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THE K I N G ’ S B U S I N E S S
December, 1936
B HE BRANDONS had always been active Christian workers even when they were yery. young. dent of the Christian Endeavor in his church when he was a mere boy; and Emily Fuller of the Epworth League in. her church when she was very young. Just as soon as anything was decided upon, some one would always say: “We’ll get Frank Brandom interested in that and it will be sure, to go like wildfire,’’ or, “Put Emily Fuller in charge of that and there won’t be a hitch in your arrangements.” ; And so when; these two joined forces in marriage every one was marveling over their future, and the respective Fuller and Brandon .contingents each began planning to absorb them. both. The result was that finally each took over many of the activities of thè Other, and became busier than ever, abounding in good works,, with scarcely time to call their souls their Own. . ■ ‘‘Oh, you two! You’re simply tireless, aren’t you?” an elderly member would say,- shaking an admiring finger at Emily playfully, and sighing lazily. “You’ll certainly have a lot of stars in your crown! I wish I were as good a Christian as you are! You’ll certainly have your reward in heaven! How do you do it? ” “Oh, that’s nothing!” Emily would say lightly. “I just love this kind of work. We do want to make enough to get a new church carpet.” And Emily would dimple and smile and flutter across the aisle to beg Mrs. Peters for four quarts of her “heavenly mayon naise” to put up in cunning little amber jars. It was just the same with Frank. “Frank, old man, we’re putting on a minstrel; show -to help- ' out --with the mortgage on the church this year, and we want you for an end man. Now there’s no use in making excuses, for there’s nobody who can put over the jokes the way you can, and we mean to have you.” Or the Sunday-school superintendent would accost him. “Brandon, how about your taking that class of boys? They’ve had five teachers and finished them all. You could manage them, I’m sure. Get them interested in some class activity— basketball, or tennis, or something ath letic, and make them feel sòme church responsibility.” “Good idèa!” said Frank pleasantly. “I’m not sure but I’d enjoy that’if I can make the time. I can see possibil ities. We could have week-end confer ences in the summer up at one of the [ Copyright, 1935, by Grace Living ston Hill; published by J. B. Lippincott Company, The story as it 'appears on these pages is a condensation of a longer narrative vbhich is available in booklet /arm.—E ditor .!
A Story —
The Strange
Frank Brandon had been made .presi
By GRACE LIVINGSTON HILL Illustration by Ransom D. Marvin
Suddenly he heard his own name spoken by one of the two men sitting just in front of him. He hadn’t noticed who they were, but now he recognized their voices. One was Mr. Harris, a suc cessful lawyer, as noted for his interest in church affairs as he was in his pro fession. The other was Harry Sharp less. It was Harris who spoke first: “Did that man Brandon from the Fifth Church go into your Bible Con ference work?” "No,” said the other, “he said he hadn’t time!” - - “Why, I’m surprised,” said Harris. ‘3 supposed he was a live wire, always in terested in church affairs. With such speakers and teachers as you have se cured, I would have expected him to take the time!” “Haven’t you ever noticed,” said young Sharpless with a bit of a twinkle, “that Frank Brandon never goes in for anything that he himself isn’t running? He just has to be the head or he won’t play. And from all I’ve seen, his wife must be a good deal the same way. It’s a case of: “Well, I don’t know but that’s so,” said the graver voice sadly. “I hadn’t thought about it before. Too bad, isn’t -it? He could be such a power. Do you know, Sharpless, there are a great many self-worshipers today who are going about most actively carrying on service in their own strength, and for their own sakes. They worship self under the im pression that they are worshiping God. That is the blinding of the enemy, a part of the great delusion. Power, suc cess, without God! When all the time the Lord is saying: ‘Not by might, nor by power, but my Spirit, saith the Lord of hosts!’ . "What a pity Brandon couldn’t be present at some of those meetings! Even one would be an eye-opener to him, for I believe that at heart he is a conscientious young man, if he could only be made to see the truth.” Frank Brandon shrank farther be hind his paper. Cold, angry chills ran down his back; a sick feeling came in the pit of his stomach. His feet and hands were like ice, and his face burned hot with fury. Was this what people thought of him? Was it possible that they so misjudged him? Of course it was jealousy. A man couldn’t expect “I love me! I love me! I’m wild about myself! - I love me! I love me! My picture’s on my shelf!”
camps and teach them the latest meth ods of church- work, raising money, etç., and give them a dash of church his tory, or maybe a talk or two on per- ,.i responsibility; something really serious. Then when they get home let them put on a church social, using some .of the methods they’ve learned.” • ’ The church the Brandons attended was the most thoroughly programmed of ail the churches in th e,city. The minister was wont to boast that the young people of his church had no need sto go anywhere else for their entertain ment; they had enough at home. “Sorry, brother,” Frank Brandon said when Harry Sharpless, an earnest young man from another church who was formerly a member of Frank’s B ib le .Class, suggested their joining.in a city-wide movement for weekly Bible study. “Sorry, but we wouldn’t have time to spare. Monday and Thursday nights we have our regular league games; Wednesday night we have prac tice in our own church gym. Then Tues day night our church orchestra and choirs meet, and a lot of our young folks belong to those. Friday night we have either movies or some kind of church entertainment, and Saturday nights we have our church Get To gether Club. No, I’m sorry, Harry. I’m afraid we wouldn’t be able to join you in that Bible study idea. And you see we really don’t need it. Our young people are all hard at ’work in the church, and of course most of them come from Christian homes and we get plenty of that sort of thing on Sunday anyway.” Frank Brandon, coming home from his office an hour later than usual one day in late February, swung himself aboard the train just as it was starting, and Walked through three crowded cars, finally dropping into the only vacant seat he could find, the little single one by the door. He opened the evening paper. He was extremely tired and didn’t want to talk, for things had not gone well. Besides, he had a headache and a sore throat and ached all over. His throat had been sore when he left home that morning in the sleet and slush, having forgotten his rubbers in his haste. He unfurled a newspaper more as a protection than because he wanted to read it. He didn’t want to talk to any One. He was not noticing his fellow passengers. His eyes were on his paper, though he was not much interested in its news.
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