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From The Archives: The Logic Of Holiness by Andrew Thompson

From The Archives: The Logic Of Holiness by Andrew Thompson

Over the years at Wesleyan Accent, we have been blessed by numerous authors and articles. In this new space, we are dusting off pieces of wisdom from the Archives we believe still offer a good word to the church. Today, we are revisiting a piece on the intersection of holiness and evangelism. This article originally appeared here in January of 2014. May it bless you as it has already blessed many.

 

There is a phrase in Wesleyan theology that holds the key to understanding most everything about present salvation. The phrase is “holiness of heart and life.” This is one of those terms that seems simple at first glance and yet is packed with meaning on multiple levels.

It’s also a term worth exploring, and I want to explore it here. But first a little detour about theological language in general.

 

The Language We Use

Conventional wisdom from “experts” dictates that we should find ordinary or commonplace words to describe Christian concepts so we can avoid putting up barriers between the Church and would-be believers. Our evangelism can be hindered, so this thinking goes, by the vocabulary we use to talk about the Christian faith.

I’ve heard some version of this perspective many times over the course of my ministry. And I’ve always had questions about it. To what length should we take this advice? Are we talking about avoiding the technical vocabulary of theology, or should we avoid core biblical terms as well? I’ve heard people suggest that we shouldn’t use the language of sin and salvation, either because it is off-putting or because it conjures up lowbrow images that good, sophisticated Christians should want to avoid. Is that a good idea?

At times, I wonder whether this point-of-view is just a concession to mainstream consumer culture. Many churches have emptied their membership requirements of anything that actually looks like, well, a requirement. The idea is to attract more people to the churches in question by becoming “seeker sensitive”—but does the evidence show that such a strategy really results in congregations filled with mature disciples of Jesus Christ?

Maybe emptying our language of its robustly Christian inflections is just another version of the almost irresistible urge to mimic the larger culture in the hopes of getting that culture’s blessing for what we Christians are doing. I think that’s likely the case. I also think it is a reason to consider an alternative strategy: Namely, embracing with gusto the vocabulary of both the Bible and the historic Wesleyan tradition. Such a strategy would seem particularly important if certain words or phrases themselves have great explanatory power for how we understand the nature of God, human beings, salvation, and discipleship.

 

The Meaning of Holiness

In the New Testament, the Apostle Paul explains the nature of sanctification as a life of holiness. He describes it to the church at Thessalonica in this way: “It is God’s will that you should be sanctified … For God did not call us to be impure, but to live a holy life. Therefore, he who rejects this instruction does not reject man but God, who gives you his Holy Spirit” (1 Thessalonians 4:3, 7-8; NIV).

John Wesley was captivated by the biblical notion of holiness. He equated the life of holiness with present salvation. In one sense, holiness is that state of being purified from wickedness—in thought, word, and deed. But for Wesley, to understand the root meaning of holiness for us, we have to understand what God’s holiness really means first.

We can see the character of divine holiness, according to Wesley, in the First Letter of John. (This is the book of the Bible that Wesley once called “the deepest part of the Holy Scripture.”) It is 1 John that connects how we are to love one another with how God loves us. 1 John 4:7-8 reads, “Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God; everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, for God is love” (NRSV).

In his Explanatory Notes Upon the New Testament, Wesley keys on this passage in 1 John as capturing the real substance of biblical holiness. His comment on verse 8 reads in part, “God is often characterized as holy, righteous, wise; but not holiness, righteousness, or wisdom in the abstract, as he is said to be love; intimating that this is his darling, his reigning attribute, the attribute that shed an amiable glory on all his other perfections.”

Thus, to become holy is to have your heart so transformed by God’s love that love itself becomes the defining mark of your very person. Wesley paints an image of what he means by this transformation in the 1741 sermon, “The Almost Christian.” He writes, “Such a love of God is this as engrosses the whole heart, as takes up all the affections, as fills the entire capacity of the soul, and employs the utmost extent of all its faculties.”

So holiness is not a static concept. It isn’t a condition where a Christian desperately tries to avoid thinking the wrong thing or doing the wrong thing, lest his spotless purity be marred by sin. Instead, it is the dynamic reality of love—transforming the believer’s life and giving the believer a new set of values and commitments that are in harmony with God’s desires for his children.

On Wesley’s account, this is the heart of the Christian life. Those who are growing in holiness are experiencing what we mean by salvation in this present life.

 

Holiness … From Heart to Life

The Wesleyan conception of holiness requires one more element in order to adequately explain how it takes root in the lives of Christian believers. This element is wrapped up in the phrase, “of heart and life” that we attach to the core term “holiness.”

When reading John Wesley’s writing on salvation, you’ll encounter some version of the phrase “holiness of heart and life” over and over again. A related phrase is “inward and outward holiness” by which Wesley means essentially the same thing.

