PART 16 of 24 Parts
The winter had passed and the year was ended—the year which Henry Maxwell had fixed as the time during which the pledge should be kept to do as Jesus would do. The year had made history so quickly that few people were able to grasp its significance. And the anniversary Sunday itself, which marked the completion of a whole year of such discipleship, was characterized by such revelations and confessions that the immediate actors in the events themselves could not understand the value of what had been done, or the relationship of their trial to the rest of the churches and cities in the country.
It happened that the week before the anniversary Sunday, the Rev. Calvin Bruce, D.D., of the Nazareth Avenue Church in Chicago, was in Raymond visiting some friends and, incidentally, to see his old seminary classmate, Henry Maxwell. He was present at First Church and was an exceedingly attentive and interested spectator. His account of events in Raymond, and especially of that Sunday, was sent in the form of a letter to his friend, the Reverend Philip A. Caxton:
My dear Caxton:
It is late Sunday night, but I am so intensely awake and so overflowing with what I have seen and heard that I feel driven to write you some account of the situation in Raymond, as it came to a climax today. So this is my reason for writing so extended a letter at this time.
You remember Henry Maxwell when we were in seminary. I think you said, the last time I visited you in
He has been here eleven years, and I understand that up to a year ago he had performed a routine sort of ministry, giving good satisfaction and drawing a good congregation. His church was considered the largest and wealthiest in Raymond. All the best people attended it, and most of them belonged. The quartet choir was famous for its music, especially for its soprano, Rachel Winslow, of whom I shall have more to say; and on the whole, as I understand the facts, Maxwell was in a comfortable berth, with a very good salary, pleasant surroundings, not a very exciting parish of refined rich, respectable people, the kind of church nearly all young men of the seminary looked forward to as very desirable.
But a year ago today, Maxwell came into his church on Sunday morning, and at the close of the service made the astounding proposition that the members of his church volunteer for a year not to do anything without first asking the question, "What would Jesus do?" and, after answering it, to do what in their honest judgment He would do, regardless of what the result might be to them.
The effect of this proposition, as it has been met and obeyed by a number of the members of the church, has been so remarkable that, as you know, the attention of the whole country has been directed to the movement. I call it a movement because, from the action taken today, it seems probable that what has been tried here will reach out into the other churches and cause revolution in methods, but more especially give a new definition to Christian discipleship.
In the first place, Maxwell tells me he was astonished at the response to his proposition. Some of the most prominent members in the church made the promise to do as Jesus would. Among them were Edward Norman, the editor of the Daily News, which has since made such a sensation in the newspaper world; Milton Wright, one of the leading merchants in Raymond; Alexander Powers, whose action in the matter of railroads against the interstate commerce laws created such a stir about a year ago; Virginia Page, one of Raymond’s leading society heiresses, who has lately dedicated her entire fortune, as I understand, to Norman’s paper and the work of reform in the slum district known as the Rectangle; and Rachel Winslow, whose reputation as a singer is now national, but who has decided to devote her talent to volunteer work among the girls and women who make up a large part of the city’s worst and most abandoned population.
In addition to these well-known people, a gradually increasing number of Christians from the First Church, and lately from other churches in Raymond, have taken up the challenge. A large proportion of these volunteers who pledge themselves to do as Jesus would come from the Endeavor Societies. The young people say that they have already embodied in their society pledge the same principle in the words: "I promise Him that I will strive to do whatever He would have me do." This is not exactly what is included in Maxwell’s proposition, which is that the disciples shall try to do what Jesus would probably do in the disciple’s place. But the result of an honest obedience to either pledge, he claims, will be virtually the same.
I am sure the first question you will ask is, What has been the result of this attempt? What has it accomplished, or how has it changed in any way the regular course of the church or community?
You already know something from reports of Raymond that have gone over the country what the results have been. But one needs to come here and learn something of the changes in individual lives, and especially the change in the church life, to realize all that is meant by this following of Jesus’ steps so literally. To tell all would be to write a long story or series of stories. I am not in a position to do that, but I can give you some idea, perhaps, of what has been done as told me by friends and by Maxwell himself.
The result of the pledge upon the First Church has been twofold. It has brought about a spirit of Christian fellowship which Maxwell tells me never before existed, and which now impresses him as being very nearly what the Christian fellowship of the apostolic churches must have been; and it has divided the church into two distinct groups of members.
