Sermon (August 9) Lancaster Campground - "Tough Methodists"

[Methodist Circuit Rider Preacher, Peter Cartwright, 19th Century]

     Well, first of all.  I want to thank you for being great neighbors with First United Methodist Church and our Crossroads facility next door.  I think it’s pretty special that First United Methodist Church and the Lancaster Campground share a common history with Methodism.

     Many of you might be aware that your neighbor church has been celebrating our two-hundredth birthday this year.  It’s been a fun year for us.  As part of our bicentennial, we have dedicated our newly refurbished church bell which now sits beautifully in front of our church building on Wheeling and High Streets.

     About a month and a half ago, you might have noticed a large tent that we had next door at Crossroads.  That was for our old fashioned Methodist tent revival.

     How many of you like ice cream?  How many of you like free ice cream?  I want to personally invite you to our free ice cream social event this Sunday, from 3 to 5 at our Crossroads facility.  It’s open to the community and especially to you, our friends and neighbors at the Lancaster Campground.  Tell them Robert McDowell sent you. In addition to the free old fashioned ice cream and other free food, we will have the wonderful Celtic musical group, the Kells.  We’ll also have inflatable games for children.

      We have some other events in September and October and we invite you to join us as we continue to celebrate 200 years of Methodism here in the Lancaster area.

     Hearing that your week’s theme is, “Bible Boot Camp,” I’ve entitled tonight’s sermon, “Tough Methodists.”  There are probably a good number of tough Methodists right here at the Lancaster Campgrounds.  How tough are you?

     I’ve always thought of myself as a tough Methodist.  But as I have been reading up on my Methodist history, I’m not so sure.

     One of the greatest of all of the 19^th century Methodist Circuit Rider preachers was a man by the name of Peter Cartwright.  Circuit Rider preachers got their name by riding on horseback from church to church and they would call those churches their circuit.

     First Church was one of the churches on Peter Cartwright’s circuit back in 1806, six years before we became an official Methodist Church here in Lancaster.  One of the reasons Peter Cartwright is known as one of the greatest of all the Methodist circuit rider preachers is because toward the end of his life, he wrote an autobiography. 

     I read his autobiography this past winter in preparation for our bicentennial year.  And man, was he tough!  Circuit Riders were known for preaching at campground meetings that would attract people by the hundreds and the thousands.  And since there were large crowds, these camp meetings would attract all kinds of people, some of them who were up to no good.

     Peter Cartwright was known to preach about God’s love and grace but he also had no problem whatsoever in chasing down folks who were there to interrupt the preaching and interfere with the revival.  There’s a story of Cartwright hurting himself pretty badly by chasing after one of these persons who were up to no good.

     When I took a group to England to visit the places of John Wesley, one of the guides explained to us why the early Methodist meeting houses didn’t have any windows on the first floor.  They kept the windows high because so often, the people who didn’t like what the Methodists were preaching and doing in their community, would try to break in and disrupt their prayer meetings.

     Maybe you have heard of these journal entries by John Wesley during a several week period of time in his ministry.  Here are these entries:

Sunday a.m., May 5 -Preached in St. Ann's; was asked not to come back any more.
Sunday p.m., May 5- Preached at St. John's; deacons said, 'Get out and stay out.'
Sunday a.m., May 12 -Preached at St. Jude's; can't go back there either.
Sunday p.m., May 12-Preached at St. George's; kicked out again.
Sunday a.m., May 19- Preached at St. Somebody Else's; deacons called a special meeting and said I couldn't return.
Sunday p.m., May 19-Preached on the street; kicked off the street.
Sunday a.m., May 26- Preached out in a meadow; chased out of meadow when a bull was turned loose during the service.
Sunday a.m., June 2-Preached out at the edge of town; kicked off the highway.

     Wesley was the original tough Methodist.  And thanks to his faithfulness and perseverance, many people responded to the good news of Jesus Christ.  First United Methodist Church traces its roots back to this tough Church of England Priest who started the Methodist movement.