The “heart and life” and the “inward and outward” act as qualifiers on the core term “holiness.” One way to grasp why they are important is to recognize that we never see them in the reverse order: it is never holiness of life and heart, for instance, but always holiness of heart and life.

In the church today, we often shy away from anything that emphasizes the need to experience something inwardly that we do not have any control over. We like the language of discipleship, because discipleship strikes us as something you go out “there” and “do.” What does it mean to be a Christian, we ask? And the answer is always something about getting outside the four walls of the church, making a difference, transforming the world, etc.

There is a Wesleyan critique to make to this approach to discipleship that is found in the view that holiness always moves from heart to life. Wesley himself was always highly skeptical of Christians who thought that their good works were the substance of their faith. He thought that such a view relied on what he called the “outward form of religion” while denying religion’s true power.

To put the matter another way: Wesley does not believe that you can work your way into faith, hope, and love. He rather believes that these core Christian virtues are “wrought in us (be it swiftly or slowly) by the Spirit of God,” as he puts it in a 1745 letter. And thus it is crucial that we have our hearts transformed inwardly in order for anything we do outwardly to be pleasing in God’s sight.

Commenting on Jesus’ teaching that “blessed are the pure in heart,” Wesley says that God is always well pleased with “a pure and holy heart” but “he is also well pleased with all that outward service which arises from the heart” (“Upon our Lord’s Sermon on the Mount, IV”). The logic of this movement from heart to life Wesley states in this way: the “latter naturally [results] from the former; for a good tree will bring forth good fruit” (“Heaviness through Manifold Temptations”). This is all simply a way of saying that salvation is something God does—not us.

If we want to live in this present life as God desires us to live, then we need an outpouring of his grace into our lives. We will never be able to fake true holiness through the mechanical actions of daily life—even when those actions have a religious character to them. And who we truly are inwardly will finally be shown by our outward attitudes, words, and deeds in the world. So if you want your life to be marked by holiness in an honest and authentic way, it must be lived out of a holy heart that has been made holy by the action of the Holy Spirit.

All of this means that we can’t discard a phrase like holiness of heart and life only to replace it with something more pedestrian: “learning to be more loving,” or “becoming a better person,” or some such collection of words that seems less intimidating. The phrase itself communicates a powerful message. It is about holiness—biblical holiness—that we should be concerned. That holiness only comes about in us in a particular kind of way, and it is a way that calls for us to throw ourselves on the mercy of God.

Those recent trends to give up the traditional language of both the Bible and the Christian tradition in order to make the faith more palatable to outsiders are deeply misguided. When we go that route, we inevitably present Christianity as something less than it really is. So perhaps what we need to do is not change our language but rather repent and recognize that becoming a Christian involves a conversion—in every aspect of heart and life.

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Admirers vs. Followers by Rob Haynes

Admirers vs. Followers by Rob Haynes

I enjoy watching sports. I am amazed at the skills and talents demonstrated on the field in a competitive game or match. From my couch, I admire them while I enjoy a snack in the comfort of my living room. I must admit that rarely, however, do I follow their example of their hard work and dedication to their craft. I do not follow their advice on how to master the skills they demonstrate. It is much easier to be an admirer than a follower. In the Christian life, it is important to make a distinction between “admirers” and “followers.”  An admirer is awe-struck. A follower is devoted. An admirer applauds. A follower surrenders. An admirer approves. A follower obeys.

The gospels tell us that a large crowd gathered for Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount. Matthew records that the crowds were “astounded” at his teaching, for he taught as someone with authority (see 7:28-29). The crowd admired Jesus. However, there were a few that went beyond mere admiration, they became followers. They are the ones who said that they were willing to give up what the world is offering to accept what Jesus is offering. They would rather do that than to give up Jesus’ invitation for the emptiness of the world’s offerings.

The Bible shows us that Jesus is constantly inviting and challenging people to move from a mere admirer to be a follower of Jesus. Such a move involves more than just a mere verbal agreement. It requires some sort of action or commitment. Frequently, there is a price to pay. The same holds true today. We see this in John 3 when Nicodemus, a Jewish religious leader comes to talk with Jesus. In their conversation, Jesus tells Nicodemus that he must be born again: he must put away his old life and be personally and publicly connected to him. Later, we see that Nicodemus does so when he asks for Jesus’ crucified body, and he helps bury him. Nicodemus became a follower.

The man we commonly refer to as the “Rich Young Ruler” in Luke 18 is a different story. This man admired Jesus and his teachings. He asks Jesus, essentially, “What’s the least I need to do to get into heaven?” Their conversation shows us that the young man liked the idea of Jesus’ teachings. However, when Jesus asked him to be a follower, to make a commitment, he went away sad. He could not move past being an admirer.

