Making a Good Name
HE name includes the character. All that a man is his name stands for and represents. A baby has no character, and at first its name means nothing. It has done nothing to give it individuality in anyone’s mind. But as the child grows toward manhood, the name every year grows to mean more and more. All the story of the childhood, the youth and the early years goes into it. In school and college, the boy’s name to all who know him stands for whatever he is. If he is well-behaved, bright, interesting, with good disposition and a good record, a good student, gentlemanly, refined — his name will suggest all this wherever’ it is heard. If he is negligent in his habits, careless in his life, if he is rude, ungentlemanly, if he is untrue, resentful, quick-tempered, the menfintiing t))t Wavtion of his name will bring up all these qualities to those who know him intimately. The making of a name is, therefore, a matter of the highest importance. We are told that reputation is what people think about a man, what they suppose he is, and that character is what the man really is; but ultimately reputation and character are one. For a while, a man may hide his true self and may pass for something better than he really is, but in the end character will assert itself through all disguises and all illusions, and the man’s name will represent precisely what the man is.
Holy Scripture tells us that a good name is better than precious ointment. It is the perfume of the ointment that is suggested, and the thought is very beautiful. In a parable of spiritual life, in one of the IMinor Prophets, one feature is expressed thus, “His smell is as Lebanon.” One of Saint Paul’s “whatsoevers,” in a wonderful epitome of Chris tly character is, “whatsoever things are of good report.” There is an aroma that belongs to iSlpafetns a dPooti 0anlt
every life which is the composite product of the things that are said about the person along the years. If all that is said is good, favorable, commendatory of the person’s name, the report is like sweet perfume. Some men live beautifully, sweetly, patiently, unselfishly, helpfully, sympathetically, speaking only good words, never rash, intemperate, unloving words, walking among men carefully, humbly, reverently; and the odor of their lives is like that of Mary’s ointment which filled all the house. Other men are ruled by self, or by the world, or by greed, or by desire for pleasure; they are of the earth, earthy, or they are untrue, resentful, unloving, of hasty speech — we all know what the effluence of such lives is, not like gentle fragrance, but unsavory, of an evil odor. There is something very mysterious about perfume. No one can describe it. You cannot take a photograph of it. You cannot weigh it. Yet it is a very essential quality of the flower. The same is true of that strange thing we call influence. Influence is the fuiDfng tle Waig
aroma of a life. The most important thing about your life is this subtle, imponderable, indefinable, mysterious quality of your personality which is known as influence. This is really all of you that counts in its final impression upon other lives. No matter how a man may pose, how much he may profess, how he may assert himself — what kind of man he may claim to be — that which he really is, is what breathes out from his life wherever he is known, that which his name suggests to people wherever it is spoken. Lebanon’s gardens and trees and fruits filled all the region round about with delicious fragrance. Every Christian life ought to be fragrant, with a smell like that of Lebanon. But there is only one way to make it so. Men gather the perfume from acres of roses and it fills only a little vial. Our influence, the perfume of our lives, is gathered from all the acres of our years — all that has grown upon those acres during all those years. If it is to be like the essence of ten thousand roses, sweet, pure, undefiled, our life must be ittaSi’ng a (Koou name
all well watched, clean, pure, holy, loving, true. The evil, as well as the good, is gathered, and helps to make the total of the influence of our lives.
We all know how easily one’s influence is hurt, how little follies and indiscretions in one’s conduct or behavior take away from the sweetness of one’s reputation. The author of Ecclesiastes says, “Dead flies cause the oil of the perfumer to send forth an evil odor; so doth a little folly outweigh wisdom and honor.” We need to think seriously of this matter of dead flies. We are not always careful enough about keeping them out. There are many men, good in the general tenor of their lives, godly, prayerful, consistent in larger ways,, but the perfume of whose names is rendered unsavory by little dead flies in the ointment of their common life. They are not careful to keep their word, they are not prompt in paying their debts, they are not watchful of their speech, they are not loyal in their friendships, they are indiscreet in their relations with others, they are wanting [267] (fintitng tt)t Wav
in refinement or courtesy, they are rash in their speech, they are resentful — we know how many of these dead flies there are which cause the ointment of some good people’s names to send forth an unsavory odor. We need to watch our lives in the smallest matters if we would keep our names sweet wherever we are known. Influence is most important. It is our mightiest force for good or for evil. Let us keep it pure and good for Christ, and in order to do this let us keep Christ always in it.
The end is not in this world. Our name at the close of earthly life enshrines the essence of all that men know about us. But there is much that is beautiful and good in a true and worthy life that men do not know. It is interesting to think of the name as at last including all that the person has done, all the influences that have ever gone forth from the life. We are told that in nature nothing is ever wasted. Matter changes its form, but not a particle of it is lost. Wood is consumed in the fire, and the elements of which [268] jHafeing a cKooD Banxt
it was composed are separated — some of them escaping into the air in gases and some of them remaining in the residuum of ashes, — but not the smallest particle that was in the tree has really perished. We live our life in this world, our few years or many, and then cease to be. The places which have known us will know us no morcv But not the smallest element of our life is lost. The things we have done, the words we have spoken, the influences we have sent out, all have taken their place in other lives and have been built into them like blocks of stone on the wall of a building.
We may believe that as in nature so in human life, not the smallest particle is ever wasted. Many things we try to do seem to fail. At least, they do not realize our desire and intention. We grieve as if the efforts had accomplished nothing. But some day we shall see that no true purpose ever has failed, that though our efforts may not all have realized what we hoped from them, yet in the unseen realm, where the true results of life are all [269] fdiDing tie Wai
gathered and treasured, we shall find all our hopes and dreams, all our good intentions that could not be fulfilled here, all our plans and purposes that we had not the strength to carry out in this world. Ofttimes we are defeated in our efforts to do good. We begin many things which we cannot complete. There is not a day when we live as well as we wanted to live or meant to live. We do no piece of work as beautifully as we wished and intended to do it.
But the man whom Christ will present some day with exceeding joy before God will be the man with all the fruits and harvests of his life garnered, nothing lost by the way. This truth should give us measureless comfort as we think of our failures here and the dropping off of so many blossoms without any earthly fruiting. Browning puts this finely:
A II we have willed or hoped or dreamed of good shall exist; Not its semblance, hut itself; no beauty, nor good, nor power
jHafimg a (Kooti 0anlt
Whose voice has gone forth, hut each survives for the melodist When eternity affirms the conception of an hour. The high that proved too high, the heroic for earth too hard, The passion that left the ground to lose itself in the sky, The music sent up to God by the lover and the bard; Enough that he heard it once; we shall hear it by-and-by.
Not all of anyone’s life is gathered in this world In even the most fragrant name. A thousand good things which the man has done have been forgotten. Countless gentle deeds were wrought so quietly that no one ever heard of them. Then only God could know the things which took no form In either word or deed — the love, the sympathy, the gentle thoughtfulness, the self-denials, the prayers for others and for the kingdom of Christ, the aspirations, the desires to do good. It Is only a little of any noble life that the world ever [271] ifrnDtng tit Wav
knows. But God knows all and remembers all, and the names of his saints will at last represent all the story of their lives, with nothing good or beautiful wanting.
Letting Ciing Bun J^oton
” What, here so soon t
Sunset and night? Why, I have work to do that needs the noon,
And days broad light! See! On the palette, there, the colors are but set,
The canvas still unwet
And it is night.
“How sweet ‘twould be,
My work all done — To sit at eve, my threshold on, and see
Stars, one by one, Flash into the dark heaven! Oh, happy rest!
My folded hands, how blest
But — ’tis already night.”