The Book of Courage by John Thomson Faris (read dune TXT) π
III
FORGIVING INJURIES
A gifted writer has told the story of a workman in a Bessemer steel furnace who was jealous of the foreman whom he thought had injured him. The foreman was making a good record, and the workman did not want to see him succeed. So he plotted his undoing--he loosened the bolts of the cable that controlled an important part of the machinery, and so caused an accident that not only interfe
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A life like that influenced for good everyone about him. Many men were drawn by him into the paths of righteousness. Others were held back by him from ways of evil. Once he presided over a public meeting which corrupt politicians had planned to capture for their own purpose. But they made no attempt to carry out their plans. "How could we succeed with that man watching us?" they asked their friends.
It is good to be a minister of the gospel. But for every minister the world needs hundreds of men who are possessed of Samuel B. Capen's courageous eagerness to live for God in the midst of business cares.
V
PRAYING AND HELPING
A business man entered the office of a friend just as the friend was hanging up the receiver of the telephone. There were tears in the eyes of the man at the desk as he turned from the instrument to take the hand of his visitor.
"I'm afraid you have had bad news," the visitor said, deciding that it was not a propitious time to talk of the matter on which he had come.
"No bad newsβthe best of news," was the reply. "Now see if you don't agree with me. This morning my wife, who is always thinking of other people, remarked that it was too bad my pastor's wife could not have a vacation this summer; she shows the need of it because of a severe strain that had been on her. Yet we knew that she could not look forward to a vacation.
"'Let's pray about it,' my wife suggested, just before we knelt at the family altar. We prayed then; we've been praying since. And the answer has come quickly. My wife was on the telephone just now; she told me that the postman had brought a letter from a California friend of whom we had all but lost sight. Fifteen years ago we lent him a sum of money which we never expected to see again. Yet the letter contained a check for the amount of the loan!
"'What shall we do with the money?' my wife asked.
"'I wonder if you are not thinking the same thing I am,' I said to her.
"'Yes, isn't it the answer to our prayer?' she replied. 'I'm going to take it to our pastor's wife right now.'"
The business man was thoughtful as he passed from his friend's office. Just a few hours before he had been told by an acquaintance of his longing, when on a long trip, to have such a glimpse of the life of one of the many passengers near him that he would be able to help that passenger before the end of the journey. The wish was a prayer. Not long after the making of the prayer he noted a man who was so restless that he could not sit still. Every moment or two he looked at his watch, then studied his time table. Evidently he was disturbed because the train was late.
"I hope you are not to lose a connection in Chicago?" the observing traveler said to him.
"Yes, I'll miss itβand my baby is dying five hours from Chicago," was the response, given with a sob.
The time was short, but there was opportunity for the interchange of a few words, then for a conference with the conductor, who wired asking that the connecting trainβat another station and on another roadβbe held for ten minutes.
A week later came a note from the happy father. His babe was rapidly recovering. "And I'll never forget the words you spoke to me in my agony," he wrote. "God is more real to me since our talk as we went into Chicago. You put heart into me."
VI
GIVING THAT COUNTS
An old fable tells of a good man to whom the Lord said he would give whatever he most desired. Besought by friends to ask great things, he refused. Finally he asked that he might be able to do a great deal of good without ever knowing it. And so it came about that every time the good man's shadow fell behind him or at either side, so that he could not see it, it had the power to cure disease, soothe pain and comfort sorrow.
When he walked along, his shadow, thrown on the ground on either side or behind him, made arid paths green, caused withered plants to bloom, gave clear water to dried up brooks, fresh color to pale little children, and joy to unhappy mothers.
But he simply went about his daily life, diffusing virtue as the star diffuses light and the flower perfume, without ever being aware of it. And the people, respecting his humility, followed him silently, never speaking to him about his miracles. Little by little, they even came to forget his name, and called him only "The Holy Shadow."
It would be a splendid thing if all would learn the lesson taught in the fableβthat the man who would do good should have the courage to be unconscious of the good he is doing, and so as unlike as possible the rich woman of whom some one has told, who turned a deaf ear to every petition for help unless there was a subscription paper circulated and she was given the chance to head the list. "But no poor person came into her house who said, 'May God reward you!' She never experienced the pleasure of making a poor woman on the back stairs happy with a cup of warm coffee, or hungry children with a slice of bread and butter, or an infirm man with a penny. Perhaps she satisfied her conscience by saying that she did not believe in indiscriminate charity. Frequently that excuse is given conscientiously but how often the real meaning is, 'I do not believe in charity that does not make people talk of my generosity.'"
