by Steve | May 18, 2020 | Magazine, Magazine Articles, May/June 2020
Original art by Sam Wedelich (www.samwedelich.com).
By Elizabeth Glass Turner –
Sanctification is fun when it’s under our control.
Out of the corner of our eye, we have peripheral awareness of how close to being faith consumers we really are. We choose to go to a conference so we can grow spiritually. We choose to show up to Bible study so we can grow spiritually. We choose to read a book so we can cry or become more efficient or grow spiritually.
We choose.
We choose the parameters of our growth. Where we next discern/feel/think that God is leading us. What we will “give up” for Lent. The solution is perceived as whatever antidote to lukewarm faith fits the bill. I’m not sure the problem is lukewarm Christians, though. I think the problem is more the insidious mindset that is entangled in our approach to faith: that we set the table, invite the guests, and choose the menu of our own spiritual growth. That we’re in charge. That we can choose what outcomes we want to see in our spiritual life. That we control how we want to be made Christlike.
If you can choose what to give up for Lent, you’re living in a place of blissful abundance. Don’t take it for granted. Years back during Lent several areas of life imploded at once. In the wake of the economic collapse in 2008, there was a lot of scarcity, especially in certain areas of the country. My household was affected directly, and I remember writing a short reflection including the comment, “What do you give up for Lent when you’re already in a season of scarcity? What does fasting look like when the cupboards are pretty bare?” Lent had changed from practices I chose and controlled to something outside my control, and I didn’t like it.
God had allowed my chosen self-denial to be replaced with real desperation.
It was awful, and there’s no good way to spin or market it.
It hadn’t really occurred to me before what fasting sounded like to people who struggled to afford groceries, or who waited for their food stamps to be refilled. One day during that time — when the news was full of stories of foreclosures, whole subdivisions emptied, when the rust belt was contracting and people moved across the country away from their lifelong hometowns in order to find work — I came across a story of a humiliated woman who drove a luxury car to the food bank she used to donate to. In desperate tones she explained a paid-off, reliable vehicle was one of the only decent assets she had left and it didn’t make sense to trade it in for a cheaper but possibly less reliable car. But that meant that she was driving to the food bank in shiny German engineering.
Before the housing market crisis and Wall Street meltdown, if this woman had chosen to live on a strict budget, she would have been living in self-denial; it’s the removal of options that leads to desperation, no matter how well-resourced or well-connected you’re accustomed to being. Sometimes we instinctively recoil from people going through hard times, as if back in our minds is a hidden, primitive instinct to label tragedy or suffering “unclean.”
How did God let me learn about what Lent looks like when circumstances careen out of control? Several times over the years something would happen – why around Lent? – completely out of my control.
I’m trying to be pious and become Christlike, God. Why won’t you let me?!
In 2017, I had a completely unforeseeable health crisis and after misdiagnosis and falling asleep night after night praying I would wake up the next morning, eventually had emergency surgery and a painful recovery.
That’s a bit more “from dust you come, to dust you shall return” than I meant, God.
In 2018, my husband was stricken with a serious set of grave symptoms that left him on bedrest all winter. I joked that I was fasting from certainty. It wasn’t that much of a joke. Finally, he found relief in the spring.
Well, someday I’ll get back to a normal Lent.
In 2019, his symptoms returned and relief was elusive for over six months. Again, a Lent full of doctor appointments, insurance arguments, hours spent on hold, notes documenting symptoms scribbled down.
Will I ever get back to a normal Shrove Tuesday pancake supper?!
To proclaim that Jesus is Lord means this: I won’t always get to decide how or by what means I grow spiritually. What does the fruit of the Spirit look like when a doctor’s office receptionist is callous, flippant, or rude? What does it look like to be Christlike when you’re grieving lost opportunity due to difficult-to-diagnose chronic illness? What does joy look like when you realize your kids will be spending part of their spring break accompanying a parent to another physician appointment?
None of this fits on the brochure for “Christianity: Come Join Us! Really, It’s Not that Bad!”
I can’t guarantee you stability in this life. I can’t guarantee you won’t face tragedy. I can’t guarantee you won’t experience mind-numbing grief.
I can witness to the goodness of God, though.
I can, and will, bear witness to the power of Jesus Christ, the lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world.
I can worship God from inside the blasting, scorching furnace, while evil asks, “Didn’t I put three people in there? I see a fourth man, and he looks like the Son of God.”
If I let go of the outcomes I hope for, I can grab onto the person of Jesus.
Jesus is Lord, and nothing in heaven or hell, nothing on earth or out past Pluto, no entity or circumstance can erase the goodness of God. Jesus is Lord and victory belongs to him even when I don’t get to choose the battle.
Please God, I’d like to go fight in that battle over there.
“This is what I have for you.”
I’m so much better over there, you gave me gifts for it! I’m sure that’s where you need me.
“I need you here.”
That doesn’t make sense.
“No, it just doesn’t make sense to you.”
It turns out getting up and responding to altar calls is pretty good practice for the much harder business of following Jesus in the dark.
