Some time ago I came across the life-motto of George Stephenson, the
"father of the locomotive," as he has been called, the man whose brains
and sagacity made possible the network of railways which spreads now
over the earth. The crystallised experience of such a life is worth
studying Here, then, was Stephenson's working formula:--"Make the best
of everything; think the best of everybody; hope the best for yourself."
First, MAKE THE BEST OF EVERYTHING. In every set of circumstances
possible or conceivable, there are always, at any rate, two ways of
acting. You can look for the helpful, bright, and hopeful things, and
"freeze on" to these meantime. Or, you can select all the doleful,
sombre aspects, and sit down in the dust with them. Now, if it did not
matter which a man did, there would be no good saying any more. But it
has long since become abundantly clear that the man who makes the best
of his circumstances, however hard they be, comes most happily out of
them in the end. In other words, it pays to make the best of things. It
is the cheery people who recover quickest when they are sick. There are
men who, if their house should fall in ruins about them, will contrive
some sort of shelter meantime with the broken beams! That is the type
that wins out in the end somehow; these are the men to whom the miracles
happen--who never know when they are beaten, who will face the most
tremendous odds with "the half of a broken hope" for a shield, who are
never done until they are dead. What makes for success or failure in a
man is nothing external to him at all. It is something within him. It
is the temper of his spirit. It is the way he captains his own soul.
The other day I saw a photograph of a backyard. It was a little bit of
a place, of the most forlorn appearance, littered with tin cans,
overgrown with weeds, and hemmed round with blank walls of brick. But
it came into the hands of a man who believed in making the best of
things. Another photograph showed that same backyard after a year had
passed. It was still as small as ever, still overlooked by high walls
and surrounded by chimneys. But it was now a perfect little oasis of
beauty amid a wilderness of bricks and slates. Will anybody deny that
that spirit pays?
Right up the scale, from little things to the highest things, the man
who looks for the shining possibilities and follows them, is the man on
whom, in our short-sighted way, we say that Fortune smiles. Rather, he
smiles in such a determined way to Fortune, that she has at length to
smile back!
Nobody pretends that it is easy, when we have failed, to gather our
powers together and try again. But nearly all the big men have had to
do that very thing. It certainly is not easy, when you have a heavy
burden of your own, to spare a cheery word or a hand of sympathy for
somebody who is really much better off, but there are plenty of people
doing it at this moment. Nero's palace is the last place in this world
where you would expect to find a company of loyal Christian folk. Yet
there were such people there, "the saints of Caesar's household." And
the grace of God that made that possible can achieve all these lesser
wonders too.
Second, THINK THE BEST OF EVERYBODY. There is a winsome legend that
Jesus once revealed Himself in this way:--A knot of idlers had gathered
in the street round a dead dog. One remarked how mangy and unkempt its
hide was. Another said, "What ugly ears!" But a stranger, who had come
forward, said, "Pearls are not whiter than its teeth!" And men said to
one another, "This must be Jesus of Nazareth, for nobody but He would
find something good even in a dead dog." Certainly it is the mark of
the most Christlike men and women that they delight rather in
emphasising the merest speck of goodness than in denouncing the too
visible evil. We can, all too easily, see the fault in another. What
we cannot see is the heart of the defaulter, the weight of temptation he
struggled under, and his bitter inner penitence. "Granted," as Carlyle
says, "the ship comes into harbour with shrouds and tackle damaged; the
pilot is blameworthy. He has not been all-wise and all-powerful. But,
to know how blameworthy, tell us first whether his voyage has been round
the globe, or only to Ramsgate and the Isle of Dogs."
The way to get the best out of people is to think the best about them.
Let a man see that you have good hopes of him, and recognise what is
best in him, and, in ways of which science can give no explanation, you
add to his chances of reaching better things. In any case, who would
not wish to stand on Christ's side rather than on Judas's. "This
ointment might have been sold for three hundred pence and given to the
poor." That is Judas. "Let her alone. Why trouble ye her? She hath
wrought a good work in me. She hath done what she could." That is
Jesus Christ.
Third,--Don't leave yourself out of the picture. HOPE THE BEST FOR
YOURSELF. George Eliot, in her "Scenes of Clerical Life," gives, in one
chapter, an account of how the Rev. Amos Barton is criticised and
discussed in his parish. In the next chapter we see the Rev. Amos
himself going on his way blissfully unconscious of the poor opinion in
which he is held, believing quite honestly in himself, and not a little
proud of his abilities. "We are poor plants," says this keen student of
character, "buoyed up by the air vessels of our own conceit." And a
blessed thing, too, when you think of it! If we only knew all the
disparaging remarks people make about us, we should never face up to our
duties at all. What helps us along is our innocent belief in our
powers, in the esteem in which we are held--our little conceits, if you
like. Since they send us to our tasks with more spirit, and keep us at
them with more determination, aren't they good things in their way? They
are indeed just a lower form of that hope that we are speaking
of--Hope's poor relations.
If these are of such value, how much more pure quiet steady Hope itself,
purged of all pride and undue self-esteem? Hope the best for yourself,
and you are already a good way on the road to it. Suggestion is a
tremendously powerful instrument, even when you make it yourself. By
self suggestion, the psychologists tell us, you can influence your
actions, your character, and your general outlook in a wonderful
fashion, either to your advantage or your hurt. Therefore, they say, be
careful never to suggest evil to yourself. Never say to yourself, "I'm
going to make a mess of this," or "I am not fit for that." Suggest
success, happiness, health, and you beckon them to you. Hope the best
for yourself, and you pave the way for its coming.
On higher planes, the same holds true. Hope on, and, though you fall
you will rise again. Believe that you will be enabled to face your
trouble or temptation, and you will be brought through it somehow. Even
when the end of life is near, hope still, for beyond this best there is
a better, and God's road winds uphill all the way.
But, you say, this is just faith. I know it is. Run your hopes for
yourself up as high as you can reach, and they will touch God and become
faith. That is why you are to hope the best for yourself. Because--God.
Because God the Father loves you, and desires the best for you too. I
believe in the optimism which Stephenson's motto embodies, because I
believe in the Fatherhood of God through our Lord Jesus Christ. That is
why I counsel you to go on hoping that the best is yet to be. Not that
we can earn it at all, or that we deserve it at all. But--because God,
our Father. And, for the daring and faith of that saying, this
sufficient ground.--Because--Jesus Christ.