"Maybe that is so. I have not
thought of people so much as of the work which needed to be done. I have
tried to do as my Master would have me. But I have lacked wisdom, or
tact, or something."
"No, it is not that. Do you want to know what I think?" His wife fondly
stroked the hair back from his forehead, as she sat on the couch by him.
"Yes, little woman, tell me." To his eyes his wife never seemed so
beautiful or dear as now. He knew that they were one in this their hour
of trouble.
"Well, I have learned to believe since you came to Milton that if Jesus
Christ were to live on the earth in this century and become the pastor
of almost any large and wealthy and influential church and preach as He
would have to, the church would treat Him just as Calvary Church has
treated you. The world would crucify Jesus Christ again even after two
thousand years of historical Christianity."
Philip did not speak. He looked out again toward the tenements. The
winter day was drawing to its close. The church spire still stood out
sharp cut against the sky. Finally he turned to his wife, and almost
with a groan he uttered the words: "Sarah, I do not to like to believe
it. The world is full of the love of Christ. It is not the same world as
Calvary saw."
"No. But by what test are nominal Christians and church-members tried
to-day? Is not the church in America and England a church in which the
scribes and pharisees, hypocrites, are just as certainly found as they
were in the old Jewish church? And would not that element crucify Christ
again if He spoke as plainly now as then?"
Again Philip looked out of the window. His whole nature was shaken to
its foundation. Repeatedly he drove back the thought of the church's
possible action in the face of the Christ of this century. As often it
returned and his soul cried out in anguish at the suggestion of the
truth. Even with the letter of Calvary Church before him he was slow to
believe that the Church as a whole or in a majority of cases would
reject the Master.
"I have made mistakes. I have been lacking in tact. I have needlessly
offended the people," he said to his wife, yielding almost for the first
time to a great fear and distrust of himself. For the letter asking his
resignation had shaken him as once he thought impossible. "I have tried
to preach and act as Christ would, but I have failed to interpret him
aright. Is it not so, Sarah?"
His wife was reluctant to speak. But her
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