There will be times you get to choose and pursue ways to grow spiritually. There will be times you are thrown into a whirlwind, into a vortex, and forced to respond.
In all things, Jesus is Lord, and nothing can force us to stop testifying to the goodness and power of Jesus Christ, whether we like our circumstances or not.
Elizabeth Glass Turner is the managing editor of Wesleyan Accent (wesleyanaccent.com). This article first appeared on ArtofHoliness.com.
by Steve | May 18, 2020 | Magazine, Magazine Articles, May/June 2020
Bishop Frank J. Beard writes: “Paul compares the Word to a soldier’s sword: ‘Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God’ (Ephesians 6:12). The writer of the book of Hebrews compares God’s word to a double-edged sword: ‘For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart’ (Hebrews 4:12).”
By Frank J. Beard –
Our world is under attack by a ruthless enemy – one that does not come from God. It is the job of every Christian and every church to unify and wage spiritual warfare against this destructive evil until it is defeated.
As I was praying the other morning and lamenting that there was not much we could do against this virus, I sensed in my spirit that as a spiritual leader I was taking the wrong approach. The Lord spoke very plainly to me, “Tell them about the weapons I have provided for them to use.” Like Moses, I argued, but even as I argued seven weapons came to mind.
Our current attack is from a vicious enemy whose primary purpose is death. As Christians we understand that this thief comes only to steal, kill, and destroy (John 10:10). He is a powerful destroyer, but we are not powerless against him or his vices.
God has given every believer an arsenal of weapons for the spiritual battles that we face. The one we serve is the “I AM” God (Exodus 3:14), the one whose very name means, “I will be what you need when you have need.”
The Apostle Paul reminds us in 2 Corinthians 10:3-4 that as followers of Christ we do not wage war as the world does. We have spiritual weapons because we are engaged in a spiritual battle. Our weapons are never directed at people. According to Paul, “Our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms” (Ephesians 6:12).
Let’s take a brief look at seven weapons used in spiritual warfare.
1. Prayer, Praise, and Worship. In II Chronicles chapter 20, three enemy kings formed an alliance and declared war against King Jehoshaphat. The King turned to the Lord for help and encouraged the nation to fast and pray. The Spirit of the Lord came among them and God gave them this message: “Listen, King Jehoshaphat and all who live in Judah and Jerusalem! This is what the Lord says to you: ‘Do not be afraid or discouraged because of this vast army. For the battle is not yours, but God’s’” (II Chronicles 20:15).
Jehoshaphat assembled an army, but he did an amazingly unconventional thing. He placed the choir and the praise band out front! The power of prayer, praise, and worship was undeniable as the enemy army was routed without the King or his soldiers engaging in any physical fisticuffs.
2. The Word of God. Paul compares the Word to a soldier’s sword: “Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God” (Ephesians 6:12). The writer of the book of Hebrews compares God’s word to a double-edged sword: “For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart” (Hebrews 4:12).
3. The Name of Jesus. One of our strongest weapons is the name of Jesus. This name, supported by a personal relationship, is a powerful force the enemy recognizes and fears. “Therefore God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father” (Philippians 2:9-11).
The Bible tells us that, “The name of the LORD is a fortified tower; the righteous run to it and are safe” (Proverbs 18:10). Both the Old Testament and the New Testament are filled with verses that talk about the power in the name of the Lord. “David said to the Philistine, ‘You come against me with sword and spear and javelin, but I come against you in the name of the Lord Almighty, the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied’” (I Samuel 17:45).
4. The Blood of Jesus. Because of the shed blood of Jesus, believers are redeemed, sanctified (set apart), cleansed, forgiven, and justified (brought into right relationship) in the presence of God. Christ’s blood grants us entrance into the very throne room of heaven where we are welcomed as children of God.
The blood of Christ provides victory over all our enemies. “They triumphed over him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony; they did not love their lives so much as to shrink from death” (Revelation 12:11).
5. Our Faith. Hebrews 11 highlights God’s hall of fame of men and women who, through their faith, accomplished seemingly impossible tasks.
Paul describes faith as a shield for believers. “In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one” (Hebrews 6:16).
The shield of faith protects us from the flaming darts of our enemy. Faith extinguishes the enemy’s fire and turns those sinister plans into blessings. Faith is a spiritual weapon that clears the way for us to receive God’s grace. Faith enables us to triumph over whatever the world throws at us. “… for everyone born of God overcomes the world. This is the victory that has overcome the world, even our faith” (I John 5:4).
6. Our Testimony. One of the last promises Jesus gave to his disciples was that they would receive, from the Holy Spirit, power to be effective witnesses. “But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth” (Acts 1:8).
Jesus promised that their personal testimony would provide the evidence needed to spread the gospel message throughout the world. This power was promised for individual and corporate witnessing. Each personal testimony of the followers of Christ is a highly charged weapon connecting Christians to God’s grace and each other. Each testimony speaks of God’s presence and of the transforming power that defeats the enemy and inspires hope in the downtrodden.
