Welcome, grace and peace to you my family in Christ. If you have been worshiping with us this summer, then you already know we have been working through the history of our faith throughout the original 13 Colonies. Where we learned about Connecticut last week, today we will continue our journey South into the villages of North Carolina. Here we will look to the revival ministry of George Whitfield as an enduring charge for believers today—especially for our little community of saints here at Lake of the Isles.

When I was a senior in high school, my friends invited me to a revival that was being held at an evangelical mega church. There had to be a few thousand people in attendance, and there was this joyful energy pulsating through the crowd. I recall feeling a little off that morning, but decided it was probably more my nerves than anything else. But as I was singing alongside my friend, trying to seem like I knew what I was doing and that I didn’t feel like a total outsider, I raised my hands into the air to worship like everyone around me, and that’s when it happened. I fainted. Lying on the floor for what felt like an eternity, that’s when I heard the older lady exclaim in delight, “the Holy Spirit got her!”
While it’s not to say the Holy Spirit didn’t “get me” while I was awkwardly singing in this giant auditorium, the paramedics later concluded that I had incredibly low blood sugar and simply needed juice. Nevertheless, the same older woman approached me in the lobby to express her joy that the Holy Spirit had chosen to work through me for all to see and believe!

Part 1: History of North Carolina Colony
Well the earlier settlers who made their way to North Carolina cared very much about the work of the Spirit. While some came directly from English shores, such as the community at Roanoke Island–colloquially known now as the Lost Colony–the majority came from the religiously oppressive north, where the cost of land had already priced out the majority. As land grew scarce in Pennsylvania and Virginia, thousands of European migrants—primarily Scots-Irish, Quakers, and German Moravians—trekked south into North Carolina’s central Piedmont region via the Great Philadelphia Wagon Road.

While the colonial history of North Carolina carries the same shameful story of forced disbursement of its native people, with one disenfranchised group pushing out the next. Nevertheless, what we see so clearly in the history of North Carolina—and sadly most of history–is the painful truth that hurting people hurt people. Again, hurting people hurt people. I suppose it’s human nature that in our desperation to feel better, we reach out and grab whatever he can get hold of to push ourselves up. Maybe it’s that uncalled for sarcastic joke about our colleague, or that time we pretended not to see that car trying to merge. As we have all experienced, it doesn’t take much to hurt or be hurt. It doesn’t take much to become blind to the work of the Spirit or the joyful treasure we have in Christ Jesus. It doesn’t take much to become so caught up in our pursuit of better, that the rhythm of religion replaces any relationship with God or each other.

Part 2: George Whitfield
It was out of this concern for how and why “good Christians” were looking less and less like good Christians that many people chose to leave everything behind and sail towards this foreign land. One early traveler who forever shaped the landscape of protestant Christianity in America is the Anglican itinerant preacher, George Whitefield. Before his missionary travels to America, Whitefield lived a relatively humble life. As his father died when he was just a boy, Whitefield experienced the reality of needing to work not only to support his family, but to pay for his education. Whereas many of his peers at Oxford had the safety of income, family and personal connections, Whitefield found himself intimately connected with the realities of the working poor…all while pursuing a calling towards ordained ministry.

But more importantly, Whitfield saw how deeply unhappy the people who had everything truly were. They had the typical treasures one associates with prosperity, but none of the joy. They may have been “good Christians”—they gave during the stewardship drive, sang in the pick-up choir, and even gave a dollar to that man at the corner of Hennepin and Franklin. But Whitefield worried these actions were merely the compulsions of religion as opposed to an outpouring of the heart.

We can preach the Gospel of Christ no further than we have experienced
the power of it in our own hearts….George Whitefield

Much to the annoyance of pastors and priests throughout the colonies, Whitefield’s passionate sermons transcended the boundaries of denominational walls. Actually, if you turn to the cover of your bulletin, you will see Thomas Walley’s illustration of Whitefield preaching to the masses in 1750. What you will see are people from every class, gathered in rapt attention under an open sky, hearing about the joyful freedom within the kingdom of God.

And isn’t that what we are doing right here in this place? There may not be quite so many people, and I am actually thankful we aren’t sitting outside in this glorious heat and humidity, but are we also not gathered here as faithful people, waiting to be reminded of the same beautiful truth:

(As Jesus said) “The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which a man found and reburied;
then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field.” Matthew 13:44

I love this funny little parable about one person’s immeasurable joy about finding the kingdom in the most unlikely of places. I can’t help but envision someone akin to Ebenezer Scrooge–after the three hauntings of course, who wildly runs through the streets of London spreading the joy of Christmas cheer. And when I read through some of Whitefield’s sermons, I hear this same joyful abandon—I hear this sense of urgency and a willingness to risk everything to share the good news. He may not have buried his treasure in a field, or run half-naked through Victorian London with a Christmas goose, but his joy for the kingdom clearly shined.

