in the use of all authority, all influence, and in every office and activity. 

There is an old sentence which says that "Talent without character is more to be dreaded than esteemed."1 Using character in its meaning of moral responsibility, of integrity, we would extend the statement further: Authority without character is more to be dreaded than esteemed. 

There has been much written, sometimes realistically, and sometimes sentimentally, about what makes a home.  There are of course the comforts and conveniences, and a sense of belonging in a familiar scene and setting.  But wherever it is, and whatever it is, and whatever else it is, home is those who are there. 

Marriage is surely among life's most momentous investments, if not the most momentous investment—the investment of ourselves and all that we are, and of all the future, and the future of our families.  And since marriage is so momentous a matter, we would plead this day for a greater attention to it—for more earnest consideration before the making of a marriage, and for more understanding of those we love and live with after a marriage is made. 

In a recent forecast ten things are enumerated which can be counted on, and this one sentence we take from the ten: "Reputations will continue to be made by many acts and be lost by one."1 This calls to mind a quote from an eminent American: "Confidence is a subtle thing. It is built slowly and can be easily and quickly shaken."2

Our thoughts turn today to what, for want of better words, could be called the process of "coming to ourselves." It is always a heartbreak to parents when children depart from right and respected ways, and it is always a hazard to youth (indeed to anyone—when they rebel against law, against authority, against respectful consideration of counsels and precautions that could save much heartbreak and many mistakes. 

Recently somewhere we have read this short and incisive sentence: "The best tranquilizer is a clear conscience."1 Some troubles come by accident or illness or material misfortune (or from the faithlessness of others). 

For a moment or two we should like to turn to yet another side of the subject of knowing more concerning the future, and in doing so to cite a quoted sentence which says in substance that the Lord God with grand politeness . . . draws down before us an impenetrable screen...1 Cicero said this on the subject: "For my part, I think that a knowledge of the future would be a disadvantage. . .. Undoubtedly ignorance of future ills is more useful than knowledge of them."2

Last week we talked somewhat of the desire to see farther into the future, and quoted Emerson to the effect that further knowledge, further revelation, further truth, comes as we are willing and able to receive and accept it.  Further it is a fact that we already know, basically and along broad lines, much more concerning the future than we sometimes seem to suppose.  But we often ignore what we know. 

Always it is sobering to begin a new cycle of days, a new cycle of seasons.  Always we wonder what undisclosed events are in the offing: Who of us will be here a year hence, and who will leave this life, who will see sorrow and who will see success always we wish we could see farther into the future, and always we suppose that if we knew more, we would do much better than we do.  But there are some things we do now know that we don't rush to do. 

A sentence from Seneca today suggests a subject: It would be well if we could make "it clear to all men," he said, "that the search for the superfluous means a great outlay of time, and that many have gone through life [not really living, but] merely accumulating the instruments of life." ".. Life is so short"; he continued, "and we make it still shorter by our unsteadiness... We break up life into little bits and fritter it away."1

Among the several sides of this season, there is one that is the essence of all that Christmas is, By its very name (and by much more) Christmas is a commemoration of the birth of Jesus the Christ—our Savior—the only begotten of the Father in the flesh; who came to earth and died, and literally was resurrected, and did for us what we could not do for ourselves, and so assured us everlasting life.

Somewhere recently we read a sentence which said some of us "are sawing wood so fast that we forget to take time to sharpen the saw."1

We all live with some uncertainties; we all at times fear failure; we all worry about many things that haven't happened; and we all have regrets about some things that have happened.  And as a year comes close to its closing, there is lingering in the minds of most of us some thoughts as to what we have done and what we have failed to do. 

There is a sentence currently quoted which says that "Every time history repeats itself it does so at a higher price."1 This would surely seem to be so, for with each repeat performance there are more people and more complexities. 

Great among the great qualities of character is the great gift of gratitude.  Gratitude makes all service, however one sided, seem satisfying. 

For some purposes, all the people in the world could be put into two categories: those we know and those we don't know. 

It is likely that we all have some regrets in life, and times of wondering why we didn't do some things differently. 

In the wandering adventures of the Odyssey, there appears this yearning, heartfelt plea: "Be not long away from home."1

The momentous events of these days come too swiftly to absorb, with the ever-threatening areas of eruption, and the impact of man's launching out into unknown orbits. And to the tensions of these times, we sometimes react in one of two ways, each the opposite of the other: We sometimes seem to go about as usual, as if there were no newly threatening forces—or, we sometimes seem to brood, as if there were no satisfactory solution.

Because of their love for us, or because of the spirit of sincere service, parents, and others also, do many things for us—and so often, so many of us find ourselves so much on the receiving side. 

Many centuries ago, Cicero wrote a remarkable essay on old age, which has in it as much of wisdom for youth as for those who are older: “… the harvest of old age," be said, "is . . . the memory and rich store of blessings laid up in earlier life."1

We recall once more these words of William James: "The greatest discovery of my generation is that human beings can alter their lives by altering their attitudes of mind."1