Rediscovering the Method

Rediscovering Lost Treasures – Part Six

It’s right there in the name—Methodism. Yet, many of us in the movement have forgotten that our roots aren’t just in revival, but in rhythm. Not just in belief, but in practice. Not just in structure, but in sentness.

Methodism was, from the beginning, a movement with a method.

What began as a slur, “those methodical religionists,” was embraced by John Wesley and transformed into one of our richest treasures. What gave Methodism its strength was not just its theology, but its way of life. Its rule. Its pattern. Its deep roots in ancient wisdom, especially in monastic rhythms. And today, if we hope to be more than a nostalgic denomination clinging to past relevance, we must rediscover the method.

Metho-Monastic: A School of Love

The early Methodists borrowed freely and creatively from the monastic tradition. Wesley admired the Benedictines for their order, the Franciscans for their joy, and the Desert Mothers and Fathers for their depth. But unlike traditional cloistered monks, the Methodists lived among the people. They were a kind of third-order missional movement: devoted, disciplined, but deeply engaged in the world.

Methodism, at its best, has always been what monks called a school of love—a place where we are formed, together, in the life of holy love. Wesley laid out the curriculum: a Rule (the General Rules), a Constitution (The Character of a Methodist), a formative pattern (the means of grace), a renewal experience (the Covenant Service), and a community of accountability (the class and band meetings). It was all so, well, methodical.

And all of it aimed at transfiguration: not of the self alone, but of society. Not by coercion, but by compassion. Not by power, but by the power of presence.

Grace in Motion: The Social Structure of Salvation

John Wesley famously insisted that “the gospel of Christ knows of no religion but social; no holiness but social holiness.” He rejected the notion of solitary faith, declaring that “‘Holy solitaries’ is a phrase no more consistent with the gospel than holy adulterers.” For Wesley, salvation was never merely a private affair between the individual and God—it was always communal, relational, and embodied. Holiness had to be lived out with and for others. This conviction was structurally embedded in the Methodist movement through a carefully designed system of small groups that corresponded to the theological rhythm of grace.

Wesley organized the movement around three key social constructs that aligned with the “waves of grace” in the Methodist understanding of salvation. First came societies, large gatherings for those experiencing prevenient grace—God’s prior, pursuing love, often before one was even fully aware. Then came the classes, smaller communities of mutual accountability where people wrestled with justifying grace—the acceptance of God’s transfiguring love and the decision to follow Jesus. Finally, bands were intimate, confessional groups designed for those seeking to grow through sanctifying grace, being perfected in love.

This system was not only spiritually effective, it was socially dynamic—empowering laity, fostering radical inclusion, and forming disciples who lived out their faith in both personal devotion and public witness. Wesley’s method taught that salvation is not static or linear, but a journey—one traveled best together.

Structured Discipleship: Durkheim and the Social Power of Method

Sociology largely supports Wesley’s conviction that human transformation rarely occurs in isolation—it happens within structured relationships, shared practices, and communal rhythms. Method shapes behavior; it channels energy and intention into repeatable patterns that form identity and sustain belonging. In early Methodism, the method wasn’t just theological—it was sociological. Societies, classes, and bands created a framework where grace could be encountered in community, and where belief was reinforced by shared action. When method is clear and communal, discipleship becomes a lived, social reality—not just a personal aspiration.

A key sociologist who advanced the theory that method and structure shape communal transformation is Émile Durkheim (1858–1917), one of the founding figures of sociology. In his seminal work The Elementary Forms of Religious Life (1912), Durkheim argued that religion is inherently a social phenomenon—that its rituals, symbols, and collective practices bind people together into a moral community. He introduced the idea that collective rituals and disciplined practices reinforce group cohesion, moral order, and shared identity.

Durkheim didn’t study Methodism directly, but his theories illuminate why structured methods like Wesley’s societies, classes, and bands were effective. He asserted that “man is a moral being only because he lives in society,” meaning that personal transformation and moral development are deeply tied to social practices and communal structures. In this sense, Methodism’s “method” can be seen as a sociologically sound strategy: a disciplined system of shared belief and behavior that formed and sustained an ethical community.

A Method in the Basement: How AA Mirrors Early Methodism

Twelve-step fellowships like Alcoholics Anonymous embody the spirit and structure of early Methodism more faithfully today than many United Methodist churches do. AA, with its clearly defined steps, communal accountability, and spiritual progression, mirrors the Wesleyan method of moving through the waves of grace with intention and support. The Twelve Steps function much like Wesley’s means of grace—tools for self-examination, confession, amends, and spiritual awakening—all practiced in a community of mutual vulnerability and shared purpose.

Where many Methodist congregations today have lost their method, offering little more than Sunday services, Bible studies, and committee meetings, AA thrives as a movement with a clear path of transformation. It is no exaggeration to say that the heartbeat of early Methodism—communal discipleship, confession, discipline, and sanctification—is more alive in a church basement AA meeting than in many of our sanctuaries.

