"Let your words be the genuine picture of your heart"

"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me." I've written about this saying before, though with a different group of Bible verses and Wesley quotes in mind.

Well-intentioned parents teach this to their children in an effort to help them deflect insults and name-calling, but as we all know, it's just not true.  Words matter. Words DO hurt sometimes even more than broken bones. Words are powerful. They both create and reflect our reality. Words have consequences. You don't wantonly yell "Fire!" in a crowded theatre because it will produce panic which will endanger lives.

Freedom of speech doesn't cover lying and using irresponsible words that damage and threaten. That's why we have legal protections against libel and slander, and that's why threats against one's life and wellbeing are considered criminal acts. Nobody is above the law; neither wealth nor political power are supposed to insulate anyone from the consequences of these violations.

Cruelty and bodily harm don't just pop up out of nowhere. Their seeds are planted and watered in the mind and heart every time we tell a homophobic "joke" or use a racial slur or refer to women's bodies in crude "locker room" language. And the more freely we use words that degrade, denigrate, and divide, the more likely it is that we will tacitly and even explicitly allow not only hateful and harmful talk but will eventually support or explain away deliberate acts of violence against the "other."

John Wesley understood that our inner and outer selves should be congruent with the life and love of Christ, that we should be people whose lives bear outer fruit because of our inner faith and obedience to God's law.  He preached several discourses on the Sermon on the Mount, and in the fourth one, he shows that inner holiness promotes outer holiness -- love of God is inextricably linked with love of neighbor.  He writes that if the root of religion is truly present in the heart, it cannot help bearing fruit as a result of that union of the soul with God. One's outer life of actions and speech, even on Facebook or Twitter, reveal who a person really is.

Let your love be without dissimulation. Why should you hide fair, disinterested love? Let there be no guile be found in your mouth: let your words be the genuine picture of your heart. Let there be no darkness or reservedness in your conversation, no disguise in your behavior. Leave this to those who have other designs in view -- designs which will not bear the light.

Chichester Cathedral 

If one is in a position of privilege and power, it is incumbent upon him or her to exercise discretion and show maturity before saying anything which might inflame or distort a situation. As the book of James, chapter 3 reminds us, the tongue is a fire and a restless evil, full of deadly poison. He goes on to say, "With it we bless the Lord and Father, and with it we curse those who are made in the likeness of God. From the same mouth come blessing and cursing.  My brothers and sisters, this ought not to be so."

Ouch. If the shoe fits, we must wear it. And if the words we are speaking and the ways we are acting are truly reflecting and revealing our hearts, we've got some serious repenting to do.  God made us for fellowship and love; Christ calls us to do unto others as we'd have them do unto us, and the Spirit convicts and empowers us to start over and become new people. That's something to ponder and to pray for on this eve of Pentecost.

O Holy Spirit, enter our hearts with your sacred fire and purify them completely. Just as you filled the apostles with boldness and descended on them like tongues of fire at Pentecost, transform and renew us so that we may perfectly love you and love our neighbor as ourselves.  Change us from within and make our every thought, word, and deed a reflection of Christ living within us, and help us to see and love each other as you do. Amen.

Forbearing One Another in Love

John Wesley, New Room, Bristol

When I pray, I sometimes borrow from one of the several forms of the Prayers of the People from the Book of Common Prayer to help me articulate the thoughts of my heart. Sometimes a particular word or phrase leaps out at me, demanding that I pay attention. 

I’ve learned to take that seriously because it generally points to something lacking in my prayer life or my spiritual journey. Today as I prayed, I was struck by a particular word in Form V, which includes this petition:

For the peace of the world, that a spirit of respect and forbearance may grow among nations and peoples, we pray to you, O Lord.

Forbearance isn’t a word you hear every day. It sounds quaint, churchy, old-timey. If you don’t pay attention, it slips right past you without leaving an impression. But because I spend part of my life with my head stuck in the 18th century, it sounds almost normal. That's especially true since I have been reading parts of Wesley’s sermon “Of the Church” as part of this week’s "Word from John Wesley" in my devotional, A Disciple’s Journal.

Wesley takes as his text Ephesians 4: 1-6, rendered at the top of the sermon in glorious King James English—

I beseech you that ye walk worthy of the vocation wherewith ye are called, with all lowliness and meekness, with long-suffering, forbearing one another in love; endeavoring to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. There is one body, and one Spirit, even as ye are called in one hope of your calling; one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is above all, and through all, and in you all.

Wesley defines "forbearing one another in love" as more than simply avoiding holding onto resentment or wreaking vengeance and as more than refraining from injuring, hurting, or grieving each other in word or deed.  To forbear one another in love entails bearing each other's burdens and doing everything in our power to lessen the load. It means sympathizing with another's "sorrows, afflictions, and infirmities," especially supporting those who will probably sink under the weight of their burdens without our help, and "the endeavoring to lift their sinking heads, and to strengthen their feeble knees."

