Poems on Subjects Never Before Handled

 

If you have been following this blog or my Travels With Wesley Facebook page, you already know that I recently finished writing a book called Mothers in Israel:  Methodist Beginnings Through the Eyes of Women and that it's due to be published in December and will be available through Cokesbury, the Upper Room bookstores, Amazon, and Barnes and Noble.  In it, Susanna Wesley gets an entire chapter to herself as the Mother of Methodism because of her lasting theological and devotional influence on her sons and because she was a powerful example of a faithful and bold Christian woman and leader.  She is an interesting, complex person, and I love to talk about her and to share some of her writings with people who have only a nodding acquaintance with her.  I am, however, far less likely to talk about her husband, the father of the Wesleys, the Rev. Samuel Wesley.

Samuel Wesley was devout, intelligent, conscientious, and loving, but he was also stubborn, easily angered, autocratic, and moody.  Reading some of the letters between him and his children as well as letters written to and from Susanna reveal a man who was slow to forgive and quick to take offense, though he was affectionate, honest, and sincere.  He, too, is an interesting, complex person.  His climb up the ministerial ladder stalled early on, and though he considered himself an excellent scholar and poet who deserved a plum position in the Church of England, he lived out most of his life and ministry in the market town of Epworth and even smaller village of Wroot.  

Interestingly, he wrote a collection of poems in 1685 entitled Maggots, or Poems on Subjects Never Before Handled.  Supposedly, he wrote this poetry in order to demonstrate that poetic language could transform even the most revolting subject into a thing of beauty.  Well, I must confess that I haven't read any of the poems, but after witnessing a squirming mass of the title creatures in my rubbish bin (Hey, I'm living in England now, so I'm going to inevitably use some of their expressions), I'm not convinced that lofty words and flamboyant expressions can ever transform wiggly little nasties into something sublime.  

What I have read of Samuel Wesley's poetry has done nothing to change my mind.  Daughter Hetty and son Charles were the gifted poets in that family, though some of John Wesley's hymns are lovely, too.  But it got me thinking, seeing the icky maggots nibbling their way through the oh, so fragrant trash.  Maybe Samuel was onto something deeper than he himself even intended.  Maybe his musings on the grunting of a hog and the aforementioned insect larvae provide a metaphor from the natural world that has application to our spiritual lives.  The Apostle Paul called his own attempts at righteousness "dung and dross," which is hardly any more appetizing than maggots, and he did so in order to point to the unspeakable gift of grace that is poured out on us even before we know anything of it.  He considered himself the chief of sinners, a phrase not unfamiliar to the Brothers Wesley, and after his Damascus Road experience, he became the apostle to the Gentiles, joyfully and obediently spending and being spent in the work of the gospel.  Those rags of his former attempts at living a holy life became the wedding garment, if you will, as he allowed himself to be an instrument of God, led and guided by the Spirit.

The challenge you and I face during these corona-times is how best to offer our gifts of time, talent, and treasure in a landscape that has so suddenly become alien and downright weird.  The same old, same old simply doesn't work in this new and strange land of Covid-19, and many (most?) of us don't feel quite adequate for the task, yet the same God who can make human beings from the dust of the earth, forming them into the divine image, is the One who is with us in our stumbling attempts to pivot and be creative in the ways in which we glorify Christ and love our neighbors.  Maybe Samuel was onto something after all.  Maybe the 2020 maggots we have been given can be turned to good use, leading us towards a new way of being the Church and of sharing the beauty of our God with the world.  Are you willing to trust the Spirit's nudging?  Will you come along and see?