The Blessing of Cheerfulness'. 2

Next Part The Blessing of Cheerfulness'. 3

It will help us in learning the lesson of cheerfulness if we persistently train ourselves to see the good things, the bright things, in our common life. There are some people who seem to have eyes only for the unpleasant things. They find every bit of roughness and hardness in their daily path. They see at once, and see it magnified, every disagreeable thing that comes into their life. They remember all the unhappy experiences they have ever had. They keep on their heart's walls the pictures of all their vanished joys and faded hopes. They write with a diamond on their window panes — the records of all the trials, adversities, and misfortunes they have ever suffered. But, on the other hand, they forget all their blessings. They hang up no pictures of the joys which have filled their life on so many bright days. They have no memory for the beautiful things, the things of gladness.

There are few habits more common, even among Christians, than this of remembering the unpleasant things and forgetting the pleasant things; and there is no other habit which is more inimical to joy. He who would always be of good cheer must break this habit—if it has fastened itself in his life—and must learn, must train himself, to see the beautiful things and to be blind to the disagreeable things. The truth is, there are, in the ordinary life, a thousand pleasant things—favors, joys, comforts, things to cheer—to one unpleasant thing, one real cause for unhappiness. It is a shame, therefore, to let the one bit of roughness, trial, or suffering — spoil all the gladness of the thousand blessings; the one discordant note — mar all the music of the grand symphony. We should learn to look at life, not to find misery and discomfort in it, but to find cheer and beauty.

Two people in the same house, looking out at the same windows, on the same things, will see things in such very different ways that one shall be made unhappy and wretched, while the other is made to rejoice and sing. There is a suggestive story of a Christian woman who moved into a new apartment, which was not conspicuous for its cheerful surroundings or its pleasant outlook. The average woman would have found there a very commonplace shelter from the snow of winter, and the heat and rains of summer. But this woman was happy in her home. One day a friend called and was asked by this cheerful housewife to note the pleasant outlook she had from her window. "Yes," said the visitor, "I see a remarkably fine lot of chimneys and back buildings." "Chimneys and black buildings!" exclaimed the hostess. Why, I never saw them before. I looked over all that you see, and saw those magnificent trees which form such a picturesque line on the horizon. I thought only of the trees and the glorious sunsets I see from this window."

This woman had learned one of the secrets of being of good cheer. She had trained herself to see out of her windows, trees and sunsets, instead of dingy roofs, black chimney tops, and unsightly back buildings. This habit made all the world beautiful for her. She always saw loveliness whenever she looked out. She was blind to the unpleasant sights which some people can find everywhere, even in a garden of flowers or a gallery of paintings.

He who has learned to see the beauty even in unsightly things, the good in evil things, the encouragement in discouraging things, the comfort in painful things — has found one of the truest and most potent secrets of cheerfulness. Such a habit always finds something bright in the dreariest condition.

Another secret of cheerfulness is found in the way we relate ourselves to the people about us. There are many people who are made miserable by what others do or do not do. Their neighbors' faults worry them a great deal—far more than their own. The things they hear about others, vex them. The peculiarities of their friends and their shortcomings cause them great annoyance. The way other people treat them—their bad manners, their lack of respect, their lack of refinement, the slights and discourtesies they detect in their bearing, their thoughtless ways—these disagreeable things in their neighbors give them much distress.

Of course we cannot be indifferent to what we see in the lives about us. A sensitive spirit is affected by whatever passes before it. In a home, the life of each child continually gives either comfort or pain to a parent's heart. Those in whom we are interested in our community or among our acquaintances, add either to our pleasure or our sorrow by the way they live. A sympathetic heart carries the burdens and griefs of many lives. There is a way in which all this makes misery, and there is a way in which it may be made to add to life's cheerfulness. If we look upon others critically, censoriously — to mark their faults, to judge them, to think and say severe things of them — we only make ourselves wretched, while we do them no good, only harm instead. But if we look at others through Christ-eyes, then even the things in them which cause us pain and sorrow become new chances of joy and blessing for us.

People are meant to be means of grace to us. We are to be helped by our contacts with them. From some we are to learn, through the beautiful things in them, their excellences of character. From these we get inspiration. Others help us through our sympathies. They appeal to our thought and care. They need help. We must carry burdens for them. They have sorrows, and it befits us to give them comfort. They are in need or distress, and we must deny ourselves for them. The blessing that may come to us through these is incalculable. Every human sorrow or infirmity that makes its appeal to us — is a new chance for us to do a beautiful thing, to grow in Christ-likeness. Every new burden of care rolled upon us, demanding self-denial, sacrifice, or service, caries in it a new blessing for us, if only we will accept it.

In the case of others, it is unbeauty, fault, and sin that we see; but here, too, lies the possibility of help for us in our contact with them, if we relate ourselves to them as we may. They furnish us an opportunity for the exercise of the loftiest feelings of sympathy and forbearance, and for the noblest efforts to lift up and save.

Christ knew the secret of finding joy in all the lives about him. Of course he found joy in the beautiful things he saw in others. This is a secret we sometimes miss. There are those who are made envious by the excellences they see in others — in the fine things in their life and character, the noble things they do. It would seem indeed that one of the qualities most rarely found among men is this of rejoicing in the lovely things and the attainments and successes of others. Jesus found pleasure in every beautiful thing he saw in men's lives.

Then he found joy for his own heart also in those who were in distress and trouble. We never can sound the depths of the meaning of the words which tell us, "He himself took our infirmities and bore our sicknesses." Grief, suffering, and sin stirred his profoundest compassion. Yet even these experiences of pain were turned to sources of joy, as he sought to help and bless those who were thus distressed.

