A Journey into the Wesleyan Faith
John Wesley. Engraving by J. Thomson after J. Jackson. (Source: WikiCommons)
In early August of 2022, I contracted COVID-19 for the first time. As a pastor in Los Angeles County, my church served thousands of families with much-needed groceries and the hope of the gospel throughout the pandemic. I was in close contact with the virus repeatedly but never tested positive until then. In God’s always ironic way, He chose this moment to turn my life—and my family’s—completely upside down.
After a thorough process, Asbury Theological Seminary offered me the role of Director of Community Formation, a pastoral position for residential students and their families. I felt thrilled but also curious about the Lord’s plans, as my family and I loved life and ministry in Southern California.
My wife, Alida, and I entered a season of prayer, with just one week to make our decision. During that time, all five of us, including our infant son, contracted COVID-19. It was a week filled with number-crunching, seeking wisdom from mentors, and praying, all through fevers and brain fog. Yet, in all of this, we sensed a clear leading from the Spirit to accept the position and move over 2,000 miles to central Kentucky.
A few short weeks later, I was on Asbury’s campus, attending chapels, praying for students, celebrating the seminary’s centennial, and finding my way in a very different culture. I had the pleasure of meeting weekly with Stephen Martyn, who helped me re-engage with Wesleyan theology and practice. This experience meant a great deal to me because I grew up Southern Baptist, initially receiving ordination in a Texas Baptist church, and later had my ordination recognized by a baptistic group in Southern California. Yet here I was at the supposed epicenter of the traditionalist Wesleyan theological movement—me, a Baptist!
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I grew up in West Texas, first in Monahans, and later in Midland, where I received my call to ministry at Crestview Baptist Church. From there, I went on to Hardin-Simmons University, a Christian liberal arts school affiliated with Texas Baptists, where I studied psychology and Bible. At HSU, my friends and I would stay up until the early hours, passionately debating theological minutiae—especially the ins and outs of Reformed theology. I was usually the one defending a free-will-oriented position. After graduating, my wife and I continued our education at Baylor University. Alida earned a master’s degree in speech-language pathology, and I attended Baylor’s Truett Theological Seminary, eventually earning an M.Div.
During those years of theological study, the Southern Baptist Convention underwent the final stages of a major shift. Previously, the SBC had welcomed theological diversity across the Arminian-Reformed spectrum, but this inclusivity eroded with the rise of the Neo-Reformed movement. By God’s grace, a few faithful Arminian Baptists upheld this diversity within Baptist higher education. At Truett, I had the privilege of studying under Roger Olson, one such scholar whose dedication to the “Great Tradition” of Christian theology—beautifully articulated in his book The Mosaic of Christian Belief—reassured students like me that Arminians were far from heretical. Olson, who taught me historical theology, encouraged me to pursue a Ph.D. and remains an incredible influence on my theological journey.
After graduating, my wife and I moved to Southern California, where I began Ph.D. studies in New Testament at Fuller Theological Seminary under Donald Hagner. Although we rarely discussed theological nuances, Hagner’s love for the Bible, the Church, Jesus, and his students helped me flourish. During this time, I served in various ministry roles, including as a staff member in a mega-church, an urban missionary in Northwest Pasadena, and an interim pastor of a congregation of a historically Black denomination, Church of Christ (Holiness) USA.
God then opened a door for me to pastor First Baptist Church of Alhambra, a church affiliated with Transformation Ministries (now Aspire Leaders), a conservative offshoot of the American Baptist denomination. There, I leaned more fully into my calling and Arminian background, using community service and small-group discipleship as major components of our ministry model, yet failing to realize just how much Wesleyanism influenced me and therefore the congregation I served.
