confirmation addresses he had been clear
that his task, or at least a considerable portion of his task, was
to tell of this faith in God and of this conception of service in his
kingdom as the form and rule of human life and human society. But up to
now he had been floundering hopelessly in his search for a method and
means of telling. That, he saw, still needed to be thought out. For
example, one cannot run through the world crying, "The Kingdom of God
is at hand." Men's minds were still so filled with old theological ideas
that for the most part they would understand by that only a fantasy of
some great coming of angels and fiery chariots and judgments, and hardly
a soul but would doubt one's sanity and turn scornfully away. But one
must proclaim God not to confuse but to convince men's minds. It was
that and the habit of his priestly calling that had disposed him towards
a pulpit. There he could reason and explain. The decorative genius
of Lady Sunderbund had turned that intention into a vast iridescent
absurdity.

This sense he had of thinking openly in the sight of God, enabled him to
see the adventure of Lady Sunderbund without illusion and without shame.
He saw himself at once honest and disingenuous, divided between two
aims. He had no doubt now of the path he had to pursue. A stronger man
of permanently clear aims might possibly turn Lady Sunderbund into a
useful opportunity, oblige her to provide the rostrum he needed; but for
himself, he knew he had neither the needed strength nor clearness;
she would smother him in decoration, overcome him by her picturesque
persistence. It might be ridiculous to run away from her, but it was
necessary. And he was equally clear now that for him there must be
no idea of any pulpit, of any sustained mission. He was a man of
intellectual moods; only at times, he realized, had he the inspiration
of truth; upon such uncertain snatches and glimpses he must live; to
make his life a ministry would be to face phases when he would simply be
"carrying on," with his mind blank and his faith asleep.

His thought spread out from this perennial decision to more general
things again. Had God any need of organized priests at all? Wasn't that
just what had been the matter with religion for the last three thousand
years?

His vision and his sense of access to God had given a new courage to
his mind; in these moods of enlightenment he could see the world as a
comprehensible ball, he could s