“God bless the school that D.L. Moody founded…” is sung to a grandiose pipe organ inside the auditorium of my alma mater. The instrument sprawls behind the stage like a brassy mountain range and has the cathedral-like effect of making you feel like a minnow thrown into the Pacific.  The school’s intricate architecture makes you think D.L. Moody must have really been something. And he was. But not in the new car kind of way. He was more squeaky than smooth. In one biography, the author tells his impression of the shoe salesmen turned evangelist:  “The first meeting I ever saw him at was in a little old shanty that…