While pastoring in Alhambra, my wife and I visited Savannah, Georgia, for our anniversary. During a historical walking tour, we stopped at the John Wesley Monument, where the guide shared some sensationalized inaccuracies about Wesley’s time in America. Although I recognized the guide’s provocations as a marketing tactic, I chose to stay quiet rather than risk spoiling our anniversary trip. But at the airport on the way home, I bought Ken Collins’ A Real Christian from Amazon, which reignited my interest in Wesley and the Methodist movement. Little did I know I would soon work at Asbury Seminary, where Dr. Collins teaches, with my first office overlooking another sculpture of John Wesley.
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I now serve as Vice President of Formation at Asbury, leading a team of dedicated pastors who sacrificially serve students and their families. The work is both fulfilling and challenging, and, honestly, there are moments when I wonder if God truly called us here—or if it was all just a COVID-19 fever dream. Nevertheless, this transition has felt remarkably like a homecoming—a surprising feeling for a Southern Baptist who had never set foot in Kentucky before coming to Asbury. In ways both unexpected and profound, it truly feels like coming home.
First, the people at Asbury welcomed and cared for my family and me, walking with us through challenges and helping us see the Father’s love through acts of care and fellowship. Second, we could buy our first home thanks to the cost-of-living difference between Southern California and Kentucky! And third, I have found a theological home. I had always felt out of place in previous theological settings, struggling to maintain what I saw as biblical positions on sanctification, assurance, and women in ministry, among other issues. Embracing traditional Wesleyanism at Asbury has been a breath of fresh air. I often say in jest that I can finally read 1 John with a clear conscience—but I really mean it.
For example, 1 John 2:19 says, “They went out from us, but they were not of us; for if they had been of us, they would no doubt have continued with us.” In my former theological traditions, this verse often stirred doubt about the assurance of salvation, as it seemed to imply that those who fall away never truly belonged. But Wesley’s theology of sanctification and assurance allows me to read this as a statement on the nature of perseverance and Christian community, not as a personal indictment of salvation, and therefore of God himself. God’s good work of redemption is never the problem; rather, the issue lies with those who leave of their own accord, choosing not to remain in the community of God. May we enter God’s house of holy salvation and be sustained therein by the sanctifying grace of the Holy Spirit.
Then there is 1 John 3:9, which declares, “No one born of God makes a practice of sinning, for God’s seed abides in him.” Previously, I struggled to reconcile this verse with the reality of my life and my personal need for ongoing sanctification. In Wesley’s view, however, this is a statement about our new nature in Christ and the call to holiness, rather than an unrealistic demand for perfection.
Finally, 1 John 5:18 assures us, “We know that everyone who has been born of God does not keep on sinning, but he who was born of God protects him, and the evil one does not touch him.” This passage baffled me for years, raising doubts about what it means to live a holy life, knowing my struggles and failures intimately. But under Wesleyan teaching, I now see this as a call to live with the assurance of God’s sustaining grace, knowing that while we strive for holiness, God’s protective power guards us from ultimate harm.
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To be clear, finding a new home at Asbury and among traditional Wesleyans, along with beginning the ordination process with the Global Methodist Church, does not mean I view my new world through rose-colored glasses. There is still much work to do and plenty of “straining toward perfection” left for me, but I have found my team, my tribe, and my people. And for that, I am deeply grateful.
Recently, at a campus event, a long-time leader was honored by her colleagues. One person described her as a "hope dealer," a designation that brought two things to mind. First, it reminded me of Amy L. Williams, a missional practitioner affectionately known as “The Hope Dealer” for her work among incarcerated youth and others. I have learned so much from Amy about living out “acts of mercy” and seeing people as more than their biggest mistakes.
Second, the phrase echoed a title sometimes ascribed to John Wesley—the theologian of hope. If there is one thing Christians, especially traditional Wesleyans, can offer our broken world, it is precisely that—hope. In the face of cynicism, despair, and isolation, Wesley’s vision of scriptural holiness, freedom, and community is a healing balm. May we carry this hope-filled remedy forward in the name of Jesus to a world in desperate need.
J. Matthew Barnes serves as the Vice President of Formation at Asbury Theological Seminary.