Living the Radiant Life: A Personal Narrative

by George Wharton James

CHAPTER XVIII

RADIANCIES OF SERVICE

I want to radiate by thought, word, and act the joy and blessedness of service. What a privilege it is to be able to do something for your fellows! How great and constant is the joy of ministering! How ready we are to run with willing feet to do some little or big thing for those we love! The lover will climb dangerous Alpine heights to get the rare and richly treasured edelweiss for his beloved. Leander gladly and joyously braved the dangers of the Hellespont that he might cheer and encourage his Hero. The lover has always cried, in all ages, to his loved one, asking her to send him on some difficult errand. He would gladly go anywhere, to any service, however arduous and dangerous, to prove his love. The records of chivalry are full of daring deeds accomplished by men in order to please the women they loved.

Against this kind of service I have nothing to say. At the same time, this is not the kind of service of which I now write. I would radiate the thought that in our service we should treat all men and women with the same willing gladness of ministry that the lover has for the mistress of his heart. I desire to be ready and willing to fly on the wings of helpfulness to do service for the meanest and most despicable of human kind, if thereby he, or she, may be benefited. I would radiate the belief that our willing service belongs to humanity, all men, all women, not to a select few, not to the small and chosen circle whom we call our loved ones and friends. I would radiate the spirit of service that possessed and animated the strong, pure soul of William Morris, that led him to place his precious time and service at the disposal of a committee of men, not one of whom knew enough to appreciate his exquisite and beautiful devotion, and under whose control he was ready to go and speak words of cheer, fellowship, and brotherhood in the lowest and most degraded parts of London. He was imbued with this passion for service and it was service to the whole of mankind—not the chosen few.

I once picked up some socialistic newspaper with which I was not familiar, but in it was an account of the life of a man who had recently died. According to the story of his biographer, this man was carried away with this passion for human service to the lowest and most degraded, and he had spent his active and busy life in ministering to those who, as a rule, are ignored by their more fortunate brothers and sisters. It was a story that thrilled me to a higher and nobler endeavor.

Many a time I have bowed my soul in reverence and humility before a group of Salvation Army lasses who, with sweet, gentle ministrations, have cheered the dwellers in the wretched hovels of London, New York, and other cities. I know one maiden, delicately constituted, and reared in a home full of wealth and luxury, who felt this passionate call of service so strongly, that, in spite of the protests of her relatives and friends, she went to London, united with the Salvation Army, and with her own beautiful and gentle hands, down upon her knees, has scrubbed into cleanliness the floor of a drunken wife and drunken husband whose children had never known a clean floor in the whole of their dirty and wretched lives. I have helped her clean out the accumulated filth, of what seemed to be months, in similar wretched places, and all this, as well as the more refined ministrations of the mind and soul, were offered with a sweet and gentle insistence that no one could take offense at, and without an air of conscious self-approbation that one so often finds in those who are seeking to minister to others.

But it is not only in this larger and devoted sense that I would radiate my desire to serve and minister to my fellows. It is in the small and every-day things of life, no matter what my work or surroundings may be, that I would radiate this ministering spirit. What a pleasure it is to do things for others. What a joy to realize that your friends love you enough to want you to do something for them.

I find, however, that in the mind of many is the idea that certain service is menial, and that they would not serve if they were not obliged to do so for the money it brings. I have a deep and profound pity in my soul for those who look upon life with this perverted vision. If I were a waiter in a cheap restaurant, it seems to me it would be my joy to serve the cheap meals as quickly and as cheerfully as I possibly could. Surely ministering to the bodily wants of men and women is a service which ought to be blessed. If I were a housemaid I feel that I should find joy in making and keeping everything as orderly and tidy as possible.

I have several times stayed in a semi-public institution where a great number of nurses were employed, and I have watched both men and women engaged in this beautiful service. In this particular place they all seemed full of this passion for service. There was no impatience at the often exacting calls and demands of the querulous and unreasonable invalids. Their very lives were a dedication.