People sometimes wonder how a physician can possibly be a cheerful man. He is continually in the presence of pain and suffering. Those who come to him, or who summon him to their bedside, are all in some way in distress. Seeing misery all the while, how can he ever wear a smile, or bear to his home anything but gloom on his face? The secret lies in the way the physician looks upon all this pain and misery. He is present as a healer, to give relief, to alleviate pain; and this saves him from the suffering which mere pity would produce in him. It puts joy into his heart to be able to give help. Thus it was that Christ looked upon the people about him, they all had their sicknesses, their sorrows, their infirmities, and their sins; but he was in the world to be Healer, Comforter, Savior, and found joy in doing so.

lf we will relate ourselves to those around us in this Christ-way, as a friend, helper, healer, savior — we shall escape all the wretchedness that many people suffer in their contacts with the lives of others. Then our thought over one's faults or sins will be, "How can I lead this man out of his mistakes and wrong doings? How can I do him any good, and help him to overcome his faults?" We must learn to look through love's eyes at every neighbor. This will give us true compassion, and will make us eager, not to blame and condemn, but to help everyone who needs help of whatever kind.

Nothing else in all life is such a maker of joy and cheer, as the privilege of doing good. Someone once said: ‘‘If I had to choose my place among the forces of nature, do you know what I would choose to be? I would be the dew that falls silently and invisibly over the face of nature, trampled underfoot and unconsidered, but perpetually blessing and refreshing all forms of life." It is in such losing of self that one finds truest, purest, and deepest happiness.

These are hints of the way in which the lesson of cheerfulness can be learned. It is a lesson we should learn, whatever the cost. He who carries about with him a cheerful spirit is a blessing wherever he goes. We have no right to go among men with our complaints and our murmurings. It is part of the debt of love we owe to our fellow-men, to bring them always the best we have; not gloom and shadow and disheartenment, but cheer, hope, and joy. We are commanded to be lights in the world, to let our light so shine before men that they may see our good works, and glorify our Father who is in heaven. There is no light in discontent, complaining, and gloom; and we are not realizing God's thought for our life when we let shadows hang about us. We should hide our pain, our sorrows, our trouble in our own heart, accepting God's sweet comfort, and letting the light of the divine peace shine in our face. Then we would let our grief become inspiration to all loving service. Thus do we get the victory over our loss and sorrow, and shed the blessing of cheer on all about us.

The blessings of cheerfulness are manifold. It blesses the man himself. It is a fountain of life in his heart. It makes him strong for all duty and struggle. Life is not half so hard for the cheerful man, as it is for the man who is depressed and unhappy. Burdens are light when one can sing under them. Battles are easily won when the heart is glad. Nothing else so weakens the life's energy, as discouragement. It hides the stars in the sky, and blots the blue of the heavens with blackness. It drives hope out of the heart. Its gloom creeps into the soul, and darkens the eyes. The discouraged man sees nothing worth living for in all this glorious world. The natural drift of this unhappy feeling is toward despondency and despair. We have no enemy more to be dreaded, than discouragement.

But cheerfulness is a good angel to the man who keeps it in his heart. It helps him to be more than conqueror in the struggle of life. He who is always of good cheer is master of circumstances and conditions. Nothing can defeat him. Cheerfulness is courage. It also makes the life wholesome. It is the best medicine a man can take. Says the wise man, "A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a broken spirit saps a person's strength." Proverbs 17:22

A man without cheerfulness is a sick man. The sadness of his spirit lays a withering blight on all the beauty of his life. He becomes prematurely old. His strength decays. "A broken spirit saps a person's strength." But cheerfulness is medicine. It promotes health. Physicians say that a cheerful spirit in a patient is a large factor in the cure of sickness. A sick person who cheerfully goes on as if he were well, conquers many an ailment which, if he had succumbed to it, might have proved serious. Cheerfulness is a prime secret of health. It keeps one well. It keeps one young; it is one of the secrets of youth.

It is a fancy of Swedenborg, with a good philosophy in it, that in heaven the oldest angels are the youngest. All life there is toward youth. One reason must be that all life there is cheerful and joyous. If the people in heaven still fretted, and complained, and got discouraged, and went about with heavy hearts and long faces, cheerless and despondent, as so many heaven-bound pilgrims do here — they would get very old by the time they had been a few millenniums in heaven. But being always of good cheer, they keep always young, growing ever towards youth. Even here on the earth, too, the same secret holds true, that abounding cheerfulness keeps one young in spite of advancing years. Thus cheerfulness carries its reward and blessing in itself. It is its own benediction. It weaves its own garment of beauty. It builds its own home of glory.

Cheerfulness also blesses others. There are people, who, no doubt, are good—God loves them, for he is very patient and longsuffering; but who make life harder for everyone who live close to them. They are as depressing, when they are among their friends, as a funeral procession as it winds its way through the streets. They are always saying discouraging things. If you inquire after their health, you will never get a hearty answer, assuring you without qualification that they are well; you must always listen to more or less bemoaning of ills or unhealthy symptoms. Any subject of conversation you may start will afford them an opportunity to show their general gloominess. There is a lack of glad wholesomeness in fellowship with others. Wherever they go they carry an epidemic of disheartenment, for the influence of one such life upon others is simply incalculable. After being for a few moments in the company of such a person, you suffer for hours from an indefinable sense of depression, perhaps wondering what is wrong with you. It is harder for you to live after staying even a little while in such an enervating atmosphere.

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