7. Our Unity in Christ. We don’t often think of unity as a spiritual weapon, but it was one of the great prayers Jesus offered on behalf of his followers (John 17). It was also one of the keys that opened the door for the Holy Spirit to be poured out on the believers in Acts chapter two. As those early believers waited in obedience, and as they prayed together day-by-day, an atmosphere of unity was formed.
This tragic pandemic is an opportunity for the followers of Christ around the globe to unite and engage in spiritual warfare that will defeat and destroy the works of darkness. Each Christian, within their own unique context, will need to decide how God has called them to engage in this spiritual battle. Christian leaders will need to listen for the Lord’s voice (and nudging) to decide how best to rally, equip, and deploy the troops under their direction.
We dare not sit silently and idly by, wringing our hands and thinking that we are powerless against this pandemic. Jesus said about us, “You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house” (Matthew 5:14-15).
Now is the time to let your light shine for Jesus. People are searching for solutions and seeking answers to this pandemic. Believers are not powerless. We have been given weapons to assist in fighting against this evil. It is our job to stand up, stand out, and proclaim victory even before we see the end of the battle. Let us not shrink back or shy away because we don’t believe we can do anything.
Remember the story of Jehoshaphat. This battle belongs to the Lord. Ultimate victory does not excuse us from engaging and utilizing the weapons God has provided for us to use in defeating this pandemic. Perhaps God has strategically placed us “for such a time as this!”
Frank J. Beard is the Bishop of the Illinois Great Rivers Annual Conference of The United Methodist Church. This article is adapted from his blog.
by Steve | May 18, 2020 | Magazine, Magazine Articles, May/June 2020
Angela Gleaves, a nurse at Vanderbilt University Medical Center in Nashville, Tennessee, posted an uplifting photo on Facebook amid the coronavirus pandemic of her and four of her fellow nurses praying from the hospital’s helipad atop the building: “When you have a few extra minutes at work you take the time to go to the Helipad and pray. We prayed over the staff in our unit as well as all of the hospital employees. We also prayed over the patients and their families during this trying time. We also prayed for all of our colleagues around the world taking care of patients. It felt good to do this with some of my amazing co-workers. We could feel God’s presence in the wind. Know that you are all covered in prayer.”
By Beth Felker Jones –
There are so many losses right now. Vacations. Celebrations. Planned evenings with friends. Jobs. Mental health. Precious human beings.
As we live through a deadly pandemic, it is OK to feel the losses. It is OK to ache as carefully laid plans have to be put away. It is OK to grieve loved ones and economic hardships.
In these difficult times, there are three Christian principles to guide our thinking.
1. Creation is good. One of the most fundamental truths of Christian faith is this: creation is good. God made the world, God loves the world, and God has good purposes for the world. Just read the first chapter of Genesis and notice how many times the word good is used. All those things we care about? They matter. God cares too.
The early church rejected the false teaching known as Gnosticism. Gnosticism taught that spiritual reality is good, while material reality is evil. Against this, the church leaned on what scripture shows us about God as creator. Creation is not evil. God made it, God loves it, and God has good purposes for it.
Paul is talking about a Gnostic-like teaching when he writes against those who “forbid marriage and demand abstinence from foods” (1 Timothy 4:3). We know this instinct: the instinct to look at the delights of this world and turn up one’s nose, to try to be above the joys of feasts and warm human love.
Throughout the pandemic, I heard lots of rhetoric that spiritualized the faith and minimized the real human losses we were going through. But God’s revelation teaches us otherwise. God created feasts and flesh “to be received with thanksgiving … for everything created by God is good, and nothing is to be rejected, provided it is received with thanksgiving” (1 Timothy 4:3-4). God made these joys, God loves these joys, and we receive these joys with thanksgiving.
The joys of this life are precious. Friends laughing together is precious. Youth groups playing silly games together are precious. The chance to be together is precious.
And when we lose these things, it’s OK to say “ouch.”
Our God is the God who made this world and loves it. Our God is the God who cares about the intimate realities of our lives. And our God is the God who knows our grief. He’s carried it in his very flesh, in the body of Jesus.
2. We are bound together. In the midst of one of the most terrible plagues imaginable, Martin Luther wrote a pastoral letter in 1527 entitled “Whether one may flee from a deadly plague.” He reminds his readers of our obligations to one another. Pastors need to take care of their people. Those in public office need to take care of their cities. Parents need to care for their children. We’re not alone in this; “we are bound to each other in such a way that no one may forsake the other in his distress.”
Luther navigates a distinctively Christian way of dealing with the threat of death. Life is good, and it is to be protected. At the same time, death has been overcome in Jesus, and so it has no ultimate say over us.
If neighbor love, including self-love, means keeping safe, we keep safe, and when it means risking death, we risk it freely because we know that, in Christ, we have everlasting life. Luther’s confidence is in God. He reminds us to cling to God’s promises and to what Christ has done for us.
