Spoken Word Messages - Page 88

Men, it would seem, have in common an urgent desire to know more about the future—a desire which demonstrates itself in many ways, and for many reasons. And in some respects and to some extent the future may and should be known, For example, a science has grown up to help us forecast something as to the future of weather conditions, which is of much value to all of us. To know something concerning the future of private wants and needs, helps the manufacturer and the merchant to avoid some of the hazards of chance—and to this end we have our business forecasts.

One reason for progress is the fact that there are always living among us those who are never content with what they know or with what other men know—those wholesomely restless spirits who are always searching for what lies beyond the obvious. To a greater or lesser extent this is a common characteristic of humankind. Somehow we like to pry out the secrets and search out the mysteries and try the untried. This quality, like all other useful qualities, is also subject to its abuses and excesses. Sometimes in looking for what lies beyond the obvious, we overlook what is obvious. Sometimes in our search for the mysteries, we ignore the plain and simple truth.

No matter when men live, and no matter what kind of society they live in, they always find themselves with some kind of leadership in matters pertaining to the common welfare. In some types of society a leader is a leader as long as he chooses to be, or until some undeniable circumstance displaces him. In other types of society a leader is a leader only so long as the majority of the people he serves, desire him to be, in accordance with established laws and procedures.

The question of expediency frequently arises to plague us—the question as to whether or not, under pressure of circumstances, to accomplish seemingly desirable ends, we should resort to things which, ordinarily, we would not do—the question as to whether or not evil is to be condoned in some people, and some places, and under some circumstances, and not under others. There have been much written and spoken in justification for employing evil devices with allegedly good motive. But the fact is that evil is where you find it, and making an alliance with it is hazardous even when it would seem to serve good purpose.

"Children's children are the crown of old men; and the glory of children are their fathers." (Proverbs 17:6.) This, from Proverbs, suggests comment on a law of privilege and responsibility, established in the wisdom of God. Every man born of woman has the right to be taught wisely, to be nurtured and sustained, loved and cherished, and provided for until he, himself, is able to assume his own obligations and support. He then in turn has the obligation to rear children of his own, to make a good home for them, to nurture and counsel and instruct, until they shall grow in wisdom and arrive at the age and ability to do for themselves the needful things of life. But beyond what a man may rightfully expect to receive from his parents, and beyond what he may be privileged to give his children, he has also an obligation to the home in which he was born and nurtured and to those who have reared him.

For quite some time now, the war has been, and still is, our greatest immediate worry. The world is waiting prayerfully, solemnly, hopefully, for any news which will indicate the end in sight. Indeed, so absorbed have we become with this one great emergency, that it has overshadowed all else—to the point where we have more or less forgotten what were our worries before the war began. War takes so much of our attention and effort that there is seemingly little time to prepare for peace, but to prepare for peace is a grave and urgent obligation, because war is merely a symptom of a disease, the germs of which are already at work in times of peace.

The institutions of men confer an infinite variety of honors, titles, degrees, and awards of one kind or another. Almost every organization of any description that has brought two or three or more together in a common purpose, issues its credentials, its recognition’s, its citations, to which often much publicity is given, and for which there is much demand and much acclaim. From the highest honors conferred by the most exclusive of learned societies, from the most sought-after titles, to Simple certificates of merit and commendation—all are in one form or another recognition’s from one man to another of some degree of excellence, or supposed excellence, in some field of thought or action.

Someone has said that those who speak or write have a grave responsibility in wartime. This is profoundly true—but it is also true without its limiting clause of time, because those who speak or write have a grave responsibility at any time, and at all times. If we may judge things to come by the past, during days which precede the deciding of public issues, we may expect considerable heat to be generated through the medium of ill-chosen words.

The annual return to school of millions of our youth has become an oft-repeated routine, now more or less taken for granted. Indeed, so accustomed have we become to the procedure, that in answer to the question "What is Johnny doing these days?" we think it sufficient merely to reply that "Johnny is going to school."

"What is there illustrious that is not attended by labor?" (Cicero). Thus spoke truly the ancient philosopher. History does not record, nor does scripture, that the Lord God excepted anyone when he said: "Six days shalt thou labor, and do all thy work." (Exodus 20:9). In short, honest work is the rightful lot of all men, and there is little satisfaction to those who do not earnestly labor according to their talents and their physical and mental abilities. And since to labor is a God-given command, it may well follow that no man is beholden to another for the right to labor. This is one of the freedoms that must not be overlooked—freedom to work. But men differ as to the kind of work they want to do and are able to do.

