The conflict : a narrative based on the Fundamentalist movement

Front matter

Copyright N?_l- _§i _

COPYRIGHT DEPOSrT.

A Narrative Based on the Fundamentalist Movement

Foreword

F ROM the depths of a personal experience has come the material which forms the background of “THE CON¬ FLICT.” As one of the State Conference Directors for the Christian Fundamentals Association of Iowa, the writer has had ample opportunity to study the conditions which pre¬ vail today throughout Christendom, and to observe the gulf which is rapidly widening between Fundamentalism and Modern¬ ism.

The time is fast approaching when it will be impossible for pastors to remain neutral, or to trifle with the issue as so many are doing today. The vast majority of the people in the pews are ignorant of the grave danger which is imperil¬ ing the church at the present time.

Realizing these facts, the writer was led of God to undertake a work of fiction, founded upon actual conditions existing today. People almost universally like to read a narrative, and it has been the purpose of the writer to produce a wholesome love-story, one which may be safely read by young and old alike.

No character in the book is true to life in every detail, but many of the outstanding experiences of the principal char¬ acters are taken from the lives of real folks, as for example, part of the life story of Dr. Paul Hadley. The writer has endeavored to avoid exaggeration; none of the incidents are overdrawn, where vital facts are concerned, even though fiction has been the medium used as far as the story itself goes,—for instance, the billiard and smoking room in the base¬ ment of Memorial Church is not a figment of the imagination, but is an actual fact in one of our American, (so-called) evan¬ gelical churches.

No particular denomination has been mentioned in any place throughout the book, but the conditions described can be applied to many of our denominational bodies today.

The chief object of “THE CONFLICT,” then, is to present to the reader an accurate picture of the conditions which so universally exist. The writer has often been burdened because of the prevailing ignorance on the part of many Christians, and because of the desecration and the prostitution of the pulpit by men who are veritably “blind leaders of the blind.”

If “THE CONFLICT,” therefore, succeeds in reaching even a few of the multitudes of people in the pews, with the truth of actual conditions and if, perchance, some pastors may be awakened to their solemn responsibilities, the writer will feel that her work has not been in vain.

Elizabeth Knauss,

Davenport, Iowa.

April 1923

Contents

Chapter Page

I. —The State Conference. 7

II. —The Camp of the Modernists. . 25

Chapter I The State Conference

The Annual State Conference of one of the large denominations was being held at Kalona. The little inland town, commercially prosperous, had determined to show the true spirit of Western hospitality to the arriving delegates. It looked to the local committee as though the attendance that year would break all records. Clergymen were arriving by every train, as well as by auto, and hotel clerks were commencing to turn away applicants who had not wired for reservations.

The Creston Hotel was full. Delegates were being sent to private homes where some would be entertained. The clerk at the desk turned to a man who had just come in:

‘‘Sorry, sir. I thought we had one room left, but it has just been reserved.”

The man addressed seemed annoyed. Inclined to having his own way, and having desired to stop at the Creston, Rev. Henry Vonnell considered this unfortu¬ nate. The biggest men of their Conference would un¬ doubtedly stay here and it would have been to his advan¬ tage to have their fellowship during the next four days. The Conference had opened the day previous, but Vonnell had been unable to attend the opening sessions. However, he must make the best of it—would the clerk suggest a decent hotel?

“The Kalona House is the only one I would recom¬ mend. I have just sent Dr. Jordan and his daughter there.” Vonnell quickly caught the name.

“Dr. Hugh Jordan, of Phillipsburg?” he questioned. The clerk nodded.

“I thought they had planned to stop here?”

“They had, but because Dr. Gates has his wife with him, and she preferred staying here, Dr. Jordan and his daughter offered them their rooms.”

Vonnell would have refused entertainment in the ordinary home. A clergyman of the modern type, he had ambitions and one of the best ways to further them was to associate with men like Dr. John iSheldon Gates and Dr. Jordan. Invariably they put up at the leading hotels.

He stood for a moment outside the Kalona. Compared with the Creston it was unimposing, but if Jordan was there that was an inducement.