While the Bible gives us pictures of admirers and followers, in many parts of the church today, we have added another category: Users. Users of Jesus want the promise of eternal life, a cultural status, or to get some help out of a tight spot. Putting too heavy an emphasis on encouraging people to know where they are going when they die, without teaching them how to live, has created users like the Rich Young Ruler. They want to know: what’s the least I need to do?

While there are many reasons for the trend in exhaustion and burnout among ministry leaders, I think part of the problem is that many churches are full of admirers and users. In many places, ministry models have been developed to try to re-excite admirers and users, but have not asked them to move to actually being followers. Admirers and users are willing to identify as Christians, while reserving the label “disciple”, what I am calling a follower, for the “Super-Christians.” There are many reasons why so much of the church finds itself in this state today. One key area that I want to point out is the over-emphasis on program-driven activities rather than disciple-making ministry. Organizing groups by affinity, age, or need only to make it easier to present information without the expectation of transformation can lead to a church full of mere admirers. Offering an endless stream of information-based lectures and videos, carefully crafted by a few to impress the many, and do not actually expect personal transformation, can lead to large groups of consumers, not disciples.

Danish Philosopher Søren Kierkegaard put it well in Practice of Christianity:

“If you have any knowledge at all of human nature, you know that those who only admire the truth will, when danger appears, become traitors. The admirer is infatuated with the false security of greatness; but if there is any inconvenience or trouble, he pulls back… Christ, however, never asked for admirers, worshipers, or adherents. He consistently spoke of ‘followers’ and ‘disciples.’”

The focus of evangelism is not to merely make another admirer or a user. The goal should be to make disciples. Reclaiming our Wesleyan tools to make disciples who will make disciples through the Classes, Bands, and Societies is a great step in making followers of Jesus Christ. You can read more about those here.

The kind of relationship Jesus asks for is one that changes our words, our actions, our thoughts about others, our habits, and our views about the world. This type of relationship should change our values and our pursuits. It should change us to the very core. Such a relationship cannot be cultivated by mere admirers. It requires devoted followers.

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Distinctive Style of Methodists: Our Worldwide Parish by Maxie Dunnam

Distinctive Style of Methodists: Our Worldwide Parish by Maxie Dunnam

Followers of Jesus have a distinctive style. There are many marks of the Methodist Style. We have considered A Catholic Spirit and Heartfelt Religion. Let’s look now at one other distinctive mark, our worldwide parish.

It is gathered up in Wesley’s popular saying, “The world is my parish.” That word captures the style of the Methodist movement—a concern for all humankind, a spending of ourselves and our resources that all the world might be brought to Christ.

Most of what I share here and much I have shared about other marks are from my book, Going on to Salvation (Nashville, Discipleship Resources, 1996). The truths still speak to us today.

We need to know that Wesley came to this position “kicking and screaming.” His decision to join Whitefield in preaching in the fields to the poor and to coal miners was a difficult one. He fought against it. Whitefield was having great success in reaching for Christ those for whom the established church paid no attention. He sent for John Wesley, knowing his preaching power and organizing skill.

Up to this point, Wesley had only preached in regular church services while in England. Should he accept Whitefield’s appeal and help with the open-air meetings in Bristol? Charles insisted that he not do it. But John practiced what he preached. He called on the Christian fellowship for guidance. He submitted the decision to the Fetter Lane Society, and they decided he should go. Wesley’s Journal for Saturday, March 31 reads:

In the evening, I reached Bristol and met Mr. Whitefield there. I could scarce reconcile myself at first to this strange way of preaching in the fields, of which he set me an example on Sunday; having been all my life (until very lately) so tenacious of every point relating to decency and order, that I should have thought the saving of souls almost a sin if it had not been done in a church.

Wesley spoke to a little society on Sunday evening using the Sermon on the Mount “one pretty remarkable precedent of field-preaching,” he observed, “though I suppose there were churches at that time also.” The next day, Monday, Wesley reported in his Journal:

At four in the afternoon, I submitted to be more vile, and proclaimed in the highways the glad tidings of salvation, speaking from a little eminence in ground adjoining the city, to about three thousand people. The scripture on which I spoke was this,…”The Spirit of the Lord is upon Me, because He hath anointed Me to preach the gospel to the poor.”

In his book, The Radical Wesley, Howder Snyder sums up what happened:

Characteristically, Wesley immediately began to organize. He formed a number of societies and bands and on May 9 acquired a piece of property where he built his “New Room” as a central meeting place. When Whitefield returned to America in August, Wesley was left totally in charge of the growing work. He divided his time between Bristol and London, concentrating on open-air preaching, organizing bands and speaking at night to an increasing number of societies.

The Wesleyan Revival had begun. From the beginning it was a movement largely for and among the poor, those whom “gentlemen” and “ladies” looked on simply as part of the machinery of the new industrial system.The Wesleys preached, the crowds responded and Methodism as a mass movement was born. (pp. 32-33)

That’s what Methodism is all about—a missional and evangelical witness and outreach that sees the world as our parish—and every person in the world, rich and poor, educated and uneducated, without regard to race—every person as a person for whom Christ died.

