by Jonathan Powers | Aug 19, 2026 | Uncategorized
Scripture and Sanctification: Restored to Holiness and Love
Suzanne Nicholson
This article is the second in a four-week series on sanctification drawn from the webinar sponsored by the John Wesley Institute, exploring the biblical and Wesleyan vision of a life made holy by the power of God.
When we think about holiness, sanctification, and Scripture, it is helpful to begin with the whole story of Scripture. We often summarize that story in four movements: creation, fall, redemption, and restoration. Keeping the whole story in mind is important for recognizing where holiness fits within it.
We begin with creation because it is so important to recognize that we are made in the image of God. In his sermon “The New Birth,” John Wesley describes what humanity was like prior to the fall: “Accordingly, man at his creation was full of love, which was the sole principle of all his tempers, thoughts, words, and actions. God is full of justice, mercy, and truth; so was man as he came from the hands of his Creator. God is spotless purity; and so man was in the beginning pure from every sinful blot. Otherwise God could not have pronounced him, as well as all the other works of his hands, ‘very good’ (Genesis 1:31). This he could not have been had he not been pure from sin and filled with righteousness and true holiness.”
This is a beautiful picture of God’s intention for humanity: that we would be full of love, righteousness, and holiness. That is God’s grand design for us.
The second movement in the story of Scripture is the fall. Adam and Eve decide to follow their own will and their own way of doing things rather than God’s will. From Genesis 3 onward, however, we see the next movement in Scripture: redemption. God works to set things right. He begins with the people of Israel, but His redemptive work is ultimately accomplished in Christ. Through Christ’s sacrificial death, he makes atonement for our sins. Through His resurrection and ascension, Jesus is declared Lord over all things and reveals His defeat of sin and death.
God then gives us the Holy Spirit, who transforms us and brings us to the place where God wants us to be, reflecting his holiness. When we think about restoration, we look toward the return of Christ. One day God will set everything right. The new creation will be fully realized, and sin, death, and mourning will be no more.
This is the trajectory of Scripture. Wesley describes it somewhat differently through what he calls the “analogy of faith.” We should read all of Scripture through this analogy, considering how the different parts of Scripture fit together and how they relate to the central doctrines of the faith. Wesley summarizes that story through original sin, justification by faith, the new birth, and inward and outward holiness. It is the story of God’s transformation of his people.
As we consider that story, a question arises: Must we wait until the return of Christ for Christian perfection or entire sanctification? What does sanctification look like here and now?
The Holy God of the Old Testament
To understand holiness in the Old Testament, we have to begin with God. God is holy. We worship a holy God. The word holy is used of God more than eight hundred times in the Old Testament alone, so it is clearly a key concept for understanding who God is.
In Isaiah 6:3, Isaiah has a vision of the throne room of God and hears the angels declaring, “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory.” This refrain is reflected later in Revelation, where the four living creatures declare, “Holy, holy, holy, the Lord God the Almighty, who was and is and is to come” (Revelation 4:8). That refrain continues without ceasing in heaven. It is a beautiful picture of the God we worship.
This truth undergirds everything we say about sanctification: God is holy, good, and loving, and he desires what is best for us.
After the fall, God begins to set things right through the people of Israel. He forms a set-apart nation, a holy people intended to model how God desires human beings to live. Israel is meant to be a light to the nations and a light to the Gentiles. God’s purpose is not only for Israel; it is for the whole world.
God also gives Israel the Torah, His instruction concerning what holy living looks like. Jesus will later summarize the Torah in two basic principles: Love the Lord your God and love your neighbor. We see the first in the classic text of Deuteronomy 6:4–5: “Hear, O Israel: The Lord is our God, the Lord alone. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might.” This is a picture of holding nothing back from God. We are to be entirely committed, loving God with everything we are. Israel is not to worship other deities, adopt their practices, or worship the Lord in the same way the surrounding nations worship their gods. God calls His people to love him exclusively and show exclusive loyalty to Him.
The command to love one’s neighbor comes from Leviticus 19:18: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” The Torah instructs the people in many different ways to love one another. Some are as simple and beautiful as the instructions given to farmers. They are not to glean to the very edges of their fields. When fruit falls to the ground during the harvest, they are to leave it there so the poor may come behind them and gather it. In this way, they provide for the poor.
The Torah gives us many such pictures of what it means to love our neighbors and care for one another. As the authors of To Spread Scriptural Holiness explain, being holy as God is holy involves care by the whole community for the whole community. Holiness creates a community in which everyone can flourish. That is a picture of love, righteousness, and holiness that reflects God’s desire for His people.
God’s command is clear: “You shall be holy, for I the Lord your God am holy” (Leviticus 19:2). Yet Israel fails to live this out. The prophets rebuke the people for failing to be the set-apart, holy people God calls them to be. Three failures appear repeatedly: idolatry, religious formalism, and neglect of others. Israel does not give its faithfulness to God alone. The people go through the motions of worship and offer sacrifices without hearts that are devoted to God. They also fail to love the people in their community fully, neglecting the widow, the orphan, the poor, and the foreigner in their midst. God cares for humanity, and his people should as well.
Ultimately, the prophets show that Israel has failed to be the holy people God intended. The people learn that they cannot do this on their own. God therefore promises to establish a new covenant and give them new hearts, as we read in Jeremiah 31 and Ezekiel 36.
Jesus, the Holy One of God
This promise brings us to the New Testament, where Jesus lives in holiness and fulfills what Israel could not. Israel failed to be the holy, set-apart people God called them to be; Jesus is the epitome of what it looks like to be holy and perfectly loving.