Several men were ahead of him. There seemed to be a number of fairly good rooms left. As he stood waiting his turn he noticed a man sitting in one of the lobby chairs, reading. It was the suggestion of power about this man that attracted Vonnell rather forcibly. He wondered curiously who he was. Just then his turn came, and he was assigned to his room, fortunately a front one. He might have fared worse. Quite casually he nodded to one of the clergymen. Among the others were some strong preachers whose faces he recognized and whose acquaintance he was desirous of making. As he went upstairs—there was no elevator—his recent annoyance vanished. The anticipation of a talk with Jordan thrilled him.

There was no old-fashioned nonsense about Vonnell. Standing for Modernism in the extreme sense, a man of the moment, not overscrupulous about compromise, ready to change his religious convictions according to the prevailing mode of the hour, he would always be popular.

Following the hotel boy, he reached the second floor and glanced toward a group of delegates who were seated in a room to the left, evidently the upstairs sitting room. One of the men came forward to greet him.

As they shook hands Vonnell said:

“Glad to see you, Courtney. I just got in. Had rather a hard time securing decent accommodations. I’ll join you immediately.” Dr. Ralph Courtney was the local resident pastor, and Chairman of the Committee on Entertainment.

Vonnell particularly wanted to interview him, for Courtney was one of the strong Modern men, noted for making an open fight against the new crowd of Funda¬ mentalists who had recently organized themselves against those in authority. His denunciation of this organiza¬ tion had won for him the lasting friendship of the leading radicals all over the country. Vonnell recalled the scath¬ ing article Courtney had written the month previous for their national church paper, which had occasioned wide comment. Doubtless resolutions would be passed at this Conference barring all the Fundamentalists from their fellowship. Courtney had advocated this.

When he joined the group in the sitting-room, Courtney beckoned him. Over in an alcove by the window a lady was seated. As Vonnell approached, she stood up.

“I wonder if you know Miss Jordan, Mr. Vonnell ?” Courtney was speaking, “I consider that we are favored in having Alice Jordan with us during this Conference.”

So this was Miss Jordan! Vonnell just then consid¬ ered it fortunate that he knew Courtney so well. They had at one time been pastors in the same town. He had read many Sunday School articles written by this young woman. In fact, who in their denomination had not? Seating themselves in this newly created intimacy, Von¬ nell keenly studied Miss Jordan. As the conversation progressed, his admiration increased.

A church woman to the finger tips, Alice Jordan readily held her own. Charming, intelligent, and withal distinctly womanly, she was perfectly at her ease among the clergy. Graduated from a leading Eastern college, a writer for several religious papers, one of the editors of the iSunday School Department for their own church periodical, she was a young woman exceptionally gifted. For generations back her people had been churchmen— her father, Dr. Jordan, being one of the most “liberal” men in the state.

Courtney turned to Vonnell:

“Just before you came in, we were discussing Dr. Paul Hadley. Miss Jordan seems to consider it very fortunate that we have him with us during this Conference. He is rather new in the state. Although I had heard of him, I never met him until today. He is Canadian by birth. Have you met him?”

Vonnell shook his head. “No, but I remember read¬ ing, a year or so ago, that his health had failed—or something to that effect. Is he stopping here?”

Alice Jordan leaned forward, her face eager and alight.

“Yes, he is here,” she replied; “he was downstairs when we came in from lunch about an hour ago. It was not his health that failed, but his wife was an invalid, and for several years he did not preach. Father and I are enthusiastic about him, for he had a charge in the same town in Canada where father preached. Dr. Hadley is an orator, Mr. Vonnell. Able as father is, he always declared that he could not hold a candle to Paul Hadley. Of course I don’t quite agree with him—I think they rank together. We are delighted to have him with us in the state at this time, for we consider that he will be a great help to us in fighting these Fundamentalists!” Her voice was suddenly scornful. Then she sank back with a little laugh.