The movement will go on and be empowered as we Methodists recover the warm heart, when we provide structures of love and care, and when we get a passion for ministry and mission, believing that “the world is our parish.”

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A Mark Of God’s Presence by Marjana Luist

A Mark Of God’s Presence by Marjana Luist

A few years ago, on a beautiful summer day, our family gathered by the rally track to cheer on my nephews in their race. We spent the entire day on a treeless hill, fully exposed to the sun. By evening, the effects were undeniable—our uncovered skin had turned red.

Just like the sun leaves a mark on us, so does God’s presence—though not on our skin, but within us. Being in His presence changes us, and that change is reflected in our attitudes, actions, words, and very being.

A deep tan requires more than a few fleeting moments in the sun. Likewise, true transformation into God’s likeness is not instant—it takes time. For real change to take place within us, a quick reading of a few Bible verses or a prayer listing all the things we want God to do for us is not enough. To bear the mark of God’s presence, we must spend time in His presence. A lasting tan requires regular exposure to the sun, and in the same way, the mark of God’s presence in us requires ongoing communion with Him.

Two years ago, while vacationing in a warm country, I spent several days soaking up the sun and swimming in the pool for hours, yet when I returned home, I looked just as pale as when I had left. The reason? A highly effective sunscreen.

Just as sunscreen lessens the sun’s impact on our skin, certain attitudes and spiritual barriers can diminish the Holy Spirit’s transformative work in our hearts. A person may attend church year after year, read the Bible, and pray, yet no real transformation takes place in their behavior, attitudes, or character. The reason is a protective layer that prevents the Holy Spirit from working in their heart. In spiritual life, such “strong sunscreens” can be apathy, certain fears, a false sense of satisfaction with one’s spiritual state, or anything else that blocks the Holy Spirit from reaching the heart.

One could attend three worship services and five Bible studies in a week, seemingly basking in God’s “sunshine,” but if there is a protective layer around the heart, no mark of God’s presence will be left. Faith will remain superficial and will not transform into a heartfelt belief. Not every religious experience changes us, but rather, the experience of the Holy Spirit working within us and in our lives.

Faith moves from being an intellectual belief to a deeply personal conviction when we encounter the Holy Spirit’s work in our lives. This was also the case with John Wesley, who after the Holy Spirit’s light broke through, spoke of his heart being “strangely warmed.”  

When we remove the barriers around our hearts and truly seek God’s presence, we allow His Spirit to transform us. This is not a one-time event but a continual process—like stepping into the sunlight daily, allowing its warmth to leave a lasting mark. It is this “sunlight” of God in which we are transformed into His likeness and where our divine image is restored. The mark of God’s presence and the work of the Holy Spirit in us bring forth Christlike qualities such as love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.

As Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 3:18, when we approach God with unveiled faces (without protective layers), we are transformed into His image (Christ-likeness) with ever-increasing glory. This is the work of the Holy Spirit—the true mark of God’s presence in us.

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Distinctive Style of Methodists: Heartfelt Religion by Maxie Dunnam

Distinctive Style of Methodists: Heartfelt Religion by Maxie Dunnam

Followers of Jesus have throughout history exhibited a distinctive style.  In my first article I shared about Wesley’s peculiar flair. The second article highlighted a Methodist’s catholic spirit. Here, we will look to the heart of the Wesleyan movement.

 

 

The Methodist movement was born in England and soon began to burn with a fire of love across the land, in large part, because of two big problems in the Established Church. One was spiritual apathy. Deism had flavored the intellectual and religious climate. God had become a benevolent ruler of the universe, removed from personal experience. In the arrogant rationalism that pervaded the day, everything had to be utterly reasonable.

The second thing that had happened was that the nature of the church as an organization had become remote, removed from life, not touching the people where they were. One cleric, for instance, had been made a bishop and given a lifetime stipend, but never set foot in the diocese over which he presumably had spiritual and temporal oversight. It was obviously all temporal and nothing spiritual.

Into that setting with those two characteristics – spiritual apathy and a remote church structure -came the Methodist revival with an answer to these two glaring, devastating failures of the church. The answer? Heartfelt religion.

For spiritual apathy, there was the experience of the warm heart. People wanted desperately not only to hear the gospel, but also to experience it. So John Wesley’s Aldersgate experience became the model: “I felt my heart strangely warmed, I felt I did trust Christ, Christ alone for salvation; and an assurance was given me that he had taken away my sins, even mine, and saved me from the law of sin and death.” That experience was repeated over and over.

