Faith Works 10-30-21

Faith Works 10-30-21
Jeff Gill

For all the saints, who from their labors rest
___

Given the usual civic fun and games, I will trust that we've put Beggars Night and most of the church-based Fall Festivals behind us.

The majority of those were Thursday; the admirable goal is to keep the kids from going door to door on a Friday or weekend night, which makes sense for all kinds of practical safety reasons.

As I believe can't be said too often, there's a reason to remember that underneath the seasonal and saleable side to Hallowe'en, there's the basis of how the costumed merriment got started in All Hallows Eve, the night before All Saints, or "All Hallows" to be olde English about it. November 1 is a day to honor all those who have "gone on before." All Saints is a solemn and holy day in the Roman Catholic and Anglican traditions, and in less liturgical churches it's tricky to know how to mark it when the day is so close to a Sunday; Methodism tends to commend the first Sunday in November, but that's going to put you on forward to Nov. 7 . . . plus running into time change next weekend (you're welcome!) and falling back an hour.

So many congregations will honor those in particular who have died in the past year on this Sunday, October 31, in advance of November 1.

And just a couple of days ago, Methodists and Wesleyans of many sorts marked the 250th anniversary of Francis Asbury coming to America, and beginning a series of missionary journeys that have few parallels from Paul's day down to our own. October 27, 1771 is when he landed in Philadelphia and began a 45 year itineration up and down the original thirteen colonies and then some, thousands of miles on foot, by horseback, and occasionally by carriage in his later years.

In 1812, Asbury passed near Licking County though not through it; in September his journals record: "Wednesday 16. We came through the heat to Sherrock's, dined, and went forward towards Wills-Creek — logs, stumps, ruts, bushes — rough work: we arrived in the night at Waller's. Thursday 17. We set out in the rain, and came thirty miles to Zanesville; I retired sick to Spangler's. We have a meeting house here, and at Fairfields. It is a time of trouble on the frontiers — the Indians have killed and scalped some whites, it is said.

Friday 18. We attended Rush Creek camp meeting. The work of God during the night was awfully powerful. Many Germans present were deeply serious. Sunday 20. I preached. The whole night was spent in prayer. We had a sermon on Monday morning, and the sacrament followed: there might be two hundred and fifty communicants. I had been unwell, but an emetic, taken on Saturday night, prepared me for usefulness. I lodged with Edward Teel, aged seventy seven. I had known him forty years. On Tuesday we passed through New-Lancaster, to Jesse Spungeon's.

Wednesday 23. I preached at Stroud's chapel and we had an open, feeling, gracious season. I find that the mother of my host, Edward Stroud, went safe to rest last April; she was a disciple of ours, and a respectable widow in Israel. I suffer from chills — the nights are cold, and I have been much exposed. Thursday 24. We rode over to Judge Vanmeeter's On Friday I preached in the new house in Jefferson; we visited McDowell's and lodged with White Brown on Saturday. Sabbath 27. I preached: after meeting I gave up and stole to my bed. My rest has been much broken for the last month in various ways, and I am feverish and have the jaw ache. Could I be less earnest when I preach, I might have less bodily suffering; but it may not be.

The Ohio conference sat from Thursday, October the 1st, to Wednesday the 7th; we had great order. The writer of this journal laboured diligently, and was much assisted by the eldership in the business of the stations. He preached three times, was called upon to ordain twelve deacons, and also to ordain elders: upon the last day his strength failed. I want sleep, sleep, sleep: for three hours I lay undisturbed in bed, to which I had stolen on Wednesday; but they called me up to read off the stations. I have a considerable fever; but we must move."

It is difficult to read such passages and not be moved by such commitment and endurance in faith and ministry.

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and preacher in central Ohio; he's not a Wesleyan by background, but he's picked up a great deal of Methodism over the years. Tell him about saints you have known at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.