One of the most difficult tasks that confront provident parents is to pass on to their children an appreciation of what has gone into the making of the home they enjoy. Driven by necessity, and through the virtues of work and of thrift, ofttimes a man acquires the means of comfortable existence. His children, in turn, reared in comparative plenty, and not driven by the same necessity, often become more dependent and less able to cope with the difficulties and adversities of life. A man in comfortable circumstances may tell his son a thousand times over how difficult it was to earn a dollar when he was a boy, how people worked for what they got, saved part of what they earned, went without, labored long, and, finally, by hard and sure steps, achieved self-dependence and self-respect— and to this off told story children sometimes listen respectfully, and sometimes shrug and wonder what it has to do with them and their lives.

We are often inclined to assume that if we can only dispose of our present pressing problems, the future will take care of itself. The famous line from Shakespeare, "My kingdom for a horse," has far-reaching implications in the pattern of human behavior. When a man wants a horse, or needs one right now, or thinks he does, a kingdom may seem like a more or less trivial thing. Immediate worries, sometimes even inconsequential ones, often crowd out disproportionately, matters of greater concern. A hungry man will pay an exorbitant price for a sandwich—if he has the price and if he can find the sandwich.

Not infrequently one sees the spectacle of a bewildered dog running loose in a crowd, harassed by numerous strange calls and whistles coming from all directions, in response to which the animal dodges here and there in utter confusion, responding first to one and then another, beckoned from every direction, and finding assurance in no direction. Comparisons are seldom apt in all details, but there are some points of likeness in such a plight and in the perplexity of people whose thoughts and loyalties and time and attention are being constantly bid for from many sources and in many confusing ways. Perhaps our generation has been exposed to more disturbing voices, to more frightening print, to more misleading information than any generation in history, because the facilities for doing such things are greater now than ever before.

Frequently when we become aware of conditions which need correction, we are led to wonder why those responsible for such things do not correct them. In a home or family, in a community or a commonwealth, usually it will be found that there is someone whose moral or legal responsibility it is to see that such conditions do not exist, and we are led to wonder why they are permitted to continue uncorrected.

The news that speaks from headlines these days indicates dramatically how time runs against those who have built on false foundations. The trend of current happenings reminds us that there are those who can wait, and there are those who can't—and those whom time presses most are those whose deeds may, by their very ruthlessness, have postponed retribution, but who cannot at last avert it. That which they have to do, they must do quickly.

Legends of discovery ever hold their fascination. Indeed, every age is an age of, discovery—sometimes the discovery of places where men have never walked before—and sometimes the discovery of things which have nothing whatever to do with geography. Having charted the surface of our world, we may yet farther penetrate the illimitable space beyond, and we may yet gaze more deeply into the minuteness of all the life and substance about us. But discovery goes beyond all this.

There is something yet to be said on the subject of misusing a reputation. Some men acquire such reputations that others place implicit confidence in them. Their names, their word, the representations they make, are accepted by many at face value. This fact sometimes leads to the misuse of reputation, in one or another of its many forms—such as the practice of purchasing opinions for the purpose of influencing others—permitting one's name to be used in the recommendation of things concerning which one knows little or nothing—permitting words to be put into one's mouth, for a price.

Reputations are built on many factors—some of them unpredictable. A good many men have lived their lives and gone to their graves reputed for things for which they never would have chosen to be known. Some who would like to have been thought of as great dramatic artists have, by some circumstances come to be typed as comedians. Men of several gifts sometimes become best known for the gift which they themselves esteem the least.

July Fourth, as a day of annual commemoration, has come and gone, despite many crises and contrary influences, finding us still a liberty-loving people; and the uniting force of freedom has, in the providence of God, preserved us as a nation—notwithstanding the fact that in many places and in many philosophies one will find expressed the idea and belief that freedom is an element of weakness rather than an element of strength. But those who have proceeded on this false assumption have discovered that men who have tasted of the sweetness of liberty have more to fight for and more to live for than men who haven't. However, despite this, throughout all the centuries all manner of substitutes for freedom have been proposed.

