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In "Better Than Good," Zig Ziglar explores the concept of personal excellence and reaching one's full potential. Through motivational stories and practical advice, he emphasizes the importance of setting goals, maintaining a positive attitude, and continuously striving for improvement in all areas of life. Ziglar's message is that with the right mindset and determination, anyone can achieve success and live a life that is truly better than good.

John Wesley

John Wesley John Wesley, (born June 17, 1703, Epworth, Lincolnshire, England—died March 2, 1791, London), Anglican clergyman, evangelist, and founder, with his brother Charles, of the Methodist movement in the Church of England. John Wesley was the second son of Samuel, a former Nonconformist (dissenter from the Church of England) and rector at Epworth, and Susanna Wesley. After six years of education at the Charterhouse, London, he entered Christ Church, Oxford University, in 1720. Graduating in 1724, he resolved to become ordained a priest; in 1725 he was made a deacon by the bishop of Oxford and the following year was elected a fellow of Lincoln College. After assisting his father at Epworth and Wroot, he was ordained a priest on September 22, 1728. Recalled to Oxford in October 1729 to fulfill the residential requirements of his fellowship, John joined his brother Charles, Robert Kirkham, and William Morgan in a religious study group that was derisively called the “Methodists” because of their emphasis on methodical study and devotion. Taking over the leadership of the group from Charles, John helped the group to grow in numbers. The “Methodists,” also called the Holy Club, were known for their frequent communion services and for fasting two days a week. From 1730 on, the group added social services to their activities, visiting Oxford prisoners, teaching them to read, paying their debts, and attempting to find employment for them. The Methodists also extended their activities to workhouses and poor people, distributing food, clothes, medicine, and books and also running a school. When the Wesleys left the Holy Club in 1735, the group disintegrated. Following his father’s death in April 1735, John was persuaded by an Oxford friend, John Burton, and Col. James Oglethorpe, governor of the colony of Georgia in North America, to oversee the spiritual lives of the colonists and to missionize the Native Americans as an agent for the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel. Accompanied by Charles, who was ordained for this mission, John was introduced to some Moravian emigrants who appeared to him to possess the spiritual peace for which he had been searching. The mission to the indigenous peoples proved abortive, nor did Wesley succeed with most of his flock. He served them faithfully, but his stiff high churchmanship antagonized them. He had a naive attachment to Sophia Hopkey, niece of the chief magistrate of Savannah, who married another man, and Wesley unwisely courted criticism by repelling her from Holy Communion. In December 1737 he fled from Georgia; misunderstandings and persecution stemming from the Sophia Hopkey episode forced him to go back to England. In London John met a Moravian, Peter Böhler, who convinced him that what he needed was simply faith, and he also discovered Martin Luther’s commentary on the Letter of Paul to the Galatians, which emphasized the scriptural doctrine of justification by grace through faith alone. On May 24, 1738, in Aldersgate Street, London, during a meeting composed largely of Moravians under the auspices of the Church of England, Wesley’s intellectual conviction was transformed into a personal experience while Luther’s preface to the commentary to the Letter of Paul to the Romans was being read. From this point onward, at the age of 35, Wesley viewed his mission in life as one of proclaiming the good news of salvation by faith, which he did whenever a pulpit was offered him. The congregations of the Church of England, however, soon closed their doors to him because of his enthusiasm. He then went to religious societies, trying to inject new spiritual vigour into them, particularly by introducing “bands” similar to those of the Moravians—i.e., small groups within each society that were confined to members of the same sex and marital status who were prepared to share intimate details of their lives with each other and to receive mutual rebukes. For such groups Wesley drew up Rules of the Band Societies in December 1738. For a year he worked through existing church societies, but resistance to his methods increased. In 1739 George Whitefield, who later became an important preacher of the Great Awakening in Great Britain and North America, persuaded Wesley to go to the unchurched masses. Wesley gathered converts into societies for continuing fellowship and spiritual growth, and he was asked by a London group to become their leader. Soon other such groups were formed in London, Bristol, and elsewhere. To avoid the scandal of unworthy members, Wesley published, in 1743, Rules for the Methodist societies. To promote new societies he became a widely travelled itinerant preacher. Because most ordained clergymen did not favour his approach, Wesley was compelled to seek the services of dedicated laymen, who also became itinerant preachers and helped administer the Methodist societies. Many of Wesley’s preachers had gone to the American colonies, but after the American Revolution most returned to England. Because the bishop of London would not ordain some of his preachers to serve in the United States, Wesley controversially took it upon himself, in 1784, to do so. In the same year he pointed out that his societies operated independently of any control by the Church of England. Toward the end of his life, Wesley became an honoured figure in the British Isles.

