“Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you are like whitewashed tombs, which outwardly appear beautiful, but within are full of dead people’s bones and all uncleanness. So you also outwardly appear righteous to others, but within you are full of hypocrisy and lawlessness.” (Matthew 23:27-28, ESV)
“I wish I could get my work done as far ahead of time as you.”
“You go to bed and wake up so early! I don’t know how you manage it.”
These two statements seemed to be a reoccurring feature of conversations with other students during my first year of college. I had never before recognized my ability to schedule my time in order to complete my responsibilities. Rather, I had no conception of living without planning or ever considered the reality that other people might live and accomplish things without setting aside specific time to complete them. I was astounded to find that it was actually possible to write a paper at three in the morning and not sleep at all before class the next day. While my fellow students thought my working ahead seemed impossible, pulling an “all-nighter” seemed to be an impossible idea from my point of view.
With these personal experiences clearly in mind, both understanding and sympathy comprised my initial reaction to “A Scheme For Self-Examination.” While I knew that most other “normal” students, or people for that matter, would react strongly against the strict spiritual discipline suggested by John Wesley, I saw in the rigorous demands a reflection of the sort of schedule and discipline with which I ran my life in most, if not all, areas. Though I cannot say that I structure my spirituality in the same way I plan out my homework assignments, I have a set time each morning during which I read my Bible and write in my journal. I read three chapters every day, following the canonical order of the books, rarely ever deviating. My written prayers always only ever cover exactly one page in my journal. Beyond structured format, however, a greater connection between my spiritual life and Wesley’s concerns the level of introspection. I could not help but recognize the extent to which he challenged himself and others who followed his regimen of good works with action-testing questions, while hardly making any mention of talking to God for the purpose of allowing His soul-searching questions to be heard. Wesley and I seem to have a shared love of control in our self-discipline, often forgetting why and for whom we discipline ourselves in the first place.
Though I could manage my life down to the very minute, filling every empty space with homework that would be due “eventually,” freshman year often found me empty and unsatisfied with the life I had so wonderfully organized. Though I ended up with ample free time for my enjoyment by working hard and planning ahead, I could not enjoy any time in which I had nothing to do, being anxious that I really did have something I “could be doing” or that I had forgotten something important. Even my time with God began to feel as if it offered just another item to check off the list of seemingly endless responsibilities. Instead of dealing with my obvious lack of joy and rest, I would try to combat my feelings of fatigue and “laziness” by working even farther ahead just so that I could cover my anxiety. I wonder if “A Scheme of Self-Examination” provided a similar escape for Wesley. When one focuses on the tasks at hand, constant introspection, and the tedium and service of religion, one can avoid thinking about the state of their relationship with God Himself. One begins to feel as if they have a good handle on things, as if they have control of themselves and their life. Unfortunately for our control and fortunately for the well-being of our souls, our God asks for complete surrender to His power. He cannot give grace to the autonomous.
Both Wesley and I came to realize our folly, but only after our lives seemed perfect on the outside. John Wesley found faith in overwhelming grace at the Aldersgate meeting, listening to the words of Luther. I had held to my faith all along, but had held on so tightly in fear God’s rejection of my imperfection that I had strangled it until it was almost lifeless. We had both found the pitfall of the Pharisees that Jesus so vividly brings to light in Matthew 23. Wesley whitewashed his tomb of bones with his strict “spiritual” discipline of action, trying to beat his soul into submission to please the God of love he did not know. Though he advocated prayers spoken “deliberately, seriously, fervently,” they were for the purpose of having “offered up all I do to my Redeemer, begged his assistance in every particular, and commended my soul to his keeping” (emphasis added). Wesley seemed to only call on God in order that he might have Him help with the whitewashing. In a similar way, I only called on God for help when my schedule happened to fail me and I became overwhelmed by the pressures of life. He was not my life, but my backup plan in case my palm pilot happened to run out of battery. Inside my tomb, I was filled with the dust and grime of the hypocrisy of pride and fear that had taken the place of faith.