In the incarnation, Jesus becomes one of us. He is fully divine and fully human. John 1:1 tells us, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” Colossians 2:9 declares that in Christ “the whole fullness of deity dwells bodily,” and Philippians 2:6 tells us that Jesus was “in the form of God.” If God is holy and Jesus is God, then clearly Jesus is holy as well. If we want to know what holiness looks like, we should look to Jesus as the Holy One of God. In Luke 1:35, the angel Gabriel tells Mary, “The child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God.” Jesus is the perfect picture of holiness.
What, then, does the Holy One tell us about how to be holy? Once again, Jesus summarizes the Torah through love of God and love of neighbor. Holy living means perfect loyalty to God and care for our neighbors.
We should pause here and consider what love looks like. Love is not something we may define however we wish. We must ask how Scripture defines it. Scripture tells us that God’s love is demonstrated through the giving of his Son to pay the penalty for our sins and die on the cross so that we may be reconciled to God. This is a beautiful picture of love: the selfless giving of oneself for the sake of another.
We also read in 1 John 5:2, “By this we know that we love the children of God, when we love God and obey his commandments.” Loving God and demonstrating perfect love mean living according to God’s way of doing things. Love is not simply doing whatever we want. That was the sin of Adam and Eve. To love God is to live in the way God calls us to live.
Again, we have to look at Christ. We are called to imitate Christ and recognize that this holy and perfect person calls us to a holy and loving life. That life is both inward, shaping our hearts and attitudes, and outward, shaping our actions.
In the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew 5, Jesus addresses our inner attitudes. Are we harboring anger? Are we harboring lust? Are we holding these things in our hearts even if we appear to be living well outwardly? The parable of the Good Samaritan gives us the corresponding outward picture. When the Samaritan sees the beaten man lying beside the road, he has compassion on him. Yet compassion is not merely a warm feeling or a sense of sorrow. Compassion acts. The Good Samaritan helps the wounded man. Holiness involves both inward transformation and outward action.
Jesus demonstrates this perfectly. He heals the sick, feeds the poor, frees the oppressed, and acts to bring healing and wholeness to people. He calls his disciples to do the same.
Empowered by the Holy Spirit
After Jesus’ death, resurrection, and ascension, we are called to live as Jesus lived. But we are also given the Holy Spirit to empower us and transform us for this holy way of life. This is good news. Holiness is not something we produce on our own. It is entirely the grace of God working within us that makes us holy and brings about this transformation.
As a result of original sin, we are naturally self-centered. Through the Holy Spirit, however, we can become other-centered. We can consider the needs of others and live for their good.
One passage to which I return regularly is Galatians 5:22–23 and its description of the fruit of the Spirit. Paul contrasts the fruit of the Spirit with the works of the flesh, which include dissensions, anger, drunkenness, and other sins. When we live according to the Spirit, however, the fruit is different: “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. There is no law against such things.”
If we all lived fully bearing the fruit of the Spirit, what a beautiful place the Church would be. Imagine churches that were communities of people who were generous, kind, and faithful to one another. This is the picture we see in the church of Acts 2, where people sold their possessions and helped those in need, prayed and shared fellowship together, and honored God in the way they lived. This is how we are meant to live, empowered by the Holy Spirit.
We must also remember that we are made for good works. Ephesians 1:4 tells us that God “chose us in Christ before the foundation of the world to be holy and blameless before him in love.” A little later, Ephesians 2:10 declares, “For we are what he has made us, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand to be our way of life.”
Good works are not simply boxes to check. They are works that serve others, demonstrate love for others, and build others up. God works through us to bring His love and compassion to all people.
Perfect in Love, Here and Now
Finally, we return to the question of perfection. Is perfection something that comes only at the return of Christ, or is it possible now? We should consider passages such as Matthew 5:48, where Jesus says, “Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” This is a command for the present. Jesus does not say that we will become perfect only when Christ returns. He commands us to live in this way now.
New Testament scholar Craig Keener describes this perfection as being morally complete and perfectly aligned with God’s will. We are called to this now. Once again, it is not something we produce on our own. It is the Holy Spirit living in us who brings about this transformation, this sanctification.
We see a beautiful marriage of love and holiness in 1 Thessalonians 3:12–13: “May the Lord make you increase and abound in love for one another and for all, just as we abound in love for you. And may he so strengthen your hearts in holiness that you may be blameless before our God and Father at the coming of our Lord Jesus with all his saints.” This is a picture of preparing now to be blameless when the Lord returns.
We conclude with Paul’s prayer in 1 Thessalonians 5:23–24: “May the God of peace himself sanctify you entirely; and may your spirit and soul and body be kept sound and blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. The one who calls you is faithful, and he will do this.”
This is the promise of Scripture: what God calls us to do, He empowers us to do. He is a good and perfect God. Why, then, should we doubt that He will do this?
Suzanne Nicholson is Professor of New Testament at Asbury University in Wilmore, Kentucky.
by Jonathan Powers | Aug 11, 2026 | Uncategorized
The Search for Holiness: Historical Influences on Wesley’s Doctrine of Sanctification
By Ryan N. Danker
This article is the first in a four-week series on sanctification drawn from the webinar sponsored by the John Wesley Institute, exploring the biblical and Wesleyan vision of a life made holy by the power of God.
I grew up in the Church of the Nazarene and have heard about holiness (or entire sanctification) my entire life. When I was in high school, I started paying attention a bit more to this topic, and so I asked my pastor for books describing sanctification because I really didn’t know what it was. He gave me a number of books, all by Nazarene authors, all published by Nazarene Publishing House. So, I dove into the books. What I found was that every one of the books talked about or quoted John Wesley. So, then, I dove into Wesley and I’ve been stuck with him ever since.
A striking characteristic of Wesley’s writings, however, is who he is quoting. It runs the gambit, from Milton to Coverdale’s translation of the Psalms, to German mystics, English divines, or Protestant Reformers. You name them, and his writing is chock full of historic figures from the church.