“Father says that I allow myself to become too much agitated over their silly propaganda. He says we are the real Fundamentalists—but God knows I do not like to see our good old denomination being torn asunder by such nonsense. Besides, it is a bad thing for the non¬ church-going public when these controversies arise. Well, I believe that Paul Hadley will help to close the

ranks.”

As Vonnell studied the face of the young woman be¬ fore him, full of fire and animation, and realized her staunch defense of denominationalism, he suddenly felt that he wanted to know her better. He was unmarried— what a splendid help she would be to any man in the ministry. Evidently she knew Paul Hadley quite well. He coveted just as loyal a friendship.

But Courtney was speaking. “For once I am inclined to agree with you, Miss Jordan,” he said, rather gravely, “even against your father, far-sighted as he is. I too think that many of our sensible clergy are apt to treat this matter of the Fundamentalist movement too lightly. I do not believe that they will ever drag back to their ranks our splendid group of sane, level-headed men and women, but there is always that simple class of people who are easily persuaded into the old Moody and Sankey type of religion. Care must be taken to educate these folks aright. Why cannot they see the folly of forever staying in the old ruts? They do not seem to realize that the religion of the Twentieth Century cannot pos¬ sibly be the brand that was used in the First. It is absurd for preachers today to stress the old worn-out doctrines.”

Miss Jordan nodded her approval, and her lip curled in contempt.

“Slaughter-house religion! Nothing more or less!” she exclaimed,, scornfully. “Some of these agitators would put us back in the dark ages, if that were possible. How thankful I am for religious liberty, and for the right to interpret the Bible according to my convictions.”

Vonnell—who was still looking at her, and agreeing with her fully—noticed the glad look that sprang to her eyes, as she arose. “Here comes father now,” she said. And the next moment Vonnell was shaking hands cor¬ dially with Dr. Jordan. He had just come from a com¬ mittee meeting. The first session of the afternoon would begin in twenty minutes, would they drive over in his car?

The pride of his religious ancestry was written all over Dr. Jordan, from the carriage of his fine, massive head, even down to his walk. People instinctively recog¬ nized his force and ability—a force that brooked no interference. A clergyman, writer and lecturer, he was regarded as a leader and was much sought after. His church was always full; the wealthy, intelligent people of the city flocked to hear him, and were satisfied. For two years he had been in his present pastorate. Dr. Jordan knew the wisdom, not only of keeping abreast with the times himself, but of imparting that privilege to his congregation. As they occupied their cushioned pews each Sunday morning, they had no fears that their pastor would ever give them any uncomfortable mo¬ ments. On Sunday evenings there was no sermon, but

a gathering together of men and women in the popular Sunday Evening Club. Their journey heavenward was being eased with flowery sermons, together with expen¬ sive music, frequent moving pictures, and the discussion of poems and current literature.

Jordan turned to Vonnell as they went downstairs. “I want you to meet Paul Hadley,” he said. “I under¬ stand that very few of our men have met him.”

Vonnell had a sudden inspiration. “Where are you dining tonight, Dr. Jordan?” he asked. “If you have not made previous arrangements, I should be glad to have you and Miss Jordan and Dr. Courtney dine with me.”

Jordan considered a moment. “Mrs. Courtney and the ladies of the church here are preparing supper for the delegates, I believe,” he replied. “But perhaps we might accept your invitation, Mr. Vonnell. Alice shall decide for us.”

Alice smiled, and nodded her thanks. “I was just about to suggest to father that we dine some place quietly by ourselves,” she said. “And because Dr. Hadley is not well known here, I was considering an invitation for him. You see, Mr. Vonnell, we feel rather respon¬ sible for him, because we know him so well. ,,

Vonnell bowed quickly. “Include him in the party, of course, Miss Jordan. I shall be glad to have you ask him. After hearing so much about him I really am find¬ ing myself quite anxious to meet him.”

Hadley had evidently gone to the church, for he was not in the lobby. As they drove away from the hotel to the church, eight blocks distant, they noticed groups of frock-coated clergy walking together, most of them already tagged with the purple bits of conference ribbon. Kalona was an up-to-date, progressive town, and at present the Conference spirit was in the air.