     But back to Peter Cartwright.  There’s a great story about a time when he was conducting camp meetings in Illinois where he spent the remaining years of his ministry.  He was riding his horse when he came up to two men and a lady who were riding in a wagon.  They were from Ohio. 

     They were shouting out religious phrases as if they had just been to one of the Methodist camp meetings.  They shouted out phrases like, “Glory to God!! Glory to God!! Hallelujah!! Another sinner 's down!! Glory to God! Hallelujah!! Glory!! Hallelujah!”

     At first, Peter Cartwright thought that they were simply celebrating their new found faith that they had experienced at one of these Methodist tent meetings.  But as he got closer and closer to their wagon, it became apparent to him that they were being sarcastic by shouting out these phrases and they were actually making fun of him.

     When he realized this, he shouted back at them and told them to cease their insults and to instead repent and turn to Christ. But they continued their sarcasm by shouting out even louder, “Glory to God! Glory to God! Hallelujah!! Another sinner’s down!! Glory to God! Hallelujah!! Glory!! Hallelujah!”

     To make matters worse, Peter’s horse was up in years and he wasn’t able to get around their wagon so he had to endure their insults for quite a while.  When he tried to pass them, they would crack the whip and were able to stay in front of him.

     Thinking that he was destined to be tormented by these Ohio heathens for the remainder of his ride, he remembered that there was a mud-hole about a quarter of a mile ahead that they probably wouldn’t it notice since it was difficult to see.  The locals knew to avoid that part of the road entirely since wagons were known to sink into the mud and tip over.

     Peter Cartwright managed to get ahead of their wagon and not wanting him to get ahead of them, they sped up and were traveling at a good speed.  And sure enough, the plan worked.  Not seeing the deep mud-pit, the wagon hit it just right and it tilted into the soft mud as Peter continued to ride safely ahead. 

     Here’s the rest of the story as told word for word by Peter Cartwright in his autobiography:

  The young lady was dressed in white, and as the wagon went over, she sprang as far as she could, and lighted on all fours; her hands sunk into the  mud up to her armpits, her mouth and the whole of her face immersed in the muddy water, and she certainly would have strangled if the young men had not relieved her.

     As they helped her up and out, I had wheeled my horse to see the fun. I rode up to the edge of the mud, stopped my horse, reared in my stirrups, and shouted at the top of my voice, "Glory to God! Glory to God! Hallelujah! Another sinner's down! Glory to God! Hallelujah! Glory! Hallelujah!"

     If ever mortals felt mean, these youngsters did; and well they might; for they had carried on all this sport to make light of religion, and to insult a minister, a total stranger to them. But they condemned religion, and hated the Methodists, especially Methodist preachers. When I became tired of shouting over them, I said to them, "Now, you poor, dirty, mean sinners, take this as a just judgment of God upon you for your meanness, and repent of your dreadful wickedness; and let this be the last time that you attempt to insult a Methodist preacher.”

     I tell this story, not to say that we should repay evil for evil, but to show that these early Methodists were not received very well by a lot of people.  Add in that they were doing all of this out here in the wilderness and the wild frontier, and it’s truly amazing to think of all that they were able to accomplish.  These were tough Methodists!

     Whenever I get in my Saturn to go visit a church member, I think of this description of what those early Methodist preachers endured in this area about two hundred years ago.  “Methodist preachers went from fort to fort, from camp to camp, from tent to tent, from cabin to cabin, with or without road or path.  We walked on dirt floors for carpets, sat on stools or benches for chairs, ate on puncheon tables, had forked sticks and pocket, or butcher knives for knives and forks, slept on bear, deer, or buffalo skins before the fire, or sometimes on the ground in open air for downy beds, had our saddles, or saddle bags for pillows instead of pillows of feathers, and one new suit of clothes of homespun was ample clothing for one year for an early Methodist preacher in the west.

     We crossed creeks and large rivers without bridges or ferry boats, often swam them on horseback, or crossed on trees that had fallen over the streams, drove our horses over, and often waded out waist deep; and if by chance we got a dug-out or a canoe; to cross in ourselves and swim our horses by, it was quite a treat.”