What I have come to see is that in his work, Wesley, driven by scripture and the early church, was not trying to communicate a new doctrine nor a new vision of Christianity, but rather the historic witness of the Church throughout the centuries. Today we might look to him, but in his day he was looking back quite a bit further and much more broadly.
Any study of the Church’s history reveals that the search for holiness, sanctification, Christlikeness, or whatever you may call it, has been central to Christians from the beginning. At the heart of this search is the desire not only to know Christ and to be saved by him, but to become like him. Athanasius put this well in the fourth century when he wrote that “God became man so that man might become like God.”
We can all probably think of some of the noteworthy saints in Church history who strove after holiness. St. Francis of Assisi often comes to mind, especially as one who, in his case, literally threw off the riches of this world in search of the riches of Christ. He dedicated himself to the Church, to the poor, and to the Gospel. Modern Christians might think of Mother Theresa, who left family and home and settled in the most difficult of places, in the direst circumstances, and ministered to those who had been forgotten, uncared for, left to die.
However, the search for holiness hasn’t simply been something left to the most notable of Christians. In fact, throughout Christian history, holiness has often taken shape in the most mundane places, and among those whose names we no longer know, even if God does. Holiness, remember, breaks in through simple acts of faith and kindness, and these do not usually make headlines. The search of such saints was not simply an attempt to attain eternal life in the future, but to find that peace, that wholeness, and that freedom that is made possible by God now.
What I intend to do with this quick dive into history, then, is not to outline the entire history of the Church’s search for holiness. Instead, I will look at Wesley’s own Anglican tradition, starting with Thomas Cranmer and the English Reformers and then lead to Wesley. So, to begin this examination we begin with Cranmer.
For Thomas Cranmer, the Archbishop of Canterbury under Henry VIII and Edward VI, holiness was central to the Church’s life. It was founded upon the work of Christ, his death and passion, and fueled by grace. In the Anglican tradition, which mirrors the larger tradition of the historic Church, holiness is understood to be the very power of the Holy Spirit.
In Cranmer’s work of compiling the Book of Common Prayer, he sought to mingle, as it were, the doctrine of holiness throughout the liturgy of the Church of England. He was convinced that a living faith is the only true faith. In other words, a sure confidence in Christ and what he has done for us, will also change the way that we live. In Cranmer’s own words:
We have our Saviour Christ our perpetual advocate and priest, in whose only merits, oblation, and suffering, we do trust that our offences be continually washed and purged, whensoever we, repenting truly, do return to him with our whole heart, steadfastly determining with ourselves, through his grace, to obey and serve him in keeping his commandments, and never to turn back again to sin…Such is the true faith that the scripture doth so much commend.
Additionally, we can see this in a prayer that Cranmer included in the first Book of Common Prayer for the first Sunday of Advent: “Almighty God, give us grace that we may cast away the works of darkness, and put upon us the armour of light…”
Another of his collects describes this empowering grace: “Lord, we pray that that thy grace may always prevent and follow us, and make us continually to be given to all good works; through Jesus Christ our Lord.”
Louis Weil, writing in the 1980s, commented on these prayers, and others in the BCP, saying, “The grace of God articulated in these examples is expressive of the divine power to touch human life to heal or to enable. The doctrine of God articulated here is not of a distant deity unconcerned with human pain, but of a God who is near at hand, attentive to prayers of his creatures.”
Writing about a century after Cranmer, Lancelot Andrewes, an academic, bishop, and even one of the translators of the King James Bible, wrote about the power of Christ’s resurrection, both as a future hope but also as present reality. He said, “Enable us [Christ] will, and can, as not only having passed the resurrection, but being the Resurrection itself; not only had the effect of it in Himself, but being the cause of it to us. So He saith Himself: ‘I am the Resurrection and the Life;’ the Resurrection to them that are dead in sin, to raise them from it; and the Life to them that live unto God, to preserve them to it.”
Continuing on the theme of resurrection power, William Perkins, alive at the same time as Andrewes, wrote about what he called “vivification,” or in other words “coming to life.” Listen to his words:
The means of vivification is a virtue derived from Christ’s resurrection to those that are quickened, which maketh them rise to newness of life. The power of Christ’s resurrection is that whereby he first did in his own flesh, as conqueror over death and sin, begin to live with God and to be exalted above every name: and then in his members, sin being dead and buried, he causeth in them an endeavour and purpose to live according to the will of God. The efficient cause of them both is the Holy Ghost who doth by his divine power convey himself into the believer’s hearts and in them, by applying the power of Christ his death and resurrection, createth holiness.
As we can see from just these three authors, one during the English reformation and two a century after, the call to holiness is real because the power of God is real. They understood that Christ’s resurrection did not just raise one man from the dead but unleashed something with transformative power. Even before the general resurrection in the age to come, the power of Christ’s resurrection has the ability to change us, even now.
Moving closer to Wesley’s time in the 18th century, we come to the Caroline Divines. These are theologians and church leaders who lived during the 17th century and were named “Caroline” because the period is marked by the reigns of Charles I and Charles II. The Caroline Divines came to define the Anglicanism that shaped and formed Wesley, even if he was also, as I have noted, shaped by the English Reformers, the Prayer Book, and so many others before the Reformation period.
Jeremy Taylor is a major figure from this era and had a great impact on John Wesley. In some of Taylor’s writing we can see the fastidiousness that marked Wesley’s own life. Taylor argues that a holy life is one in which we keep track of everything we do, every hour, every moment, so that it might be focused on the ways of God.