Those who have not taken the pledge regard the others as foolishly literal in their attempts to imitate the example of Jesus. Some of them have withdrawn from the church and no longer attend, or they have removed their membership entirely to other churches. Some are an element of internal strife, and I have heard rumors of an attempt on their part to force Maxwell’s resignation. I do not know that this element is very strong in the church. It has been held in check by a wonderful continuance of spiritual power, which dates from the first Sunday the pledge was taken a year ago, and also by the fact that so many of the most prominent members had been identified with the movement.
The effect on Maxwell is marked. I heard him preach at our State Association four years ago. He impressed me at the time as having considerable power in dramatic delivery, of which he himself was somewhat conscious. His sermon was well-written and abounded in what the seminary students used to call "fine passages". The effect of it was what an average congregation would call pleasing.
This morning I heard Maxwell preach again for the first time since then. I shall speak of that farther on. He is not the same man. He gives me the impression of one who has passed through an internal revolution. He tells me this revolution is simply a new definition of Christian discipleship. He certainly has changed many of his old habits and many of his old views. His attitude on the saloon question is radically opposite to the one he entertained a year ago.
And in the entire thought of his ministry, his pulpit and parish work, I find he has made a complete change. So far as I can understand, the idea that is moving him on now is the idea that the Christianity of our times must represent a more literal imitation of Jesus, and especially in the element of sacrifice. He quoted to me in the course of our conversation the verses in Peter: "For even hereunto were ye called, because Christ also suffered for us, leaving us an example, that ye should follow his steps." He seems filled with the conviction that what our churches need today more than anything else is this factor of joyful sacrifice for Jesus in some form.
I do not know as I agree with him altogether; but, my dear Caxton, it is certainly astonishing to note the results of these ideas as they have impressed themselves upon this city and this church.
You ask about the results on the individuals who have made this pledge and honestly tried to be true to it. Those results are, as I have said, a part of individual history and cannot be told in detail. Some of them I can give you so that you may see that this form of discipleship is not merely sentiment or fine posing for effect.
For instance, take the case of Alexander Powers, who was superintendent of the machine shops of the L. and T.R.R. here. When he acted upon the evidence which incriminated the railroad, he lost his position and, more, than that, I learn from my friends here, his family and social relations have become so estranged that the family no longer appears in public. They have dropped out of the social circle where once they were so prominent.
By the way, Caxton, I understand in this connection that the Commission, for one reason or another, postponed action on this case and it is now rumored that the L. and T.R.R. will pass into a receiver’s hands very soon. The president of the railroad, who, according to the evidence submitted by Powers, was the principal offender, has resigned, and complications which have since arisen point to the receivership.
Meanwhile, the superintendent has gone back to his old work as a telegraph operator. I met him at the church yesterday. He impressed me as a man who had, like Maxwell, gone through a crisis in character. I could not help thinking of him as being good material for the church of the first century when the disciples had all things in common.
Or take the case of Edward Norman, editor of the Daily News. He risked his entire fortune in obedience to what he believed was Jesus’ action and revolutionized his entire conduct of the paper at the risk of failure. I am sending you a copy of yesterday’s paper. I want you to read it carefully. To my mind it is one of the most interesting and remarkable papers ever printed in the United States. It is open to criticism, but what could any mere man attempt in this line that would be free from criticism? Taken all in all, it is so far above the ordinary conception of a daily paper that I am amazed at the result. He tells me that the paper is beginning to be read more and more by the Christian people of the city. He is very confident of its final success.
Read his editorial on the money question, also the one on the coming election in Raymond, when the question of license will again be an issue. Both articles are outstanding. He says he never begins an editorial, or in fact, any part of his newspaper work, without first asking, "What would Jesus do?" The result is certainly apparent.
Then, there is Milton Wright, the merchant. He has, I am told, so revolutionized his business that no man is more beloved today in Raymond. His own clerks and employees have affection for him that is very touching. During the winter, while he was lying dangerously ill at his home, scores of clerks volunteered to watch or help in any possible way, and his return to his store was greeted with marked demonstrations.
All this has been brought about by the element of personal love introduced into the business. This love is not mere words, but the business itself is carried on under a system of cooperation that is not a patronizing recognition of inferiors but a real sharing in the whole business. Other men on the street look upon Milton Wright as odd. It is a fact, however, that while he has lost heavily in some directions, he has increased his business and is today respected and honored as one of the best and most successful merchants in Raymond.
