About the Book
In "God's Outrageous Claims," Lee Strobel explores the bold and challenging claims that God makes in the Bible about his nature, character, and involvement in the world. Strobel investigates these claims through interviews with experts and personal reflection, ultimately offering insight into the profound impact of accepting and living out these truths. The book challenges readers to consider the implications of God's claims on their lives and faith.
Susannah Wesley
If a passing stranger walking through the rural village of Epworth, England, on any given day between 1700 and 1720 had peered through the window of the home of the rector of the local Anglican church, he might have caught sight of something quite strange. Depending on the time of day, this observer might have seen a woman sitting in a chair with her kitchen apron pulled up over her head while ten children read, studied, or played all around her.
Two of those ten children would have been little boys â John and Charles â who would grow up to shape the course of Christian history and thus change the world. The woman under the apron would have been Susanna Wesley, who assumed this odd posture for two hours almost every day. In a moment you will understand why.
Susanna understood the dynamics of large families. Born the twenty-fifth of twenty-five children in 1669, Susanna Annesley grew up the daughter of a prominent, highly educated minister in cosmopolitan London. She had little formal education, but growing up in an academic household with so many older siblings left her well-read and well-rounded intellectually. She met Samuel Wesley, an aspiring Anglican minister, and married him in 1688, when she was nineteen years old.
Susannaâs remaining fifty-three years were far from easy ones. They were characterized by loss, hardship, and struggle. Yet she became a woman of immense legacy, largely through the dual virtues of organization and prayer.
Susanna delivered nineteen children, but nine â including two sets of twins â died in infancy. Another was accidentally smothered in the night by a nurse as Susanna recovered from labor and delivery.
Her husband, Samuel, did not succeed in his thirty-nine-year assignment as rector of the church at Epworth. An intellectual academic, he simply did not understand or identify with the rural villagers in his parish. Nor did they care for him. When he involved himself from the pulpit in a highly divisive political matter inflaming the entire nation in that era, he earned the hatred of a vast segment of the populace. On two occasions the Wesleysâ parsonage burned down, most likely because of arson on the part of Epworthâs embittered parishioners. Susanna and the children were seldom spared harassment and insults.
Samuel was not good with money, and he once spent several months in debtorsâ prison. The parsonage came with a small farm, but Samuel was uninterested in and ill-suited for farm work, so this too was left for Susanna to manage. This was in addition to the huge task of homeschooling all of the children, with their varying ages and gifts.
For decades, Samuel expended all of his energies and most of the familyâs meager wealth working on an exegetical treatise on the book of Job. The sad irony is that while he was away for long periods of time studying and writing about Jobâs intense sufferings, his living, breathing wife was enduring real pain and hardship, largely on her own.
Susannaâs household organizational skills are the stuff of legend. She knew from personal experience that quality one-on-one time with a parent is hard to come by in a family with many children, yet powerfully important. So she set a rotating schedule through which each of her children spent an hour with her alone before bedtime on a designated night each week.
What is more, she somehow found a way to manage the household and give her large brood of children a world-class education that included both classical and biblical learning. Her girls got the same rigorous education as did her boys, something virtually unheard of in that day. Traditionally, girls of that place and time were taught âfeminineâ skills such as needlework and music before undertaking the most basic education, such as learning to read. Susanna firmly believed this was wrong-headed. Her girls were taught the same curriculum as her boys. Among the âbylawsâ by which she ran her home school was this: â8. That no girl be taught to work till she can read very well; and then that she be kept to her work with the same application, and for the same time, that she was held to in reading. This rule also is much to be observed; for the putting of children to learn sewing before they can read perfectly, is the very reason why so few women can read fit to be heard, and never to be well understood.â1
School hours were from 9:00 a.m. to noon and then 2:00 p.m. to 5:00 p.m., six days a week. All but the smallest children completed their assigned chores promptly before the start of the school day. As in many one-room schoolhouses in generations past, older children helped teach the younger.
No Excuse for Not Praying!
Susanna took her relationship to God as seriously as she did her duties as a wife and mother.