Furthermore, for people who experienced a church that had become lifelessly formal at best, and coldly remote at worst, the Methodists came with ministries of care and warm concern. The class meetings and bands of the Methodist societies became the settings for these expressions of compassion. People cared for and looked after each other’s souls. Loving hearts set other hearts on fire.

In a lecture at Emory University, Dr. Theodore Runyon introduced what to me was a whole new way of thinking about the “heart strangely warmed” and structures of care as means for our growth in Christ and our life in the world. It is a new way of thinking about a Methodist style. He used three terms to make an important distinction: orthodoxy, orthopraxis, and orthopathy. The first two terms were familiar; not the third. Orthodoxy is right doctrine, right opinion, right belief. But Methodists have never believed that orthodoxy was enough. God demands right action, right practice, right behavior – that is orthopraxis.

Even with that kind of plea for orthopraxis, working faith, Wesley always insisted that as faith without works is dead, works without faith profiteth nothing; that “all morality, all justice, mercy and truth – without faith – is of no value in the sight of God.”

Neither orthodoxy nor orthopraxis alone is sufficient. And what Runyon adds is that even together, they are not enough. There must be orthopathy. This means right passions, senses, tempers, dispositions; and in the larger sense, right experience. This, says Runyon, is the challenge to a theology of conversion – 

To recognize the crying need of humankind to be encountered and transformed by Christian faith in all aspects of their being, including the emotions, feelings, and experiences. Nothing less is a sign of the kingdom and its power in the midst of the present age. And nothing less than this kind of theology and experience ought to undergird our preaching, our Christian education, our evangelism and mission, and our witness and action for peace and justice.

Runyon then gave three hallmarks for such an orthopathic theology. First, Wesley’s “bookends” of creation and kingdom, the fundamental conviction that all creation is to be redeemed by Christ. The world and everything in it is to be brought under the Lordship of Christ not destroyed, but redeemed.

The second hallmark of orthopathy is realism about the present order of things. “We are a part of a world that has corrupted God’s good creation and become insensitive and deaf to God’s will and way.” The gospel forces us to see the alienation and estrangement of the present order and present the gospel necessity of being reborn into a new order.

Thus, the final hallmark of orthopathic theology is the familiar word of John 3:7: “You must be born from above.”

Runyon’s insight helps us think clearly about how we provide the opportunities for the “heart strangely warmed” and the structures of care that will be settings for the transformation of our whole life and total experience. When Wesley insisted that “true Christianity cannot exist without the inward experience and the outward practice of justice, mercy, and truth,” he brought orthodoxy, orthopraxis, and orthopathy together and gave us our marching orders.

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Accountability In The Wesleyan Way by Jorge Acevedo

Accountability In The Wesleyan Way by Jorge Acevedo

My youngest son spent a decade as a chef in training in many fine dining restaurants in the Southwest Florida area. Several of the eating establishments were seafood restaurants as you would expect living on the Gulf Coast. Nathan learned to cook some of the most fantastic fresh seafood dishes, but here was his dirty little secret. He did not eat seafood. He did not eat his cooking!

“Accountability” is one of those words in our culture, and sadly in the Church, that goes over as well as the word “evangelism.” People shut down when they hear it, but I think it’s because, like the word “evangelism,” we have not had good models and experiences of it. Typically, we think of accountability as a heavy handed, manipulative experience of being gaslit into doing stuff we’d rather not do. Such usage is often dished out but never practiced by those serving it. Let me suggest that there is a better way to describe and yes, even experience accountability.

Here’s a definition I would offer that I believe is in the Wesleyan spirit of “watching over one another in love.” Accountability understood from our holiness tradition is inviting trusted Christ followers to help me honor my most sacred commitments. If my walk with God, marriage, parenting, and vocation are some of my most sacred commitments then having a few trusted companions to help me stay faithful to those commitments is essential.

A lesser-known accountability group in early Methodism was a group of men and women hand-selected by John Wesley known as the “select society.” This group existed to serve as models of Christian perfection and as a training environment on both the doctrines and methods of the growing Methodist movement. Dr. Michael Henderson writes of the select societies, “The select society was an elite corps of those enthusiasts who had worked their way up through the ranks of class meeting, society, and band and were considered by both their peers and the leaders to be the standard bearers of the movement.”1 Yet unlike the scouting program of our day, there were no “badges” for being in the select society. It was simply an intentional gathering of women and men who embodied the best of the Methodist movement and desired to continue to grow in grace.

In A Plain Account of the People Called Methodists, Wesley describes the Select Society this way:

I saw it might be useful to give some advice as to those who continued in the light of God’s covenant, which the rest of their brethren did not want, and probably could not receive. So, I desire a small number of such as appeared to be in the state, to spend an hour with me every Monday morning. My design was, not only to direct them how to press after perfection; to exercise their every grace, and improve every talent they had received; and to incite them to love one another more, and to watch more carefully over each other; but also to have a select company, to whom I might unbosom myself on all occasions, without reserve; and whom I could propose to all their brethren in as a pattern of love, of holiness, and of good works.2

These were leaders who had been invited to live in rich, deep, formational community with one another. Personal holiness of heart and life, growing in ministerial capacity and living in gracious and accountable community were the aims.

