Part 13 (2/2)
”Do you think the church is ready to tell Mr. Strong that his services are not wanted any longer?” asked Mr. Winter coldly.
”I am, for one of the members, and I know others who feel as I do if matters go on in this way much longer. I tell you, Brother Winter, Calvary Church is very near a crisis. Look at the Goldens and the Malverns and the Albergs. They are all leaving us; and the plain reason is the nature of the preaching. Why, you know yourself, Brother Winter, that never has the pulpit of Calvary Church heard such preaching on people's private affairs.”
Mr. Winter colored and replied angrily, ”What has that to do with this present matter? If the minister wants to live in a simpler style I don't see what business we have to try to stop it. As to the disposition of the parsonage, that is a matter of business which rests with the church to arrange.”
The nervous, irritable little man who had spoken oftenest rose to his feet and exclaimed, ”You can count me out of all this, then! I wash my hands of the whole affair!” and he went out of the room, leaving the rest of the Board somewhat surprised at his sudden departure.
They remained about a quarter of an hour longer, discussing the matter, and finally, at Mr. Winter's suggestion, a committee was appointed to go and see the minister the next evening and see if he could not be persuaded to modify or change his proposition made in the morning sermon. The rest of the trustees insisted that Mr. Winter himself should act as chairman of the committee, and after some remonstrance he finally, with great reluctance, agreed to do so.
So Philip next evening, as he sat in his study mapping out the week's work and wondering a little what the church would do in the face of his proposal, received the committee, welcoming them in his bright, hearty manner. He had been notified on Sunday evening of the approaching conference. The committee consisted of Mr. Winter and two other members of the Board.
Mr. Winter opened the conversation with considerable embarra.s.sment and an evident reluctance for his share in the matter.
”Mr. Strong, we have come, as you are aware, to talk over your proposition of yesterday morning concerning the parsonage. It was a great surprise to us all.”
Philip smiled a little. ”Mrs. Strong says I act too much on impulse, and do not prepare people enough for my statements. But one of the greatest men I ever knew used to say that an impulse was a good thing to obey instantly if there was no doubt of its being a right one.”
”And do you consider this proposed move of yours a right one, Mr.
Strong?” asked Mr. Winter.
”I do,” replied Philip, with quiet emphasis. ”I do not regret making it, and I believe it is my duty to abide by my original decision.”
”Do you mean that you intend actually to move out of this parsonage?”
asked one of the other members of the committee.
”Yes.” Philip said it so quietly and yet so decidedly that the men were silent a moment. Then Mr. Winter said:
”Mr. Strong, this matter is likely to cause trouble in the church, and we might as well understand it frankly. The trustees believe that as the parsonage belongs to the church property, and was built for the minister, he ought to live in it. The church will not understand your desire to move out.”
”Do you understand it, Mr. Winter?” Philip put the question point blank.
”No, I don't know that I do, wholly.” Mr. Winter colored and replied in a hesitating manner.
”I gave my reasons yesterday morning. I do not know that I can make them plainer. The truth is I cannot go on preaching to my people about living on a simpler basis while I continue to live in surroundings that on the face of them contradict my own convictions. In other words, I am living beyond my necessities here. I have lived all my life surrounded by the luxuries of civilization. If now I desire to give these benefits to those who have never enjoyed them, or to know from nearer contact something of the bitter struggle of the poor, why should I be hindered from putting that desire into practical form?”
”The question is, Mr. Strong,” said one of the other trustees, ”whether this is the best way to get at it. We do not question your sincerity nor doubt your honesty; but will your leaving the parsonage and living in a less expensive house on half your present salary help your church work or reach more people and save more souls?”
”I am glad you put it that way,” exclaimed Philip, eagerly turning to the speaker. ”That is just it. Will my proposed move result in bringing the church and the minister into closer and more vital relations with the people most in need of spiritual and physical uplifting? Out of the depths of my nature I believe it will. The chasm between the Church and the people in these days must be bridged by the spirit of sacrifice in material things. It is in vain for us to preach spiritual truths unless we live physical truths. What the world is looking for to-day is object lessons in self-denial on the part of Christian people.”
For a moment no one spoke. Then Mr. Winter said:
”About your proposal that this house be turned into a refuge or home for homeless children, Mr. Strong, do you consider that idea practicable? Is it business? Is it possible?”
”I believe it is, very decidedly. The number of homeless and vagrant children at present in Milton would astonish you. This house could be put into beautiful shape as a detention house until homes could be found for the children in Christian families.”
”It would take a great deal of money to manage it.”
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