And there is Rachel Winslow. She has chosen to give her great talent to the poor of the city. Her plans include a musical institute where choruses and classes in vocal music shall be a feature. She is enthusiastic over her life work. In connection with her friend, Virginia Page, she had planned a course in music which, if carried out, will certainly do much to lift up the lives of the people down there.
I am not too old, dear Caxton, to be interested in the romantic side of much that has also been tragic here in Raymond, and I must tell you that it is well understood here that Miss Winslow expects to be married this spring to a brother of Miss Page, who was once a society leader and clubman, and who was converted in a tent where his wife-to-be took an active part in the service. I don’t know all the details of this romance, but I can imagine there is a story wrapped up in it, and it would make interesting reading if we only knew it all.
These are only a few illustrations of results in individual lives owing to obedience to the pledge. I meant to have spoken to President Marsh of Lincoln College. He is a graduate of my alma mater, and I knew him slightly when I was in my senior year. He has taken an active part in the recent municipal campaign, and his influence in the city is regarded as a very large factor in the coming election. He impressed me, as did all the other disciples in this movement, as having fought out some hard questions and as having taken up some real burdens that have caused, and still do cause, that suffering of which Henry Maxwell speaks, a suffering that does not eliminate but does appear to intensify a positive and practical joy.
But I am prolonging this letter, possibly to your weariness. I am unable to avoid the feeling of fascination which my entire stay here has increased. I want to tell you something of the meeting in First Church today.
As I said, I heard Maxwell preach. At his earnest request I had preached for him the Sunday before, and this was the first time I had heard him since the Association meeting four years ago. His sermon this morning was as different from his sermon then as if it had been thought out and preached by someone living on another planet. I was profoundly touched. I believe I actually shed tears once. Others in the congregation were moved like myself.
His text was, "What is that to thee? Follow thou me." It was a most unusually impressive appeal to the Christians of Raymond to obey Jesus’ teachings and follow in His steps regardless of what others might do. I cannot give you even the plan of the sermon. It would take too long. At the close of the service, there was the usual aftermeeting that has become a regular feature of the First Church. Into this meeting come all those who have made the pledge to do as Jesus would do, and the time is spent in mutual fellowship, confession, questions as to what Jesus would do in special cases, and prayer that the one great guide of every disciple’s conduct may be the Holy Spirit.
Maxwell asked me to come into this meeting. Nothing in all my ministerial life, Caxton, has so moved me as that experience. I have never felt the Spirit’s presence so powerfully. It was a meeting of reminiscences and of the most loving fellowship. I was irresistibly driven in thought back to the first years of Christianity. There was something about all this that was apostolic in its simplicity and Christlikeness.
I asked questions. One that seemed to arouse more interest than any other was in regard to the extent of the Christian disciple’s sacrifice of personal property. Maxwell tells me that, so far, no one has interpreted the Spirit of Jesus in such a way as to abandon his earthly possessions, give away all his wealth, or in any literal way imitate the Christians of the order, for example, of St. Francis of Assisi.
It was the unanimous consent, however, that if any disciple should feel that Jesus in his own particular case would do that, there could be only one answer to the question. Maxwell admitted that he was still, to a certain degree, uncertain as to Jesus probable action when it came to the details of household living, the possession of wealth, the holding of certain luxuries. It is evident, however, that many of these disciples have repeatedly carried their obedience to Jesus to the extreme limit, regardless of financial loss. There is no lack of courage or consistency at this point.
It is also true that some of the businessmen who took the pledge have lost large sums of money in this imitation of Jesus, and many have, like Alexander Powers, lost valuable positions. In connection with these cases, it is pleasant to record that many who have suffered in this way have at once been helped financially by those who still have means. In this respect I think it is true that these disciples have all things in common. Certainly such scenes as I witnessed at the First Church at that after-service this morning I never saw in my church or any other. I never dreamed that such Christian fellowship could exist in this day and age. I am almost incredulous as to the witness of my own senses.
But now, dear friend, I come to the real cause of the letter, the real heart of the whole question as the First Church of Raymond has forced it upon me. Before the meeting closed today, steps were taken to secure the cooperation of all other Christian disciples in this country. I think Maxwell took this step after long deliberation. He said as much to me one day when we were discussing the effect of this movement upon the church in general.