Neighbor love can mean risking everything, even death, by being physically present for others: Health care workers. Cleaning crews. Caregivers. Cashiers. Cooks. Warehouse workers. Delivery drivers. Pharmacists. Sanitation workers. Custodians. Government workers. People sweating it out to restock the grocery store shelves. And so many others. Luther would have us, “take courage in the fact that we are mutually bound together.”
After building people up for risky-neighbor love, Luther also has words for people who don’t take the plague seriously: “They are rash and reckless, tempting God and disregarding everything that might counteract death and the plague. They disdain the use of medicines, they do not avoid places and persons infected by the plague, but lightheartedly make sport of it and wish to prove how independent they are …. this is not trusting God but tempting him … such people behave as though a house were burning in the city and nobody were trying to put the fire out. Instead they give leeway to the flames so that the whole city is consumed … if some are so foolish as to not take precautions but aggravate the contagion, then the devil has a field day and many will die.”
Neighbor love can mean staying home, self-isolating to “flatten the curve.” Quarantine is what neighbor love looked
The statue of Julian of Norwich on the West Front of Norwich Cathedral, made by the sculptor David Holgate. Wikipedia Commons.
like for most of us. And that kind of neighbor love is also risky, painful, and self-sacrificial. There are those who did hard things to love their neighbors this way: Students. Teachers. Parents. Those who are alone and lonely.
With Luther, let’s speak back to the devil, who would terrorize us out of loving our neighbor as God would have us do: “Get away you devil with your terrors! …. If you can terrorize, Christ can strengthen me. If you can kill, Christ can give life. If you have poison in your fangs, Christ has far greater medicine. Should not my dear Christ, with his precepts, his kindness, and all his encouragement, be more important in my spirit than you roguish devil, with your false terrors in my weak flesh? God forbid. Get away devil! Here is Christ, and here am I, his servant in his work. Let Christ prevail.”
3. Rejoice and pray. “Rejoice in hope, be patient in suffering, persevere in prayer” wrote Paul (Romans 12:2).
Julian of Norwich did her praying in the 14th and early 15th centuries. Her book, Revelations of Divine Love, is the first book of theology written by a woman in the English language. We don’t know her real name, but we call her Julian because it was the name of her church.
Julian lived two lives. The first was a life in the world: a life of household concerns and running into neighbors on the street. We don’t know for certain, but it’s likely she was married and had children.
The bubonic plague swept through the town of Norwich twice in Julian’s lifetime. The pandemic took a third of Europe’s population. It was terrifying in its contagiousness and efficiency, and because people didn’t know how it was transmitted, fear and misguided attempts at self-protection increased.
Then, Julian’s life in the world ended. Julian’s second life was lived as an anchoress. She was walled away from the world.
Admittedly, this will sound incredibly strange if you haven’t heard of it before. The life of an anchoress was a dedicated ministry to a church and a town. The anchoress (or anchorite, if a man) was walled into a cell, or anchor-hold, attached to a church.
Julian would have stepped into her cell, and then stone walls went up. She wouldn’t leave until her death. But this wasn’t a burial alive, and even though it was a life set apart, it was still a life for the world. In her little room, her anchor-hold, Julian would have had three windows: one to the street, one to the sanctuary, and one to care for her needs (food, laundry, books, and presumably the chamber pot).
Even though it was a life set apart, it was still a life for the world. Julian was there to pray in place. She stayed put in order to commit herself, body and soul, to prayer for those outside those windows. In 14th century Norwich, you couldn’t call your pastor or text a friend, but if you needed prayer, at any time, you knew where Julian would be, and you could talk to her through her window.
Imagine Julian. Perhaps she’s walking back and forth in her 9 foot by 11 foot anchor-hold. Perhaps she’s sewing. Perhaps she’s looking through her window towards the altar in the church. She’s praying. But is she feeling the warm presence of God? Is her face aglow with peace? Is she able to pray without her attention wandering? Maybe. But maybe not.
Julian writes that, when we pray, “frequently our trust is not complete, for we are not certain that God hears us … because we feel absolutely nothing (for we are frequently as barren and dry after our prayers as we were before).”
Reflecting on barrenness in prayer, Julian tells us that the Lord showed her something wonderful: “I am the ground of thy praying.” Prayer isn’t about us. It’s about God. In this, says Julian, “our good Lord shows a powerful encouragement.”
“It is not our praying that is the cause of the goodness and grace that He does for us, but God’s own characteristic goodness.” And she counsels us, “our good Lord wills that this be recognized by His lovers on earth, and the more that we recognize this, the more we shall pray.”
Paul wrote: “Pray in the Spirit at all times in every prayer and supplication. To that end keep alert and always persevere in supplication for all the saints” (Ephesians 6:18).
Julian encourages us to “pray inwardly, even though it seems to give thee no pleasure…” Pray, “though thou sensest nothing.” Pray, “thou thou seest nothing.” Pray, “though thou thinkest thou canst achieve nothing.” Julian wants us to find freedom and trust in knowing that God is the “ground of thy praying”
“Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:6-7).
