Captain Pott's Minister Part 18

"Don't be silly. You know what I mean. There is something awfully wrong.

I can't help noticing it."

"What makes you think that, Clemmie?"

"What I heard this afternoon.... And, you know, the most of 'em knew me, but none excepting Mrs. Beaver knew where I was staying, and she didn't tell. She come over and set down by me, different from what she used to be, quiet and real refined."

"Eadie Beaver quiet, you say? Well, I cal'late the million is coming, sartin sure."

"Millennium or no millennium, that's the truth. I was kind of 'feared at first that she wasn't real well."

"She'd be a real cur'osity in this here new state of hers," mused the Captain.

"Well, I begun to hear things about him,"--she pointed toward the closed door,--"and Mrs. Beaver was that indignant that she didn't know what to do. From all I heard, it seems the minister has been doing things he has no right to do, fighting and the like. Then, too,"--came in an awed tone,--"he ain't orthodox. He's preaching all sorts of new-fangled ideas that he shouldn't mention in the pulpit, and though you don't know it, Josiah, that is hairsay! That is worse than killing a man, because it sends their souls to h.e.l.l."

"If I was you, Clemmie, I'd wait and judge his preaching for myself. You ain't heard him yet."

Miss Pipkin agreed to the fairness of the Captain's proposition, but she was still troubled.

"Josiah, there's going to be some sort of meeting next Sunday night after the regular service, and there is going to be something done to get Mr. McGowan out of his church. Of course, if he ain't orthodox, I'd hate to see the meeting interfered with, but----"

"Clemmie, I ain't up on this hairsay and orthodox stuff, and I ain't sartin I want to be. It all sounds like mighty dry picking to me. But I've been thinking, and I've decided that whatever them things are they ain't real religion. And I've decided that the Lord ain't been sitting in on them church meetings for quite a spell. I cal'late I'll be on hand next Sunday night with a special invitation for Him to cut the pack for this new deal."

Miss Pipkin looked as though she expected him to be struck dead. But he was not. This fact decided her in favor of being present to witness the thing which the Captain intended to do.

CHAPTER VIII

On Sunday evening the chapel was packed. It was evident that many were there, not for the service, but for what promised to be a sensational after-meeting. Members of the Athletic Club were scattered through the room, and the same dogged determination was on their faces as on the night of the boxing affair.

Mr. McGowan hobbled up the pulpit stair. He announced his text: "Launch out into the deep and let down your nets." Captain Pott felt Elizabeth, who was sitting beside him, stiffen. Miss Pipkin leaned forward in her eagerness to catch every word, and as the minister proceeded her expression changed from perplexity and doubt to one of deep respect.

There were others who followed the thought of the sermon with keen interest. Elder Fox was present, for the first time in weeks.

Occasionally, he would write something on a pad, and then lean back to pull at his silky chops.

Throughout the sermon Mr. McGowan spoke with tense earnestness.

"The time has come when the church must cut the sh.o.r.e lines that have been binding us to the past. If a man persists in dragging the sh.o.r.e line he may get a few good fish, but that does not set aside the fact that he is either a poor fisherman or a coward. He must know the habits of the fish, and go where they are.... The same thing may be said of the church. We may produce a few fair Christians by dragging sh.o.r.e lines of church doctrine, but our success will be due more to luck than to a knowledge of the working of G.o.d's laws.... We have been long-sh.o.r.e Christians for a good many centuries; the day has come for us to break away from the surf of man-made ideas, and launch out till we can feel the swell of a boundless love, a love not confined to the letter of denominational law or creed. We must get into us the spirit of Christianity. We must recognize the fact that the spirit is not a thing that we can confine to sand-lined beaches of narrow conceptions of faith and salvation that now exist in our churches....

"Here in Little River we have been an excellent example of what I mean.

