
[The following is from the fourth installment in Lloyd Douglas’s series, “Wanted—A Congregation!” in the summer and fall of 1920. This installment, dated 9/2/1920, is titled, “Fourth Phase—The Service of Worship.” The series is about the Reverend D. Preston Blue, who is on a campaign to enlarge his congregation. This episode takes place after he has begun to succeed in building his audience. He is vacationing in the woods with his wife, reminiscing about how serious his situation was before he caught his “second wind.”]
“One of the chief benefits of a preacher’s vacation is the opportunity it affords him to get far enough away from his job to look at it with telescopic vision. Its little details, which loom up so ominously at close range, fade so nearly out of the picture that they cease to clutter his view of the things that really matter. It is so easy for the preacher’s life to settle into mere humdrum, so easy for it to wear almost inescapably deep grooves in his circuit of daily duties and the weekly performance of conventional tasks, so easy to accept and follow certain ways of doing things without stopping to inquire into their adaptability to meet changing conditions.
“This season’s vacation was bringing a flood of new light into the mind of D. Preston Blue. In the past few months, he had got his second wind. He had taken a fresh grip on a ministry that had almost lost its earlier attractions. Indeed, he had fallen so low in spirit, just previous to his new resolution, that it was only economic necessity that held his flanges to the rails. Had his assets consisted of more than a little piece of overtaxed yellow clay environing a small house that needed a roof and a group of dilapidated farm buildings, plus a few thousands of life insurance which couldn’t be collected so long as he insisted upon remaining alive, there was a moment when he would have given it all up as a bad job and retired. His forty-fifth birthday had been spent in sackcloth. Here he was – forty-five – when he should be just entering upon the most active and useful period of his ministerial career, conscious that he not only hadn’t grown an inch or gained a pound as a preacher since thirty, but that he had actually slumped! He wasn’t the man he had been at thirty! Not only had he been unable to lengthen his tent-ropes – his interests were narrowing! Forty-five! – and still pursuing the petty round of more or less aimless and purposeless parochial visits, pushing door buttons four afternoons a week, for all the world like a policeman ringing up headquarters, every fifteen minutes, to let the sergeant know he was still on his beat; increasingly serving as an errand-boy and general roustabout for a score of church auxiliaries with long names, short memories, frequent meetings, and feeble achievements; preaching dull sermons on Sundays to a small group of drowsy people who occupied less than one-fourth the seating space in his church auditorium – forty-five and a failure! It shamed him to reflect that his only reason for staying on the job at all was not unlike the explanation the Unjust Steward gave for the doubtful transaction to which he resorted – he couldn’t dig, and he was ashamed to beg!”
[To be continued in my next post…]