It is also important to note that this became a place for Mr. Wesley to “unbosom” himself. This word, not used much in the 21st century, means “to disclose or reveal.” I find it fascinating that Mr. Wesley was self-aware enough to create a people and place for himself to live in grace and truth with fellow believers. Henderson reports, “Wesley encouraged a freewheeling and open discussion, especially on matters significant to the direction and policies of Methodism. He welcomed criticism of the system and of his own place in it.”3 Wesley understood the wisdom of a “do as I do” kind of spirituality. He “ate what he cooked.”

This is the stream of Christianity we find ourselves in as Methodists. This is how we understand accountability. Embedded in our DNA is a kind of accountability that fosters flourishing in our formation to Jesus as well as fruitfulness in our mission for Jesus. For more than 35 years, I have had a “band of brothers” with whom I can unbosom myself and it has been the game changer in my life and ministry. I’m eating Mr. Wesley’s cooking too.

So, how about you? Do a spiritual inventory right now. Do you have a band of brothers or circle of sisters with whom you can “unbosom” yourself? Who helps you discern how you are engaging in ministry to the world? Step into the way of accountability. It’s good for the soul.

 

1 Henderson, John Wesley’s Class Meeting: A Model for Making Disciples, 121.

2 Henderson, John Wesley’s Class Meeting: A Model for Making Disciples, 122.

3 Henderson, John Wesley’s Class Meeting: A Model for Making Disciples, 123.

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Distinctive Style of Methodist: Catholic Spirit by Maxie Dunnam

Distinctive Style of Methodist: Catholic Spirit by Maxie Dunnam

In my last article I made the claim that Methodists have a distinct style. As Christians, our style defines us as much, maybe more, than anything else.

I have the privilege of observing that more than most. My wife and I live in a life cafe. We have lived here for seven years, and plan to make this our “earthly home.” Though not formally defined and labeled as a “Christian Community,” we are. We have Christian worship on Sunday and a vesper service on Thursday.

We have many denominations represented here and at least two Jewish couples. Baptists and Church of Christ are the largest defined denominational groups. Though a minority, there are Methodists and our group is growing.

Other than the local churches I have served, different expressions of my ministry career have given me opportunity to live and test the popular expression of how Christians should relate: In essentials, unity; in non-essentials, liberty; and, in all things, charity. Wesley described his approach to differences in belief in one big question, “Is thine heart right, as my heart is with thy heart…If it is, give me thine hand.”

I don’t know who first suggested it, but I confirm that sadly the church and too many Christians are plagued with xenophobia. Formally defined, xenophobia is “hatred or distrust of foreigners or strangers.” It is not new to the church. The apostles feared Paul and his work among the Gentiles. They were suspicious because they did not understand. That spirit within the church has often hindered the ministry of Christ. We fear opinions, positions, attitudes, and beliefs that do not match our own.

Over against xenophobia I want to put those celebrated words of John Wesley. “Is thine heart right, as my heart is with thy heart … If it is, give me thine hand.” Those words are actually from 2 Kings 10:15. Wesley used them as the text for one of the noblest sermons he ever preached, his sermon on the “Catholic Spirit.” It was one of the few instances in Wesley’s preaching when the scriptural setting of the text had nothing to do with the sermon. Unlike most of us preachers, Wesley didn’t take a text and depart from it; he stayed with it. Not so in this instance.

Wesley took the words completely out of their grisly context in 2 Kings 10 and asked, not what they meant there, but what a follower of Christ should find in them. And from that exploration, he gave us a great word to guide us as we claim and cultivate one of the most important marks of our distinctive style as Methodists: a catholic spirit.

Unfortunately there has been destructive misunderstanding and a misapplication of Wesley’s concept of the catholic spirit. We interpret that to mean “theological pluralism,” and such a pluralism has been projected as both acceptable and desirable of what it means to be a Christian within the Methodist tradition. Taken to an extreme, there is a fallacy in this concept. The way it is projected suggests that such a believer can believe almost anything about God, Jesus Christ, and the essential doctrines that relate to salvation. But this is a perversion of Wesley’s idea of the catholic spirit.