Vonnell fell to wondering about Paul Hadley. It must be a man of some marked ability who could stir a young woman like Alice Jordan to such keen enthusiasm. As the daughter of a prominent clergyman she had lived in the ecclesiastical atmosphere, and the acquaintance of an ordinary man would scarcely mean much to her.

Dr. Jordan and Courtney went forward with Vonnell while he registered, and for a moment Alice stood alone. Finally she caught a glimpse of the man for whom she was looking. He was talking with one of the younger clergymen, Rev. Kenneth Bascom.

People invariably glanced a second time at Paul Hadley. He could easily have been a leader in any pro¬ fession. iStrong and virile, his face reflecting the rugged strength of a determined character, immovable in pur¬ pose, he was a man not lightly to be dealt with. And as Alice Jordan watched him, she felt suddenly proud that she knew this man.

She had wondered often about those silent years when he had dropped from active connection with the work of the church. The idea had several times occurred to her that he might be engaged in the writing of some text¬ book or other. His was a master mind. And what about Mrs. Hadley? Alice wondered if she were still the semi-invalid she had been for years. What a pity that the wife of such a man was not a healthy woman. But just then her father and Vonnell were making their way through the increasing crowd to where Dr. Hadley stood, and Alice joined them.

Dr. Jordan was speaking. “Dr. Hadley, I want you to meet Rev. Vonnell, one of the coming men of our denomination/’ and Vonnell found himself shaking hands with the man who had stirred his curiosity in the hotel lobby.

So this was Dr. Hadley. He could see a reason for Miss Jordan’s interest, but as he studied the face of the man before him he felt himself growing puzzled. There was some story here. The expression was that of a man who had suffered, not so much in body as in soul. One of the secrets of Vonnell’s successful ministry was that he had always been a judge of men.

There was no further opportunity for conversation then, for the Chairman of the Conference, Dr. Gates, was taking his place. The pews were rapidly filling, for many townspeople attended the sessions. The first hour was the period known as “Efficiency” hour. As they seated themselves, Miss Jordan managed to have Hadley on her right. She was down for a fifteen minute talk on Efficiency in Sunday School methods.

During the preliminaries, the calling for various re¬ ports, and the incidental details of a denominational conference, Vonnell noticed how intently Hadley studied the faces in the audience. Alice’s attention was for the moment on her paper, and Vonnell tried to fathom this man who had so recently come into their Conference. He had a presentiment that before the sessions closed, Hadley would make himself felt. Ordinarily he paid homage to intellect, but he gradually became conscious of a growing antagonism toward this man. The occasional compression of the man’s lips, the quick flash of his eyes, somehow aroused his suspicions. If Hadley was aware of the other man’s close scrutiny, he gave no sign.

Then Miss Jordan’s paper was called. There had been a number of brief talks on efficiency along various lines of church work—Efficiency in promoting Brother¬ hood movements, Efficiency in the work of the Young People’s (Societies, Efficiency in Sacred Music—and the optimistic note was constantly sounded. Great progress was being made. The larger city churches were going out into the byways and hedges and compelling people to come in. The masses were being reached by new devices. There was less of the old type of dogmatic preaching, and more practical social service—less of the old Bible doctrines of heaven and hell, and more of the bright, joyous gospel of modern times. The clergy applauded whenever some new suggestion was presented. The old gospel—Miss Jordan especially emphasized this point—had failed to reach the young life of the nation.

“Let us be a joyful, happy organization, and we will draw our young people into the churches by the multi¬ tudes, instead of bringing them in one by one,” she said, in conclusion. “We cannot afford to be antiquated. Let us make the church as attractive as the ball room of the modern day, and we will have no young people’s problem to contend with in our Sunday School and other organizations. We simply must modernize the

Twentieth Century Church if we would succeed. Many of our splendid pastors are falling into line, but a few still cling to the old harness.”