Taylor also wrote about Christ as the pattern of holiness. In a section on Jesus’ washing the disciples feet he describes this beautifully:
When the holy Jesus had finished his last Mosaic rite, he descends to give example of the first fruit of evangelical graces: ‘he rises from supper, lays aside his garment like a servant, and, with all the circumstances of an humble ministry, ‘washes the feet of his disciples,’ beginning at the first, St. Peter, until he came to Judas, the traitor; that we might, in one scheme, see a rare conjunction of charity and humility, of self-denial and indifferency, represented by a person glorious and great, their Lord and Master, sad and troubled. And he chose to wash their feet rather than their head, that he might have the opportunity of a more humble posture, and a more apt signification of his charity. Thus God lays every thing aside, that he may serve his servants; heaven stoops to earth, and one abyss calls upon another, and the miseries of man, which were next to infinite, are excelled by mercy equal to the immensity of God.
Richard Allestree, also alive during this time and a great influence on Wesley because of his book, The Whole Duty of Man, wrote a paraphrase of the Lord’s Prayer. In the first section, based on “Our Father who art in heaven” he wrote this:
O Lord, who dwellest in the highest heavens, Thou art the author of our being, Thou hast also begotten us again unto a lively hope, and carriest towards us the tenderness and bowels of a compassionate Father. O Make us to render to Thee the love and obedience of children; and that we may resemble Thee our Father in heaven (that place of true delight and purity), give us a holy disdain of all the deceitful pleasures and foul pollutions of his world, and so raise up our minds, that we may always have our conversation in heaven, from whence we look for our Saviour the Lord Jesus Christ.
For many of the Caroline Divines, holiness and the sacraments went together because in the sacraments we experience an encounter with God. A fascinating character in this regard is John Evelyn. Throughout his life and ministry, Evelyn travelled widely and was a noted diarist, in addition to his work done in theology, architecture, and even landscape gardening. In one of his published diaries, Evelyn describes a Christmas Day communion in 1657. As he attended a Christmas Communion service, English troops entered the chapel to intimidate the worshippers, interrogating many of those in attendance, and holding muskets as these faithful continued to take Communion soldiers or not. (This occurred during an era politely called “the Commonwealth,” when in England the monarchy, the Church of England, the bishops, the Prayer Book, etc. had all been sidelined.)
In one of his works on Communion and holiness Evenlyn wrote the following:
There are some who think frequent Communion apt to produce too great Familiarity, and consequently abate of the Reverence with which we should approach the dreadful Mysteries: ‘Tis true, familiarity amongst men, creates many times contempt; because the more we are acquainted with one another, the more we discover our Infirmities and defects, and that lessens our esteeme; But ‘tis quite otherwise with God, whom the more we know and Contemplate, the more we Love, and the more we Love the more we admire and Revere; because he is all perfection; and therefore those who are much given to Converse with God, by Prayer, close Meditation, and frequent Communion, do usually far exceeede in Holyness, and virtue those who onely Contemplate his attributes at a Distance, and approach him but seldom.
Evelyn’s words capture a conviction that would become central to Wesley’s own theology: holiness grows through sustained communion with God. Prayer, meditation, and especially frequent reception of the Eucharist are not merely expressions of an already holy life, but means through which believers are drawn nearer to God and transformed by divine grace. Wesley inherited this sacramental vision from the Anglican tradition and carried it into his own lifelong search for holiness.
The list of figures throughout Anglican history who sought holiness, taught its necessity, and embodied it in their lives is extensive and worthy of far greater study. Those considered here represent only a few of the voices that shaped Wesley’s understanding of sanctification. Yet Wesley’s pursuit of holiness was not unique to him; it placed him within a much larger company of Christians before, during, and after his lifetime who longed for deeper communion with God. When we turn to Wesley’s writings, then, we encounter a man driven by a lifelong pursuit of holiness, a pursuit that was, at its heart, a search for God.
A few years ago a friend in London told me, “the search for God is the greatest adventure known to man.” I think he was right. I also think that whether he knew it or not, he was talking about holiness. St. Augustine said the same thing back in the 5th century, in a prayer to God that “our hearts are restless until they find their rest in Thee.”
The historic search for God in the Church historic, in the leading voices that shaped the English church, and therefore in Wesley, reveal the Good News that holiness goes well beyond initial salvation, conversion, or even justification. It is an experience of God that changes our very lives, applying the power of his grace, the repercussions of the resurrection, and so much more so that we might be healed.
In one of his best sermons, “The Scripture Way of Salvation,” Wesley spoke to this very idea when he wrote:
At the same time that we are justified, yea, in that very moment, sanctification begins. In that instant we are ‘born again’, ‘born from above’, ‘born of the Spirit’. There is a real as well as a relative change. We are inwardly renewed by the power of God. We feel the ‘love of God shed abroad in our heart by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us’, producing love to all mankind, and more especially to the children of God; expelling the love of the world, the love of pleasure, of ease, of honour, of money; together with pride, anger, self-will, and every other evil temper—in a word, changing the ‘earthly, sensual, devilish’ mind into ‘the mind which was in Christ Jesus’.
That is life worth seeking.
Ryan N. Danker, Th.D., is an author, historian, and scholar of John Wesley and English Christianity who serves as the Director of the John Wesley Institute.
by Jonathan Powers | Aug 4, 2026 | Uncategorized
Academies of Life
by Stephen Rankin
The philosopher and spiritual writer, Dallas Willard, of blessed memory, wrote the following exhortation in the introduction to his book, The Spirit of the Disciplines: “Our local assemblies must become academies of life as it was meant to be.” That phrase, “academies of life,” stimulates some thought.
What comes to mind when you think of an academy? Probably books and classrooms. The word “academic” conjures up images of tree-lined campuses and ivy-covered buildings, with erudite lectures and knots of students bent over books in the library, feverishly keying notes into their laptops, prepping for tests.
