Spoken Word Messages - Page 64

To an audience of young people, a wise counselor recently proposed a question concerning those with whom they keep company—a question which all of us could well ask concerning ourselves and all our associates: "Are we good for each other?"1

With the passing summers and seasons, there come times of leave-taking.  Many leave home, many young people particularly, for school, for work, for other opportunities.  And leaving home-ties is always in some ways a trying time—even leaving for pleasant prospects. 

In many ways we take great pains to protect our property and to safeguard ourselves.  We pass many laws, and we make many locks. 

Among the distinguishing differences between people—one which classifies and separates men in significant measure—is the willingness, the ability, the character, the demonstrated desire to accept an assignment, to take responsibility, to follow through. 

The power of decisions is sometimes seized from us by too long a delay.  And while we should never be stampeded, never too swiftly persuaded in a matter of major choice, neither should we wait so long that we let life waste away. 

What follows is not a comment of the kind this hour generally suggests.  But that which pertains to people, to their health and happiness, to the full and effective living of life, is a proper subject for any hour.  And with all there is of injury to people and to property, and human impairment, and heartbreaking loss of life, safety is a proper and important and pressing subject for any hour. 

If we were to title what follows in one phrase, we could perhaps call it "Slamming doors."

Last week we talked of the principle of repentance, with the principle of forgiving—and of forgetting what has been forgiven.  Now, what of the possibilities—what of the real results—of repentance? 

In moving through life, we all tend to pick up some prejudices, some resentments, perhaps some sense of injury at times, some feelings that we have been offended.  And sometimes we hug these hurts, real or imagined, close to our hearts.  And when we feel that others have given offense, it isn't always easy to forgive, and it may be even harder to forget—and perhaps still harder to concede that we ourselves may also have given others some feelings of offense. 

One of the sobering considerations of life would be an appraisal of the things we have for which we didn't personally pay a price.  We may sometimes seem fearful that we are imposed upon, that we may do too much, and that, so far as work is concerned, we shouldn't exceed ourselves—and sometimes shortsightedly we may forget how abundantly we have been benefited by the work of others. 

We go through some interesting cycles in this life we live.  Our children arrive helpless in infancy, completely dependent upon us. 

In commenting on the partnership of his parents, an eminent and grateful son once said: "Never in all my boyhood did they fail to stand together on any question which affected the children.  We never could play one off against the other or find anywhere a rift between them."1

May we turn a moment or two to freedom—that freedom which relatively so few in all this world have bad, yet which is so essential to the full and effective living of life; that freedom for which so many have paid a price, yet which so many have forgotten the price paid and the principles by which it would be preserved. 

All of us make many choices every day—choices as to what we do with every hour and every opportunity.  And we are constantly faced with contrasts: We turn down or yield to temptations. 

A grateful daughter had this to say concerning her once famous father: "He transmitted to me a sound heredity on his own side, and he gave me a good mother."1

Duty isn't a word that is always quite comfortable or convenient.  But the free and easy making of marriages, and the free and easy undoing of them by divorce, suggest, for the sake of all concerned—for children, country, community, for family and friends—for ourselves and for our eternal future (and for self-respect as well as for a quiet conscience)—that we should say some things concerning the simple doing of duty. 

We are not living a static life, as suggested by this sentence from an unknown source: "If you were graduated yesterday, and have learned nothing today, you will be uneducated tomorrow."1

Some thoughtful words of Addison today suggest a subject: "The grand essentials to happiness in this life are something to do, something to love, and something to hope for."1 In other words we need work (which, of course, includes purpose), loved ones, and assurances for the future. 

One sure test of friendship is to seek the welfare of him whose company we keep.  Since this is so, a reasonable question to ask of everyone is this: "What do you intend?" 

A much-blessed mother and father were once asked how they had so well reared their children.  They lived with modest means, seemingly with no unusual advantages—except love, and character, and common sense, and common convictions. 

Blessedly, in the lives of most of us, there are saving and safeguarding influences moving in the background, molding and mellowing and maturing us— influences of which we are often unaware.  And one such influence is the patient, prayerful, presence of the mothers of men. 

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.