Part 3: The Great Awakening
We also learn from Whitefield’s sermons that part of this joy, part of this “great awakening” is choosing to see the work of the Holy Spirit right before us. I know I find it easier to see the work of the spirit when I reflect on the past–like when my father came home from Iraq after being declared missing, or when I finally got to hold my son after so many years of lost pregnancies and broken hope. But it is harder to see the Spirit when they are in fact working right here, in the midst of our cluttered and distractible lives. Sometimes it’s too difficult to find the treasure buried in the field.

But part of what makes revivals so effective is their ability to pull us out of the clouds of our own distractions. It’s true that some revivals are more about promoting the preacher—amplifying their voice and flavor of prosperity from sea to shining sea (can I get an “amen”?). However, there is something about a good cry that opens our eyes to what truly matters. There is something truly cathartic about confronting our own sin in the company of others, even if that confrontation is simply within our hearts. I know talking about sin feels deeply uncomfortable, even though we easily confess our need for Jesus’ redemptive love and grace. Throughout my denominational journey, from navigating between my father’s Roman Catholic proclivities and my mother’s rural Baptist experiences, to my own mega-church evangelical days in suburban Sacramento, I have seen how different Christian traditions confront the impact of sin.

During my time in seminary, my Episcopal and Lutheran colleagues would often boast about our practice of weekly confession as part of our liturgy—as though we were more spiritually evolved than our fellow protestant cousins. However, I can’t recall a single sermon where we were challenged to face the impact of our careless, selfish or destructive choices. I can’t recall a single sermon where we were compelled to name and confront the sin in our lives. Perhaps this is why George Whitefield messages of spiritual awakening were so compelling to some and repelling to others.

Here we will take a short contextual detour with your resident church historian: You see what made Whitefield’s messages of spiritual revival so provocative is that he directly challenged the long established character and style of preaching throughout the Anglican Church (which came to be known as the Episcopal Church in America after independence).

Where the Anglican Church was built on a hierarchical order of all things spiritual–meaning believers needed to follow the ladder of absolution handed down from the Archbishop and the Crown, to one’s bishop, then to one’s dean, and finally to one’s pastor or priest. If you follow this order, you can see how great the space between everyday believers and their God becomes. You can see how this space creates opportunities for believers to become blind to their own responsibilities—how this space creates a need for one’s spirituality to become dependent upon the interpretations and experiences of those categorically above you. However, Whitefield charismatically challenged the order of things. This is not to say that pastors and bishops were no longer needed, but ordinary people could access and respond to the work of the spirit in their own lives. In Whitefield’s church, the laity could be trusted to name, confront, repent, and turn back to God. If given the right encouragement, if revived in the right way, the laity could be inspired to close the gap and take up the mantle of Christian responsibility. Nevertheless, if there is only one thing you take away from this history lesson, remember this: revivals—in all their emotional weight—compel us to pull back the curtains and see our unfiltered clutter. They challenge us to spiritually stop and confront the dead parts within ourselves.

The Charge:
With that said, I wonder what it would take for our little church to experience the same type of awakened revival? I wonder what it would look like if we rediscovered the joyful treasure of God’s call under all the dirt in our lives? I wonder what it would look like if we carried the joy of that good news beyond these walls and into the farthest reaches of our lives?

But I also wonder what it will take for us to remove those obstacles that make it far too easy to keep the good news of Christ’s redeeming love all to ourselves? I am not speaking of any sinister obstacles either. I am speaking of those silly things that cloud our vision, and distract us from seeing the needs around us. Perhaps it’s those hours of distracted browsing–spending more time envisioning the life you wish you had, as opposed to celebrating the sacred weight of this very moment. Maybe your house is a mess, the landscaping didn’t turn out as you expected, there is less in your 401K than you hoped, and that vacation just couldn’t come soon enough.

Or maybe your obstacle is that totem of failure, anger, regret or vengeance in your rearview mirror? Just as our friends who are distracted by the version of their life they hope to live, you may be fixated on righting wrongs that can only be healed through acceptance, forgiveness and grace.

Whether your gaze is transfixed on the future or locked on echoes of the past, both keep us from seeing the glorious Kingdom that surrounds us. Both keep us from seeing those wee small mustard seeds that have been planted all around us.  (However, please know that if there is darkness in your life—if there are obstacles that have become too great to bear, know that Pastor Arden and others are here to walk with you and help you find your way back. No matter how far you feel as though you have wondered, remember “the light shown in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” John 1:5)

With that (being said) friends, I ask how will you share the joyful treasure that is the Kingdom of God this week? How will you plant your mustard seed? Where will you plant it? Why will you plant it? When will you plant it? And will you care for it as it grows?  We may not have faced all that they did in colonial America, but we still need the joyful reminder that the Spirit is with us, and it’s a magnificent treasure worth discovering over and over again.

Amen.