Early in her life, she vowed that she would never spend more time in leisure entertainment than she did in prayer and Bible study. Even amid the most complex and busy years of her life as a mother, she still scheduled two hours each day for fellowship with God and time in His Word, and she adhered to that schedule faithfully. The challenge was finding a place of privacy in a house filled to overflowing with children.
Mother Wesleyâs solution to this was to bring her Bible to her favorite chair and throw her long apron up over her head, forming a sort of tent. This became something akin to the âtent of meeting,â the tabernacle in the days of Moses in the Old Testament. Every person in the household, from the smallest toddler to the oldest domestic helpers, knew well to respect this signal. When Susanna was under the apron, she was with God and was not to be disturbed except in the case of the direst emergency. There in the privacy of her little tent, she interceded for her husband and children and plumbed the deep mysteries of God in the Scriptures. This holy discipline equipped her with a thorough and profound knowledge of the Bible.
Prayer Leads to Teaching
When husband Samuel was away, as was often the case, a substitute minister brought the Sunday morning sermon at the church. Susanna found these messages uninspiring and lacking in spiritual meat. She had a good-sized congregation of her own at home, so she began teaching them the Bible in her kitchen on Sunday afternoons. Soon neighbors began asking if they could attend. Word circulated and others from the area began asking permission to attend as well. So thorough was Susannaâs knowledge of the Bible, and so gifted was she at communicating its truths, that on any given Sunday after church, Susanna would have as many as two hundred people in attendance at her informal family Bible study, which started in her home but soon moved to a larger venue.
Susanna passed away in 1742 at the age of seventy-three, living long enough to see her sons John and Charles become world-renowned leaders of the global Christian movement. This is her legacy, forged in large part in those diligent hours of intercession under that makeshift apron tent.
The Lasting Legacy of Prayer
John Wesley is estimated to have preached to nearly a million people in his long, fruitful life.
His powerful, evangelistic services were frequently held in the open air to accommodate audiences in the tens of thousands. Traveling on horseback, he regularly preached three or more times a day, often beginning before daybreak. Even at the age of seventy he preached, without the assistance of modern amplification, to an estimated throng of thirty-two thousand people.
It is hard to overstate John Wesleyâs theological impact. He remains the dominant theological influence on Methodists and Methodist-heritage groups the world over, including the United Methodist Church, the Methodist Church of Great Britain, and the African Methodist Episcopal Church, all of which played a pivotal role in the abolitionist movement of the nineteenth century.
Wesleyan theology also formed the foundation for the holiness movement in the United States, which includes denominations like the Wesleyan Church, the Free Methodist Church, the Church of the Nazarene, the Christian and Missionary Alliance, the Church of God (Anderson, Indiana), and other groups which compose the colorful mosaic of Pentecostalism and the charismatic movement in North America.
As prolific a writer as he was busy as a preacher, John Wesley has been called the Father of the Religious Paperback. His published sermons, tracts, pamphlets, and booklets number roughly five thousand items. In addition to theology, Wesley wrote about music, marriage, medicine, science, abolitionism, and current events.
Although John married, he and his wife, Mary, had no children. Because of his giving nature toward the poor, the oppressed, and the unevangelized, he left little of material wealth behind when he died in 1791 at the age of eighty-seven. One biographer said John Wesley âwas carried to his grave by six poor men âleaving behind him nothing but a good library of books, a well-worn clergymanâs gown⌠and â the Methodist Church.ââ2 The same writer observed that Johnâs impact was so profound that he in effect âsupplied a new starting-point to modern religious history.â3
Johnâs younger brother Charles was very much a partner in and vital contributor to these accomplishments. A brilliant musician and lyricist, he wrote more than 6,600 hymns, many of which are still in hymnals the world over today.
Charles and his wife, Sarah, had three children who survived infancy, including two boys, Samuel and Charles Jr., who were musical prodigies. Charles Jr. grew up to serve as the personal organist of the English royal family. His brother, Samuel Sebastian Wesley, became one of the most accomplished British composers of the nineteenth century. A contemporary of Mozart, Samuel is sometimes called âThe English Mozart.â4
John and Charles Wesley were passionate lovers of God and powerful persuaders of people.
