My history with the Methodist Church is one that spans almost as many years as I have lived. It started when I was seven years old and my father was buried in a country Methodist Church cemetery. This small church was accessible only by dirt roads, one of which required driving through a black water branch. Later we went to a First Church before settling into a small neighborhood church where I was baptized and started Sunday School. The number of Methodist Churches which have been a part of my life would take all my fingers and toes to count and then some.
When I came to the moment of saying "Yes" to Jesus and hearing a call to preach, it was once again because of the ministry of the Methodist Church. My marriage was at its altar as was my ordination. My faith and the faith of my family has been nurtured and sustained over the decades by its ministries. My life has been filled with going from one of its churches to still another as one of its preachers. I have always been grateful to be a part of a spiritual tradition that was birthed by John Wesley back in the 18th century.
I think often of something Wesley once said, "I am not afraid that the people called Methodists should ever cease to exist either in Europe or America. But I am afraid lest they should only exist as a dead sect, having the form of religion without the power. And this undoubtedly will be the case unless they hold fast both the doctrine, spirit, and discipline with which they first set out." (‘Thoughts Upon Methodism,’ 1786.) It seems that words like "doctrine, spirit, and discipline" are little regarded today in a world where compromising opinions take precedence. While living in the past is a dangerous thing, it is also a dangerous thing to throw away the tradition that has brought us this far.
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