The Crucifixion of Philip Strong. Charles M. Sheldon
Mr. Winter replied, after a pause, during which he controlled himself by a great effort:
"I consider that you purposely selected me as guilty of conduct unworthy a church-member and a Christian, and made me the target of your remarks yesterday. And I wish to say that such preaching will never do in Calvary Church while I am one of its members."
"Of course you refer to the matter of renting your property to saloon men and to halls for gambling and other evil uses," said Philip, bluntly. "Are you the only member of Calvary Church who lets his property for such purposes?"
"It is not a preacher's business to pry into the affairs of his church-members!" replied Mr. Winter, growing more excited again. "That is what I object to."
"In the first place, Mr. Winter," said Philip, steadily, "let us settle the right and wrongs of the whole business. Is it right for a Christian man, a church-member, to rent his property for saloons and vicious resorts, where human life is ruined?"
"That is not the question."
"What is?" Philip asked, with his eyes wide open to the other's face.
Mr. Winter answered sullenly: "The question is whether our business affairs, those of other men with me, are to be dragged into the Sunday church-services, and made the occasion of personal attacks upon us. I for one will not sit and listen to any such preaching."
"But aside from the matter of private business, Mr. Winter, let us settle whether what you and others are doing is right. Will you let the other matter rest a moment, and tell me what is the duty of a Christian in the use of his property?"
"It is my property, and if I or my agent choose to rent it to another man in a legal, business way, that is my affair. I do not recognize that you have anything to do with it."
"Not if I am convinced that you are doing what is harmful to the community and to the church?"
"You have no business to meddle in our private affairs!" replied Mr.
Winter, angrily. "And if you intend to pursue that method of preaching,
I shall withdraw my support, and most of the influential, paying members
will follow my example."
It was a cowardly threat on the part of the excited mill-owner, and it roused Philip more than if he had been physically slapped in the face. If there was anything in all the world that stirred Philip to his oceanic depths of feeling, it was an intimation that he was in the ministry for pay or the salary, and so must be afraid of losing the support of those members who were able to pay largely. He clenched his fingers around the arms of his study-chair until his nails bent on the hard wood. His scorn and indignation burned in his face, although his voice was calm enough.
"Mr. Winter, this whole affair is a matter of the most profound principle with me. As long as I live I shall believe that a Christian man has no more right to rent his property for a saloon than he has to run a saloon himself. And as long as I live I shall also believe that it is a minister's duty to preach to his church plainly upon matters which bear upon the right and wrong of life, no matter what is involved in those matters. Are money and houses and lands of such a character that the use of them has no bearing on moral questions, and they are therefore to be left out of the preaching material of the pulpit? It is my conviction that many men of property in this age are coming to regard their business as separate and removed from God and all relation to Him. The business men of to-day do not regard their property as God's. They always speak of it as theirs. And they resent any 'interference,' as you call it, on the part of the pulpit. Nevertheless, I say it plainly, I regard the renting of these houses by you, and other business men in the church, to the whisky men and the corrupters of youth as wholly wrong, and so wrong that the Christian minister who would keep silent when he knew the facts would be guilty of unspeakable cowardice and disloyalty to his Lord. As to your threat of withdrawal of support, sir, do you suppose I would be in the ministry if I were afraid of the rich men in my congregation? It shows that you are not yet acquainted with me. It would not hurt you to know me better!"
All the time Philip was talking, his manner was that of dignified indignation. His anger was never coarse or vulgar. But when he was roused as he was now he spoke with a total disregard for all coming consequences. For the time being he felt as perhaps one of the old Hebrew prophets used to feel when the flame of inspired wrath burned up in the soul of the messenger of God.
The man who sat opposite was compelled to keep silent until Philip had said what he had to say. It was impossible for him to interrupt. Also it was out of the question that a man like Mr. Winter should understand a nature like that of Philip Strong. The mill-owner sprang to his feet as soon as Philip finished. He was white to the lips with passion, and so excited that his hands trembled and his voice shook as he replied to Philip:
"You shall answer for these insults, sir. I withdraw my church pledge, and you will see whether the business men in the church will sustain such preaching." And Mr. Winter flung himself out of the study and downstairs, forgetting to take his hat, which he had carried up with him. Philip caught it up and went downstairs with it, reaching him just as he was going out of the front door. He said simply, "You forgot your hat, sir." Mr. Winter took it without a word and went out, slamming the door hard behind him.
Philip turned around, and there stood his wife. Her face was very anxious.
"Tell me all about it, Philip," she said. Sunday evening they had talked over the fact of Mr. Winter's walking out of the church during the service, and had anticipated some trouble. Philip related the facts of Mr. Winter's visit, telling his wife some things the mill-owner had said.
"What did you say, Philip, to make him so angry? Did you give him a piece of your mind?"
"I gave him the whole of it," replied Philip, somewhat grimly—"at least all of it on that particular subject that he could stand."
"Oh, dear! It seems too bad to have this trouble come so soon! What will
Mr. Winter do? He is very wealthy and influential. Do you think—are you
sure that in this matter you have done just right, just for the best,
Philip? It is going to be very unpleasant for you."
"Well, Sarah, I would not do differently from what I have done. What have I done? I have simply preached God's truth, as I plainly see it, to my church. And if I do not do that, what business have I in the ministry at all? I regret this personal encounter with Mr. Winter; but I don't see how I could avoid it."
"Did you lose your temper?"
"No."
"There was some very loud talking. I could hear it away out in the kitchen."
"Well, you know, Sarah, the more indignant I get the less inclined I feel to 'holler.' It was Mr. Winter you heard. He was very much excited when he came, and nothing that I could conscientiously say would have made any difference with him."
"Did you ask him to pray over the matter with you?"
"No. I do not think he was in a praying mood."
"Were you?"
Philip hesitated a moment, and then replied seriously: "Yes, I truly believe I was—that is, I should not have been ashamed at any part of the interview to put myself into loving communion with my Heavenly Father."
Mrs. Strong still looked disturbed and anxious. She was going over in her mind the probable result of Mr. Winter's antagonism to the minister. It looked to her like a very serious thing. Philip was inclined to treat the affair with calm philosophy, based on the knowledge that his conscience was clear of all fault in the matter.
"What do you suppose Mr. Winter will do?" Mrs. Strong asked.
"He threatened to withdraw his financial support, and said other paying members would do the same."
"Do you think they will?"
"I don't know. I shouldn't wonder if they do."
"What will you do then? It will be dreadful