In quarantine, we’re like Julian. We still have windows. Our prayers should be that God would help us turn to our windows and pray for the world. Maybe this time and space of being walled in can become an anchor-hold. Maybe we can find a new freedom for prayer. Maybe Julian’s experience can set us free from our own desperate efforts to get our prayers right. In the truth that prayer is about what God does and not about what we are doing, Julian finds comfort from “all our doubtful fears” (42).
We fear for our health and that of our loved ones. We’re tempted to put our own safety and security before that of others. We’re terrified of economic collapse. We know fear. We know terror. We know sleepless nights.
Julian’s world was crumbling, too. And yet, she turns us toward the cross of Christ. She tells us to look steadily at Jesus. She reminds us that He is with us and for us. She asks to see the abundance of Christ’s blood spilled for us.
Here’s her account of one of her visions of Jesus’s blood: “the abundance was like the drops of water that fall off the eaves of a house after a great shower of rain, which fall so thick that no man can number them … because of their roundness, the drops were like the scales of herring as they spread over the forehead … This showing was alive and active, and hideous and dreadful, and sweet and lovely. And of all the sights it was the most comfort to me that our God and Lord, who is so worthy of respect and so fearsome, is also so plain and gracious; and this filled me with delight and security of soul.”
Julian is not ignoring the turmoil of the world. She’s telling us where to look so that we can live in that world. Where the plague destroys, the blood of Jesus flows. Where some put their own safety over those who need them, Jesus draws near. Where violence threatens, Jesus is our refuge. Where human leaders would impose hierarchy, Julian saw the blood of Jesus flowing for all, making no distinctions between priest and sinner, rich and poor, healthy or sick. Where the church creates false obstacles between us and God, Julian saw that the blood of Jesus clears those barriers away. And where people were scared of bodies and blood, Julian offered the grace of God.
Jesus’s body, Jesus’s blood covers and heals. The blood of Jesus is his intimacy with us. It’s been poured out for us. It’s flowing freely in a world that seems to be crumbling. He is with us. He is for us. “For truly,” says Julian, “it is the most joy that can be, as I see it, that He who is highest and mightiest, noblest and worthiest, is also lowliest and meekest, most friendly and most gracious.”
Like Mother Julian, we are able to turn our eyes to the cross. “For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of his cross” (Colossians 1:19-20).
When it seems our world is crumbling, we can remember that God’s goodness is sure. Where we ache, we can turn to him for solace. When we are terrified, we are reminded that Jesus cares for us – and that his blood is free for all.
Beth Felker Jones is associate professor of theology at Wheaton College. She is the author of several books including Practicing Christian Doctrine: An Introduction to Thinking and Living Theologically. This essay is adapted from Pandemic Prayers, a special Kindle devotional she wrote which is available on Amazon.
by Steve | May 18, 2020 | Magazine, Magazine Articles, May/June 2020
Students at Moscow Theological Seminary of The United Methodist Church have been leading online covenant groups for several years.
Pictured are, from left: Irina Rushkevich, Katerina Tokareva, Anna Klimina, and Natalya Zaitseva. Photo courtesy of Sergei Nikolaev.
By Sergei Nikolaev –
When self-isolation and mandatory quarantines became part of the social distancing required to hinder the spread of the coronavirus, students of the Moscow Theological Seminary of The United Methodist Church turned to their online covenant groups to maintain contact and fellowship.
These virtual gatherings, based on the original idea of John Wesley’s “bands,” were introduced to Moscow Seminary students by staff and laity of Mt. Pisgah United Methodist Church of Johns Creek in the North Georgia Conference. The existence and regular meetings of these groups allowed a seamless continuation of fellowship and spiritual disciplines, even during isolation.
The school has always had to deal with the problem of distance. The Eurasia Episcopal Area covers 11 time zones in Russia, with a territory of 7 million square miles. John Wesley famously declared, “The world is my parish,” and Eurasian Methodists like to say their bishop, Eduard Khegay, has the largest parish in the world.
In order to provide unity and connection between seminary students and to allow them to live and work in their hometowns, the seminary found creative solutions to deal with Eurasia’s vast distances.
One solution was to have students gather in Moscow four times a year for two weeks at a time. The rest of the year, students work on coursework, serve their local churches, and are employed locally in their native cities in Russia, Ukraine, Belarus, Kazakhstan, or Kyrgyzstan.
However, the fellowship classically provided in seminaries with a traditional academic model needed to be supported while the students were away from the seminary building. A model for such year-round fellowship emerged in 2015 through the Moscow Seminary-North Georgia Conference Mission Bridge in the form of covenant groups.
The model is for the covenant groups to meet weekly for about 90 minutes. The members of each group covenant to make the group a priority and to commit to a year. Each meeting starts with the classic Wesleyan question, “How is it with your soul?” Many groups use Wesley’s self-examination questions that he initially wrote for the “Holy Club.” They study the Bible to discern how it should be applied to their lives. Common prayers are an important part of the meeting, and personal spiritual growth goals are set for the next week.