“Let us give our young people a glad time in the church and they will not seek it elsewhere. We need to stand solid, with not a single pastor or official of our great denomination clinging to the old-fashioned, worn-out methods. United we stand, divided we fall! The preaching of blood atonement has been stressed too much! Let our watchword be ‘Progress!’ Then we shall see whole communities falling into line. Look at the havoc that is being wrought today by the self-styled Fundamentalists. They are proving a veritable menace to the Church of the Twentieth Century. My final appeal is for unity and co-operation from all!”

As she left the platform a storm of applause greeted her, and not until the next speaker had gone forward did the cheering quite cease. Vonnell caught the gleam of affection and pride in Dr. Jordan’s eyes, as she took her seat. Perhaps it was just as well that he missed the expression on Hadley’s face.

The closing address of the afternoon was given by Dr. Gates. He was one of the oldest men in the minis¬ try of the state. While as an orator he did not hold equal rank with some of the younger men, yet he was a recognized leader, an able parliamentarian, and thor¬ oughly at home in large assemblies. Gates’ address was masterly—an able follow-up on the “Efficiency” papers of the afternoon. He spoke on the “Remarkable Op¬ portunity of the Church.”

The announcements were called for and Dr. Courtney, as local chairman, told of the succeeding services. Supper would be served in the church across the way, at a very moderate sum. Any of the clergy from out of town who had not registered would please do so. There were still a number of homes open for free entertain¬ ment.

Seeing an opportunity for a few minutes’ chat with Hadley, Alice turned to him. Her father was talking to Dr. Gates.

“Ever since I met you this noon, Dr. Hadley, I have wanted to ask you a number of things. Where have you been all these years, and how is Mrs. Hadley? I did not get the name of your present charge.”

Only by a strong effort the man controlled himself. “Mrs. Hadley passed away two years ago, Miss Jordan. My little Janice is now motherless. For the past seven months I have been pastor of a church at Storm Lake.”

Alice uttered a shocked exclamation. But after all, why should it surprise her? Mrs. Hadley’s poor health had always been a source of keen solicitation to all Hadley’s parishioners—a nervous condition which had prevented the membership of his congregation from even calling upon her. There had been the rumor of a shock which she had received some years previous.

With a gesture of genuine sympathy she held out her hand. Something about the quiet, controlled grief of the man prevented her from questioning him further just then. Fie told her that a distant cousin of his, a Mrs. Ralston, was keeping house for himself and Janice. They saw Dr. Gates approaching. Some problem had arisen which they had been discussing.

“We are in a quandary, Mr. Hadley,” explained Dr. Jordan. “There is an important meeting to be held to¬ morrow morning at nine o’clock, Dr. Gates tells me, a meeting between two committees representing Capital and Labor, and they have sent a request to the Confer¬ ence Committee that one of our men give them an address. They have picked upon me. This is rather unfortunate, as I am down for the first talk at the Min¬ isterial Forum tomorrow at nine, but Gates is immov¬ able.”

Alice, seeing the opportunity, turned quickly to her father: “Your duty is evidently clear, father. Why not let Dr. Hadley take your place at the Forum? Many of our men will be glad to hear him. And they will have a chance to hear you at the closing session. I have been wondering how the people here might have an oppor¬ tunity to hear Dr. Hadley.”

Jordan laughed and turned to Gates. No one noticed the quick flash in Hadley’s eyes, for it died instantly. “Now wasn’t that spoken like a general?” he asked. “Just leave it to Alice to fall in with her father’s plans. Of course it is the only thing to do. I’m not even con¬ sulting you, Hadley. I take it for granted that you will fill the breach. My only regret is that I’ll not be able to hear you. Gates here has consented to let me off providing you fill my place.”

So far Hadley had said nothing. Alice stood, keenly awaiting his reply.

“I want to thank you for this invitation,” he said. “As I understand it the speaker chooses his own subject, and is allowed a half hour?”

“Yes,” Gates replied, “it is an open Forum, commenc¬ ing at eight-thirty and running until ten. The first half hour is a question box, for interchange of thought mutually helpful to the clergy. Then from nine till ten there are two speakers. During the five days of the Conference, therefore, it is possible for ten of our ablest pastors to show what they can do. I consider it one of the most helpful periods of the entire Conference. You select your own subject and, from what Dr. Jordan tells me, we may expect something exceedingly worth while.”

