Grace and peace to you dear friends in Christ.

As part of our own participation in the semiquincentennial celebrations of the United States this summer, I will be continuing our journey through the spiritual history of the original 13 Colonies. Where Pastor Arden began with the founding of Virginia last week in 1607, tracing the religious history and the impact Pochahuntus’ personal sacrifice had on the colony’s early settlers, I will be taking us forward in time to the founding of New Hampshire as a place of religious refuge and spiritual awakening. As part of that journey we will reflect on the contributions of everyday people whose gifts were largely ignored, forgotten or trivialized as myths—people like Betsy Ross and the nameless women who quietly rebelled through needle and thread.

I am going to admit, I had to look up the correct name for a 250th anniversary. And while I don’t think I could say it three times fast, it is truly remarkable how many people have contributed to this country’s story. Whether they were its original ancestors and stewards of the land, such as the indigenous Abenaki and Pennacook people, were forced here through indentured servitude as my Mother’s Scottish family, or came seeking religious freedom and a simpler life such as the Quakers.

Founded in the 1620s as a fishing and trading outpost, it eventually evolved into the first colony to declare independence from Great Britain. Renamed “New Hampshire” after the ceremonial county of Captain John Mason’s English home, which lies in the South-East region of England, the new colony quickly became recognized as a desirable refuge for an idyllic life of solitude and simplistic pleasures. Writing back to his fellow countrymen after a summertime voyage along New Hampshire’s coastline, Captain John Smith stated:

“Here should be no landlords to rack us with high rents, or extorted fines to consume us. Here every man may be a master of his own labor and land in a short time. The sea there is the strangest pond I ever saw. What sport doth yield a more pleasant content and less hurt or charge than angling with a hook, and crossing the sweet air from isle to isle over the silent streams of a calm sea?”
As with most beautiful land, the territory was temporarily seized by a larger power, here the Massachusetts Bay Colony, whose strict adherence to the religious principles of the Church of England and its culture of parish taxation failed to align with New Hampshire’s people. You see, unlike its colonial neighbors, New Hampshire was never officially set-up as a religious refuge for a certain expression of Christianity—such as the English Puritans or Dutch Reformed. Because its value was recognized in the splendor of its land, from the quality of its fishing ports, to the bounty of its forests of timber and wildlife for furs, the area was never officially claimed by any-one group of Protestant believers. Therefore, New Hampshire remained uniquely positioned for religious tolerance.

And it was out of this religious tolerance that New Hampshire experienced the unexpected gift of a spiritual awakening. Where there was little room for spiritual curiosity throughout the neighboring colonies, New Hampshire became known as a place of religious refuge for those Protestant ministers whose’ spiritual convictions put them at odds with their congregations and government. At a time in which the pastor was responsible for ensuring that each and everyone of their sheep followed the spiritual rules of the state church, escaping to the idyllic landscape of tolerant New Hampshire became more attractive than an extra large bucket of Sweet Martha’s cookies at the Great Minnesota Get Together.

While historians differ on the founding events which set America’s religious curiosity on fire, over a period of about twenty years from 1730s-1750s, American Christianity underwent its first “Great Awakening.” This period was characterized by an intense interest in one’s spiritual calling to do God’s saving work in the world. This period of joyful revival was especially strong in New Hampshire, and the state spiritually benefitted a very diverse spectrum of Protestant preachers.

One of these diverse preachers was George Whitefield, a friend and contemporary of John Wesley. Whitfield was known for giving such passionate and emotional sermons to the masses, that an “endless river of believers” would line up to share their testimonies of conversion. To be clear, they were not converting from unbelief to a belief. Rather, they were converting from what they believed to be a spiritually dead faith of religious obligation to one characterized by a joyful passion for God’s continued work in the world. This work shifted from being the collective work of we, to the individual work of me. I say it again. God’s work shifted from being the collective work of we, to the individual responsibility of me.
Within this movement, all believers–not just the clergy—were challenged to do their part in building the kingdom of God. At a time in which one’s very life depended on shared resources, the Great Awakening inspired people to be God’s hands and feet in the world. Where some took to the evangelical circuit of lay preaching, an even greater number shared the good news through seemingly secular, every day tasks. Tending your sheep could be an act of love for God’s creation, spinning yarn for fabric could be a ministry of skilled-service, or fishing could be a ministry of hospitality–ensuring there were enough provisions for the widows and orphans in one’s community. In this new world, everything should be done as an act of praise and testament to God’s faithfulness.

Perhaps like no other time in history, there was a group of believers from every expression of colonial Christianity whose’ ministry was finally recognized for its transformative power: the ministry of everyday women.

Speaking of colonial women on the eve of Flag Day, one cannot help but think of Betsy Ross and her ministry of sewing flags for our young country. Born at the end of the Great Awakening in 1752, Elizabeth “Betsy” Griscom, was an American upholsterer who was credited by her relatives in 1870 with designing and making the first US flag, colloquially known as the “Betsy Ross Flag.” It’s the one with 13 stripes and 13 white, five pointed stars arranged in a circle against the backdrop of a navy blue canton. While most historians and vexillologists (that is the fancy term for one who studies flags) dismiss the family story of Betsy and her contributions.

However, as both a woman and a church historian, I am well acquainted with the reality that the contributions and gifts of everyday women were largely ignored, forgotten or trivialized as myths—people like Betsy Ross and the nameless women who quietly rebelled through needle andthread. Perhaps she did see her sewing as an act of love—-a spiritual gift she used to champion the freedom of an early nation. A gift she used to be God’s hands in the world. For those who grew up in the American church, all this talk about God’s work may have you thinking about the 21st century hymn of the same title…

God’s work our hands: building a future repairing the world, raising up homes,
planting new gardens, feeding the hungry, sheltering the cold.
God’s work, our feet: traveling together, following Jesus to places unknown, walking as friends,
marching for freedom, running the race with God’s future the goal.

Whether it was or wasn’t Betsy Ross doesn’t distract from the reality that this nation was blessed by centuries of nameless, everyday women who shared the gospel through their actions. This country was blessed, and continues to be blessed by those who believe that God’s work isn’t done. Perhaps we need to look back to colonial history and take note of its gifts. From the freedom gifted through tolerance, to the renewing energy gifted through spiritual awakening, to the transformative power gifted through everyday work.

As we declared at the beginning of worship, “…Enter the gates of the LORD with thanksgiving and the courts with praise; give thanks and bless God’s holy name…” (Psalm 100)
Just remember, everything we need to bless others is here in our three feet of space, if only we use the tools (hands) that we have already been gifted.

Go make history dear ones. Amen.
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