“For me, the value of covenant groups is that we have the opportunity for mutual counseling, confession of sins, spiritual enrichment, and growth together with other brothers — some of whom are also ministers, who sometimes face similar challenges to me,” said Dr. Alexander Shevchenko, who is pastor of Luhansk United Methodist Church in Eastern Ukraine as well as a staff doctor at a rehabilitation facility. He is scheduled to graduate from the seminary in June.
Women meet with women and men meet with men to achieve an atmosphere of deep trust and security. They share the challenges they face in both their spiritual and personal lives. Confession in a confidential circle of trusted friends and a supportive prayer has a freeing effect.
“Many of women’s joys and the challenges of motherhood, marriage, beauty, and health can only be understood by women. The Skype Covenant Group creates a safe environment for that kind of openness and vulnerability,” said Elena Melnikova, the Moscow Seminary vice president for Development and Administration and a leader of one of the groups.
The seminary students are the first wave of leaders and members of covenant groups. Some students and seminary staff have recruited other pastors and church members outside of the student body.
After three years of such spiritual discipline, each Skype Covenant Group member is prepared to host her or his own group. Several students have already started their own covenant groups in their churches. Some of them typically meet in person, but with quarantine measures in place, they already have a proven model for meeting on Skype.
“The church and other organizations have only faced the need for online communication as the primary means of communication in the wake of the coronavirus infection. We have been praying and supporting each other online in our Skype Covenant Groups for a while,” said Shevchenko. “The value of this experience in the social distancing conditions due to coronavirus has increased dramatically.”
Although some groups had been meeting in person, the transition to Skype was not difficult.
“Of course, the coronavirus situation had a big impact on our group. Elderly people in the group don’t have the ability to Skype. Our initial thought was to announce a vacation, but then we decided to meet remotely via Skype anyway, those who can, and just pray for the rest (especially the elderly) at these meetings,” said Yelena Lyovushkina, a corporate attorney from Volgograd in South Russia and a second-year seminary student.
The Rev. Natalya Prokhorova, senior pastor of Samara United Methodist Church in Samara, Russia, said the requirement to stay home during the coronavirus allows more time for Skype Covenant Group meetings and “reflection on the Word.
“You don’t feel isolated only in your family. In our group we also pray for the healing of this disaster in our country and around the world,” Prokhorova said. She was recruited by one of the seminary staff for her group and then opened two groups in her church on her own.
Currently, there are over 30 covenant groups in Russia, Ukraine, Belarus, Kazakhstan, and Kyrgyzstan. Most of them meet on Skype. In the classic Wesleyan spirit of connection, they provide a model for spiritual growth and development even when Christians cannot meet together in person — whether due to distance under normal circumstances, or in extraordinary times requiring isolation and quarantines.
Today, in Russia and around the world, the coronavirus pandemic has provided a unique opportunity to look at the origins of the Wesleyan revival and to reimagine how its constitutive elements could provide a successful way into the future post-coronavirus world.
Sergei Nikolaev is president of the Moscow Theological Seminary of The United Methodist Church and an E. Stanley Jones Professor of Evangelism. To support the ministry of the Moscow Seminary please give to Advance # 12174A through your local church.
by Steve | May 18, 2020 | Magazine, Magazine Articles, May/June 2020
The Mushambi family celebrates Palm Sunday at home in Harare, Zimbabwe, during 21 days of lockdown in the country due to the coronavirus pandemic. Photo provided by United Methodist News Service.
By Pricilla Muzerengwa –
Traditionally, United Methodists parade through the streets carrying palms on Palm Sunday. Communities would also typically see Christians marching in the early morning on Easter Sunday singing praises of victory.
That’s all changed due to the coronavirus pandemic. Zimbabwe is on lockdown and everyone is expected to stay at home. As of April 8, Zimbabwe has confirmed 11 cases and two deaths.
Prior to the lockdown, The United Methodist Church suspended all activities in Zimbabwe from March 24 in an effort to help curb the spread of the novel coronavirus.
Bishop Eben K. Nhiwatiwa said in a statement that in consultation with other leaders, the church suspended all church gatherings until further notice.
The Rev. Alan Gurupira, administrative assistant to the bishop, reminded all pastors that they are on call as always. “Continue to shepherd the flock by means of making good use of technology to reach members with words of comfort,” he said.
The Rev. Gift Machinga, Zimbabwe East Conference Board of Discipleship chairman and Cranborne United Methodist Church senior pastor, said the church is feeling the impact.
“By nature, the church is an institution that traditionally meets physically for worship,” he said.
The inability to meet physically calls for churches to adopt alternative methods to remain relevant.
The Rev. Sophrins Sign, Zimbabwe East connectional ministries director, explained that the church’s doors may be closed, but church activities are continuing in isolation.
“Members are conducting services in their homes and, as for the areas where some families cannot be reached through WhatsApp or SMS text messaging, pastors are improvising or finding best ways to communicate with their people,” Sign said.
Despite all odds, Palm Sunday was observed in different ways. Families decorated their homes and gates with palms and tree branches and sang “Hosanna” as they marched around their homes waving branches.