Alice looked at Hadley rather ruefully. “I tell father that I do not think it is right that the women should be excluded. I wish they admitted all who were interested. They ought to change that ruling. But then, I suppose, even the clergy like their own secret sessions at times. After all, I come in for a lot of good things in life that other women miss—but I do wish I might hear your talk tomorrow, Dr. Hadley.”

Dr. Gates laughed. “Sometimes when we get into a heated discussion it might not be so pleasant, Miss Jor¬ dan,” he said. “Often we thrash out problems at the Forum that involve all the clergy. Be thankful when you are well off. But perhaps we can slip Dr. Hadley in on the general program before the Conference closes.”

When Hadley spoke again he looked directly at Gates. They never forgot his reply. “I shall try to deliver a message tomorrow that those who hear me will remem¬ ber always, God helping me. It is a long time since I have felt that anything was so definitely of the Lord.” His words seemed charged with power. In the days to> come his listeners had good cause to recall them.

As Alice Jordan heard him, she felt that some new force had entered the life of this man—a force he had not possessed even when he had been at the height of his successful ministry. Now they were giving him the opportunity to regain the prestige that had so evidently been sacrificed on account of Mrs. Hadley’s poor health. She wanted to know many things. There still remained three days of Conference association together, and she registered a determination to make the most of this time. While they must allow him some time to mingle with the clergy, nevertheless she and her father were his friends and they would not let him forget that fact. Just then Alice saw Mrs. Gates approaching, and the talk became general.

As they drove back to the hotel. Alice was glad that her father had Paul Hadley with him in the front seat. It gave her a further opportunity to study him. Also, she wanted to have a few minutes’ comparative quiet.

She wondered about Storm Lake. It must be a little community tucked away in some corner of the state, for she had never even heard of the place. Rather a musical sound, the name, but hardly the pastorate for a man like Dr. Hadley. Well, after tomorrow’s Forum there could be no question about a decent appointment for such a man. He would easily make a place for himself in this state as he had done in Canada.

At the hotel they separated for an hour’s rest before dinner. Vonnell and Courtney would join them at six, Jordan said. Alice went to her room. A number of the clergymen spoke a word of greeting to her as she went up. Her talk of the afternoon had stirred their hearts. It was not every minister who had a daughter such as this—Dr. Jordan was fortunate that he had such a companion. One or two glanced rather curiously at Hadley, and envied him his association with the Jordans. Who was he, anyhow?

As the head of her father’s home since her mother’s death a number of years before, and a leader in all their local church work, Alice Jordan’s time was completely filled. Devotion to her father came first; loyalty to her denomination was second. And yet, her life had lacked completeness. She had the natural craving for a home and a life of her own. But it would have to be in the sphere in which she had lived her life thus far—an out¬ side element would have been foreign to her.

,'She thought only of Paul Hadley as she dressed that night for dinner, and found herself wondering if he thought of her.

After leaving the church, Vonnell had gone to the Creston Hotel to reserve places for five at dinner. Then he went for a brief walk about the town. Somehow the thought of a ride back to the hotel in the same car with ITadley and Miss Jordan together had not appealed to him. He tried to be fair, but he could not rid himself of the feeling that had grown upon him since his meet¬ ing with. Hadley.

People who knew Vonnell at times declared that his apt reading of men and women amounted almost to clairvoyance. He did not altogether trust this man who had come among them. Of course Jordan and his daughter vouched for him—Vonnell admitted this fact even while he remained on his guard. Well, he would watch. He could not doubt Alice’s interest in Hadley, and at the same time his own interest was growing keen. How very attractive she was! Finally he pulled out his watch; he must return to the hotel, although he was in no very cheerful frame of mind. The hour at dinner would only serve as a further opportunity for Paul Pladley and Alice Jordan. Confound his luck! Well, he must make the best of it, and watch his opportunity.