Chapter Three, con’t

“What effect will that have on the paper?” he finally managed to ask in a faint voice.

“What do you think?” asked Norman with a keen glance.

“I think it will simply ruin the paper,” replied Clark promptly. He was gathering up his bewildered senses, and began to remonstrate, “Why, it isn’t feasible to run a paper nowadays on any such basis. It’s too ideal. The world isn’t ready for it. You can’t make it pay. Just as sure as you live, if you shut out this prize fight report you will lose hundreds of subscribers. It doesn’t take a prophet to see that. The very best people in town are eager to read it. They know it has taken place, and when they get the paper this evening they will expect half a page at least. Surely, you can’t afford to disregard the wishes of the public to such an extent. It will be a great mistake if you do, in my opinion.”

Norman sat silent a minute. Then he spoke gently but firmly.

“Clark, what in your honest opinion is the right standard for determining conduct? Is the only right standard for every one, the probable action of Jesus Christ? Would you say that the highest, best law for a man to live by was contained in asking the question, What would Jesus do?’ And then doing it regardless of results? In other words, do you think men everywhere ought to follow Jesus’ example as closely as they can in their daily lives?” Clark turned red, and moved uneasily in his chair before he answered the editor’s question.

“Why – yes – I suppose if you put it on the ground of what men ought to do there is no other standard of conduct. But the question is, What is feasible? Is it possible to make it pay? To succeed in the newspaper business we have got to conform to custom and the recognized methods of society. We can’t do as we would in an ideal world.”

“Do you mean that we can’t run the paper strictly on Christian principles and make it succeed?”

“Yes, that’s just what I mean. It can’t be done. We’ll go bankrupt in thirty days.”

Norman did not reply at once. He was very thoughtful.

“We shall have occasion to talk this over again, Clark. Meanwhile I think we ought to understand each other frankly. I have pledged myself for a year to do everything connected with the paper after answering the question, What would Jesus do?’ as honestly as possible. I shall continue to do this in the belief that not only can we succeed but that we can succeed better than we ever did.”

Clark rose. “The report does not go in?”

“It does not. There is plenty of good material to take its place, and you know what it is.”

Clark hesitated. “Are you going to say anything about the absence of the report?”

“No, let the paper go to press as if there had been no such thing as a prize fight yesterday.”

Clark walked out of the room to his own desk feeling as if the bottom had dropped out of everything. He was astonished, bewildered, excited and considerably angered. His great respect for Norman checked his rising indignation and disgust, but with it all was a feeling of growing wonder at the sudden change of motive which had entered the office of the Daily News and threatened, as he firmly believed, to destroy it.

Before noon every reporter, pressman and employee on the Daily News was informed of the remarkable fact that the paper was going to press without a word in it about the famous prize fight of Sunday. The reporters were simply astonished beyond measure at the announcement of the fact. Every one in the stereotyping and composing rooms had something to say about the unheard of omission. Two or three times during the day when Mr. Norman had occasion to visit the composing rooms the men stopped their work or glanced around their cases looking at him curiously. He knew that he was being observed, but said nothing and did not appear to note it.

There had been several minor changes in the paper, suggested by the editor, but nothing marked. He was waiting and thinking deeply.

He felt as if he needed time and considerable opportunity for the exercise of his best judgment in several matters before he answered his ever present question in the right way. It was not because there were not a great many things in the life of the paper that were contrary to the spirit of Christ that he did not act at once, but because he was yet honestly in doubt concerning what action Jesus would take.

When the Daily News came out that evening it carried to its subscribers a distinct sensation.

The presence of the report of the prize fight could not have produced anything equal to the effect of its omission. Hundreds of men in the hotels and stores down town, as well as regular subscribers, eagerly opened the paper and searched it through for the account of the great fight; not finding it, they rushed to the NEWS stands and bought other papers. Even the newsboys had not a understood the fact of omission. One of them was calling out “Daily News! Full count great prize fight t Resort. NEWS, sir?”

A man on the corner of the avenue close by the NEWS office bought the paper, looked over its front page hurriedly and then angrily called the boy back.

“Here, boy! What’s the matter with your paper? There’s no prize fight here! What do you mean by selling old papers?”

“Old papers nuthin’!” replied the boy indignantly. “Dat’s today’s paper. What’s de matter wid you?”

“But there is no account of the prize fight here! Look!”

The man handed back the paper and the boy glanced at it hurriedly. Then he whistled, while a bewildered look crept over his face. Seeing another boy running by with papers he called out “Say, Sam, le’me see your pile.” A hasty examination revealed the remarkable fact that all the copies of the NEWS were silent on the subject of the prize fight.

“Here, give me another paper!” shouted the customer; “one with the prize fight account.”

He received it and walked off, while the two boys remained comparing notes and lost in wonder at the result. “Sump’n slipped a cog in the Newsy, sure,” said the first boy. But he couldn’t tell why, and ran over to the NEWS office to find out.

Chapter Two, con’t

“We all understand,” said he, speaking very quietly, “what we have undertaken to do. We pledge ourselves to do everything in our daily lives after asking the question, What would Jesus do?’ regardless of what may be the result to us. Some time I shall be able to tell you what a marvelous change has come over my life within a week’s time. I cannot now. But the experience I have been through since last Sunday has left me so dissatisfied with my previous definition of Christian discipleship that I have been compelled to take this action. I did not dare begin it alone. I know that I am being led by the hand of divine love in all this. The same divine impulse must have led you also.

“Do we understand fully what we have undertaken?”

