The Influence of Praise.
By Beecher
If there ever was dexterity, it is shown in the following passage: “For as touching the ministering of the saints, it is superfluous for me to write to you: for I know the forwardness of your mind, for which I boast of you to them of Macedonia, that Achaia was ready a year ago: and your zeal hath provoked very many. Yet have I sent the brethren, lest our boasting of you should be in vain in this behalf; that, as I said, ye may be ready: lest haply if they of Macedonia come with me, and find you unprepared, we (that we say not, ye) should be ashamed in this same confident boasting.” If Paul's example is our liberty, there can be no question that it is right to persuade men to do good by praising them, and to make use of their pride and self-love to inspire them to do better. The question is not whether men ought to be made to do better by the highest motives; but whether, in their place and turn, all motives may not be employed. The apostle never failed, when it could be done consistently with honesty and truth, to praise the disciples for what they were, and for what they had done; and then to go on and employ praise to induce them to do still more. It is in accordance with the world's experience, that people work better by praising than by driving. This is so among laboring men, and among children; and it is a thing that it would be well for parents to take heed to, who, often thinking that they must bring up their children to act from the highest motives, make duty very rugged and very unattractive, and do not recollect that a child has human nature as anybody else, and that the most perfect obedience can frequently be secured by encouragement and commendation, rather than by command and the rod. So the apostle led the churches; and I do not think we shall be in much danger if we follow in his footsteps. You will take notice, too, that while he praised them, and told them that he boasted of them wherever he went, and gave them the advantage of a good reputation, there was a shrewdness still which he practiced. For he said: “I have sent the messengers before, lest the people of Macedonia should be surprised by finding that you have given nothing. I have not sent back to tell you that I have praised you to them, and that they all expect much of you, and to beseech you to make ready so that I may not be put to shame.” He praises them, and sees to it that praise is so employed that it will inspire them, and necessitate their doing better. Is this unmanly? Is it unfair? If so, the apostle is not worthy of our trust. “Therefore, I thought it necessary to exhort the brethren, that they would go before unto you, and make up beforehand your bounty, whereof ye had notice before, that the same might be ready, as a matter of bounty, and not as of covetousness.” It is as if he had said, “If I found it necessary to impose my apostolic authority upon you, and drag out your contributions under circumstances such that you could not help giving, I should do that: but it would be unpleasant. Therefore, I leave you in a situation in which you can act voluntarily in this thing, and be able to say, ‘We did it ourselves, and that without being coerced,’ so that it may seem to be a matter of bounty.” His words were, “Make up beforehand your bounty, whereof ye had notice before, that the same might be ready, as a matter of bounty, and not of covetousness.” The apostle felt just as I feel. I hate money that is wrung out of people—money that they give because they cannot help it. I feel as though a blight went with collections and contributions that are taken from people almost by compulsion. But money that is given willingly, even if it is not given from the highest motives, if it is given from the love of praise rather than from conscience; if it is given from a consideration of some social or collateral end, rather than from a conception of the glory of God—how much better it is than money that is given grudgingly and meanly! “But this I say, He which soweth sparingly shall reap also sparingly; and he which soweth bountifully shall reap also bountifully. Every man as he purposeth in his heart, so let him give, not grudgingly or of necessity; for God loveth a cheerful giver.” You will observe that the apostle deemed the manner of a moral course to be almost as important as the course itself. With him it was not enough to do a right thing. He wanted to see a right thing beautifully done. It is not enough that ladies are taught to walk. We teach them to walk gracefully. Although clumsy walking would answer the purpose of locomotion, there is something higher to be sought. There is a pleasure of grace. It is not enough that a person speaks intelligibly. We attempt to teach persons to speak with such accomplishment that they shall bring pleasure as well as intelligence to the ear. There are graces of diction. It is not enough that a person writes in such a way as to be understood. There is what is called a “beautiful” or “pleasing” style in writing. Now, as we have learned, in a lower sphere, that things should be done not thoroughly alone, but in such a manner as to touch the feeling of beauty and grace, and carry pleasure as well as profit; so the apostle has taught, in respect to moral actions, not only that we are to do right, but we are to do right cheerfully, beautifully, largely, so that at the same time that the thing itself shall strike those who behold it as an equitable or benevolent thing, the manner of doing it shall also make its impression. Is there not a great deal in that?... I would rather take “No” from some men than “Yes” from others. The difference in men between kindness and unkindness, or between selfishness and benevolence, is not a whit more than between the modes of doing the same things. Of two men that are kind, one is contrasted with the other almost as much as either of them is with a third person who is unkind. I remember an old lady that lived next to my father's house in the West, who never did a kind thing except in an unkind manner. I think she gave more to the poor than our family did; and yet, I think she never gave them anything without scolding them. Children who went to her house, before they left, had their little gift of cake, or what not; but they never got away without feeling that getting away was, on the whole, sweeter than the cake itself! It seemed to be a part of her nature to repay herself by rude speech, or by some troublesome dealing, for the kindness that she meant in her heart. I have known men that were conscientious in such a way that, on the whole, persons were impressed with the feeling, “It is all very well to be conscientious; but I think I do not want to be conscientious. If my conscientiousness is going to affect me as such a person's does him, I think, on the whole, I would rather dispense with it and be agreeable.” There is a way of manifesting right qualities so as to make them more unlovely than wrong ones. We know that the devil has the power of making things that are wrong beautiful. Vice, it is said, is courteous, sweet-voiced, full of hope and cheer. Places of wickedness are made agreeable to every sense. And, on the other hand, we know that much of that which passes for moral principle is as bald and unattractive as it can be made. It seems to have been taken for granted that if a thing is sound at the core, that is the compensation for every disadvantage that it may have. Men often excuse things that are disagreeable by saying, “They are about right at the root.” Now I hold that it is a wicked thing for men to make the reality and beauty of religion seem homelier than the devil makes the hideous vices and crimes in this world, and that we are bound not only to do right, but to do it in such a way that it shall seem lovely as well as right. Do you recollect the expression, “The beauty of holiness?” I have looked at many men in my life, who were stern, and proud, and reliable, and sound in truth, and sturdily good, and have wondered as I looked at them whether the thought ever crossed their mind, “What is the meaning of the beauty of holiness?” and whether it ever occurred to them that God wanted divine qualities among men interpreted so as to make them attractive as well as useful. That which is true in respect to the exhibition of moral traits, is true in respect to the performance of the whole round of Christian duties. We can take up our cross every day and leave the impression that we are more unholy than before we became Christians. I think persons, after becoming Christians, sometimes seem to be more selfish than when they made no profession of religion. There is such a thing as spiritual selfishness. If a person is so wrapped up in religious self-contemplation as to forget those around about him, he is spiritually selfish. At any rate, many persons who leave their evil ways, and attempt to become better men, create the feeling among their associates that they have lost warmth; that they have deteriorated in social elements; that they are not as engaging as they were. “They may be safer,” it is said, “but they have sold their beauty to get grace.” Now, I hold that every man who becomes a Christian is bound to glorify God in his conduct. He is bound to illustrate the beauty of religion. He is bound to let his light so shine that men shall be drawn to holiness of life, and not be repelled from it. He is bound to make the sanctuary where he has invested his heart seem like a paradise to those about him.—Beecher's Lecture Room Talk in Christian Union.