The Making of a Country Parish: A Story

by Harlow S. Mills

HOW THE VISION BECAME A REALITY

The chief value of visions is in their fulfilment. A visionary man is one who sees but does not do. He has revelations of splendid possibilities, but they do not materialize. The sky of his inner consciousness is all painted over with beautiful pictures, but those designs never get on the canvas or into the marble or find their fulfilment in flesh and blood. The most elaborate plans and specifications will not shelter a family nor constitute a home. They must be embodied in brick and stone and timber in order to make them valuable. Only the concreting of ideals can save the vision-gazer from becoming a visionary.

It is always interesting and instructive to trace the process by which a vision is made real. Often the pathway to the goal is obscure, difficult, and tedious, but it is worth while to follow it. This chapter will be an endeavor to trace the process by which the vision of the Larger Parish became a reality.

I had a clear apprehension of two things—the work to be done, and the instrument by which it must be accomplished; but just how the instrument was to accomplish the work was not so evident. Here was the church, and here were the people; but how could they be brought together to their mutual advantage? I had been a very busy man for years. My time had been fully occupied and I had not supposed it possible to take more work. How was I to multiply my activities many fold and still be efficient? The church had been active and aggressive. It had been doing large things. In the opinion of some it had been straining itself beyond reasonable limits in carrying on its work. How could it quadruple the size of its parish by annexing all the territory within a radius of five miles in every direction, and increase its constituency several times over. Would it not be swamped by its acquisitions? Would it not be overwhelmed by the number and greatness of its obligations and responsibilities? It had not adequately ministered to all the people in its smaller parish. How would it be when its boundaries were so greatly increased?

These and many other doubtful questions presented themselves, and the answers were not at hand. But there were the outlying neighborhoods; without consulting them I had annexed them to my parish. There was the church; without asking its consent, in my own mind I had multiplied its work and increased its burdens many fold. I had a task with the people to make them willing to be annexed; with the church, to lead it to accept its heavier burdens and its larger responsibilities; and a still greater task to bring the church and the people into such relations that the work should be accomplished. How did I go about my task?

1. The first thing to be done was to make a survey of the field. I began to think of all the twenty-five hundred people in this Larger Parish as belonging to me. I felt a measure of responsibility for them all. We, as a church and pastor, must do something for them all, and in order to do it, we must know them all. So I started out to visit all the families in this wide territory. Many of them, of course, I knew already. But many that were more remote I had not touched closely, though in my fifteen years’ pastorate there were few who had not some acquaintance with me. I tramped around over the whole parish, living with the people, often being absent from my home for two or three days at a time, until there was scarcely a home in all that region in which I was a stranger. This was most delightful and rewarding work. There was a welcome for me everywhere. Almost without exception the people seemed pleased to come in touch with the representative of the church. Weary of body, but glad of heart, I laid myself down at night under the shelter of some hospitable farmer’s roof after having spent the evening in friendly conversation with him and his family. Such an opportunity to get up close to people is worth a score of sermons.

This visiting tour occupied many weeks—in fact a large part of the autumn months was spent in this way, and in many desirable things more was accomplished in those three months than had been done in the fifteen previous years. I came to know the outside people as I had never known them before. My touch with them was warmer and closer. I came to think of them in a different way. My interest in them was more definite and more intelligent. I came to understand the field—to know its extent, its difficulties, and its encouragements—and so I was prepared to grapple with the task God had given me.

The effect upon myself of these tours among the people was most salutary. Aside from the information that I gained, there was an even greater gain in sympathy, in understanding, and in the inspiration and enthusiasm that came into my own soul. I usually made these apostolic tours on foot. I would start out in the morning with my staff in hand with a general route previously marked out. If I saw a man plowing in the field, I would sit down with him on the plow-beam while his horses were resting, and have a good talk about his farm, his home, the matters of interest in the community, and there was almost always a good opportunity to get in a few words about the things of the Kingdom. Then at the dinner or the supper hour, when all the family were together, there was a chance to get into the home life, and to be for the time a part of the family circle. I found that when I met the people, not as a minister, but as a man and a friend, there was always a hearty and a glad response, and it was easy to secure a sympathetic hearing for my projects and plans. There was much gained in establishing such close relations with the people. Without such a basis, the work of the larger parish could hardly have been successfully carried on.

2. My task with the church, in bringing it to get my point of view, to see the vision as I saw it, and to coöperate in making it a reality, was not difficult. They were ready for the larger work—at least, they were ready to be made ready. All they needed was light and leading. This I undertook to give. I told them my vision of the Larger Parish. I held it up before them continually, preaching it on the Sabbath, and talking about it in the prayer-meeting. I described the situation as it had been revealed to me in my apostolic tramps. From week to week I could see the kindling flame of enthusiasm in the congregation. There was evidently a rising tide of interest in the wider work. The people began to see the reasonableness of it. They began to feel some sense of responsibility for it, some joy and hope as the possibility of doing it began to dawn upon them.

I believe that the rank and file of our churches are more ready to march forth to larger service than most of us have thought. There is really more willingness to take up new tasks and to engage in aggressive enterprises than they have had credit for. The people want something to do. They want a work that is worth while. Many churches are languishing for a job which they may apprehend and accept—for something large enough and difficult enough to challenge their powers and kindle their enthusiasm. And when a proposition is made to them that seems sane and sensible, when they can have confidence in their leaders, they are generally ready to fall in line and to march forward with firm and steady tread. That was the case with this particular church, and they have stood behind the work of the Larger Parish from the first in solid phalanx. There have been no kickers, no knockers. In all this work I have had the satisfaction of knowing that the people were with me. They have been helpers all the way and not hinderers.