Such an uncritical, undemanding, unexamined emphasis on so-called pluralism was the furthest thing from Wesley’s thinking. He was unreserved in his condemnation of what he called “speculative latitudinarianism,” which would be his word for the way many interpret pluralism today. Wesley was rather adamant:

A catholic spirit is not speculative latitudinarianism. It is not an indifference to all opinions: this is the spawn of hell, not the offspring of heaven. This unsettledness of thought, this being “driven to and fro and tossed about with every wind of doctrine'” is a great curse, not a blessing, an irreconcilable  enemy, not a friend, to true Catholicism. A man of a truly catholic spirit has not now his religion to seek. He is fixed as the sun in his judgment concerning the main branches of Christian doctrine. It is true, he is always ready to hear and weigh whatsoever can be offered against his principles; but as this does not show any wavering in his own mind, so neither does it occasion any. He does not halt between two opinions, nor vainly endeavor to blend them into one. Observe this, you who know not what spirit ye are of: who call yourselves men of the catholic spirit, only because you are of a muddy understanding; because your mind is all in a mist; because you have no settled, consistent principles, but are for jumbling all opinions together. Be convinced, that you have quite missed your way; you know not where you are. You think you are got into the very spirit of Christ when, in truth, you are nearer the spirit of Antichrist. Go, first, and learn the first elements of the gospel of Christ, and then shall you learn to be of a truly catholic spirit (Fifty-Three Sermons, “Catholic Spirit,” p. 502).

With that perspective, it is easy to see that nothing is more needed in the church today, certainly in the United States, than a Catholic Spirit.

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Distinctive Style of Methodist: Knowing Who We Are by Maxie Dunnam

Distinctive Style of Methodist: Knowing Who We Are by Maxie Dunnam

Circumstances sometimes call us to do strange things – things we would not otherwise do. Circumstances also cause us to do things we should have done but never got around to before.

Two out-of-town visitors were walking along a street in New York City late one night. One of the pair, wary of the reputation of city streets at night, kept glancing over his shoulder, nervously eyeing every alley and shadowed doorway. Sure enough, his anticipation was rewarded. As the two rounded the next corner, two muggers appeared out of the darkness and closed in. The nervous fellow knew what was going to happen. He reached for his wallet, pulled out of a $50 bill and handed it to his friend: “Joe, here’s that $50 I’ve been owing you for six months.”

According to some critics, John Wesley never had an original idea in his life. He just borrowed from others. But the point is, even if it’s true that Wesley only borrowed from others, that would hardly solve the riddle of this man and the spiritual dynamic of the Methodist movement. Wesley’s genius and originality lay precisely in his borrowing, adapting, and combining diverse elements into a synthesis more dynamic than the sum of its parts.

Wesley also had the genius of putting an expansive, explosive truth in a single, sometimes simple sentence or a pithy phrase. He encapsulated his vision of mission and ministry in the sentence that has been on the lips of Methodists ever since: “The world is my parish.” He borrowed from Paul to summarize his theology succinctly: “Faith working through love.” He gave a challenging and rather complete principle of stewardship in the crisp triplet: “Gain all you can, save all you can, and give all you can.”

He put controversy into perspective, and challenged our motives, “Fervour for opinions is not Christian zeal.” He found unique ways to call people back to the essentials of Scriptural Christianity, “Though we cannot think alike, may we not love alike? Can anything but love beget love?” He described his whole approach to differences in belief and church order in the one question: “Is thine heart right, as my heart is with thy heart?… If it be, give me thine hand.”   

Together, these references suggest there is a distinctive Methodist style. I want to confirm and commend that. My wife, Jerry, and I live in a life care community. Even casual conversation and the way persons relate in our community reveal something of what they believe. We Methodists are a minority in the community, Church of Christ and Baptists are majorities. Even if I were not deliberately observant, I believe I would sense “something different.”  I think that has to do with style.

Diana Vreeland was an undisputed leader in fashion. She wrote her autobiography with the simple but stylish title, DV. It recorded her lifetime of living with inimitable style. She made a big point about the importance of style by referring to Japan. “God was fair to the Japanese,” she said. “He gave them no oil, no coal, no diamonds, no gold, no material resources-nothing! Nothing comes from the island that you can sustain a civilization on. All God gave the Japanese was a sense of style” (House and Garden, April 1984, p. 36, excerpts from DV). It was the ultimate compliment to the Japanese from this fashion style setter.

Methodists have a style that, to a marked degree, defines our uniqueness. I’m going to reflect on this distinctive style in the weeks ahead, and post here on Wesleyan Accent.

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Thoughts From 10,000 Ft by Sarah Wanck

Thoughts From 10,000 Ft by Sarah Wanck

As I type, I’m sitting (tray table down) on my American flight from Miami to Chicago. I thought maybe I’d rest. With a very long layover in Chicago I thought I’d rest now and work later. (There’s so much work to do.)  But as I closed my eyes, and adjusted my headrest, I was overwhelmed.

I tried not to weep.

It might be odd to openly weep on a plane full of passengers lost to my reality. If I could, I would shout in prayer, and lift up my voice in a language only known to the Spirit. My body is somewhere above Kentucky, but I feel like I’m sitting in the front row of the church in Marianao – not on the aisle seat of an over-full flight. And if I were there, that’s exactly what we would do. The whole body would be rejoicing in God’s goodness. Shouting in praise. Hands raised in excited adoration. The whole body would be standing in the presence of God Himself, bold with praise.

