Dr. Lake admits that although this attractive bypath of tradition “is intellectually adorned by many princes of thought and lords of language” it is “ecclesiastically not free from reproach.” He avows another reason for his use of the word ‘God’ which, if not more compelling, is certainly more worldly. “Atheist” has meant since Roman times an enemy of society; it gives a wholly false impression of the real state of mind of those who adhere to the platonic tradition. They have been wholly without the defiance which “atheism” connotes; on the contrary they have been a few individuals in each age who lived peaceably within the shelter of the church, worshiping a somewhat different God inwardly and in their own way, and often helping to refresh the more mundane spirit of the popular church. The term “agnostic” is almost as unavailable. It was invented to describe a tolerant unbelief in the anthropomorphic God. In popular usage it has come [p029] to mean about the same thing as atheist, for the instinct of the common man is sound in these matters. He feels that those who claim to be open-minded about God have for all practical purposes ceased to believe in him. The agnostic’s reply that he would gladly believe if the evidence would confirm it, does not alter the fact that he does not now believe. And so Dr. Lake concludes that the modernist must use the word ‘God’ in his own sense, “endeavoring partly to preserve Origen’s meaning of the word, and partly shrinking from any other policy as open to misconstruction.” I confess that the notion of adopting a policy about God somehow shocks me as intruding a rather worldly consideration which would seem to be wholly out of place. But this feeling is, I am sure, an injustice to Dr. Lake who is plainly and certainly not a worldling. He is moved, no doubt, by the conviction that in letting ‘God’ mean one thing to the mass of the devout and another to the educated minority, the loss of intellectual precision is more than compensated by the preservation of a community of feeling. This is not mere expediency. It may be the part of wisdom, which is profounder than mere reasoning, to wish that intellectual distinctions shall not divide men too sharply. But if it is wisdom, it is an aristocratic wisdom. And in Dean Inge’s writings this is frankly avowed. “The strength of Christianity,” he says, “is in transforming the lives of individuals—of a small minority, certainly, as Christ clearly predicted, but a large number in the aggregate. To rescue a little flock, here and there, from materialism, selfishness, and hatred, is the task of the [p030] Church of Christ in all ages alike, and there is no likelihood that it will ever be otherwise.”