The Method Returns: A New Monasticism

Today, as Fresh Expressions and other grassroots movements take shape, we are witnessing a recovery of this ancient method in a new form. This New Monasticism doesn’t wear robes or retreat to the wilderness, but it does walk a well-worn path—a journey of listening, loving, serving, and growing together in the life of grace.

This method isn’t programmatic. It’s spiritual. And it unfolds in six organic movements we call the Loving First Journey.

1. Listening: The First Spiritual Act

We start not with a program, but with posture. Listening is an act of love. We believe that every person we encounter is already being pursued by God’s grace (prevenient grace). Our job is not to bring God to people—as if God weren’t already there—but to listen deeply to the Spirit at work in every context, every conversation, every person.

Listening reminds us: we don’t control the mission. We join it.

2. Loving: Worship Through Action

Rather than launching with worship services, we start with worshipful service. Not service projects to fix people’s problems. But mutual love. Shared life. Acts of kindness that build trust. We come as learners and guests, not as heroes or hosts. This is where the healing begins.

3. Building Relationships: The Common Good of Shalom

As relationships deepen, we begin to discern the treasures and traumas of the community. Some places are fragmented, others simply forgotten. But all of them have God-given assets waiting to be revealed. Our method is to move toward pain with compassion. Like Jesus reading Isaiah in his hometown, we announce good news by embodying it together (Luke 4:18–19).

4. Exploring Discipleship: Belonging Before Believing

Discipleship doesn’t start with doctrine. It starts with dialogue. Questions like “What’s sustaining your spiritual life right now?” or “Did this song/poem/image stir anything in your soul?” become sacred ground. In these spaces, Jesus stories begin to emerge—short retellings of his life and teachings, followed by open-ended questions like, “What would this look like today?”

There’s no pressure to believe. But there is always an invitation to belong. And as relationships form, we begin to see something new emerge.

5. Church Takes Shape: One, Holy, Apostolic, Catholic

Eventually, these gatherings become more than conversations. They become communities. A faith family begins to form. It may look like tattooed hands clasped in prayer, breaking and offering the sacred tortilla in the burrito shop, or a circle of friends conversing at a dog park. But it bears the ancient marks of the church:

• One – a depth of relationship with each other

• Holy – a transfiguring relationship with God

• Apostolic – an incarnational relationship with the world

• Catholic – an abiding relationship with the wider Church

We may celebrate Communion, baptize, bring offerings, co-create liturgy, form a rule of life, and discern together how to serve. We may not fit the conventional church mold—but we embody the message in everyday life.

6. Multiplying the Movement: From Grace to Grace

Finally, someone catches a spark. A nudge from the Spirit. A new place, new people, new passion. The method multiplies—not through strategy, but through story. Not from the top down, but from the inside out. Someone starts listening in a new space. And the journey begins again.

This is our method. It’s not flashy. It’s not efficient. But it is faithful.

What Makes the Method Matter?

This method is slow. Relational. Unhurried. It runs on trust, not performance. It grows by grace, and is not driven by metrics. And in a world exhausted by over-programmed religion and transactional faith, this method offers rest. Simplicity. Humanity. Community.

When we stop trying to control outcomes and start cultivating love, we make space for the Spirit to do what only the Spirit can do: form a people in the way of Jesus.

This is not just a strategy. It’s a way of being. A design for living. A way of loving. And in the words of Jesus, where even just two or three are gathered in his name—there he is.

This is where love becomes matter. Matter: anything that has mass and takes up space. It is the matterized love of Jesus, taking on the molecular reality of a flesh and blood community.

Organized Love: The Practical Method of Discipleship

Maybe it’s time to stop chasing the next church growth fad and return to the method of the movement. Maybe it’s time to rebuild not around pulpits and platforms, but around tables and tacos. Maybe it’s time to trust that the way of Jesus still works.

Love isn’t just a warm feeling—it’s a way of life. And like any way of life, it needs form. It needs rhythm. It needs a method.

Love, if it’s going to endure, must be organized. It must take root in shared practices, mutual commitments, and intentional communities. That’s not bureaucracy—that’s discipleship.

Jesus called us to love God and neighbor (Mark 12:28–31), but living out that love requires intention, structure, and companionship. Just as a family meal, a birthday celebration, or raising children doesn’t happen without coordination, neither does sustained, Christ-like love.

Practical love requires a method. That’s why Wesleyan discipleship was methodical—it offered a rhythm of grace, accountability, and purpose. In the same way, twenty-first century discipleship flourishes when Christians work together on meaningful, Spirit-led passions and projects in the normal spaces and rhythms of life. With Christian companions, we grow in maturity, stay accountable, and cultivate church with people where they are. In this way, love is not only our highest calling—it becomes our daily, organized way of living.

Being methodical is not a bad thing. In fact, when it’s in the service of one love, it’s holy. Method becomes mission when it’s animated by the Spirit of Christ.

The method exists for the movement, and the movement exists for love.

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