It sounds a lot like the first two of the General Rules adopted by John Wesley for the first Methodist Societies, (1) to do no harm and to avoid evil and (2) to do good in every possible way to all people. (The third is to attend upon the ordinances of God -- public worship, the ministry of the Word, Holy Communion, family/private prayer, study of scripture, and fasting or abstinence.)

Wesley urged those whose hearts had been awakened by the Spirit to adhere to these rules as a matter of discipline and as a framework for developing holiness of heart and life.  Furthermore, in his sermon "On the Church," he emphasized the necessity, above all things, of letting love abound and overflow to everyone.  Sadly, it seems that even the Church needs a remedial course in forbearance and love today!

During these confusing and uncertain days of quarantine, there's a distinct lack of love in much of the public discourse. Political and even church leaders point fingers and try to shame each other for their respective viewpoints regarding timetables for reopening church buildings, wearing masks in public, and even for understanding the science behind transmission of the virus. Going online to read the news or use social media is like stepping into a pit of vipers, and angry people are even traipsing around various state capitals, armed to the teeth. All or nothing thinking rules the day. How could some 18th century priest have anything relevant to say to us modern, "advanced" people in 2020?

If he showed up in 2020, Wesley might be bemused by the technology of today, but the state of the souls of men and women would hold no surprises. He lived in a rapidly changing, politically divided, turbulent age, and he spoke truth and love to people who were angry, resentful, and sinful, just like us. Given that, it's hard to accuse him of being naive as he traveled around, preaching about changed hearts and transformed lives to the vulnerable, the outcast, the bitter, and the broken. Perhaps reading what he had to say might give us a clue as to how we might better proceed. One thing I do know -- a little forbearance goes a long way, and love always bears sweeter fruit than wrath. 

Statuette of John Wesley, Old Rectory, Epworth

So how might you forbear with another person on Facebook or Twitter as well as face to face? In what ways can you help carry another person's burdens, especially someone with whom you disagree? Will you find that you have grown in grace during the pandemic, or will you drift into apathy or charge into meanness? When you look around you, who is rapidly sinking without your help, and just what does Jesus expect you to do about it?  

However we specifically choose to respond, the right answer is always going to include love because the God who is above all, through all, and in all is Love.

"A strange palpitation of heart"

This time of year, Methodists celebrate what is often called Aldersgate Day or more inclusively, Wesley Day. We remember the experience of assurance that both Wesley brothers received within three days of each other, but we sometimes brush aside Charles's encounter with the Holy, which occurred before John's better known moment of finding his heart strangely warmed. Let's take a closer look at just what happened to Charles Wesley, who had been unwell while in Georgia and was now recovering from pleurisy at the London home of a Mr. Bray, an uneducated but pious man. In his journal, Charles wrote: 

The Day of Pentecost. Sun., May 21st, 1738. I waked in hope and expectation of His coming. At nine my brother and some friends came, and sang a hymn to the Holy Ghost. My comfort and hope were hereby increased. In about half-an-hour they went: I betook myself to prayer; the substance as follows :-- "Oh Jesus, thou hast said, 'I will come unto you ; 'thou hast said, ' I will send the Comforter unto you ; thou hast said, 'My Father and I will come unto you, and make our abode with you.' Thou art God who canst not lie; I wholly rely upon thy most true promise: accomplish it in thy time and manner." 

Having said this, I was composing myself to sleep, in quietness and peace, when I heard one come in (Mrs. Musgrave, I thought, by the voice) and say, "In the name of Jesus of Nazareth, arise, and believe, and thou shalt be healed of all thy infirmities." I wondered how it should enter into her head to speak in that manner. The words struck me to the heart. I sighed, and said within myself, "O that Christ would but speak thus to me!"

 I lay musing and trembling: then thought "but what if it should be Him? I will send at least to see." I rang, and Mrs. Turner coming, I desired her to send up Mrs. Musgrave. She went down, and, returning, said, "Mrs. Musgrave had not been up here." My heart sank with me at the word, and I hope it might be Christ indeed. However, I sent her down again to inquire, and felt in the meantime a strange palpitation of heart. I said, yet feared to say, "I believe, I believe!"  She came up again and said, " It was I, a weak, sinful creature, spoke: but the words were Christ's: he commanded me to say them, and so constrained me that I could not forbear ... "

On Tuesday, May 23, feeling moved to commemorate this occasion, Charles wrote in his journal: 

I waked under the protection of Christ, and gave myself up, soul and body, to him. At nine I began an hymn upon my conversion, but was persuaded to break off, for fear of pride. Mr. Bray coming, encouraged me to proceed in spite of Satan. I prayed Christ to stand by me, and finished the hymn. Upon my afterwards showing it to Mr. Bray, the devil threw in a fiery dart, suggesting, that it was wrong, and I had displeased God. My heart sank within me; when, casting my eye upon a prayer book, I met with an answer for him ... Upon this, I clearly discerned it was a device of the enemy to keep back glory from God ... But God has showed me, he can defend me from it, while speaking for him.