Some might wonder why John Wesley did not abandon his strict spiritual disciplines when he realized that only faith in Christ’s sacrifice can save the soul. Some might even dismiss his suggestions for a Christian lifestyle because they imply a focus on legalistic (Pharisee-like) attempts at salvation. Considering my connections with his propensities, I understand Wesley’s writings to be just as valuable as they are dangerous. In condemning the Pharisees, Jesus does not dismiss the beauty of the whitewash on the outside of the tomb. Neither does he condemn the “others” to whom the Pharisees seem righteous. In other words, Christ does not turn the Old Testament upside-down and call acts of righteousness evil. Rather, Jesus warns, “Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them” (Matthew 5:17, NIV). Good works with the wrong heart does not make them bad; rather, it makes them meaningless before God. We should do good things, as God calls us to “be holy, as I am holy” (Leviticus 11:44, 1 Peter 1:16, NIV), but with the right foundation: a faith in the saving power of the grace and love of Christ. We must first know, in the words of Paul, that “man is not justified by observing the law, but by faith in Jesus Christ. So we, too, have put our faith in Christ Jesus that we may be justified by faith in Christ and not by observing the law, because by observing the law no one will be justified” (Galatians 2:16, NIV). When we accept these words in faith, as both John Wesley and I have done, the bones and dust and filth are cleaned from the inside of the tomb, causing the beauty of the whitewash to be a testament of truth to the interior. In the same way, the love of Christ cleans our souls, allowing our righteous actions to be the honest proof of the true beauty that lies in our heart of hearts.
My scheduling still allows me to get things done in a timely manner and even assists me in accomplishing assignments ahead of time so that I have free time to spare. My ordered life no longer provides my sole security, however, as my relationship with Christ brings me peace through the overwhelmingly astounding knowledge that he loves me even when I am disordered. For Wesley, though he also did not significantly alter his strictness of life, a new foundation in the grace offered by the sacrifice and resurrection of Jesus provided a renewed focus on why and for whom he disciplined himself to prayer and service. This is the love of God: the whitewashed tomb becomes the bright vessel of overflowing gratefulness and humility. What cannot be achieved by the efforts of man is only achieved through the strength and mercy of Christ. When the bones are cleared away, only one response remains possible: “I can [only] do all things through Christ who strengthens me” (Philippians 4:16, NIV).
“I wish I could get my work done as far ahead of time as you.”
“You go to bed and wake up so early! I don’t know how you manage it.”
These two statements seemed to be a reoccurring feature of conversations with other students during my first year of college. I had never before recognized my ability to schedule my time in order to complete my responsibilities. Rather, I had no conception of living without planning or ever considered the reality that other people might live and accomplish things without setting aside specific time to complete them. I was astounded to find that it was actually possible to write a paper at three in the morning and not sleep at all before class the next day. While my fellow students thought my working ahead seemed impossible, pulling an “all-nighter” seemed to be an impossible idea from my point of view.
With these personal experiences clearly in mind, both understanding and sympathy comprised my initial reaction to “A Scheme For Self-Examination.” While I knew that most other “normal” students, or people for that matter, would react strongly against the strict spiritual discipline suggested by John Wesley, I saw in the rigorous demands a reflection of the sort of schedule and discipline with which I ran my life in most, if not all, areas. Though I cannot say that I structure my spirituality in the same way I plan out my homework assignments, I have a set time each morning during which I read my Bible and write in my journal. I read three chapters every day, following the canonical order of the books, rarely ever deviating. My written prayers always only ever cover exactly one page in my journal. Beyond structured format, however, a greater connection between my spiritual life and Wesley’s concerns the level of introspection. I could not help but recognize the extent to which he challenged himself and others who followed his regimen of good works with action-testing questions, while hardly making any mention of talking to God for the purpose of allowing His soul-searching questions to be heard. Wesley and I seem to have a shared love of control in our self-discipline, often forgetting why and for whom we discipline ourselves in the first place.
