CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 2
The man lay on the couch in the pastor’s study and breathed heavily. When the question of what to do with him came up, the minister insisted on taking charge of the man, and with the entrance of that humanity into the minister’s spare room, a new chapter in Henry Maxwell’s life began.
The third day after the stranger entered the minister’s house, there was a marked change in his condition. But Sunday morning, just before the clock struck one, he rallied and spoke with great difficulty. “You have been good to me. Somehow I feel as if it was what Jesus would do.”
After a few minutes he turned his head slightly, and before Mr. Maxwell could realize the fact, the doctor said quietly, “He is gone.”
That Sunday morning Mr. Maxwell entered his pulpit to face one of the largest congregations that had ever crowded the First Church. He was haggard and looked as if he had just risen from a long illness. His sermon this morning was neither striking nor impressive. He talked with considerable hesitation. It was evident that some great idea struggled in his thought for utterance, but it was not expressed in the theme he had chosen. Near the close of his sermon, he gathered a certain strength that had been painfully lacking at the beginning.
He closed the Bible, stepped to the side of the pulpit, and faced his people.
“Our brother passed away this morning. I have not yet had time to learn all his history. He had one sister living in Chicago. I have written her and have not yet received an answer.”
He paused and looked over the house. He had never seen so many earnest faces during his entire pastorate. He was not able yet to tell his people his experiences, the crisis through which he was even now moving. But he didn’t feel it was careless impulse that caused him to tell them something of the message he bore in his heart.
So he went on. “The stranger’s appearance and words in church last Sunday made a very powerful impression on me. I am not able to conceal from you or myself the fact that what he said has compelled me to ask as I never asked before, ‘What does following Jesus mean?’ A good deal that was said here last Sunday was in the nature of a challenge to Christianity as it is seen and felt in our churches. And I do not know that any time is more appropriate than the present for me to propose a plan which has been forming in my mind as a satisfactory reply.”
Again Henry Maxwell paused and looked into the faces of his people. There were some strong, earnest men and women in the First Church.
He saw Edward Norman, editor of the Raymond Daily News, who had been a member of the First Church for ten years. Alexander Powers was superintendent of the great railroad shops in Raymond. There sat Donald Marsh, president of Lincoln College, located in the suburbs of Raymond. Milton Wright, one of the great merchants of Raymond, had in his employ at least one hundred men in various shops. Dr. West, still comparatively young, was quoted as authority in special surgical cases. Young Jasper Chase, the author, had written one successful book and was said to be at work on a new novel. Miss Virginia Page had inherited at least a million dollars through the recent death of her father. And not least of all, Rachel Winslow, from her seat in the choir, glowed with her peculiar beauty of light.
“What I am going to propose now is something which ought not to appear unusual or at all impossible of execution. I want volunteers from the First Church who will pledge themselves, earnestly and honestly for an entire year, not to do anything without first asking the question, ‘What would Jesus do?’
“At the close of the service, all those members who are willing to join such a group may stay, and we will talk over the details of the plan. I will of course include myself in this company of volunteers. Our aim will be to act just as He would if He were in our places, regardless of immediate results. In other words, we propose to follow Jesus’ steps as closely and as literally as we believe He taught His disciples to do.”
The people glanced at one another in astonishment. It was not like Henry Maxwell to define Christian discipleship in this way. His proposition was understood well enough, but there was a great difference of opinion as to the application of Jesus’ teaching and example.
Mr. Maxwell calmly closed the service with a brief prayer, and the organist began his postlude immediately after the benediction. After several minutes the minister asked all who expected to remain to pass into the lecture room that joined the large room on the side. He was himself detained at the front of the church, and when he finally walked over to the lecture room entrance and went in, he was amazed to see the people who were there. He had hardly expected that so many were ready to enter into such a literal testing of their Christian discipleship. There were perhaps fifty present, among them Rachel Winslow and Virginia Page, Mr. Norman, President Marsh, Alexander Powers, Milton Wright, Dr. West, and Jasper Chase.
He closed the door of the lecture room and went and stood before the little group, his face pale and his lips trembling with genuine emotion. Henry Maxwell was conscious of a great upheaval in his definition of Christian discipleship, and he was moved with a depth of feeling he could not measure.
He asked them all to pray with him. And almost with the first syllable he uttered, there was a distinct presence of the Spirit felt by them all. The room filled with it as plainly as if it had been visible. When the prayer closed there was a silence that lasted several moments. All the heads were bowed. Henry Maxwell’s face was wet with tears. He spoke very quietly. “The experience I have been through since last Sunday has left me so dissatisfied with my previous definition of Christian discipleship that I am compelled to take this action. I did not dare begin it alone. Do we understand fully what we have undertaken?”
“I want to ask a question,” said Rachel Winslow. Her face glowed with a beauty that no physical loveliness could ever create. “I am a little in doubt as to the source of our knowledge concerning what Jesus would do. Who is to decide for me just what He would do in my case? There are many perplexing questions in our civilization that are not mentioned in the teachings of Jesus. How am I going to tell what He would do?”
“There is no way that I know of,” replied the pastor, “except as we study Jesus through the medium of the Holy Spirit. You remember what Christ said speaking to His disciples about the Holy Spirit in John 16:13: ‘Howbeit when he, the Spirit of truth, is come, he will guide you into all truth.’ There is no other test that I know of. We shall all have to decide what Jesus would do after going to that source of knowledge.”
“What if others say of us, when we do certain things, that Jesus would not do so?” asked the superintendent of railroads.
“We cannot prevent that. But we must be absolutely honest with ourselves. The standard of Christian action cannot vary in most of our acts. When it comes to a genuine, honest, enlightened following of Jesus’ steps, I cannot believe there will be any confusion either in our own minds or in the judgment of others. But we need to remember this great fact. After we have asked the Spirit to tell us what Jesus would do and have received an answer to it, we are to act regardless of the results to ourselves. Is that understood?”
All the faces in the room were raised toward the minister in solemn assent.
They agreed to report to one another every week the result of their experiences in following Jesus this way. Henry Maxwell prayed again, and the Spirit’s presence was again evident. Every head remained bowed a long time. They went away finally in silence.