Rediscovering the Ministry
Rediscovering Lost Treasures - Part Seven
Ministry is not solely the work or vocation of a religious professional. It is the joy and the privilege of every Jesus follower.
In fact, as we continue to unearth the lost treasures of early Methodism, we now arrive at the radical understanding “the people called Methodists” had when they described the living heartbeat of their life together. Ministry was not the function of a select few theologically educated elites, but the calling of an entire people. This movement emerged as a Third Order monasticism and brought its treasures into the world in profoundly ordinary yet powerful ways.
Ministry Was for All
Methodist ministry was inherently inclusive. The only requirement for membership in the society was a “desire to flee the wraith to come.” Of course, scaring the hell out of people is probably not the best way to frame this today, but this is the 1700’s version of inclusive language. It’s another way to say, “all our welcome.” And it was taken up by 12-step fellowships to this day, “the only requirement for membership is a desire to stop drinking/using/enabling.”
Methodism brought together men and women, clergy and laity, educated and uneducated, seekers and seasoned believers. The method formed them as they journeyed through the waves of grace in the social constructs of societies, classes, and bands. It wasn’t perfect or peaceful, but it was authentic. Every person was seen as a beloved child of God, capable of growing in grace and contributing to the mission of love. Today, we must recover that vision—ministry is not a staff position, but the work of the whole church.
Ministry Was Passionate and Patterned
While it began with a “desire to flee…” or what we name in the recovery community as being “sick and tired of being sick and tired,” this desire set people on a path of transfiguration that was guided by a clear pattern: inward formation through works of piety and outward engagement through works of justice. Communion and compassion, always paired, formed a discipleship journey that mirrored the life of Christ.
It started with the intrinsic motivation people had to change, to lead a flourishing life in service to others. But that passion was nurtured through the loving support of a community. The rule, and the rhythms of grace, was like a trellis, supporting the gifts and calling of each person.
Ministry Was Proactive and Apostolic
The people called Methodists were not cloistered monks but ordinary disciples scattered throughout the world. Ministry wasn’t confined to a “commodious room, a soft cushion,” or a “handsome pulpit.” It happened in homes, fields, and workplaces—an uncloistered, incarnational movement. Ministry was apostolic, because it carried the same go-to impulse as the first disciples. The Methodist spirit was missionary at its core, propelled not by guilt but by love, carried forward by a wind of the Holy Spirit that still blows today.
Early Methodism was not only a spiritual renewal movement but a force for social justice. The first Methodists were deeply engaged in confronting the injustices of their time—opposing slavery, advocating for prison reform, educating those experiencing poverty, and caring for the sick—insisting that true holiness could not be separated from action against systemic oppression and inequity.
Ministry Was Vocational and Communal
Methodists understood that their ordinary roles—as parents, farmers, soldiers, teachers—were sacred. Ministry was something done in the rhythms of daily life, not separate from it. It pushed against the prevailing understanding of a sacred/secular divide. John Wesley wrote letters and guides to help people live their vocation as their ministry. And crucially, this was all done in community. “Holy solitaries,” Wesley said, were a contradiction in terms. To follow Jesus was to live in shared life with others. Confession, encouragement, correction, and celebration happened in small groups, bands, classes, and societies—an entire ecosystem of relational discipleship.
When the first Methodists “offered Christ” it was an invitation to a community.
Ministry Was Pastoral in a New Way
Ministry was pastoral, but not necessarily through a professionalized clergy. It was pastoral in the way people watched over one another in love. It was pastoral in that it met people in their suffering and responded with compassion. The poor, the sick, the imprisoned, these were not projects to be solved but people to be loved. A laity-driven movement led the way.
Early Methodism was seen as “big with mischief” by the religious establishment because it disrupted the rigid clergy caste system of the hierarchical Anglican Church of the day. By empowering laypeople—especially the poor, women, and uneducated—to preach, lead, and minister, Methodism threatened the control and privilege of the ecclesiastical elite.
Fresh Expressions of Methodism for Our Time
Today, a new treasure is emerging. Fresh expressions and the blended ecology of church represent this recovery of ministry as the work of all people. These micro-communities—from tattoo parlors to yoga studios, burrito joints to VR churches—are places where lay leaders embody the compassion of Jesus in the everyday. Practitioners are not waiting to complete a seminary education or an ordination process to start their ministry. Formation occurs in the process of mission. They are listening, loving, and leading in the Spirit.
Love, Motivation and Goal
What motivates these leaders is not obligation, but love. Their calling emerges from their own story, their own suffering, their own passions. Ministry is becoming indigenous again, reclaiming the sacredness of all places and all people. Communities are forming not around programs, but around presence. Not around performance, but around practice. We have a clear goal: to grow in love of God and neighbor and create communal habitats where others can experience that love.
From Pyramids to Circles
In this recovery of ministry, we are reclaiming the priesthood of all believers. Each person, ordained in the waters of their baptism, is called to be a reconciler, a lover, a light-bearer in their corner of daily life. We are learning to minister in teams, to share leadership in circles rather than hierarchies, and to value mutual accountability over individual autonomy.
Shared leadership liberates us from the burden of performance and the illusion of control. When we move from pyramids to circles, we create space for every voice to matter and for power to be diffused across the body. This isn’t leaderless, but leader-full. In circles of shared leadership, trust becomes the currency, discernment becomes the guide, and the Spirit is free to move through anyone—regardless of title or tenure.
Sociologically Informed Ecclesiology
The doctrine of the priesthood of all believers is supported by social theory. It resonates strongly with Emile Durkheim’s theory of religion as a collective enterprise and aligns with liberation theology’s sociological foundations—particularly the emphasis on conscientization from Paulo Freire.
Durkheim argued that religious life emerges from the collective consciousness of the community and that sacred functions are not reserved for a few elites but represent the moral authority of the group. This supports the idea that every member has spiritual agency and responsibility.
Freire’s idea of conscientization—awakening the oppressed to their own dignity and capacity for transformation—mirrors early Methodist ministry by affirming that spiritual authority is not mediated through hierarchy but through communal empowerment.
Additionally, Max Weber’s analysis of Protestantism (especially in The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism) highlighted how Reformation ideas like the priesthood of all believers democratized spiritual authority and undermined clerical monopolies.
Cultivating Spaces of Healing Presence in a Lonely World
In an age marked by loneliness and disconnection, a ministry where all are empowered to serve and form authentic community becomes not just helpful, but essential. When everyone is invited to contribute and belong, we cultivate spaces of healing presence—where no one walks alone, and love is made into matter.
In a world of consumerism and isolation, this kind of communal, Spirit-empowered ministry is profoundly countercultural. It is the full life (John 10:10), the life that is truly life (1 Timothy 6:19). The early Methodist treasure of ministry is not buried in the past. It is rising again through Fresh Expressions. And it’s there for anyone to claim and live.
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It is possible to be compassionate and not wise, but it is not possible to be wise and not compassionate. I began my research journey at the University of Florida studying the collapse of compassion in USAmerican society and its relationship with religious disaffiliation. However, as I followed the research trails, I discovered the underlying crisis is the decline of wisdom, of which compassion is one dimension. Congregations have historically been vital social centers for the intergenerational transmission of wisdom, helping their members and communities experience greater wellbeing. How does their decline and disappearance impact the social fabric of the United States? How do we measure wisdom, individually and collectively? What new missional metrics do we need to understand and encourage vitality in the 21st century? Stay tuned for the new Substack series… “What a Fool Believes."
Let the laity lead:)
So helpful, thanks MB!