Flat Wesley

I have a confession to make: I don't particularly enjoy doing children's sermons.  Part of it is because of the unpredictability of little people -- what are they going to say or do? -- and part of it is because I hate the assumption that you must be good with kids if you're a woman.  I think it is extremely important for children to be actively engaged in the service of divine worship, but there are other, perhaps more effective ways of incorporating them into the practice of Christian worship.  But this is less a blog post about children's ministry and more a post about making assumptions about what other people hear when you share information with them.

Jokes about married people not listening to each other abound, and sometimes I think Scott is screening out much of what I tell him, especially when I read him choice bits of John Wesley's letters or journal entries.  But I have come to realize that he is often paying very close attention indeed.  Some time ago, I shared with him some of Wesley's pointed advice to his preachers about their duties as itinerants, including the following instructions:

Where there are ten children in a Society, we must meet them at least an hour every week; talk with them whenever we see any of them at home; pray in earnest for them; diligently instruct and vehemently exhort all parents at their own houses. Some will say, “I have no gift for this.” Gift or no gift, you are to do this, or else you are not called to be a Methodist Preacher. Do it as you can, till you can do it as you would. Pray earnestly for the gift, and use every help God hath put into your way, in order to attain it....

Months passed, and I forgot about reading this to him until it was time for me to preach again, which also meant it was my turn to do the time with children.  I was grumbling that I don't do it well and that it's much harder than the regular sermon when Scott looked at me quizzically and said, "What was it you told me Wesley said about Methodist preachers and children?" I was dumbfounded.  "You mean you actually remember that?" He smirked and said, " I wish I had a Flat Wesley to hold up every time you say something that he gave the early Methodists instructions about!"  Foolishly, the church secretary and I made Scott his very own Flat Wesley, as seen above, and true to his word, he flashes me with Mr Wesley any chance he gets, especially if I whine about planning the children's sermon.  Needless to say, John Wesley would likely not be amused by this cartoonish image of himself!

Part of what made Methodism take off in the 18th century was its accountability structure.  Methodists were expected to attend the parish (Anglican) church, receive the sacrament of Holy Communion frequently, participate in private acts of worship and acts of mercy, and to be in small groups called classes.  In those classes, they met to mutually confess their sins and to mutually encourage each other, "to watch over one other in love." This was a powerful means of spiritual growth and raised the art of listening to Christian friends' advice and admonitions to a nearly sacramental level. 

Unfortunately, we've wandered a long way from those days when participation in a class was mandatory for membership, but its spirit lives on as some Methodists have rediscovered the value of the class meeting and have incorporated it into their Christian journey.  And I would argue that its spirit survives when wives and husbands remind each other, even humorously, of where their duty lies, even if by means of ... Flat Wesley.