Meanwhile, Cranborne United Methodist Church is continuing to feed members spiritually despite the restrictions. Before the coronavirus epidemic, the church livestreamed services every week on Facebook.
“I predicted the lockdown coming and started putting things together. All sermon recordings were done by March 29,” Machinga said. “We already have pre-recorded worship services … ”
Machinga called pastors to uplift the flock spiritually and encourage social support during this time of fear, panic, anxiety, and hopelessness. “We can encourage our congregants to create space in their homes and be in a position to feel God’s presence, thereby, keeping hope alive,” Machinga said. “Our primary responsibility is to be in the trenches ensuring safety and protecting the welfare of our flock.”
Priscilla Muzerengwa is a United Methodist communicator in Zimbabwe. Distributed by United Methodist News Service.
by Steve | May 18, 2020 | Magazine, Magazine Articles, May/June 2020
Three crosses stand above the cemetery at Israel United Methodist Church near Montrose, W.Va. Photo by Mike DuBose, UMNS
By Maxie Dunnam –
To be a Christian is to change. It is to become new. It is not simply a matter of choosing a new lifestyle, although that will change. It has to do with being a new person. A new person does not emerge fully formed. Conversion – passing from death to life – may be a miracle of a moment, but the making of a saint is a process of a lifetime. The process of saint-making is to work out in fact what is already true in principle. In position, in our relationship to God in Jesus Christ, we are new persons. Now our condition, the actual life we live, must be brought into harmony with our new position.
Paul contended that we are to become new creatures in Christ Jesus. In fact, that’s the way he defined a Christian: “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!” (2 Corinthians 5:17). Nothing less is the aim of the Christian life: to be new creatures in Christ Jesus.
In our preaching and teaching, we too often put most of our emphasis on our coming into the Christian life; in confessing, repenting, and trusting Christ as Savior, and receiving his forgiveness. The theological or biblical term for God’s work in this dynamic is justification. When we think and talk about salvation, this is often where we center.
This is limited thinking. John Wesley, who with his brother, Charles, was one of the founders of the Methodist movement, used the term salvation in a broader and deeper way, referring to the entire saving activity of God in human lives. “By salvation I mean, not barely … deliverance from hell, or going to heaven; but a present deliverance from sin, a restoration of the soul to its … original purity; a recovery of the divine nature; the renewal of our souls after the image of God, in righteousness and true holiness, in justice, mercy, and truth.”
In his letter to the Ephesians, Paul calls us to “grow to become in every respect the mature body of him who is the head, that is, Christ” (Ephesians 4:15). It is a call to full salvation: maturity in Christ, spiritual adulthood, perfection in love.
In the Wesleyan tradition, we acknowledge this and talk about going on to salvation. Beginning with justification, full salvation includes sanctification, which is the theological word for God’s cleansing and purifying work within us. In his sermon “The Scripture Way of Salvation,” Wesley used the term “full salvation,” saying, “It is thus that we wait for entire sanctification; for a full salvation from all our sins – from pride, self-will, anger, unbelief; or, as the Apostle expresses it, ‘go unto perfection.’ ”
The climactic work of full salvation is glorification, the answer to Jesus’s prayer for his followers: “Father, I want those you have given me to be with me where I am, and to see my glory, the glory you have given me because you loved me before the creation of the world” (John 17:24).
To seek and save the lost. If you ever attended Sunday school as a child, you heard the story of Zacchaeus. You probably sang this song: “Zacchaeus was a wee little man,/ a wee little man was he./ He climbed up in the sycamore tree,/ for the Lord he wanted to see.”
Some have called him a “treetop saint,” one not quite ready to say yes or get involved in the available opportunities to know Jesus. Whatever else we might say about him, and a lot has been said (and sung), we can confidently say he was curious; not yet convinced, but curious.
He had heard so much talk about Jesus, and, hearing that Jesus had come to Jericho, Zacchaeus wanted to see him. He knew the crowd would be great and all would be pressing in to see and maybe to touch or speak to Jesus. How could he navigate the crowd? Being a “wee little man,” he had only one option: he would climb the sycamore tree. There, above the crowd, he would have a commanding view. Also, being a chief tax collector, he would not be seen and embarrassed by his curiosity. The crowd would not know he was anywhere around.
But Jesus knew. He not only saw Zacchaeus but also spoke to him, even calling him by name: “Zacchaeus, come down immediately. I must stay at your house today.” Because he didn’t hesitate a moment, we can easily believe that Zacchaeus had been pondering his life situation, feeling deeply the absence of meaning, obviously knowing he was “up a tree” in all sorts of ways. He jumped at the opportunity to come down. His response was as specific as the immediacy of his action: “Look, Lord! Here and now I give half of my possessions to the poor, and if I have cheated anybody out of anything, I will pay back four times the amount.”
Jesus was also immediate and specific in his response. “Today salvation has come to this house, because this man, too, is a son of Abraham. For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost.”
