The Charism of the Wesleyan Movement

Photo by Mikael Kristenson on Unsplash

Over the past few weeks I’ve had a recurring conversation with a number of different people, all of which can be boiled down to the question, “What is the church?” This is a harder question than one might imagine. There are, of course, classical answers to this question, such as the New Testament concept of “the called-out ones” or the Church of England’s 39 Articles that describe the church as a “congregation of faithful men, in which the pure Word of God is preached, and the Sacraments be duly administered according to Christ’s ordinance…” But even with these helpful definitions, questions remain.  

John Wesley had a lengthy debate about the nature of the church with fellow Evangelical Anglican Samuel Walker in the 1750s. The two were not too far apart in their arguments  but Wesley leaned more on the gospel message as the defining quality of the church while Walker leaned more on its structure. Wesley remained the consummate preacher; the faithful are gathered where the gospel is preached. Walker was also a preacher, but he believed that the church is found where the bishops, priests, and their congregations are linked together in a holy fellowship. He was rehashing an ancient relational concept: where the bishop is, there is the church. It may be that both were right. 

Without putting words in their mouths, I think that Walker and Wesley represented two visions of the church that need not be at odds with one another. The first is an expansive vision of the church that includes all of the baptized, the seeker, the saint, the sinner, the mature believer, and the one who only darkens the door on major feast days, all thrown in the mix together. The second is a bespoke vision of a holy people, intentional, disciplined, set apart from the world. The first vision represents a sanctified corporate people; the second vision is of sanctified individuals (still in community). Both are holy and set apart, but not quite in the same way. The first may best describe the church at large, looking out to the world. The second may be termed holiness movements, calling the church to renewal and restoration. I believe that we can learn from this two-fold approach–of the church and holiness movements–to fulfill our calling today. 

Our Roman Catholic brothers and sisters have helped me to understand this vision more clearly. I spent seven years working on ecumenical projects with Roman Catholic clergy and scholars. This was amazingly rich work. I still remember the first meeting that I attended. We met in Manhattan less than a block away from the famous Magnolia Bakery–I have a horrendous sweet tooth–and in my mind I thought we would dive right into the theological debates that divide Protestants and Catholics. I’m not sure what I thought this would entail, or how it could be productive, but we did nothing of the sort. Instead, we spent our time together in that first meeting getting to know one another–something called “ecumenical friendship.” 

I made many dear friends during those seven years, but I also learned much about the Roman Catholic Church and the brothers and sisters in Christ that we  have within it. One of the things that I learned was just how diverse Catholicism really is. It may have a defined hierarchy with the papacy, the cardinals, archbishops and bishops, dioceses, and so on, but the diversity was surprising with its national expressions, its religious orders, the many lay organizations within it, and so much more. The church at large has an expansive ministry to reach the lost, to proclaim Christ crucified and risen, and to administer the sacraments. But the religious orders and various movements within Catholicism have what they call a “charism,” a unique focus or mission given by God and enabled by the power of the Holy Spirit for the benefit of the church. Jesuits, for example, have the charism of education and scholarship. Benedictines have the charism of hospitality and charity. The Missionaries of Charity, founded by Mother Theresa, has the charism of working with the poor, and so on. 

The question for this article is how might this two-fold vision of the church help those of us in the Wesleyan movement better understand our role in God’s larger  work to bring the world to himself. I’m not saying that we need to unite with Rome–although I remain committed to the larger project of Christian unity–but I believe that a two-fold vision of the church and movements within it can help us understand and fulfill our God-given charism. I believe that Wesleyanism at its best is a movement; one that calls the larger church to Christlikeness.

When looking at the early Wesleyan revival within the Church of England, the two-fold approach of a  larger church and a holiness movement within it is clearly seen. Wesleyans had a unique focus or mission given by God and enabled by the power of the Holy Spirit for the benefit of the church. In fact, the famous nineteenth century historian Thomas Babington Macaulay wrote that if the early Wesleyans had been within a Roman Catholic context they would not have ultimately created a separate church, but would have been organized into a religious order, the Wesleyans, with St. John, St. Charles, St. Susanna, and St. Selina added to the calendar of saints.
Looking at the early “mission statement” of Methodism, this can also be seen. We often focus on the last part, “to spread scriptural holiness,” but it starts with “to reform the nation, particularly the church.” The unique mission, or charism, was one of reform based in the proclamation of holiness.

Charles Wesley saw this very clearly. When he thought that Methodism under his brother was leaning toward what they called “dissent,” or leaving the Church of England, he wrote a very public rebuke of his brother and those he thought leading this move. In it he said that “the Methodists the Church are not,” arguing that one part of the church cannot think of itself as the whole, nor act like it. In this case, he argued that it had no right to leave and form something separate, a belief that he would hold with vigor for his entire life.   

Today, we might think of Wesleyan Christians as having a charism, a unique mission meant to be in service of the larger church. This Wesleyan calling in all its various forms might best be described as a charism to shout from the rooftops that wholeness in Christ is possible in this life, to tell sinners to “come to the gospel feast” and find that “peace that the world cannot give,” true holiness of heart and life.  

And if this is its charism, what happens when Wesleyans cease to proclaim this grace-filled message of holiness? In a perfectly functional ecclesiology, those portions of the movement who have ceased from this proclamation would fold into the larger church, having either lost its charism, or more positively, having fulfilled its mission on behalf of the larger church. We can be assured that God will continue to call forth movements within the church to bring it into conformity with his purposes.  

This two-fold vision also calls us to patience. St. Paul often speaks of his long suffering with and for the early churches. His love for them, even when he is not happy with them, still comes through in his letters. In an age of division and discord, perhaps we can start as Christians by being patient with one another. To go to the heart of current debate, I may be a traditionalist, but I wouldn’t say that those who have embraced a revisionist ethic are outside of the church. I’m called to love them. We have been baptized in the same waters. Even if separate ecclesiastical structures become necessary for mutual flourishing, I cannot deny my brothers or my sisters, nor can they deny me. 

Sometimes church battles leave lasting scars that are difficult to overcome. I can see this happening now within the difficulties of American Methodism, difficulties that often are caused by a lack of charity and need not be inflicted. Scars mark many who went through the separation that took place in the Episcopal Church over a decade ago. I know many people on both “sides” of that divide, even many on both sides who agree on the presenting issues that caused the split in the first place. Some of these men and women have difficulty even speaking now to those on the other side. It’s not always easy being family. Our task, however, is to be patient with those who are hurting, to pray for their healing while remembering that the church at large cannot be defined by denominational skirmishes, nor the movements of God limited to those in our particular group.

But for the holiness movements, the ones who have a charism from the Lord to renew his church, the vision is at least two-fold: one, to remain faithful to the charism we have received, and two, to remember that we are but one part of the whole. Our mission is focused on the church at large. If our focus creates an ecclesiastical insularity, we have failed to steward the charism that we have been given. 

This two-fold vision of the church as both the larger body of the baptized and the movements within it calling it to faithfulness should be a comfort to us. We have a much larger family than we might have thought possible – whether we like it or not! But we also have a role to play. The church at large, the Body of Christ, has an expansive mission to reach the world with the saving knowledge of God in Christ, and the Lord has and will continue to launch movements within its ranks, calling it to faithfulness, to Christlikeness, and to wholeness. Both the church and the holiness movements need one another. And the world needs a church expansive enough to embrace it, but faithful enough to offer it Christ in his fullness. 

Ryan N. Danker is the Director of the John Wesley Institute, Washington, DC and Assistant Lead Editor at Firebrand.