A couple of weeks ago, we heard Wesley’s description of a Methodist. In essence, it was, a perfect disciple. And while we could appreciate the ideal, most of us would be put to shame if compared to a true Methodist.
At the beginning of his ministry, John Wesley held a pretty hard line about good Christians and what you had to do to qualify. As is often the case, ministry taught him a few things. Wesley “softened” a bit over the years. Not in a bad way, but in a way that made room for the realities, pitfalls, and shortcomings of being human. As Wesley gained some perspective in practical ministry he moved from an idealist perspective to one that was more feasible.
Some might say Wesley lost his salt, that he lost sight of the truth. But I’d have to disagree. I think Wesley found the truth. The truth is that a classroom theory often loses touch with the complexities of reality.
I know because it happened to me. In seminary they teach you a lot. You study the Old Testament for a year, you study the New Testament for a year. You study Christian history, systematic theology, preaching, teaching, worship, administration and more. And in the practice of ministry classes like preaching and worship, you explore endless possibilities of how to do things. You use a dozen different hymnals, dancers, poets, all types of choirs and musicians. In classes on mission and politics you study how to change the world—one life and one law at a time. In most cases you learn some sort of ideal of how things should be if the Gospel were lived perfectly and the church weren’t riddled with conflict. All of that tends to make you very hopeful—which is a good thing. But it can also set you up for a fall.
When I entered full time ministry, I was shocked that my church looked nothing like the one I had prepared for. My church had hurts and wounds and resentments that lasted years. It had a trend of decline rather than growth. It had orange carpet on the floors and the ceilings. It wasn’t a bad church by any means—the people were amazing. But it wasn’t always what I expected. And I had been trained to institute MY ideas, but I quickly learned it wasn’t about me. I couldn’t run roughshod with all of my ideas because my ideas hadn’t taken into account the uniqueness of my people.
If the seminary connection isn’t helpful, think of it this way…at an early age most of us saw Disney movies and we learned a very romantic and problem free version of relationships and love, right? And depending on our parents’ relationship, we may or may not have had that notion challenged. Later we began to think we might fall in love—that we might have our own love story. And we thought we’d get married and have all that romance and beauty. And then when we got married, we were confronted with the reality—love can be wonderful and sweet and full of romance, but it can also be frustrating, hurtful, and fraught with problems. There is sickness, there is debt, there is hardship and family conflict…none of which were featured on the big screen of love. In essence, we were prepared for something different than the reality of love and marriage.
I think in some ways, Wesley had a similar problem. Early in ministry he held to an ideal so strongly that he neglected the individuality of the people. But time taught him that life and ministry and discipleship weren’t always ideal. John still sought after the highest standard, but with a lot more room for grace and encouragement.
Toward the end of his life, he wrote a sermon called “A More Excellent Way” and in it he describes two ways of being Christian.
1) The general way
2) The more excellent way
The general way was good—you avoided sin, sought to do good, and followed the commandments. The more excellent way included all of that and added the idea of Christian perfection where you strive to have the mine of Christ.
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