As a result, the brothers were viewed by many of their contemporaries as religious fanatics. History has been far kinder in its verdict. It views them as world changers. And every one of the changes they wrought is part of the legacy of Susanna Wesley. In his 1864 biography, John Kirk wrote of Susanna, âHer name has been everywhere received with respect; and by a large and influential Christian Community it has been cherished with strongest affection. Her success in the education of her children has been the theme of universal admiration; and no one has yet ventured to hazard even a conjecture as to how much the cause of religion and the well-being of the human race are indebted to her steady piety and extraordinary talents.â5
We hope that as you read [the story of] Susanna Wesley, youâll grab on to the power of them. For Susanna Wesley, there was no amount of distraction that could keep her from prayer and the Bible. That kind of life, deeply rooted, produced great fruit, as evidenced not only by the people who came to hear her teach but also by the children she influenced. The great truth in her story is how prayer does not occupy the stage of activity. Its power is in the quiet trust of gentle souls who are willing to pull away from the everyday to commune with God.
John Wesley, The Heart of Wesleyâs Journal, ed. Ed Hughes and Hugh Price (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2008), 127.
William Henry Fitchett, Wesley and His Century: A Study in Spiritual Forces (London: Smith, Elder & Co., 1906), 1.
Ibid.
Peter Matthews, Whoâs Buried Where in London (London: â¨Bloomsbury, 2017), 37.
John Kirk, The Mother of the Wesleys: A Biography (Ambler, MA: â¨Tresidder, 1864), vii.
Excerpted with permission from Only One Life by Jackie Green and Lauren Green McAfee, copyright Jackie Green, Lauren Green McAfee, Bill High.
you are not that special - the glory of ordinary christianity
I had a professor in seminary who had a knack for humbling first-year students. He enjoyed showing them they werenât special, no matter what their Sunday school teachers and home churches had told them. In fact, this professor was so effective at humbling new seminarians, he developed a reputation for it. He was provocative and polarizing. He had his detractors around campus, and beyond. To some, he seemed cocky and headstrong. But others loved him dearly. Not because he walked the fine line between arrogance and purposeful provocation, but because they themselves had been wonderfully awakened. First they had been humbled by his jabs, and it hurt. It was disorienting. But as much as it smarted at first, they came to humble themselves and receive the uncomfortable truth. The professorâs shocking words proved to be the wounds of a friend. He was right. They werenât that special â not in the ways that seminary students (and most humans) tend to think they are. You Are (Not) Special For many of us, one of the earliest messages we heard, the constant refrain of childrenâs books, the chorus of our parents (and especially grandparents), and likely even the message we heard in Sunday school, was essentially you are special . Thereâs an element of truth in it, of course. You are indeed special â as human, and especially as redeemed â in ways that redound to the glory of God. In relation to the animal kingdom, God made our human race special, in his own image . Even the angels marvel at the grace weâve received in Christ (1 Peter 1:12). And in Christ, no doubt, you are special  to God â through being chosen before the foundation of the world, and then particularly redeemed by the sacrifice of Christ two millennia before you were born. And then you are three times special by the regenerating work of the Holy Spirit. Jesus died for his friends (John 15:13), his sheep (John 10:14â15), his bride (Ephesians 5:25). He loved the church with his special love and gave himself up for her. âGod, being rich in mercy, because of the great love  with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christâ (Ephesians 2:4â5). In Christ, you are not just loved but greatly so. And on the human level, children are indeed special to their own parents and grandparents. We grant that. Itâs in Godâs good design. Also, itâs worth acknowledging that a group of self-doubting humans and saints have a difficult time believing they are special in ways that really matter. Theyâve been so beaten down by life in this world â or perhaps theyâve simply found low self-esteem to be a convenient excuse for coddling sin. To be human, and alive, is amazing. To be called a child of the living God by being joined to his Son, by faith alone, is scandalous. Chosen by God  before you even did anything good or bad! What wondrous love is this? But oh, how prone we can be, like first-year seminarians, to let such specialness go to our heads â to transpose it into ways that serve the flesh rather than the