James 1:25 But whoever looks into the perfect law of liberty, and continues therein, he being not a forgetful hearer, but a doer of the work… It is a bad thing to have a poor memory. What a difference there is between people in this respect! How little impression events make on some persons! How easily they forget names, dates, faces, the books they have read, the scenes they have visited! And how wonderfully others remember all these things! Macaulay could repeat from memory books he had read when he was a boy; could repeat the whole of "Paradise Lost," or one of the books of Homer. Indeed, there seems to be hardly any limit to the power of memory. Generals have been known who recollected the name of every soldier in their army, and politicians who could call by name every man to whom they have been introduced. A good memory is the necessary basis of all intellectual action. I think the time will come when we shall know how to educate and discipline the memory, and keep it from forgetting. There will be rules for memorising taught in our schools, to strengthen the memory and keep it in a healthy condition. The most important element of such a system will probably be to form a habit of attention with the purpose of remembering. How we recollect times, places, scenes, adventures, experiences, in which our whole soul was interested! I have heard a woman describing the last days of her husband's life, or that of her child, and every minutest incident was photographed on her brain. So the Evangelists recollect and record all the sayings of their Master, word for word. So the man who has been in a shipwreck, or a railroad accident, or a battle, describes, with intense minuteness and accuracy, all the details, till it rises before you a vivid picture, which you also will remember always, though hearing it at second hand. The stories of travellers are interesting for the same reason, because the novelty of the scenes they visit rouses their attention, and the vivid impressions made on their own minds excite a like interest in ours. We remember that in which we are interested, because we give our attention to it. But when we are not interested in anything, and so do not give our attention to it, we are sure to forget it. Facts and lessons which do not interest us are like the plants which have no root in themselves, and soon wither away. I heard a worthy gentleman arguing that studies ought not to be made too interesting, because boys and girls should have the discipline of hard work. But who works the hardest, I should like to know, he whose heart is not in the work, and who has to force himself to do it by main strength of will, or he who enjoys it while he does it, or does it with the hope of future joy. It is hope and joy which give us strength to work, not disgust or indifference. But we weaken the memory by inattention, which results from the absence of a deep interest and a living purpose. The general rule, then, for improving the memory is, "Take an interest in anything, and you will attend to it; attend to it, and you will recollect it." But what cure is there for moral forgetfulness? Here is a man who forgets all the lessons of experience. He commits the same faults over and over again. Each time, he says to himself, "This is the last time; I will never do so again; I will keep my resolutions hereafter." But he goes his way, and straightway forgetteth what manner of man he is. When I was a boy at the Boston Latin School, our master introduced one day a learned-looking gentleman, who, he told us, had come to teach us a new system of intellectual mnemonics. The thing was done by help of the law of association. We first fixed in our mind a list of familiar objects, and then associated them with the names of kings and queens. But where is the science of spiritual mnemonics? Who shall teach the conscience to remember its duty in the hour of temptation? the heart to remember its best love when drawn aside to the world. There are many marked instances of moral forgetfulness, which show the importance of such a science as this. We are very apt, for example, to forget the religious and moral truth which we hear. We are forgetful hearers of the Word. Where is all the instruction which has been poured into our ears and heart from childhood, by ever-faithful parents, by teachers, professors and guardians. It has all gone. Again, how we forget our own good resolutions! We arrange our life, at the beginning of the year, into a perfect order. We select the faults to be conquered, the virtues to be acquired, the studies to be pursued, the good actions to be done. At the end of the year we look back and find that all these resolutions were presently forgotten, and we went on as before. Again, we forget our duties. "You are one of the most perfect of men," said Lamb to Coleridge, "with only this one slight fault, that if you have any duty to do, you never do it." We remember everything but our duties — these slip from our memory too easily. We forget our promises and engagements. How very mortifying to find that we have promised to do a multitude of things, and that we have forgotten them all! Alas