There was once a cricket on the loose in my former church. WhA bomb exploded in our nation some years ago. In mid-America, of all places. The fuse was lit first in the mind of Karl Menninger, but its effect was not felt until his pen detonated the blasting cap. Suddenly—without prior warning—BOOM! His book “Whatever Became of Sin” stunned and shocked his colleagues.en things were quiet and still, his wings sang at top volume . . . like at weddings. And funerals. And during long prayers. And very early on Sunday morning before the place started jumpin’ with cars and microphones and organ preludes.

Wisely labeled “the saving virtue,” tact graces life like fragrance graces a rose. One whiff erases any memory of the thorns. It’s remarkable how peaceful and pleasant tact can make us. Its major goal is avoiding unnecessary offense, and that alone ought to make us crave it. Its basic function is a keen sense of what to say or do in order to maintain the truth and good relationships, and that alone ought to make us cultivate it. Tact is incessantly appropriate, invariably attractive, incurably appealing, but rare . . . oh, is it rare!

Just last week a waiter informed me that the place where he works has the toughest time getting a full crew to wait tables on Sunday. “We’d all rather work late Friday and Saturday nights week after week than work Sunday afternoons,” he said.

I remember returning from our nation’s capital where I was privileged to spend time with many of the highest ranking officers in the military. If you have ever wondered if there is anyone in the upper echelon of the military who loves Christ, wonder no longer. Many of these men and women are magnificent models of strong Christian commitment who frequently put their faith on the line.

If you’re like I am, life is too busy to add some unrealistic, humongous, impossible-to-achieve-anyway program. Instead, let’s deal with the problem in a straightforward and simplified manner. First, admit to yourself that you could stand a change here and there. Try to be specific enough to pinpoint a couple of particular areas that keep bugging you. Don’t bite off too much, just one or two trouble spots you plan to deal with first.

Doing all things “decently and in order” applies to a lot more areas than theology. It’s remarkable how many guys who have the ability to articulate the most exacting details and nuances of their area of expertise never get their desks cleared off or their workrooms organized. They’re brainy enough to rebuild some complex engine, but the trash under the kitchen sink can overflow until it’s ankle deep, and they aren’t even aware of it. Isn’t it amazing how many men have quiz-kid heads and pigpen habits?

The heart of the term “cordial” is the word “heart.” And the heart of “heart” is kardia, a Greek term that most often refers to the center of our inner life—the source or seat of all the forces and functions of our inner being. So when we are cordial, we are acting on something that comes from and affects the very center of life itself. Maybe that’s why Webster defines “cordial” as “of or relating to the heart; vital, tending to revive, cheer or invigorate, heartfelt, gracious.”

I just looked up the definition of “thorough” in my dictionary. Mr. Webster says it means “carried through to completion, careful about detail, complete in all respects.” Somehow, I find that a convicting definition. Few indeed are those who finish what they start—and even fewer do a complete job of it when they do finish a task.