Spirit. Not That Special When sinners contemplate their own specialness, we donât typically think about our relation to animals or angels, or what it means to be in Christ, or our particular specialness to family and friends. Rather, we often think weâre special compared to others  â because of our qualities. Our gifts. Our achievements. Our abilities. Bells that ring to our own glory. This is where we need to hear a clear, and sometimes forceful, voice say, in love, You are not that special . You are not an exception to the basic laws and ordinances of human society, and as a Christian, you are not an exception to the ordinary means and patterns of the Christian life. You are not a cut above the rank-and-file in the world, and especially in the church. You are not exceptional in the ways you like to tell yourself in silence. You are not special in the sense that ordinary, everyday, normal Christianity is no longer essential to you because of your qualities. You are not that special . You donât have a special path to heaven or a special route through the toils and snares of this world. Just consider Jesus. He is indeed the Fatherâs special  Son. If anyone could plead special privilege, it would be the divine Son. And yet. And yet! He did not cling to his equality with God as a self-serving privilege or ask to be excused from the mission. He did not request a pass from poverty, suffering, or even torture. He became âobedient to the point of death, even death on a crossâ (Philippians 2:6â8). Do we claim to be his disciples, yet presume ourselves to be greater than our Master? Inconvenient Specialness How might we discern whether we are appropriating specialness  in the right places and ways? One test would be whether we tell ourselves weâre special in ways that are easy and convenient for the flesh. Do I presume Iâll get my way because Iâm special? Should others follow my lead, without my earning their trust, because Iâm special? Another way at it might be this: Do I love the specialness of humanity, and being Christâs, only when it applies to me, but not when it applies to those I find most difficult to endure? Which gets at what may be one of the greatest indicators of humility: how we view the church. Not the big, universal, capital-C Church â the one that is often much easier to love. But your  church. The local church where God has placed you. The people God has picked to appear, and reappear, and reappear again, in your real-life story. Those faces. That church. With all the warts and frustrations and inconveniences youâre increasingly aware of. When you ponder the flesh-and-blood Christians you know, and worship with weekly, and share the Table with, do you think of yourself as special in distinction  to them? Or are you special with  them? Really Belong to His Body Local churches are wonderfully humbling collectives. And one of the chief ways God roughs up our souls, and keeps them in shape, and prepares them to welcome his humbling hand when it descends â and often brings the very conflicts that are his humbling work â is through really belonging to a particular, imperfect local body of fellow believers. Really belong. Really join. As a fellow sheep. (Pastors too. Humble ones think of themselves first and foremost as sheep, not shepherds. They rejoice not that the demons are subject to them in great acts of ministry, but that their names are written in heaven, Luke 10:20.) Among other blessings, one gift that the messy, often difficult life of the local church offers us, if we will let it, is the regular reminder that weâre not that special, not in whatever twisted ways we like to tell ourselves. We are indeed special to God with these people , but not in comparison with them. And what the down-to-earth life of the local church reminds us is how good it can be to be normal, and to remember, for our good, that no Christian is exempt from normal Christianity: from repentance, from trust in Christ alone for forgiveness, from the moment-by-moment help of his Spirit, from saturating our lives in the word of God, from daily availing ourselves of his ear in prayer, and from genuinely belonging to his body in a local church. Good to Be Normal Brothers and sisters, letâs rehearse for ourselves, as much as we need it, that we are indeed special, and at the same time not that  special, not in ways convenient to our flesh. And letâs celebrate that together with Jesusâs church, we are indeed special. You are special â you  plural. Jesus loved the church and gave himself up for her. He laid down his life for this sheep. Through faith in Jesus, we are joined to him, and not alone. And in him we also are joined to his people, his bride, his flock. He has loved us  (plural) with his special, electing, and effective love. We glory in this specialness, and die to sinâs temptation to think of ourselves as special in ways that swell our hearts with conceit.