I and worse, we forget the kindness done to us. At the time we feel very grateful, but gratitude becomes burdensome, and so, after a while, we have forgotten our benefactors and their deeds. We forget them, but do not forget those who have injured us, who have wounded our pride. Ah! we remember that too well; "the deadly arrow adheres to our side." We forget the holy love of Christ, the ever-present providence of God, the impending judgments of the future. Who shall give us the system of moral mnemonics by which to remember these things? The difficulty is that we are not really as much interested in the love of God, in duty and spiritual progress, as we are in other matters. But we have all seen those who did not suffer from this fatal want of memory. How is it that they remember so well? It is love which quickens all the powers, memory among the rest. Did Dr. Howe ever forget his blind people? Did Mr. Garrison ever forget his slaves? Did Howard ever forget his prisoners? Did Dorothea Dix ever forget her insane persons? Did Florence Nightingale forget the sick soldiers? Did Lincoln forget the dangers of the country which he served? Or did Jesus ever forget His disciples or His work? No. All these, having loved their own, loved them to the end. Where the heart goes, there memory watches, a sleepless sentinel, ready for every occasion. Only to hear about truth, therefore, profits nothing. We must do it ourselves in order to know it. Lazy acquiescence in another's opinion is not knowledge. Easy assent to the established creed is not belief. Enthusiastic admiration of the eloquence of some favourite teacher is not faith. Truth helps no one who has only heard about it. Until we are doers of the Word, as well as hearers, we are like the clocks and watches in the watchmaker's shop. He sets them all to the right time, and winds them up; but till he touches the pendulum and sets in motion they cannot keep time. So we go to church every Sunday, and the minister winds us up by convincing arguments and by the truths of the gospel; and then he appeals to our feelings, and touches our hearts, and we are set exactly right. The hour-hand and minute-hand are right to a moment. The moral chronometer is regulated to a second. But we ourselves must set the pendulum in motion, and begin to go; else what does it profit us? To be set right and regulated every Sunday morning, what use is there in that, unless we keep going through the week? When we are hearers and not doers, we deceive ourselves. All our thoughts are excellent, our ideas of duty correct, our sentiments noble: we take the highest grounds on all occasions. But this is all outside of our central life. We wash our hands, but not our hearts. Because we are so familiar with what is true and right, we forget at last what manner of men we are. Hearing the truth, when we refuse to act it out, ends in opinion, and opinion in talk, and talk in self-deception. There is a good deal of cheating in the world, but people usually cheat themselves more than they do others. We repeat by rote what we hear, and think that we know it. We talk well and imagine that we are what we say. We hear a truth, and imagine that it is a part of our own character. So we deceive ourselves. Until we have put a truth into action, we do not really know it. The artist may study colours and forms for ever; but until he tries to paint a picture he is only a dilettante artist. The carpenter may hear lectures on the use of tools, but till he learns to use them we do not call him a carpenter. The youth who graduates in a law-school, full of the theory of law, is not yet a lawyer. Do anything, and you come to know it, and then truth becomes knowledge and creates love. We have in Boston a "Free Religious Association," as it is called. Yet true religion is always free, and always sets us free. It is a law of liberty; liberty and law in one. Religion is the source of all real freedom, for true freedom is not wilfulness, but self-direction. And we can only direct ourselves when we have some rule or law by which to direct ourselves; some aim of life, and some method by which to pursue that aim. The rule for strengthening the memory, then, so that we shall not be forgetful hearers, is, first, to give our attention to what we hear, to put our mind into it. A common phrase in English is "to mind a thing," meaning "to remember it." Another meaning of mind is to obey. "Mind your father and mother, child!" To put our mind seriously into anything, leads, first to memory; next, to action. And this action, if we continue therein, becomes at last interesting for its own sake, and so we make it a part of ourselves. We eat it and drink it, and it enters into our life, and life's most secret joy, so that finally we become "blessed in our deed." Thus continued, persistent attention, given to what is true and right, leads to action; and persistent, continued action, leads to love, and deed. (J. Freeman Clarke.) Parallel Verses KJV: But whoso looketh into the perfect law of liberty, and continueth therein, he being not a forgetful hearer, but a doer of the work, this man shall be blessed in his deed. |
    |