While it is not certain which hymn Charles wrote upon this occasion, it has been suggested that it was "When shall my wondering soul begin?" or  "And can it be that I should gain."  Either way, it marked the beginning of an illustrious ministry of poetry which countless Christians have taken to heart and through which we have sung the faith "lustily and with good courage" for over 400 years.

However you choose to mark Wesley Day, you might consider praying or singing one of these lovely hymns, giving thanks to God for the example and encouragement of Mrs. Musgrave and Mr. Bray. Without their faithfulness and support, Charles might have abandoned hymnwriting. And the Church and the world would have been immeasurably the poorer for it.

And I Will Sing

Corona-time.  Too much has changed too fast. Some of the changes are minor inconveniences and some of them, well, some are harder to take than others. It's natural to feel unsettled, anxious, sad, irritable. And it's important to recognize and acknowledge those feelings.

This is a lament.  I'm reading a book called Textual Warfare & the Making of Methodism, and the author talks at length about the function and effects of Charles Wesley's hymns and John's editing and publication of them in early Methodism. I know. I see your eyes glazing over, but it's pretty interesting stuff if you're a Metho-nerd like me.

Those first Methodists sang "lustily" and were caught up spiritually, physically, and emotionally in an experience which in some ways came to define them. I love that.

I can picture them gathered together in somebody's yard, telling the story of God's grace and love in words and tunes that became their own.

I can see in my mind's eye the faces of parents who have lost a child to smallpox, mourning as they sing of and to a suffering Savior.

I imagine the intensity of a sinner's struggle between worldly desires and the joy of repentance being played out in verse upon verse.

I've felt that way, too, or at least something similar. I bet you have, too.

And I totally get that we won't be able to sing together for a while once we are finally able to physically gather, and I know we'll adjust somehow, but doesn't that almost literally hurt your very heart to think of not raising our voices together in song? Doesn't worship almost seem incomplete somehow? It hurts. I'm sad about it, even though I understand.

I know it won't be forever, but that doesn't mean it stings any less right now. Think of the various times the Spirit has moved within your soul as you sang! Remember the exquisite joy of harmonies twisting together in a braid of praise to God? Can you recall the perfect marriage of tune and lyrics that expresses your love for Christ in sounds pure enough to make the angels weep?

So. I think I'm going to sit with this grief for a little while

    and acknowledge that the feeling of loss is painful and real.

             And then I will open my hymnal, and I will sing.

Mother Love

This chair in the Old Rectory in Epworth is believed to be one that belonged to Susanna Wesley herself.   The picture was taken on a warm July afternoon in 2017, a few days before what would have been my mother's 86th birthday. As the sun fell across the chair, bathing the seat in light and warmth, I thought it would be the perfect place for a cat to curl up for a nap.

I couldn't quite picture Susanna just quietly sitting there, though. When I think of her, I think of someone in a constant swirl of activity, rather like her son John, known to the family as Jacky.  If she wasn't teaching children, sewing and mending, supervising household affairs, or leading a prayer meeting, she was reading the Bible or some other spiritual or theological book, writing in her journal, or meditating on the things of God.   She worked as hard she could to "redeem" time from dressing, from unnecessary visits or trifling conversation, and even from eating and sleeping in order to devote her attention to Jesus in the midst of all her worldly business.  Her life was centered on Christ, and her goal was to lead, guide, and direct her children and anyone else in her orbit to the same goal.

There's a lovely flower garden there at the Old Rectory as well as a physic garden with medicinal plants and herbs like those mentioned by John in his little book of remedies called Primitive Physic.  I wonder if Susanna had flowers growing in the yard when she lived there.  Did she ever go outside and bury her face in their vibrant colors? Was she, like my mother, ever the recipient of a bouquet clutched in a child's grubby little hand?

This Sunday is Mother's Day here in the US, and it's always bittersweet for me. I love getting cards or visits or calls from my children, and I remember Mama with gratitude and joy even as I mourn for her. I am thankful that she, like Susanna, considered her role as mother a vitally important one in caring for her children's souls and teaching them the things of God. But I know it's a hard day for people who didn't or don't have a loving relationship with their mother, for those who longed in vain to be mothers, for mothers whose children have died, and for those of us whose mothers have died.  Marking this day during quarantine may make that even harder. It's hard to say.