Willard joins “academies” with “life.” This is a crucial connection. Academies of life. Not book learning in isolation, but learning that is essential, existential, in our hearts, our guts, our bodies. Learning that matters in daily circumstances with all the joys and sorrows that, learning that makes us wise, gives us perspective, that holds us steady and makes us helpful to other people in their struggles. Learning that is not simplistic, not “dumbed down,” but adequate and continually refreshing as we negotiate life.
It’s one of the reasons I find Willard’s admonition intriguing. He served as a professor of philosophy at the University of Southern California for four decades and embodied so many of the qualities that we imagine college faculty embody, sometimes in stereotypical ways. He was an expert on Edmund Husserl, a German mathematician and philosopher well-known in modern intellectual circles as the father of modern phenomenology. You don’t get more “philosophical” than that.
At the same time, according to Willard’s biographer, he was an exacting and compassionate teacher who gave countless hours one-on-one to his students. About any time of the day, if you came to his hopelessly cluttered office, you’d find him engaged in probing conversation with a student. And they were not simply talking “philosophy.” They were discussing life. All of us have been in such conversations, but perhaps didn’t realize how truly philosophical they are, or how much they depend on substantive ideas.
Given the stereotypes about college professors, it may be a surprise that this demanding philosophy professor is best known in Christian circles for his work on the spiritual disciplines. I mentioned one such title already. There are others, like The Renovation of the Heart or The Divine Conspiracy. And if you haven’t heard of Willard, I’ll bet you have heard of Richard Foster and Celebration of Discipline. Foster was the John Mark Comer of his generation and he and Willard were extremely close. Iron definitely sharpened iron in their relationship.
In several pieces that I’ve written recently for Good News, I’ve been Johnny One Note, harping on the need to recognize that our intellectual lives live organically in our spiritual lives. The two domains cannot be separated. Ideas that you have gained through some form of study (reading, listening, discussing) directly contribute not only to how you think about a given topic, but also how you feel and respond. To think is to experience.
So much of what late-modern Christian culture says about the Christ life is easy to manage – the five-minute devotionals and the “Let’s have a quick prayer” moments and the six-week Bible studies with fill-in-the-blank answers. In truth, they demand next to nothing from us and they leave us unchanged. Jesus said that if we want life, we’ll go through the narrow gate, and take the hard way, not the wide, easy way (Matthew 7:13-14). Of course, he wasn’t’ talking about taking a theology class, but it is nonetheless true that, to follow Jesus requires serious intellectual engagement with him. Who is it that we’re following? What did he come to do? Is he mainly a teacher, sage, and prophet, or is he God Incarnate, who takes away the sins of the world? The answer matters. What we think about him shapes how we follow him. And you can’t answer such questions reliably without getting into some deep theological waters.
We need, therefore, exactly what Willard advocates. We need our assemblies (our local churches) to become academies of life.
For a long time, I have been meditating on how, in the early generation of the church, converts to the Christian faith were catechized into the faith. What sort of learning did they undertake? One example is the catechetical school in Alexandria, Egypt, led by the great scholar of the ancient church, Origen. A catechetical school was where converts studied, fasted, and prayed, in preparation to receive Christian baptism and enter fully into the life of the Body of Christ. I’ve read that the curriculum in this catechetical school could be thought of as akin to a solid university education for that day.
In those days, when outsiders were trying to figure out what this new religion was, one of the points of comparison was with the philosophical schools that existed. They were schools of wisdom for life. No division between “the academic” and “the practical” existed. To study with a philosopher was to deepen one’s understanding of life’s meaning, to think about and practice what makes a good life. To study in a philosophical school meant to undertake the disciplines that led to true happiness.
In that catechetical school in Alexandria, new believers in Christ experienced the same sort of process. They knew that they were entering into a radically new way of living. They learned the scriptures. They faced the intellectual challenges of the day. They understood that, all around them were people who found their faith alternatively ridiculous and terrifying. To live well in such a world required both intellectual substance and the disciplines or means of grace of Christian piety.
The catechetical school was an academy for life, just as Willard exhorted us to try. We need the serious, systematic, careful, detailed experience of intellectual engagement with the rich resources of the church. We need to drink deeply from the well of our Christian theological tradition to develop a faith adequate for the times, that enables us to live with joy and confidence so that we can be a true blessing to others.
What if local churches were to take up this call to become academies for life? What if our church libraries became lively gathering places for people to read and think and ponder and discuss and try? What if our middle school and high school kids could go to any number of the grown-ups in their church (not just the pastor or youth leader) and ask the hard questions that they’re thinking about but afraid to ask? What would it do for their faith? What would it do for ours?
May God grant us the grace to take up Willard’s challenge. May our local assemblies become true academies for life.
Stephen Rankin is the Contributing Editor for Good News Magazine.
by Jonathan Powers | Jul 29, 2026 | Uncategorized
Good News Revisited: Lifestyle Evangelism
By Thomas Lambrecht
This article first appeared in the August 2021 edition of Good News.
As a declining denomination in the midst of cultural headwinds becoming increasingly hostile to Christianity, we wonder how to be a growing, vital church. Although I have served as a pastor and have been a member of growing congregations at one time or another, I have never in my church membership life been part of a growing United Methodist denomination. That is true of all active clergy in our church today.
Many programs have been tried and much ink spilled in trying to foster a denominational turnaround. The results, however, have been unsuccessful denomination-wide. Our decline is only accelerating as our church gets older. Certainly, the long-running conflict over theology and moral teaching has not helped.
As we think about a new traditionalist Methodist denomination that will no longer have conflict over doctrine and morals, how can we best approach our new societal situation, where Christianity is no longer privileged and the church as an institution is no longer respected?