In the Sermon on the Mount Jesus taught the folly of giving in such a manner. The lesson was enforced by two picturesβa man standing on the street, giving alms to the poor, while attention is called to his generosity by the sounding of a trumpet which everyone must hear, and a man whose giving is so much a matter of secrecy that he does not think of it a second time. There is no rolling of it over as a sweetmeat under his tongue, as if to say, "What a generous man I am!" Nor is there any motive in the giving but pure desire to glorify God. All this is properly included in the interpretation of "Let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth."
VII
EXPENSIVE ECONOMY
A magazine editor offered a prize for the best account by a reader of the adjustment of income and expenditure made necessary by the vaulting prices of recent years. The prize was awarded to one whose revised budget showed the revision downward of many items, and the elimination of two or three other items. The comparison of the budgets was interesting and helpful; most readers would be apt to approve heartily all but one of the changes and eliminations. This was the exception: the earlier budget allowed five dollars per month for "church and charity," while the revised budget made no mention of the claims of others, no provision for the privilege of giving.
If you had been a judge in that contest, would you have felt like giving the prize to a paper that suggested such an omission? Suppose you had the task of cutting your budget, would you feel like revising downward the provision for giving? What do you think of the statement of a famous business man who, having insisted in time of financial reverses on making gifts as usual, said to objecting friends, "Economy should not begin at the house of God." Why not let economy begin there?
What answer would have been given to such a query by the poor tenement dweller in New York City who, though compelled to earn the support of her family by scrubbing floors in a great office building, set aside a dollar and a half per week for the care of four orphans in India who but for her gifts would have starved?
What answer would have been made by the Polish Jew, long resident in America, who directed in his will that regular gifts be made at Christmas and Easter to the Christians as well as to the Jews of his home town in Europe? That bequest was made in memory of days and nights of terror when, as a boy, he hid in the house from the fiendish persecutions of so-called Christians who thought Easter and Christmas favorable times for the intimidation of the Jews. What would he have said to the idea of economy that forgets the needs of others and makes no provision for satisfying the hungry, to help the suffering?
What would have been the comment of Him who told the parable of the rich man who built great barns to hold the surplus product of his lands, thinking that there was nothing better in life than to eat, drink, and be merry; who compared the gifts of the rich man and the poor widow; who commended the love of the woman who poured out the costly ointment upon His head; who promises glorious recognition to those who give, in His name, to any who are in need?
A successful manufacturer, whose eyes have been opened to the folly of attempting to save by cutting off gifts, has written a series of essays on "The Business Man and His Overflow," his purpose being to show that happiness is dependent on helpfulness. "Who is the most successful business man?" he asks. "The man who has the largest bank account? Not necessarily. . . . The most successful business man is he who renders the greatest service to mankind and whose life is most useful."
Two paths are open to us: we can give, and we can give more, or we can economize in giving until we give nothing.
Which is the path of courage?
CHAPTER SEVEN COURAGE THROUGH COMPANIONSHIP"I can have no place in my life for friendship," one of these unfortunates says.
"I can't be expected to devote myself to my family; it is all I can do to make a living," is the complaint of another.
"I live in the present," says a third; "the past has no interest for me, and the future holds nothing but worries."
"Live more out-of-doors, you say!" is the word of a fourth. "Why should I bother about Nature when Nature does nothing but thwart me?"
"Make God my friend?" a fifth asks in surprise. "Talk to me in rational terms. God doesn't bother about me; why should I bother about Him?"
Is it any wonder that the lives of so many everywhere are empty? It does not occur to them that by their determination to isolate themselves they cut themselves off from the surest road to courage, both received and givenβthe road of companionship with the people and things most worth while.
I
COMPANIONSHIP WITH FRIENDS
There are those who say that friendship is a lost art; that modern life is too busy for friendship. "Why don't you pause long enough to call on Bββ?" a father asked his son; "you used to be such good friends." "Oh, I haven't time for that now," was the careless reply; "if I am to get ahead, I feel I must devote myself only to those
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