The minister shook his head. "A man is not justified in letting any woman, however dear, come between his own soul and God. His happiness may depend upon the woman he loves, I admit; but his religion should be independent of her, and of everybody except himself."
"But supposing he cannot help it."
"He must help it, Joanna; it is a man's first duty to be religious; a man who is not religious is not a whole man. He may have a fine literary style and be an accomplished scholar—but he is not made in the image of God."
"But would you call Paul's book irreligious?" asked Joanna.
Her father thought for a moment. "I am afraid I should. It is not, of course, atheistic or immoral; I do not mean that; but it is cynical and flippant; and 'he that is not with Me is against Me'."
Joanna sighed. "It is sometimes difficult to be religious."
"It ought not to be. Religion is not a bill of pains and penalties, but a charter of happiness. But, understand me, I do not condemn Paul's book because it does not preach any special tenet or uphold any peculiar creed; for the older I grow the more catholic do I become."
"I am not like that," said Joanna, "as I grow older, the more fondly do I cling to my own 'ism'—not because it is an 'ism,' but because it is my own."
"You are still a great deal younger than I am. Our division lines are far too strong. The Church began in catholicity and must end in catholicity, and I would avoid all peculiar garbs or shibboleths. Anything which connects godliness with a grey gown or a close bonnet is not religion at all, but sectarianism. Therefore I do not blame my son for not preaching Methodism; I only blame him for not preaching Christ."
"Yet you love Methodism as much as I do, don't you, father?"