In some ways, we are returning to the situation experienced by the early church in the first three centuries. Upon the recommendation of others, I have found the book The Patient Ferment of the Early Church by the late church historian Alan Kreider to be extremely helpful in unpacking the factors that led the early church to grow.
How the Early Church Grew
Growth in the early church after the first apostles’ generation died out was not primarily due to missions or evangelism. The seeds had been planted around the Mediterranean world, and they grew from there. Kreider summarizes, “According to the evidence at our disposal, the expansion of the churches was not organized, the product of a mission program; it simply happened. Further, the growth was not carefully thought through. Early Christian leaders did not engage in debates between rival ‘mission strategies.’ … The Christians … did not write a single treatise on evangelism. … [In] the best surviving summary of catechetical topics, … not one of them admonishes the new believers to share the gospel with the gentiles. Early Christian preachers do not appeal to the ‘Great Commission’ in Matthew 28:19-20 to inspire their members to ‘make disciples of all nations.’ … Most improbable of all, the churches did not use their worship services to attract new people. In the aftermath of the persecution of Nero in A.D. 68, churches around the empire … closed their doors to outsiders.”
In short, many of the strategies and programs we use today to grow the church played no role in the early Christian centuries up until the Emperor Constantine I began promoting Christianity in A.D. 313.
What caused the church to grow? Kreider identifies several factors. The primary factor he identifies is the “patient ferment” of the church – the bubbling up of spiritual life in the lives of believers that over time attracted tens of thousands of individual new believers, a few at a time, into the growing church.
This approach is summed up in a quote from the writer Cyprian (A.D. 256), “We do not speak great things but we live them.” As Kreider explains it, “Christians, said Cyprian, are to be visibly distinctive. They are to live their faith and communicate it in deeds, and their deeds are to embody patience. Patientia: when Christians make this virtue visible and active, they demonstrate the character of God to the world.” And it is this distinctive, lived-out faith that becomes attractive over time to people unfulfilled by the world’s pleasures and possessions.
The key is that “Christians and their communities must live a life of integrity with no discrepancy between words and deeds,” Kreider states. “Outsiders will judge the Christians not so much by what they say (most people won’t listen to them anyway) as by what they are and do.”
Early Church Examples
How did this work out in practice? According to Justin Martyr (about A.D. 150), it meant living out Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount. Be patient with others. Be servants to all. When struck on one cheek, turn to them the other (rather than taking revenge). If compelled to go one mile, go two. Do not be angry. Do not quarrel. As Justin put it, “Let your good works shine before men, that they as they see may wonder at your Father who is in heaven.”
In their business lives, Christians were to act with integrity. They were “to speak the unadorned truth about a product they were selling.” Perhaps it meant refusing to retaliate when mistreated by another businessperson. It could have meant refusing to engage in litigation in the law courts.
In an extremely licentious culture, Christians were committed to sexual purity. Justin “points to Christians in Rome ‘and in every nation’ who have repudiated adulterous glances,” avoided polygamy, and committed themselves to a lifelong Christian understanding of sexual restraint and fidelity. By embracing this new ethic, the early church attracted “to the faith an ‘uncounted multitude of those who have turned away from’” sexual licentiousness.
In a rigidly hierarchical society, Christians created a heterogeneous community of rich and poor, nobles, working class, and laborers, masters and slaves, men and women, older adults as well as children. They formed a new type of family that incorporated all its members, including those most despised by society, on an equal and integral basis.
In a society where 90 percent of the people were powerless, Christians experienced the power of God at work in their lives. Miracles were part of their regular experience through the exorcism of demons and the healing of disease. And the leaders of a church were just as likely to be slaves as to be wealthy.
In a society where “65 percent of the population lived close to or below the subsistence level” and it was often “every man for himself,” Christians were known for caring for their poor. As we see in the book of Acts, churches would collect money and donations to provide food and clothing to those in need.
In a brutal society where life was cheap, Origen (about A.D. 250) stipulated, “refusing to participate in ‘the taking of human life in any form at all’ was a basic Christian commitment.” Christians refused to retaliate. They opposed and undermined the gladiatorial games (one of the primary means of mass entertainment, like today’s football). They “said no to abortion or to putting unwanted infants to death by exposure.” And in the early years, this commitment ruled out Christians serving in the Roman legions.
Under persecution, Christians were often courageous. They were not afraid to suffer or die for their faith because they were assured of a heavenly reality following death. They were conscious that they were imitating Jesus, who also suffered and died. Their calmness in the face of persecution stunned and attracted unbelievers.
This countercultural lifestyle appealed to people who were unsatisfied or unfulfilled by the world’s way of living. It prompted questions and inquiries that led to sharing of “the reason for the hope that is within us” (I Peter 3:15). This led to joining a catechism class for an extended time of learning and preparation before one was baptized and received into the membership of the church. There is much more to Kreider’s thesis than I have been able to share here, but this aspect is instructive for how we can promote a growing and vital church.
The Wesleyan Example
John Wesley knew that lifestyle was as important as doctrine. That is why he put forward the General Rules for those joining the Methodist movement. “There is only one condition previously required of those who desire admission into these [Methodist] societies: ‘a desire to flee from the wrath to come, and to be saved from their sins.’ But wherever this is really fixed in the soul it will be shown by its fruits. It is therefore expected of all who continue [within the Methodist societies] that they should continue to evidence their desire of salvation” by doing no harm, doing good, and attending upon all the ordinances of God (the means of grace).
The General Rules are very specific about the kinds of behaviors that were expected of Methodists.
In a society where alcoholism was rampant, Methodists were expected to avoid “drunkenness: buying or selling spirituous liquors, or drinking them, unless in cases of extreme necessity.”
In a society where slaveholding was common, Methodists were expected to avoid “slaveholding; buying or selling slaves.”