We have been admiring ourselves,--and not without just cause,--while the world we ought to be serving is forced to take its stand on the outside, ofttimes with ideals greater than our own.... We have subst.i.tuted doctrine for Christianity, the letter of the law for the spirit of freedom. We have slavishly wors.h.i.+pped our beliefs about G.o.d, instead of wors.h.i.+pping G.o.d.... And what is the result? We have shut our doors to many who hold a greater faith than our own; or we have forced them out with no faith because of our own selfish religious intoxication. Of this very thing, this church has been guilty....

"We must admit blame for many conditions that exist in our town. Let us purge ourselves before we seek to cleanse others. Let us first launch out before we call to others to follow. Let us learn the laws by which G.o.d works, and then shall we have no trouble to fill our nets."

After Mr. McGowan had finished, he stood looking out over his congregation. The Captain whispered to Elizabeth, "Ain't he the finest-looking specimen of human natur' you ever see, six foot of him standing up there reading the riot act to 'em! And I got all he said, too. I cal'late there's some here to-night that feel like they'd been overhauled and set adrift."

Without announcing the usual closing hymn, Mr. McGowan very quietly p.r.o.nounced the benediction, and left the church by the rear door.

The only move that followed his leaving was made by the members of the Athletic Club. They filed out one by one, but reconvened beneath the window where the Captain sat inside. Captain Pott was plainly nervous when Mr. Fox rose and went forward. He opened the window slightly as though in need of fresh air.

The Elder clapped loudly for order, and the boys beneath the Captain's window joined in so heartily that the Elder was forced to shout for order.

"This meeting has been called for the members of this church, _only_!"

he shouted. "Will those who are not members in regular standing adjourn to the rooms below to complete their visiting?"

Few heard, none obeyed. Instead, all began to take seats as near the front as possible. Mr. Fox grew red in the face, and dark of countenance. But he preserved his dignity.

"Must I repeat that this meeting has been called for the members of the church. Will the others kindly leave us to ourselves?"

It became evident that there was no intention on the part of any to leave the room, and so the Elder called the mixed crowd to order.

The first half-hour proved so tame that some who had remained to see trouble, got up and went home. At last Mr. Beaver rose, and the audience caught its breath. He poised himself on one foot, and began to pump, blink, whistle, and finally to stutter.

"M-M-Mr. Ch-ch-ch-chairman!" he called in a high excited voice.

Elder Fox declared that Mr. Beaver had the floor, and Mr. Beaver proceeded to take it, at least a good part of the section round which he was hopping. People moved back and gave him room, for he needed plenty of s.p.a.ce in which to make himself understood.

"The p-p-parish c-committee h-h-has d-decided that M-Mr. McGowan is not the m-m-man for our ch-ch-church. Elder F-F-Fox has the report of the c-c-committee. I m-m-move we h-h-h-hear him now!"

Mr. Fox mounted the platform and came forward to the edge. He looked into the faces of those before him with deep sadness in his own.

"Friends, this is one of the saddest moments of my life," he began, his voice shaking with feeling. "Some--er--have come to love our young brother who has been called to our church. And he has many very estimable qualities. For that reason I feel very keenly what I am about to say. The committee feels that Mr. McGowan holds ideas that are too far advanced for our humble little church. We must not overlook the fact that we hold sacred some of the things to which he flippantly referred to-night, and it is our duty to protect--er--the sacred doctrines which have been handed down to us from the more sacred memory of our fathers and martyrs of the past.

"Our minister does not believe in the divine inspiration of the Bible.

The question was put to him by one of the members of this committee, and he replied--er--that even if every jot and t.i.ttle were personally dictated by G.o.d--which he doubted--the Bible would remain a sealed book unless it inspired those who read it. It is evident from this answer that he does not believe in--er--our sacred doctrine of the verbal inspiration of Scripture.

"You have heard him to-night, asking us--er--in the common slang of the dock to rid ourselves of all these doctrines on which the church has been founded. What he said proves that he does not believe in the fundamentals of Christian faith.