     The other day, when I noticed that gas was now $3.89 a gallon, I almost whined when I remembered these words from Peter Cartwright.  Not that I want to pay high gas prices, but I’ll be glad to pay those prices if I don’t have to cross the Hocking River on my horse every day!

     At my last church I served, the pastor I followed was a weight lifter.  He had a chiseled face with great big biceps and lifted weights every week.  The pastor who followed me is also a weight lifter.  Last week, he took second at Raw Nationals in Killeen, Texas. He squatted 403 lbs., benched 315, and his dead weight lift was 451 lbs.  There are 650 pastors in the West Ohio Conference, and I had to serve in between these two guys.

     What do you think of these biceps?  Impressive?  OK, maybe not.

     Why were those Methodists so tough?  Well, probably the same reason why we can be tough in our faith today.  They had the armor of God.  As the Apostle Paul writes, “You must take up God’s complete armor.  Then, when wickedness grabs its moment, you’ll be able to withstand, to do what needs to be done, and still to be on your feet when it’s over.  So stand firm! Put the belt of truth round your waist; put on justice as your breastplate; for shoes on your feet, ready for battle, take the good news of peace.  With it all, take the shield of faith; if you’ve got that, you’ll be able to quench all the flaming arrows of the evil one.  Take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the spirit, which is God’s word.”

     We need all of these things, the armor, the belt of truth, the breastplate, the shoes, the shield of faith, and the helmet of salvation if we ever expect to live out our calling to reach people for Christ and to see real transformation in our community and world.  Those early Methodist circuit riders didn’t depend on their own strength.  They were a disciplined bunch who relied on God’s armor and strength to help them through the tough times.  That’s why they were tough.

     A couple of weeks ago, I had the funeral for a member of my church who lived to be 102.  She was a remarkable woman.  When I first visited her at the nursing home a couple of years ago, someone had mentioned to me that she would be turning 100 soon.  I brought my bible with me to read some scripture with her and I was prepared to share with her some of the things that were going on at the church at the time.

     When I entered her room at the nursing home, she was sitting at her desk.  When I asked her if I was interrupting her time, she said, “Oh, come on in.  I’m just finishing up my letter to the editor of the paper.”  She told me that she often writes to the paper to express her thoughts.

     As we talked, she went on to tell me about all of the ways that she was still active in the church, not to mention her several organizations here in Lancaster.  Even though I had brought my bible to share some scripture with her that day, I noticed that she had been reading her own bible because it was open by her bed.

     As I shared about the latest news of the church, I discovered that there wasn’t very much that was news to her.  In fact, I learned more about my own church that day thanks to her active involvement.

     When I left from the nursing home, I thought to myself, “That’s one tough Methodist.”  It’s because she had the armor of God.

     I was a guest preacher at a church on Baptism of the Lord Sunday.  I decided to offer a baptism renewal as part of that service.  Maybe you have participated in one of these services.  It’s where you come forward and a pastor places some water on your forehead while saying, “Remember your baptism and be thankful.”

     I remember feeling a little reluctant to offer the invitation since I didn’t know how the people would respond.  As I stood by the bowl of water and looked out at the faces of all these people who I didn’t know, I remember wondering if people would respond to the invitation to come forward.

     I couldn’t help but notice this great big guy, probably in his late 20’s sitting in the very back pew of the sanctuary.  His thick and strong arms were crossed and he had this tough and intimidating look about him.  I thought to myself that there’s no way that this guy will come forward for this baptism renewal.

     After I gave the invitation for the people to come, I placed the water on each of their foreheads.  It felt like a long time as people came to me one by one for their baptism renewal.

     And then, to my surprise, I could see that this man that I had spotted in the last pew was now in line.  As he approached me, this great big bear of a man had tears streaming down his face.  He was so moved by this holy moment.  I reached up to place the water on his forehead and looking into his eyes and I said, “Remember your baptism, and be thankful.”

     As he wiped away the tears from his eyes and started to turn to go back to his seat, he said back to me, “Bless you, pastor.”

     He was probably one of the toughest Methodists I have ever met.

     Tonight, I invite us to put on the whole armor of God.  You'll need it.