In a society experiencing personal conflict and violence, Methodists were to avoid “fighting, quarreling, brawling, brother going to law with brother; returning evil for evil, or railing for railing.”
In a country where smuggling and the black market were a constant practice, Methodists were to avoid “buying or selling goods that have not paid the duty.”
In a society where ostentatious displays of wealth were expected, Methodists were to avoid “putting on of gold and costly apparel.”
In their personal lives, Methodists were expected to avoid “uncharitable or unprofitable conversation; particularly speaking evil of magistrates [government officials] or of ministers.” They were to avoid “such diversions as cannot be used in the name of the Lord Jesus” and “singing those songs, or reading those books, which do not tend to the knowledge or love of God.” They were to avoid “laying up treasure upon earth” or “borrowing without a probability of paying.”
In a time when Methodists were ridiculed and persecuted, they were expected to “do good, especially to them that are of the household of faith or [striving] to be; employing them preferably to others; buying one of another, helping each other in business, and so much the more because the world will love its own and them only.”
The distinctive lifestyle and countercultural expectations of Methodists was not a deterrent, but a positive factor in the growth of Methodism in its first century. When Methodism began to compromise with the world and try to blend in or “be relevant,” it began to plateau and decline in relation to the size of the population.
Implications for Today
Doctrine, what we believe as Christians, is highly important. But if our lives contradict our beliefs, the world will not be interested in what we say we stand for.
Evangelical Protestantism has become so fixated on the Reformation truth that we are saved by grace through faith, and not by works, that we have forgotten the necessity of living the life of faith. We spend much energy on getting people to say the “sinner’s prayer” or commit their lives to Jesus Christ (which is essential), but neglect to help disciples form their lives to live as Jesus did. We emphasize forgiveness and grace more than holiness. As someone has said, American Christianity is more American than Christian.
Of course, we cannot live the Christian life by human effort alone, and our ability to exhibit a holy character is not what saves us. We come to Jesus as we are, he accepts us as we are, he welcomes us into his family, and he offers us the chance to become like him. We depend upon the power of the Holy Spirit to truly transform our desires and affections, as we nurture our relationship with the Lord through prayer, study of God’s word, worship, spiritual fellowship, and the other means of grace. As we are transformed on the inside, our outward behavior will change. But our outward behavior is an indicator of the extent of our inner transformation.
Our churches will not grow until people see that following Jesus Christ makes a difference in our lives. We must stop trying to blend in to the culture and instead be willing to live counter to the culture as Christians. Authentic Christians down through history have always been thought “strange” by an unbelieving world. We ought not to shy away from high expectations for how we as Christians are to live and act.
Evangelism programs and missional strategies are good and helpful. But people will not buy what we are selling unless they see that it works in making our lives different and more fulfilling than theirs. Otherwise, why make the sacrifices that being a Christian entails?
Thomas Lambrecht is the General Conference Secretary of the Global Methodist Church and former Vice President and General Manager of Good News.
by Jonathan Powers | Jul 22, 2026 | Uncategorized
Worship That Brings Christ into Focus: What Robert Webber Can Still Teach Evangelicals about the Meaning and Practice of Christian Worship
By Jonathan A. Powers
Most of us who wear eyeglasses do not think much about them until they stop helping us see. A prescription that once brought the world into focus can gradually become inadequate. The glasses may still look fine, and they may even be stylish, but if they no longer help us see clearly, they are not serving their purpose.
Christian worship works in much the same way. It is like a pair of glasses that brings Jesus Christ into focus. Through Scripture, prayer, song, preaching, sacrament, and the shared actions of God’s people, worship helps the Church see again who Christ is and what Christ has done. When worship becomes distorted by personal preference, cultural pressure, or a fixation on style, Christ can begin to blur at the center. We may still gather, we may still sing, and we may still call what we are doing worship, but we can lose sight of the One around whom Christian worship is ordered.
Few twentieth-century evangelical thinkers understood this danger more clearly than Robert E. Webber. Webber is often remembered as the father of the “ancient-future” worship movement and as an advocate of “blended” worship. Both descriptions are accurate, but neither fully captures the heart of his work. Webber was not primarily interested in making evangelical worship older, more formal, or more aesthetically interesting. Rather, his great concern was that worship proclaim Jesus Christ and invite the whole congregation to participate in his saving story.
Searching for Something More
Webber’s concern grew from his own worship journey. Born in 1933 to missionary parents, he spent his earliest years in the Belgian Congo. His childhood faith centered on evangelism, conversion, and the call to bring people to Christ. After his family returned to the United States, that same emphasis continued in the Baptist churches of his youth. Worship typically moved toward a decisive moment: the altar call, a conversion, a rededication, or a call to missionary service.
Webber never abandoned the evangelical conviction that people need a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. Over time, however, he became uneasy with worship that seemed designed chiefly to produce a decision. He later recalled a revival service in which an evangelist extended the invitation through emotional appeals, threats, and repeated verses of “Just as I Am.” When no one responded, the evangelist angrily declared that the opportunity was over. For Webber, the moment exposed the danger of confusing the work of the Holy Spirit with human manipulation.
He then encountered another model of evangelical worship, one centered on education. In this approach, the sermon became the “main dish” of the service. Worship was organized around explaining biblical truth and giving the congregation something intellectually substantial. Webber valued faithful preaching, but he eventually found this model inadequate too. Christianity could become a system to explain and defend rather than a life with God to enter and embody. In his own words, the story had become lost to him.
The turning point came in 1972, when Webber attended an Easter Vigil at a Roman Catholic church in Wheaton, Illinois. He entered a darkened sanctuary, joined a candlelit procession, listened as the great story of salvation unfolded through Scripture, witnessed baptisms, and shared in the celebration of the Eucharist. For the first time, he did not experience the resurrection merely as a doctrine to affirm. Through the words and actions of worship, he felt drawn into the movement from darkness to light, from death to life.