Mothers exert a powerful influence on their children, and there is perhaps nothing as difficult as trying to be a good mother, trying not to compare yourself to somebody else, trying to balance tenderness with strictness and giving freedom with an expectation of obedience. Reading the rules by which Susanna reared her brood may make us wince at the firm line she took, but reading the letters exchanged between her and them reveals a loving heart and a desire for their good in all things. She didn't always get it right, nor do we, but we are all held in the arms of our God who is like a mother eagle, protecting and nurturing her young, even in the midst of a pandemic. For that, we may be eternally grateful.

Who is Our Shepherd?

Ok, shocking confession here — I’ve never been a huge fan of the 23rd Psalm. It’s not that I dislike it or resent being compared to a sheep. It’s just, well, you know the old saying about familiarity breeding contempt? It’s just so familiar, too familiar. But today is the fourth Sunday of Easter, usually called Good Shepherd Sunday because Psalm 23 and John 10 are two of the lectionary texts of the day, and both of them feature the metaphor of God or Jesus as shepherd.

This year I came across something that changed it up a bit for me. Since I’m writing about early Methodist women, I’ve been reading things written by those women. One of the most well known, at least in her day and in the generation following her was Mary Bosanquet Fletcher.  I’ve written about her on the blog before, but in case you don’t remember, she was one of the first Methodist women who exhorted and preached. Her letter to John Wesley with its careful exegesis of scripture and responses to common objections to women publicly speaking in worship prompted him to endorse her and certain other women as having received an extraordinary call from God.

As a single woman, she exercised a ministry of educating and caring for orphans and in preaching, living in community with other women like Sarah Crosby, Sarah Ryan, Sally Lawrence, and Mary Tooth. In her brief marriage to the Rev. John Fletcher, the priest at Madeley parish church, she was a full partner in the pastoral care and preaching/teaching ministry there.

Mary composed a set of reflections on different titles for Christ that she called Watchwords, loosely based on sermons preached by her late husband. However, since his notes and manuscripts were lost, they represent her own theological thought and study, and she used them in her own preaching. Since I just read her watchword on “Shepherd,” I thought I would share part of that with you. She writes:

Now we must observe, who this shepherd is. He is no other than the almighty God, whose wisdom can never err; his power can never be restrained; and his love can never fail! But his promise stands surer than the pillars of heaven! ‘Tis this all sufficient saviour who again and again tells us he is our shepherd. 

But what is implied in that office? It is the part of a shepherd to watch over his flock, and guard them from all enemies. The common enemies of sheep may be slain with a weapon; but our grand adversary, eternal condemnation, could be no way conquered, but by the death of the good shepherd. Therefore, says he, I am the good shepherd, I lay down my life for the sheep. 

But the shepherd leads them to pasture, covers them from the heat, and cleans them from all defilement. So the saviour is himself the shadow, which screens from the heat of justice; and his blood cleanses from all sin, and causes their robes to be completely white, who wash therein.

He suffered all manner of reproaches, grief and sorrows, and hath left us an example that we should tread in his steps. He hath passed through death before us, and taken away the sting; yea he hath risen again, the first fruit of them that slept, and he will present himself to every danger, so that, by keeping close behind him, no enemy can strike us, unless the weapon could enter through him, who is our impenetrable shield! On this account he says, Follow me for he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness.  ~ (Watchwords, in The Asbury Journal 61/2: 13-94 © 2006)

If you’re like me, you’re wondering when it will be safe and prudent to resume public life. You’re weary of restrictions, anxious about the health of your family, grieving losses and even deaths, and feeling restless in body and spirit. In a way, we aren’t much different from sheep. They aren’t always terribly bright. They are apt to wander aimlessly from grassy spot to grassy spot without noticing the rocks or holes or predators that pose a threat. They bleat pitifully for help but sometimes resist the aid and direction of the sheepdog and shepherd.  In Scotland I’ve watched border collies and their masters find straying lambs and round up ewes and move rams efficiently and effectively, in rain and wind and the occasional hot sun. The sheep baa and make a terrible racket, maybe because they are scared or angry, but they remain safe if they stay within sight of the shepherd and follow the lead of the dog.

In these uncertain and frankly irksome days, we may really want to break out and go somewhere, anywhere, to break the monotony of corona-time, but we’ll get better results if we are patient and if we stay put and let the Shepherd take the lead. Take heart in the familiarity of Psalm 23 and John 10. Picture yourself safe in the arms of Jesus, and take time to dwell in the trusting certainty of Mary’s words as you remember who our shepherd is —

Now we must observe, who this shepherd is. He is no other than the almighty God, whose wisdom can never err; his power can never be restrained; and his love can never fail! But his promise stands surer than the pillars of heaven! ‘Tis this all sufficient saviour who again and again tells us he is our shepherd.