Others like how to take the limits off god Features >>
How To Keep Your Healing
How To Become A Wise Man In God's Eyes: Worship Him
How To Know The Will Of God
How To Know The Will Of God
How To Live And Not Die
How To Stay In Your High Calling
Following The Path Of The Eagle
How You Can Know The Will Of God
Learning To Flow With The Spirit Of God
Holding To The Word Of The Lord
About the Book
"How to Take the Limits Off God" by Morris Cerullo offers readers practical ways to tap into the unlimited power and blessings of God. Cerullo guides readers on how to break free from self-imposed limitations and embrace God's limitless potential for their lives. The book encourages readers to deepen their faith, trust in God's promises, and live a life of abundance and purpose.
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.
Telling the Gospel Through Story
Steve was a house painter from England vacationing at a beach in the Philippines with his family. I happened to be staying at the same resort. One day during a conversation that began to turn toward spiritual things, Steve said, "I've talked to numerous religious leaders but they've never been able to answer my questions satisfactorily. So I've given up on religion and am trying to live a good life." "What were your questions?" I asked. "The main one is, why is the world so unfair? Why is there pain and suffering and why doesn't God, if there is a God, do something about it?" "Could I have a go at sharing something I've learned about these things using a story from the Bible?" I asked. "I don't believe the Bible." "That's no problem. I hope you'll find the story helpful anyway." We started with Genesis 1 and God's intentions for his world. The story concluded, "Then God said, 'Let us make people in our image. He made a man out of the dust of the earth and God breathed his spirit into the man. So Adam became a living being. Later God put Adam to sleep and took one of his ribs and made a wife, Eve, for him. God said, 'Rule over the animals … multiply and fill the earth.' Finally God looked at everything he had made and blessed it. He said, 'It is very good.' On the seventh day God rested from his work because he had completed the work of creation." Soon Steve's two children and his son's girlfriend casually drifted over to listen. I filled them in on the story so far and continued by explaining the beginning of pain and trouble in the world from Genesis 3. I mentioned the story's strange hint of hope when God says to Adam and Eve, "The snake and the descendants of the woman will be at war. The snake will strike her descendant's heel, but one day a descendent will crush the head of the snake." During the discussion one of my listeners said, "I know you're going to say that Jesus is the one coming to crush the snake's head, but how will he do it?" "Can I tell you a few more stories before Jesus?" I replied. "That will make everything clearer." So we continued on through the stories of Abraham, the exodus and the rest of the Old Testament. Each story set up the one that followed it so my audience would understand the nature of the human problem and how desperately we needed a Savior. My listeners peppered me with questions, and we discussed them one by one. Most often I asked them a question in return, and they found themselves answering their own questions based on what they'd already learned. Sometimes I said, "That will be answered in an upcoming story." Finally, after about an hour, we reached the end of the Old Testament. "Come on," they begged. "Don't leave us in suspense. Tell us how Jesus saves!" Outside our open-air dining room, the beach beckoned. It was a perfect day for snorkeling, and this family had come from winter-bound England to play in the sun. Their holiday was almost finished—but today the beach might as well not have existed. We continued through Jesus' birth and ministry. Finally we reached his death and resurrection. "Do you remember what the temple curtain in the Old Testament symbolized?" I asked. "The separation between God and people," said one. "What was the only way people could be forgiven and continue to be friends with God?" "A representative had to prepare himself carefully and then kill a perfect sacrifice and take its blood through the curtain," another responded. "So what did it mean when the temple curtain split from top to bottom just when Jesus died?" They started hesitantly, saying, "I guess it means … that because Jesus died … the barrier between us and God has been dealt with." Then they concluded in a rush, "So we can once again be friends with God." "So Jesus was like that perfect sacrifice," one said. "Yes, but he was also the representative," chimed in another. At last I called an end to the storying before we'd exhausted ourselves and lost the joy of discovery. Two days later as the family was departing, Steve said, "I'm going home to find my Bible. If those religious experts had told me such relevant stories, I would have happily gone to their church and wouldn't have given up searching." How did I get involved with Bible storying? I was a reluctant starter. As a teenager, the child of missionaries, I had heard about chronological Bible storying. My impression was that it was best suited for illiterate tribal peoples. When I became a missionary myself, my context was different. I did church planting with OMF International among working-class people in modern, industrialized southern Taiwan. Nearly everyone could read, although a large portion of the population chose to learn in ways other than via the printed word. I taught the Bible in a wide range of situations, from one-to-one evangelism and discipling to Bible study groups, training seminars and public teaching. I used many stories to illustrate my teaching. Constant feedback and self-evaluation helped improve my teaching, but I never thought to change my basic communication building blocks. God obviously had a different plan! In 2004 I observed a six-hour OMF training seminar in which the leader told stories from Genesis to the ascension. I enjoyed the stories personally, but I still didn't think they suited my style. I was already a reasonable communicator and believed it would be a huge challenge to adapt my teaching style. Simply put, change of this magnitude seemed like too much work. So I learned to tell the creation story with reluctance. The next step was to find someone who would listen to it. I chose a busy photo-developing shop for my first attempt—a decision that, looking back, may not have been wise. I didn't do a particularly good job with the story. And a constant flow of customers meant numerous interruptions. What astounded me was the response of the hearer. She loved the story and wanted to hear more. Suddenly I was no longer having to initiate gospel conversations. Instead people were asking me to tell them about the Bible. The adventure of a lifetime had started. The wonderful thing about storying is that it's far more than a quick telling of the good news. We Christians often want our evangelistic methods to be time-efficient and produce guaranteed results. But evangelism should not be hurried. People who have heard and discussed many stories come to Christ more prepared than those who are evangelized in other ways. In one sense, you could say that storying is "discipling people to conversion." If you're reading this, then you're probably already committed to communicating the gospel in the best way possible. You long to see Jesus glorified, with your family, friends and neighbors part of that crowd rejoicing around the throne (Rev 7:10, 12). Learning to story is worth the investment in time and energy. I often see hope dawning on people's faces as they're trained in this method. They're delighted to discover that they've found a simple, biblical tool almost anyone can learn. If you've been frustrated that people don't seem interested in hearing the gospel, you may be amazed at how well storying works. I've found it to be more fruitful and effective than many other approaches to evangelism. It's a natural, appealing way to communicate the gospel, and once you get started, people actually want to hear more. Storying has great potential to help many people come to know God. Christine Dillon