“I want to ask a question,” said Rachel Winslow. Every one turned towards her. 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? It is a different age. 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: ‘Howbeit when he, the Spirit of truth, is come, he shall guide you into all the truth: for he shall not speak from himself; but what things soever he shall hear, these shall he speak: and he shall declare unto you the things that are to come. He shall glorify me; for he shall take of mine, and shall declare it unto you. All things whatsoever the Father hath are mine: therefore said I, that he taketh of mine, and shall declare it unto you.’ 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.”

“And yet what one church member thinks Jesus would do, another refuses to accept as His probable course of action. What is to render our conduct uniformly Christ-like? Will it be possible to reach the same conclusions always in all cases?” asked President Marsh.

Mr. Maxwell was silent some time. Then he answered, “No; I don’t know that we can expect that. But 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. We must be free from fanaticism on one hand and too much caution on the other. If Jesus’ example is the example for the world to follow, it certainly must be feasible to follow it. 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 towards the minister in solemn assent. There was no misunderstanding that proposition. Henry Maxwell’s face quivered again as he noted the president of the Endeavor Society with several members seated back of the older men and women.

They remained a little longer talking over details and asking questions, and agreed to report to one another every week at a regular meeting the result of their experiences in following Jesus this way. Henry Maxwell prayed again. And again as before the Spirit made Himself manifest. Every head remained bowed a long time. They went away finally in silence. There was a feeling that prevented speech. The pastor shook hands with them all as they went out. Then he went into his own study room back of the pulpit and kneeled. He remained there alone nearly half an hour. When he went home he went into the room where the dead body lay. As he looked at the face he cried in his heart again for strength and wisdom. But not even yet did he realize that a movement had begun which would lead to the most remarkable series of events that the city of Raymond had ever known.

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 could see Edward Norman, editor of the Raymond Daily News. He had been a member of the First Church for ten years. No man was more honored in the community. There was Alexander Powers, superintendent of the great railroad shops in Raymond, a typical railroad man, one who had been born into the business. There sat Donald Marsh, president of Lincoln College, situated in the suburbs of Raymond. There was Milton Wright, one of the great merchants of Raymond, having in his employ at least one hundred men in various shops. There was Dr. West who, although still comparatively young, was quoted as authority in special surgical cases. There was young Jasper Chase the author, who had written one successful book and was said to be at work on a new novel. There was Miss Virginia Page the heiress, who through the recent death of her father had inherited a million at least, and was gifted with unusual attractions of person and intellect. And not least of all, Rachel Winslow, from her seat in the choir, glowed with her peculiar beauty of light this morning because she was so intensely interested in the whole scene.

There was some reason, perhaps, in view of such material in the First Church, for Henry Maxwell’s feeling of satisfaction whenever he considered his parish as he had the previous Sunday. There was an unusually large number of strong, individual characters who claimed membership there. But as he noted their faces this morning he was simply wondering how many of them would respond to the strange proposition he was about to make. He continued slowly, taking time to choose his words carefully, and giving the people an impression they had never felt before, even when he was at his best with his most dramatic delivery.

“What I am going to propose now is something which ought not to appear unusual or at all impossible of execution. Yet I am aware that it will be so regarded by a large number, perhaps, of the members of this church. But in order that we may have a thorough understanding of what we are considering, I will put my proposition very plainly, perhaps bluntly. 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?’ And after asking that question, each one will follow Jesus as exactly as he knows how, no matter what the result may be. I will of course include myself in this company of volunteers, and shall take for granted that my church here will not be surprised at my future conduct, as based upon this standard of action, and will not oppose whatever is done if they think Christ would do it. Have I made my meaning clear? At the close of the service I want all those members who are willing to join such a company to remain and we will talk over the details of the plan. Our motto will be, What would Jesus do?’ Our aim will be to act just as He would if He was 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. And those who volunteer to do this will pledge themselves for an entire year, beginning with today, so to act.”

Henry Maxwell paused again and looked out over his people. It is not easy to describe the sensation that such a simple proposition apparently made. Men glanced at one another in astonishment. It was not like Henry Maxwell to define Christian discipleship in this way. There was evident confusion of thought over his proposition. It was understood well enough, but there was, apparently, a great difference of opinion as to the application of Jesus’ teaching and example.

He calmly closed the service with a brief prayer. The organist began his postlude immediately after the benediction and the people began to go out. There was a great deal of conversation. Animated groups stood all over the church discussing the minister’s proposition. It was evidently provoking great discussion. After several minutes he asked all who expected to remain to pass into the lecture-room which joined the large room on the side. He was himself detained at the front of the church talking with several persons there, and when he finally turned around, the church was empty. He walked over to the lecture- room entrance and went in. He was almost startled to see the people who were there. He had not made up his mind about any of his members, but he had hardly expected that so many were ready to enter into such a literal testing of their Christian discipleship as now awaited him. There were perhaps fifty present, among them Rachel Winslow and Virginia Page, Mr. Norman, President Marsh, Alexander Powers the railroad superintendent, 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 was pale and his lips trembled with genuine emotion. It was to him a genuine crisis in his own life and that of his parish. No man can tell until he is moved by the Divine Spirit what he may do, or how he may change the current of a lifetime of fixed habits of thought and speech and action. Henry Maxwell did not, as we have said, yet know himself all that he was passing through, but he 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 as he looked into the faces of those men and women on this occasion.

“It seemed to him that the most fitting word to be spoken first was that of prayer. 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. As the prayer went on, this presence grew in power. They all felt it. The room was 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. If an audible voice from heaven had sanctioned their pledge to follow the Master’s steps, not one person present could have felt more certain of the divine blessing. And so the most serious movement ever started in the First Church of Raymond was begun.