Knowing salvation. Most people in the Methodist/Wesleyan tradition of the Christian faith know at least the broad outline of the life of our founder, John Wesley. In 1725, having been nurtured by his mother, Susanna, and his father, Samuel, a priest in the Church of England, John, while a student at Oxford University, had a conversion to the ideal of holy living. There are few examples in history of a more disciplined religious person: he rose at 4 a.m., read the New Testament in Greek for an hour, and then prayed for an hour with his brother Charles and others who had joined him in what was derisively called the Holy Club. He spent time visiting prisons and gave to the poor all of his money except that which was absolutely necessary for his own living. He was almost neurotically preoccupied with the right use of his time.
He was a man desperately seeking salvation and assurance of his salvation. He was tirelessly bent upon achieving that and drove himself as a merciless taskmaster in all the religious disciplines and services that could be imagined. He even went to the American colonies as a missionary to the Indians, but failed in that, and returned home from Georgia, downcast in mind, despondent in spirit, pierced to his heart with the futility of all his efforts and the emptiness of his soul.
It was in that despondent mood that he went to a prayer meeting on Aldersgate Street, London, on May 24, 1738. A layperson read Martin Luther’s preface to the Epistle to the Romans and Wesley described later what happened in his own life: “I felt my heart strangely warmed. I felt I did trust in Christ, Christ alone for my salvation; and an assurance was given me that He had taken away my sins, even mine, and saved me from the law of sin and death.”
This was the watershed experience that gave Wesley assurance of his salvation. The transforming work of the Holy Spirit in the life of a believer was the chief theme of John Wesley’s life and work, and a distinctive contribution the Methodists make to the rest of the church. The British Methodist William B. Fitzgerald summarized Wesley’s theology of salvation with this fourfold dictum: All people need to be saved from sin, all people may be saved from sin, all people may know they are saved from sin, and all people may be saved to the uttermost.
This Aldersgate experience transformed Wesley from a slave to a son. He knew that, in his words, “Christ had taken away my sins, even mine, and saved me from the law of sin and death.”
Sanctification. In his introductory comment to Wesley’s sermon “Christian Perfection,” Albert Outler wrote, “If, for Wesley, salvation was the total restoration of the deformed image of God in us, and if its fullness was the recovery of our negative power not to sin and our positive power to love God supremely, this denotes that furthest reach of grace and its triumphs in this life that Wesley chose to call ‘Christian Perfection.’ ”
Christian perfection is another term for sanctification. “Just as justification and regeneration are thresholds for the Christian life in earnest (‘what God does for us’), so also sanctification is ‘what God does in us,’” said Wesley, “to mature and fulfill the human potential according to his primal design.”
Wesley particularly emphasized this idea that “all can be saved to the uttermost”; he called it “going on to perfection,” drawing on Hebrews 6:1. By this he didn’t mean a sinless kind of moral perfection, nor a perfection in knowledge, but a perfection in love. The single identifying mark of the Holy Spirit’s work in our lives is love. Do we love God and do we love one another? That’s the test of our sanctification.
Wesley was always deeply disturbed when he saw Christians who were more like the Pharisees, people who trusted in their own righteousness, and consequently, showed little evidence of the growing presence of God’s love in their lives. He spoke of this often.
I don’t know where I heard the story, and it could be apocryphal, but it illustrates Wesley’s passion about the issue. Once while he was preaching, he noticed a lady in the congregation who was known for her critical attitudes toward others. All through the service she stared at his tie, with a frown on her face. At the end of the service, she came up to him and said very sharply, “Mr. Wesley, the strings on your bow tie are much too long. It offends me.” Wesley immediately asked for a pair of scissors, and when someone handed them to him, he gave them to the woman and said, “Then by all means, trim it to your satisfaction.” She did so, clipping off an inch or so from each side. “Are you sure they’re all right now?” he asked, and she replied, “Yes, that’s much better.”
“Then let me have the scissors for a moment,” Wesley said, “for I’m sure you won’t mind a bit of correction either. I do not wish to be cruel, madam, but your tongue offends me; it is too long. Please stick it out so that I may trim some of it off.” Needless to say, this critic got the point.
The work of the Holy Spirit is transformative. We can better understand the full impact of that transformation by 
reflecting on the distinction between God’s action for the sinner – pardon and justification – and God’s action in the pardoned sinner’s heart – restoration of the broken image of God and of the human power to avoid and resist intentional sin. Again, Albert Outler expresses it clearly: “We have no part in our justification before God, save the passive act of accepting and trusting the merits of Christ. But we have a crucial part to play in the further business of ‘growing up into Christ, into the stature of the perfect man.’ ”
In the dynamic process of sanctification, “Christian perfection,” we work out in fact what is already true in principle. In justification, our position in relation to God is that we are new persons; now, in sanctification, our condition, the actual life we live, is brought into harmony with our position.
Maxie Dunnam is the director of Christ Church Global at Christ United Methodist Church in Memphis, Tennessee. He is the former president of Asbury Theological Seminary and world editor of The Upper Room. This excerpt is adapted from The Wesleyan Journey: A Workbook on Salvation (Abingdon). Reprinted by permission.