"Why," he said, "suppose that the church membership generally in this country made this pledge and lived up to it! What a revolution it would cause in Christendom! And why not? Is it any more than the disciple ought to do? Has he followed Jesus unless he is willing to do this? Is the test of discipleship any less today than it was in Jesus’ time?"
I do not know all that preceded or followed Maxwell’s thought of what ought to be done outside Raymond, but the idea crystallized today in a plan to secure the fellowship of all the Christians in America. The churches, through their pastors, will be asked to form disciple gatherings like the one in the First Church. Volunteers will be called for in the great body of church members in the United States who will promise to do as Jesus would do. Surely, if First Church could work such changes in society and its surroundings, the church in general by combining such fellowship, not of creed but of conduct, ought to stir the entire nation to a higher life and a new conception of Christianity.
This is a grand idea, Caxton, but right here is where I find myself hesitating. I do not deny that the Christian disciple ought to follow Christ’s steps as closely as these here in Raymond have tried to do. But I cannot avoid asking what the result will be if I ask my church in Chicago to do it.
I am writing this after feeling the solemn profound touch of the Spirit’s presence, and I confess to you, old friend, that I cannot call up in my church a dozen prominent business or professional men who would make this trial at the risk of all that they hold dear. Can you do any better in your church? What are we to say? That the church would not respond to the call Come and suffer? Is our standard of Christian discipleship a wrong one, or are we possibly deceiving ourselves and would be agreeably surprised if we once asked our people to take such a pledge faithfully?
The actual results of the pledge as obeyed here in Raymond are enough to make any pastor tremble and, at the same time, long with yearning that they might occur in his own parish. Never have I seen a church so signally blessed by the Spirit as this one. But—am I myself ready to take this pledge? I ask the question honestly and I dread to face an honest answer. I know well enough that I would have to change very much in my own life if I undertook to follow His steps so closely.
I have called myself a Christian for many years. For the past ten years I have enjoyed a life that has had comparatively little sacrifice in it. I am living at a long distance from municipal problems and the life of the poor, the degraded and the abandoned. What would obedience to this pledge demand of me? I hesitate to answer. My church is wealthy, full of well-to-do, satisfied people. The standard of their discipleship is, I predict, not of a nature to respond to a call to suffering or personal loss. I say "I predict," but I may be mistaken. I may have erred in not stirring their deeper life.
Caxton, my friend, I have spoken my inmost thought to you. Shall I go back to my people next Sunday and stand up before them in my large city church and say, "Let us follow Jesus more closely. Let us walk in His steps where it will cost us something more than it is costing now. Let us pledge not to do anything without first asking, ‘What would Jesus do?’" If I should go before them with that message, it would be strange and startling to them. But why should it be?
The Reverend Calvin Bruce, D.D., of the Nazareth Avenue Church, Chicago, let his pen fall on the paper. He had come to the central issue, and his question, he felt sure, was the question of many a man in the ministry and in the church. He went to his window and opened it. He was oppressed with the weight of his convictions, and he felt almost suffocated with the air of the room. He wanted to see the stars and feel the breath of the world.
The night was very still. The clock in First Church was just striking midnight. As it finished, a clear, strong voice down in the direction of the Rectangle came floating up to him as if borne on radiant pinions.
It was the voice of one of Gray’s old converts, a night watchman at the packing house, who sometimes solaced his lonesome hours by a verse or two from some familiar hymn.
Must Jesus bear the cross alone,
And all the world go free?
No! There’s a cross for everyone,
And there’s a cross for me.
The Reverend Calvin Bruce turned away from the window and after a little hesitation, he knelt. "What would Jesus do?" That was the burden of his prayer. Never had he yielded himself so completely to the Spirit’s searching revealing of Jesus.
He was on his knees a long time. Then he retired and slept fitfully, with many awakenings. He rose before it was clear dawn and threw open his window again. As the light in the east grew stronger, he repeated to himself, "What would Jesus do? Shall I follow His steps?"
The sun rose and flooded the city with its light. When shall the dawn of a new discipleship usher in the conquering triumph of a closer walk with Jesus? When shall Christendom tread more closely the path He made?
It is the way the Master trod,
Shall not the servant tread it still?
With this question throbbing through his whole being, the Reverend Calvin Bruce took the train back to Chicago, little realizing that the greatest crisis of his Christian ministry was about to break irresistibly upon him.
