By our life, not our hearts

John Wesley in his journal discusses how he goes about reviewing the Methodist classes to cull out those who do not follow the the rule of the society.

I examined the classes. I had been often told, it was impossible for me to distinguish the precious from the vile, without the miraculous discernment of spirits. But I now saw, more clearly than ever, that this might be done without much difficulty, supposing only two things: First, Courage and steadiness in the examiner. Secondly, Common sense and common honesty in the Leader of each class. I visit, for instance, the class in the Close, of which Robert Peacock is Leader. I ask, “Does this and this person in your class live in drunkenness or any outward sin? Does he go to church, and use the other means of grace? Does he meet you as often as he has opportunity?” Now, if Robert Peacock has common sense, he can answer these questions truly; and if he has common honesty, he will. And if not, some other in the class has both, and can and will answer for him. Where is the difficulty then of finding out if there be any disorderly walker in this class, and consequently, in any other? The question is not concerning the heart, but the life. And the general tenor of this, I do not say cannot be known, but cannot be hid without a miracle.

I added the emphasis because that sentence struck me as important. We sometimes get tangled up over what we can and cannot know about the heart of others. Wesley was well aware of the problem but not troubled by it. It is by the life of the person that he judged and on the basis on things that could be easily seen by any that took care to look.

A person could say that such a system leaves a lot of room for false fronts. A man might attend church without a heart for it. A woman might be scrupulous in hiding her sins from the eyes of others.

This is all true, but it did not seem to greatly bother Wesley that some might evade detection so long as the classes had clear expectations and clear means of acting upon them. He was happy to cull the membership of his societies. A small but disciplined society was vastly preferred to a large but loose one.

Steve Manskar has pointed out to me more than once that we need to be careful about confounding our churches with Wesley’s societies, but I do wonder if the basic impulse he operated under would be a good one for us. Christians are under vows to God and our fellow Christians:

• Do you renounce the spiritual forces of wickedness, reject the evil powers of this world, and repent of your sin?
• Do you accept the freedom and power God gives you to resist evil, injustice, and oppression in whatever forms they present themselves?
• Do you confess Jesus Christ as you Savior, put you whole trust in his grace, and promise to serve him as your Lord, in union with the chruch which Christ has opened to people of all ages, nations and races?

It is easy to see by our lives that many of us fail to observe these baptismal promises.

Would our churches be smaller but healthier if we found ways to help each other keep those vows in our minds all the time, support each other in observing them, and hold each other accountable to those vows?

How do we create a congregational culture that buys into doing this even if it means saying goodbye to some members from time to time?

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