PUNCT-UALITY by Emma H. Adams

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Nov 11, 1897

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 23, No. 44.

PUNCT-UALITY.

By Emma H. Adams

LET us take a look at the five-syllabled word. Its root is the old Roman or Latin word, punctum, derived from which we have in our language about forty different words.

The term signified a point, and stood, as the case might be, for a point in time, in labor, in duty, in argument, in ceremony, in diplomacy, in a journey, and for other things too numerous to mention.

In our tongue, however, most of its derivatives have reference to doing things promptly, or to doing them nicely. In this latter sense, especially, we use the word punctillio and some others.

The first syllable has a dangerous look, and suggests a sharp-pointed instrument, as a spear, lance, javelin, or stiletto, and also the manner in which they are used. The first thing one does in using any of these implements, is to take aim at a certain spot, place, or object. The next step is to throw the weapon and hit the spot, place, or object.

In some degrees this illustrates how persons do who strive to be punctual. They appoint a day, hour, or point of time when they will do a certain thing. Before the time arrives they take aim at it—that is, they arrange to do the deed. And when the time arrives, they do it, and thus puncture the time.

Every effort at punctuality involves two steps—taking aim, and doing. The first step may be taken without the second, but never the second without the first; for one must aim to do a thing punctually before he can so do it.

In our day society is so organized that a vast proportion of the work we do is done in union with some other person, and very often in union with several, or with many other persons. And so in our day there is to be done—by every one who has a mind to labor at all—so great an amount of work that the time we take in our doing has become a momentous, yes, a tremendous consideration.

No individual who is engaged in any right work has half the time he wants. Before the most diligent of workers little mountains of labor pile up daily, and it has come to pass that on all sides come to our ears the fervent, heartfelt cries: "O, that I had more time!" "Would

that the working hours were twice as many."

These two important facts, then—that of laborers being united with others in so much of their work, and that of the immense amount of work to be done, should impel all persons who make proper engagements, to meet them punctually, on time, at the moment.

But there is a still more serious view of this matter, which justly claims our attention.

In a very solemn sense, every man's time is his own. That is to say, the Creator has given to every man his lifetime for two ends,—to work out his own salvation, and to do whatever work beside his Creator requires of him.

Not a moment of one man's time is the rightful possession of any other man. For this reason, then, the taking from any man unnecessarily, any part of his time, however small, is theft of a most serious sort. It is plundering from him that which neither the robber nor his victim can replace.

Purloin a man's money, and all around him are Klondykes, of one kind or another, in which he may dig for more. Steal a man's breakfast, and on every hand lies food. But a man's time is measured off, and not all the worlds in the universe can extend it one moment.

What then?—Simply this. The man who, under any circumstances, consumes—carelessly, unnecessarily, unprofitably—ten, twenty, thirty minutes of another man's time, commits both a crime and a sin.

There is no denying that this sort of unintentional thieving goes on everywhere daily to an enormous extent. It is practised in two ways especially—by failing to keep engagements promptly, and by dropping in upon other people solely to discuss the affairs of usually mutual friends and acquaintances, affairs with which, often, the droppers-in really have nothing to do, and can not, by talking, make either better or worse.

It is noticeable that this variety of robbery is practised most liberally by three classes of persons: Those who have not sufficient pressing work of their own to do, those who lack resources within themselves, and those who fail to realize that, possibly, they may have to account for their own and a part of their neighbor's time.

But if it be wrong to rob one person of a small amount of time, what shall we say of him who takes a few moments on every single occasion from twenty, fifty, or a hundred persons, by failing to be punctual? And what shall we say if this culpable course be his habit?

Suppose a Sabbath-school teacher keeps his class of ten waiting two minutes some morning. What has he done?—Only this: He has taken from his pupils, as a class, twenty minutes, which he can never restore. Suppose he should decide to teach two minutes past the time, to make it up. Does he thus make it up? We are sorry for him. So doing, he steals just forty minutes of their time.

And what shall we say of the leader of a meeting, behind time because he suffers some one to detain him needlessly? of a business man, tardy in a midday engagement, because it has slipped his mind that his fellow-citizen regulates his watch by the time ball, which drops on its tall staff just at twelve o'clock? and of the great multitude of people, always behind time because their sense of right is not so keen as it should be?

But you will ask, "What is one to do when prevented unexpectedly or unavoidably from being punctual?—Usually, when the unexpected happens, one may excuse himself and meet his duty, and the instances are rare, we think, in which one is really unavoidably detained from keeping an engagement punctually. A genuine, resolute, downright effort to be on time will bring one to the spot, almost surely, just at, if not a little before, the moment.

One grand result of the habit of being punctual is its effect upon one's own character. Such a person becomes distinguished for reliability, and would rather forego any pleasure than fail.

Not long ago, in this southern city, a woman, active in missionary work, made an engagement to meet a young lady at the public library, at a certain hour. Promptly at the time she drove up to the building, and asked a friend in the carriage to notify the young woman that she was waiting.

"But suppose she is not here," suggested the friend.

"I should as soon think of finding the public library not here. That young woman always keeps her appointments," was the answer. It is needless to say that the young woman was there.

But there is a second and far more momentous result arising from a habit of punctuality or of unpunctuality, and that is its effect upon heredity. A habit of punctuality becomes an element in character. It influences immensely one's thinking, feeling, and doing.

Parents transmit traits of character to their children as they do features, form, intellect, a taste for music, or a fondness for art, a bias toward religion, or a tendency to crime. An inclination to steal may be sent down from generation to generation. So may a disposition to utter falsehoods. Indeed, being punctual is one way of being truthful, one way of being honest.

This consideration alone should lead parents to be extremely conscientious in cultivating the habit of punctuality in themselves.

Finally, a third reason for being punctual is one which appeals to the Christian particularly, and that is the example God sets us in reference to the principle. The Scriptures are full of events illustrating God's unswerving promptness in fulfilling his word. With the "fulness of time" comes always his moment for doing.

Our Lord entered upon his ministry proclaiming, "The time is fulfilled." His birth, his baptism, his death, resurrection, and ascension, all, occurred exactly at the time appointed before the foundation of the world. We can not imagine one of these events to have taken place a moment after it was due.

But God has other agency than his Word for proclaiming the pleasure he takes in punctuality. He has set the stars to telling that story.

Look at the vast system of worlds which speeds around our sun for a center. Can you imagine one of them returning to its starting-point an hour behind its appointed time? ten minutes behind that time? ten seconds? Can you imagine one of them as falling to gossiping on its way, with some brother planet, and forgetting to reach home on the instant?

How little does it matter whether one of the brilliant orbs of our system accomplishes its journey around the sun in 365 days, as does our Earth; or in 29 1/2 years, the time in which Saturn makes its revolution; or in 165 years, Neptune's period for completing its circuit, since all come to the point in which God, in the beginning, sent them forth—at the instant.

To meditate upon these stupendous facts is to be overwhelmed with a sense of the value God attaches to punctuality.

If then, the practise—as illustrated by the stars which gem the sky—affords him delight, must not God greatly desire it in the sons and daughters whom he purposes to make kings and priests—helpers—unto himself and Christ?

EMMA H. ADAMS.