Though I could manage my life down to the very minute, filling every empty space with homework that would be due “eventually,” freshman year often found me empty and unsatisfied with the life I had so wonderfully organized. Though I ended up with ample free time for my enjoyment by working hard and planning ahead, I could not enjoy any time in which I had nothing to do, being anxious that I really did have something I “could be doing” or that I had forgotten something important. Even my time with God began to feel as if it offered just another item to check off the list of seemingly endless responsibilities. Instead of dealing with my obvious lack of joy and rest, I would try to combat my feelings of fatigue and “laziness” by working even farther ahead just so that I could cover my anxiety. I wonder if “A Scheme of Self-Examination” provided a similar escape for Wesley. When one focuses on the tasks at hand, constant introspection, and the tedium and service of religion, one can avoid thinking about the state of their relationship with God Himself. One begins to feel as if they have a good handle on things, as if they have control of themselves and their life. Unfortunately for our control and fortunately for the well-being of our souls, our God asks for complete surrender to His power. He cannot give grace to the autonomous.
Both Wesley and I came to realize our folly, but only after our lives seemed perfect on the outside. John Wesley found faith in overwhelming grace at the Aldersgate meeting, listening to the words of Luther. I had held to my faith all along, but had held on so tightly in fear God’s rejection of my imperfection that I had strangled it until it was almost lifeless. We had both found the pitfall of the Pharisees that Jesus so vividly brings to light in Matthew 23. Wesley whitewashed his tomb of bones with his strict “spiritual” discipline of action, trying to beat his soul into submission to please the God of love he did not know. Though he advocated prayers spoken “deliberately, seriously, fervently,” they were for the purpose of having “offered up all I do to my Redeemer, begged his assistance in every particular, and commended my soul to his keeping” (emphasis added). Wesley seemed to only call on God in order that he might have Him help with the whitewashing. In a similar way, I only called on God for help when my schedule happened to fail me and I became overwhelmed by the pressures of life. He was not my life, but my backup plan in case my palm pilot happened to run out of battery. Inside my tomb, I was filled with the dust and grime of the hypocrisy of pride and fear that had taken the place of faith.
Some might wonder why John Wesley did not abandon his strict spiritual disciplines when he realized that only faith in Christ’s sacrifice can save the soul. Some might even dismiss his suggestions for a Christian lifestyle because they imply a focus on legalistic (Pharisee-like) attempts at salvation. Considering my connections with his propensities, I understand Wesley’s writings to be just as valuable as they are dangerous. In condemning the Pharisees, Jesus does not dismiss the beauty of the whitewash on the outside of the tomb. Neither does he condemn the “others” to whom the Pharisees seem righteous. In other words, Christ does not turn the Old Testament upside-down and call acts of righteousness evil. Rather, Jesus warns, “Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them” (Matthew 5:17, NIV). Good works with the wrong heart does not make them bad; rather, it makes them meaningless before God. We should do good things, as God calls us to “be holy, as I am holy” (Leviticus 11:44, 1 Peter 1:16, NIV), but with the right foundation: a faith in the saving power of the grace and love of Christ. We must first know, in the words of Paul, that “man is not justified by observing the law, but by faith in Jesus Christ. So we, too, have put our faith in Christ Jesus that we may be justified by faith in Christ and not by observing the law, because by observing the law no one will be justified” (Galatians 2:16, NIV). When we accept these words in faith, as both John Wesley and I have done, the bones and dust and filth are cleaned from the inside of the tomb, causing the beauty of the whitewash to be a testament of truth to the interior. In the same way, the love of Christ cleans our souls, allowing our righteous actions to be the honest proof of the true beauty that lies in our heart of hearts.
My scheduling still allows me to get things done in a timely manner and even assists me in accomplishing assignments ahead of time so that I have free time to spare. My ordered life no longer provides my sole security, however, as my relationship with Christ brings me peace through the overwhelmingly astounding knowledge that he loves me even when I am disordered. For Wesley, though he also did not significantly alter his strictness of life, a new foundation in the grace offered by the sacrifice and resurrection of Jesus provided a renewed focus on why and for whom he disciplined himself to prayer and service. This is the love of God: the whitewashed tomb becomes the bright vessel of overflowing gratefulness and humility. What cannot be achieved by the efforts of man is only achieved through the strength and mercy of Christ. When the bones are cleared away, only one response remains possible: “I can [only] do all things through Christ who strengthens me” (Philippians 4:16, NIV).
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