“Whereupon, 0 king Agrippa, I was not disobedient unto the heavenly vision: I continue unto this day, witnessing both to small and great, saying none other things than those which the prophets … did say should come…” (Acts26:19,22) As it was with Paul standing before Agrippa, so it has ever been with men of inspired […]

Thoughts and feeling’s grow on a given theme, until someone succeeds in having it publicly noted. And so today we have Fathers’ Day. In a world that has seemingly been run by men, in a civilization in which the patriarchal order has been the prevailing rule, and in which children have taken the names of […]

These are anxious days for all of us—days in which the most cherished things in our lives are at stake. Seemingly, there is scarcely a home but what awaits news of someone, somewhere, somehow, involved in the issues that breathlessly hang in the balance. We live in a contagion of tension—but if we have anxiety in our hearts, think what must be the fears of those who have perpetrated these things and who must now know that they await the inevitable.

We have come again to that time in a school year when we grade and accredit, promote and graduate, and otherwise appraise the academic accomplishments of our youth, After vacations are over, some will return to continue their studies; some will go to higher institutions of learning—but many are now forever leaving the schoolroom, leaving teachers, campus, and cherished associates. And despite all displays of exuberance and all expressions of relief, it is a sober time for youth.

As the years were added upon his head, Victor Hugo wrote: "I feel immortality in myself. Winter is on my head, but eternal spring is in my heart. The nearer I approach the end, the plainer I hear around me the immortal symphonies of the world to come.... For a half century I have been writing my thoughts in prose and verse; but I feel I have not said one-thousandth part of what is in me. When I have gone down to the grave I shall have ended my day's work; but another day will begin next morning. . ." It is comforting to read what great minds have caused to be written, but whether they had so written or not would neither affect the outcome nor alter man's conviction. Man is himself the evidence of his own immortality. "God is not the God of the dead, but of the living," (Matthew 22 -32) and Memorial Day is recognition of an undeniable conviction in men, that, being dead, they live.

There comes to mind a phrase of three words—Glorifying the Mediocre—which is indicative of a practice whereby young and old are schooled in a world of unreality and confused thinking. In its mildest forms, in casual conversation and in the recounting of experiences to our friends and acquaintances, it may be recognized by a tendency toward moderate exaggeration—placing emphasis where it doesn't belong; adding color to what really happened; speaking in terms of quantities and qualities that are somewhat beyond the facts. In its more aggravated forms this practice of glorifying the mediocre goes beyond mild exaggeration to the extreme of deliberate and premeditated hyperbole, coupled with prodigal use of extravagant words.

It would be difficult on Mother's Day to say anything new concerning mothers, or even to say anything old in a new way, so numerous and eloquent have been the tributes written and spoken of them in all past years. But this year the Channels of thought are burdened with urgent messages of love and appreciation for mothers the world over from sons in far places. For these young men, who would say it for themselves if they were here, may we assume the role of spokesman and convey their love and their gratitude to those millions of mothers whom they cherish in their hearts, and whom they dwell upon in their thoughts on this day.

Every generation has its foibles and its practices of self-deception, one of which, certainly, is the mislabeling of things—calling them something other than what they are, and hoping that somehow they will become what we have called them. In childhood we find this practice delightfully excusable. A small boy wants a horse. He finds a stick, and straddles it, and calls it a horse—and to him it becomes a horse.

If we make a mistake, no doubt upon sincere repentance we may reasonably expect forgiveness. The principle of forgiveness is closely associated with the principle of repentance. But lest there be any who may suppose that forgiveness comes easy, let us be reminded of some of the facts and prerequisites. There are those who expect to be forgiven times without number simply by announcing that they are sorry.

In considering great moral and religious principles, we are sometimes inclined to assume that they are idealistic rather than practical—that the benefits and penalties associated with them are virtually devoid of application so far as our commonplace daily affairs are concerned. But nothing could be further from the truth.

Perhaps most of us have had the experience of looking down from great heights, or of peering into deep chasms, to find that we seem somehow to be drawn toward the abyss—in our thoughts and feelings, if not in an actual physical sense. Gazing into an abyss may have its attractions, but it is an exceedingly hazardous pastime. Gazing needlessly into voids of other kinds also has its hazards. It has long been recognized that people tend to take on the characteristics of the thoughts they entertain, and of the atmosphere they frequent.