That service did not make Webber less evangelical. It helped him imagine a fuller evangelical worship, one that joined biblical proclamation and personal encounter with the historic practices of the Church.
More Than “Traditional” and “Contemporary”
Webber began studying the worship of the early Christians, especially the first several centuries of the Church. He found patterns that had endured across time: the reading and proclamation of Scripture, prayer, baptism, the Lord’s Supper, the Christian year, creedal confession, and the active participation of the gathered community. He became convinced that these practices could renew evangelical worship, not because everything old is automatically good, but because the historic practices of the Church have repeatedly helped Christians proclaim and inhabit the gospel.
This conviction eventually led Webber to speak of “ancient-future” worship, a phrase that is sometimes misunderstood. For Webber, ancient-future worship was not an attempt to recreate a service from the fourth century, nor was it a nostalgic retreat from the contemporary world. Instead, Webber wanted churches to retrieve the wisdom of the past and embody it faithfully in the present. The historic content of Christian worship could take fresh cultural forms, so long as those forms served the gospel and encouraged the congregation’s participation.
That is also what Webber meant by “blended” worship. He was not proposing a service in which the congregation sings two hymns for one generation and two praise choruses for another. Webber’s blend went much deeper than musical selection. He hoped to bring together the theological depth and sacramental awareness of liturgical renewal with the immediacy, participation, and expectancy found in Pentecostal and charismatic worship. Style mattered, but it remained a servant of something greater.
For Webber, the real question was never simply, “Should worship be traditional or contemporary?” The better questions were: Does this worship proclaim the saving work of God in Jesus Christ? Does it engage the whole congregation? Does it connect us to the Church across time and space? Does it form us to live as Christ’s people in the world?
Liturgical Recapitulation
The heart of the practical worship theology Webber developed and promulgated throughout his career can best be described as a “liturgical recapitulation.” While the language sounds technical, the idea is straightforward. To recapitulate is to gather something up and bring it back to its proper center. Webber believed evangelical worship needed to be gathered up again around the person and work of Jesus Christ.
This was grounded in Webber’s understanding of Christus Victor: Christ has entered the brokenness of creation, defeated sin and death through his cross and resurrection, and begun the renewal of all things. The gospel, therefore, is more than a private assurance that my soul will go to heaven. It is the announcement that Jesus Christ is Lord and that, through him, God is restoring his creation.
For Webber, worship tells this story again and again. Yet it does more than convey information about past events. The Church remembers Christ’s saving work in ways that invite us to participate in it. In baptism, we are joined to Christ’s death and resurrection. At the Eucharist we give thanks for his victory and share in the life he gives. Through the Christian year, we inhabit the great movements of his story, from expectation and incarnation, to cross, resurrection, ascension, and the gift of the Spirit. Through Scripture, sermon, prayer, song, and creed, we learn to see the world through the gospel.
Webber’s liturgical recapitulation approach can be summarized through four inter-related convictions:
First, worship should be historically rooted. The Church does not begin with us, and faithful worship does not need to be invented from scratch each week. The historic Church offers a treasury of practices that can anchor us when cultural fashions change.
Second, worship should possess a narrative quality. Every element should serve the story of God’s saving work, which reaches its center in Jesus Christ. Worship is not primarily the story of our feelings, needs, or aspirations. It is God’s story, into which our lives are graciously gathered.
Third, worship requires participatory engagement. The congregation is not an audience watching religious professionals perform. The people pray, sing, listen, confess, respond, come to the Eucharist, and are sent into the world. Worship is the work of the whole people of God.
Fourth, worship should nurture a genuinely evangelical experience. Webber did not want to eliminate personal encounter or emotion from worship; he wanted to reorient experience toward the living Christ. The goal is not to manufacture a certain feeling or experience but to encounter Christ through the gospel and be transformed by his grace.
These four convictions belong together. Historic practices without the story of Christ can become empty ritual. Narrative without participation can remain abstract information. Participation without theological depth can become activity for its own sake. Experience without roots can be governed by whatever feels powerful in the moment. Webber sought a worship in which history, story, participation, and experience converge around Jesus.
Webber’s Continuing Challenge
Webber’s work was not without limitations. His historical retrieval could be selective, and his account of early Christian worship sometimes suggested more uniformity than the historical evidence supports. His work also needs to be expanded through fuller engagement with the Holy Spirit and with the worship of global and minority Christian communities. In addition, an emphasis on Christ’s victory should never cause the Church to hurry past the suffering and sacrifice of the cross. The risen Christ is the crucified Christ.
Nevertheless, Webber’s central challenge remains urgent. Evangelical worship is still tempted to organize itself around the consumer, the platform, the personality, the impressive sermon, the musical brand, or the felt needs of the moment. Churches still divide over style while giving too little attention to the theological content and formative power of their worship. We can become so concerned with whether people enjoyed the service that we fail to ask whether they encountered the gospel.
Webber gives us a better question: Does our worship bring Jesus Christ into focus?
If it does, people will see more than a satisfying religious event. They will see the One who became flesh, bore the cross, conquered the grave, ascended in glory, and will come again to make all things new. They will not merely hear Christ’s story; they will find themselves within it. They will be gathered as his Body, nourished by his grace, and sent to join his mission in the world.
Ultimately, Webber’s ultimate goal was not simply to help churches plan better worship services. Instead, he wanted to help the Church form better worshipers, people whose lives proclaim the victory of Jesus Christ long after the final song has ended.
Jonathan Powers is the Associate Professor of Worship Studies at Asbury Theological Seminary in Wilmore, KY and the Editor-in-Chief for Good News magazine.