Instead. My heart could explode from the tension. The desire to openly pray and praise and the inability to do it. I’m meeting with the Lord from 10,000 feet. And no one knows. (Or cares.)

I’ve been to Cuba before.

I’ve been deeply transformed each time. Every time I’ve tried to come home and put into words what the experience is like – knowing that I have the great privilege of experiencing what most people will never get to know. And every time, I can’t.

I can say the technical things.

Revival continues to happen in the Methodist Church of Cuba. In their deep difficulty and struggle the people of Cuba overflow with a well of deep joy. They reflect a deeper love for Jesus. They live in the work of the Spirit. They are so committed to their King that they sacrifice and serve in ways that are challenging and inspiring to Christians everywhere. They are walking into the dark places to bring the life changing light of Christ. They welcome us with radical hospitality….anticipating our every need and readily responding before we know to ask. They live with little and they give us everything.

They believe the Spirit of God is alive, well, and working in each of them. And they act accordingly, actively praying for deliverance, healing, and baptism of the Spirit for others – and seeing the fruit of healing and deliverance when they do.

I’m holding back my weeping – not for the technical things. (Though they are truly incredible.)

But because of the communion of the Spirit we shared. I’m weeping at the union of lives that came through the power of the Spirit – and the profound honor of ministering in the Spirit together. I’m weeping for the words of life and prayers that were lifted over me – even as I attempted to minister to others.

I’m weeping because I’ve tasted the Kingdom there, over and over again. But in a profound way on this visit, years of learning each other and exploring Cuba ignited into shared ministry, shared Spirit, and into a taste of the Kingdom. It was the communion of Saints on earth.

And though I’m still processing – I think I’m also weeping for what we’re missing. How many churches, and how much of America is missing it.

It’s not that American churches are getting it wrong exactly.

It’s maybe more that we have something available to us that we either don’t know – or are too scared to discover. We’re on the edges of the Kingdom – holding it with hesitation instead of enjoying the fullness of the Kingdom that’s possible for us.

It’s nobody’s fault.

It’s American individualism, its failures of churches and leaders to lead them in the fullness of the Kingdom (my failure included). It’s ignorance. It’s being so comfortable that we’re not desperate for something the world isn’t satisfying.

I’m weeping for the pain of the people of Cuba.

But I’m weeping with joy for the Kingdom they embody in it.

And I’m weeping for the many Christians who aren’t running after it and don’t know to.

Maybe I’m weeping at not knowing how to help bring the fullness of the Kingdom in my own community and feeling so inadequate to try.

Turns out, I’ve not been able to keep the tears from falling.

The kindness of Jesus is simply too overwhelming. His goodness and mercy for the people of Cuba, and for me, is simply too much to hold in – so I’m wiping my tears with my complimentary napkin.

For now, I’ll stop myself from shouting from my seat.

And instead, I’ll imagine my heart on the front pew of that church – loudly declaring the goodness of God with the Cuban people that have so graciously given me the Kingdom.

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The Human Race On Trial by Maxie Dunnam

The Human Race On Trial by Maxie Dunnam

My files are flowing over with magazine and newspaper articles, cartoons, and photos. Unfortunately, I have not found a good “keeping” and “retrieval” system that is not too time costly for the reflections I prize.

Yet, I saw it and I can’t forget it…a cartoon that depicted an older couple, obviously rich and retired, sitting in their posh living room. The lady was reading, her husband looking out the window with a smile on his face. One gathers that he has just shared with her his latest dream for retirement activity. Frowning, she looks up from her book and says: “With strikes, campus unrest, the communist take-over, air pollution on the rise, hippie protest, and immorality rampant, it doesn’t strike me as the time to start a butterfly collection!” 

As we move into this twenty-first century we need to reflect on this wise claim that has been made: the twentieth century has put the human race on trial for its life. 

It is difficult not to believe that. The institutions upon which we have become dependent, around which our lives have been ordered–education, business, medical services, the penal system, organized religion, government–have each in some way been gradually revealed as inadequate, a few of them perhaps beyond renewal and repair. In any case, they have not been equal to their promise; they cannot fill the longing in us. 

We are dissatisfied with things as they are. And while dissatisfaction is as old as the human race, and every period of history is unique in its own fashion, I believe we have reached a crucial moment in human civilization. Atomic bombs are not just more powerful weaponry. Electronic computers are not just more complex adding machines. Neil Armstrong was more than a latter-day Columbus setting foot on the moon. 

Dare I even think it? Maxie Dunnam is not just another old man becoming 90, seeking to make a redemptive difference in a needy world. What can I do? What must I do? What will I do?

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