"I need not go back of this sermon so fresh in our minds to prove to your intelligence that Mr. McGowan is not orthodox. I could call to your attention many unfortunate statements, but I feel that it is not necessary. Your committee has gone over every detail--er--prayerfully and thoughtfully. Truly, it gives me a pain----"

"Get a bottle of Watkins' Relief!" piped a shrill voice through the partially opened window.

Taken by surprise, and with his mouth open, the Elder lost every expression of dignity as he gazed in the direction whence the advice had come. Before he could again gather up the threads of his closing remarks several men were demanding the floor. The Elder scanned the faces of all, in order to place friend and foe. He then fixed his glance on some one at the rear of the room. In answer to the Elder's nod a heavy ba.s.so pealed forth.

Every head turned about, and as the buzz of comment broke from the astonished crowd the Elder rapped for order. The Reverend Mr. Means of New York City moved ponderously forward.

The faces of the sympathetic ones in the audience became exceedingly serious as each looked into the face of the city clergyman. Certainly, this meeting must be of tremendous importance to lead so great a man to leave his metropolitan pulpit to attend a gathering in so small a church.

"We must have better order!" cried Mr. Fox, smiling a welcome to the visiting minister. "We have the unexpected pleasure of a visit from--er--our much-loved friend and brother. Shall we dispense with the business of the hour and hear what the Reverend Mr. Means may have on his heart?"

Mr. Means took his position near the moderator. With a long sympathetic look he searched the invisible among the shadows of the ceiling. He was calm, too calm, thought the Captain. He drew his frock coat about him, and plunged the fingers of his right hand in between the two b.u.t.tons over his heart. That att.i.tude, as of one weary with the struggles of men and yet tolerant because of long-suffering kindness, had an immediate effect on part of the audience. From somewhere near the center of the room applause started, and soon swelled to a moderate ovation. He acknowledged the respect shown him by bringing his eyes down to the level of his audience.

"Brethren,"--his voice trembled as he began to speak,--"I have no special message for you to-night; my heart is too sore from the things I have just seen and heard. I have been in the rear of this room during your entire service. I have listened to the unfortunate sermon which your bright young minister was so unwise as to preach. I do not marvel that you are like a flock of sheep having no shepherd; that sermon was enough to confuse even me, and I have been in the ministry a great many years. I feel I must say something, but I earnestly pray that it may not influence you in this matter which is yours to decide. I do not intend to even suggest what action you ought to take on the report of your parish committee. You must remember that what you do to-night may affect the future of our young brother, and you must not wreck that future. Mr.

McGowan and I do not agree on matters of theology, but that fact does not prevent me from admiring some of his fine qualities to which your senior Elder referred to-night. Time may cool the ardor of his youth into sane and safe ideas.

"But,"--he lifted his hands toward heaven and his voice toward the people,--"what your parish committee chairman has told you in his report is true, only too true. We cannot afford to permit our churches to suffer from such teachings as those given you to-night, and I dare say, which have been given you many times past. Brethren, as great as is our love for this young minister, it is as nothing in comparison with the devotion that should be ours where the doctrines of our church are concerned. I opposed the ordination of Mr. McGowan in the New York Presbytery a year ago on the ground that he was not sound in doctrine, but when my brethren pa.s.sed him over my protest I acquiesced as a Christian must always do when the voice of the majority speaks. But I must say that I greatly deplored the action taken at that time. Not that I hold any personal feelings against the young man, but because I am opposed to unorthodox men being called to our pulpits.

"Now, brethren, I should gladly waive all this," he continued, dropping his voice to a soothing whisper, "but theological differences are not all that stand between the young man and a faithful church. You've heard him suggest that the church which should be the house of G.o.d, and which Scripture calls the house of prayer, be turned into a playhouse for the community. I cannot imagine any man with a pa.s.sion to save souls holding to an idea that he can accomplish this by desecrating the place of Divine Wors.h.i.+p by turning it into a gymnasium. The only explanation possible is that Mr. McGowan has not been reared under the influences of our best families. Not that this is anything against his character, but fact is fact."