Comparison Is a Key to Godliness

Too often, I’ve bought the lie. The one the Western world shouts (and the one our sinful ears itch to hear): “Never compare, just be you. Contentment is only found within yourself.” The lie is especially sweet because it allows us to hide our lack of spiritual fruit. It’s tempting to dismiss our need for personal sanctification when we’re preoccupied with the comfort of self-confidence. Even when those lies don’t seduce us, we can still make the mistake of believing that repentance of sinful comparison — the kind that puffs up or beats down — means rejecting all comparison. But we don’t need to fear or avoid comparison, because it is often the means by which God helps us grow. Godly comparison isn’t about keeping up with someone else’s standard, or replicating another’s life, or hustling until we feel better about ourselves. It’s not about running harder on the treadmill of self-improvement, futilely seeking self-worth in our next accomplishment. Godly comparison isn’t ultimately about us. It’s about celebrating and learning from God’s grace at work in others so that we might better love and glorify God. God Compares for Our Good In Genesis, God compared two brothers who brought him an offering. He had regard for Abel’s offering and rejected Cain’s. When Cain responded in anger, revealing the hardness of his heart, God graciously appealed for him to “do well” and beware the lurking beast of sin. In love, he wanted Cain to follow in the righteous footsteps of his brother, who gave the very best of his flock out of devotion to God. Instead of learning from Abel, Cain killed him (Genesis 4:1–8). But, you may say, that was before Jesus! We do not earn his love with offerings. Through faith, we’re clothed in his righteousness. We are saved by grace alone, through faith alone, in Christ alone. Yes, but saving faith in Christ does not produce complacency in character. Jesus told his disciples to follow the examples of others. While sitting in a synagogue, he called them and directed their attention to a poor widow as she placed two copper coins into the offering basket. Contrasting her giving with the wealthy, he declared that she had given more. Though poor, she had given everything she had, demonstrating that her ultimate treasure was God himself (Mark 12:41–44). Jesus also taught us by comparing two sisters. As Martha busied herself with preparations and grumbled to Jesus over Mary’s lack of help, he responded that Mary had chosen better by remaining at his feet. His tender correction wasn’t meant to burden this weary woman with heavy expectations, but to demonstrate what Mary already knew to be true — it’s better to treasure Jesus than to merely toil for him (Luke 10:38–42). When God makes comparisons, it’s not so that we’ll be crushed or condemned, but so that more of our hearts will be captured by him. Comparing for Our Godliness We’ve been saved into one body: the church. This body is made up of many members, each with a distinct function (Romans 12:4–5). God’s glory is too vast and magnificent for a family of cookie-cutter Christians. He intends for all of us — with our different personalities and talents, backgrounds and stories, strengths and weaknesses — to display glimpses of his infinite goodness to the world. Our differences, of every kind, underline his worth in ways sameness cannot. However, while God hasn’t called us to sameness, he has called us all to holiness. As all the parts of our body move in the same direction when we walk, the church in all its diversity moves together toward Christ. One way God helps us become holy is by surrounding us with Christians who imitate him in ways that we don’t yet. These differences are a part of God’s gracious plan to conform us into the image of his Son. He has always intended for us to be sharpened by one another’s examples. That’s why Paul unashamedly told the Corinthian church to be imitators of him as he was of Christ (1 Corinthians 11:1). It’s why Paul instructed Titus to be a model of good works (Titus 2:7) and Timothy to set an example in speech, conduct, love, faith, and purity (1 Timothy 4:12). It’s why Paul spread the word of the Macedonian church’s generosity amidst their affliction (2 Corinthians 8). The body won’t grow in holiness unless there’s godly, humble, and hope-filled comparison and imitation. Our altars of autonomy must be overthrown. Just as Cain should have learned from Abel, just as Martha had to learn from Mary, just as the Corinthian church learned from the Macedonians, we need to learn from one another. How Should We Compare? As we compare, it’s helpful to focus on principles more than particulars. For example, I struggle to practice biblical hospitality, so I look to those who excel — imitating them as they imitate Christ. In doing this, I remind myself there’s freedom to extend hospitality in different ways. My mother-in-law invites people without nearby relatives to holiday gatherings. My siblings and friends have brought foster children into their families. My friend from small group recently had a Mormon missionary over to discuss faith. Rather than feeling daunted by their examples, God is helping me celebrate and learn from them. How might the Christ living in and through them live in and through my hospitality? Rather than ignoring or making excuses for my weakness, I am stirred to grow, obey, and even enjoy hospitality. In areas where we’re stronger, we should still humbly position ourselves to learn from others. I’m far more gifted in mercy than in hospitality, and love using my time and resources to care for those in need. Yet I still need to grow. I want the depth of compassion my friend Brenda has for prostitutes where we live. I want my brother’s heart for the addicted, and his boldness to declare the gospel to those in hopeless situations. The Spirit frees us to boldly and expectantly compare. Who stirs you to treasure Christ more? Who possesses godliness you lack? Who lives passionately for the mission? Consider their examples and identify ways in which you want to imitate them. The same God at work in their strengths will be faithful to slowly refine and transform your weaknesses. Article by Amy DiMarcangelo

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