"In Memory Of A Special Mother" Sermon Delivered By Reverend Richard E. Stetler – May 13, 2012 Centenary United
Psalm 98; John 15:9-17
Mother’s Day gives people all over the world a moment in time to give thanks for the woman that delivered them and introduced them to the world. Have we ever wondered how many mothers have questioned what their efforts accomplished in rearing their children? Many mothers only hope that they are happy and have the motivation to reach for their dreams. In that poem,
One Solitary Life, one
sentence reminds us how mysterious legacy formation is.
That sentence reads:
All the armies that
ever marched, all the navies that ever sailed, all the parliaments that
ever sat, all the kings that ever reigned put together, have not
affected the life of humanity on earth as much as that one solitary
life. These words were
referring to the impact of Jesus’ life on the human race. What qualities
cause the memory of some people to endure throughout history while
others quickly fade from human memory?
This morning we are going to consider one woman’s legacy, a
legacy that endured because she knew God was with her through every
experience of her life. Susannah was born
the 25th and the last child of her family. Her father was an Anglican
pastor that publically challenged the current theological conclusions of
his day from his pulpit. His thinking was way ahead of its time, but his
bishop took a dim view of his insights. Susannah’s father was abruptly
moved from a wealthy parish where people adored him to one of the
poorest. And it was into this
setting of poverty that Susannah was born. To broaden our
understanding of the social climate of Susannah’s day, a highly
respected statesman named Shelburn proclaimed publicly, “Women are
domestic animals. It is a
serious mistake to educate them because knowledge only makes them
restless. The only kind of education they require is how to sew, cook
and do domestic chores.” No one chafed at
such words because they accurately reflected the prevailing attitude in
the society. Susannah’s father
and mother, however, gave their daughter an excellent education.
She grew up like her father, i.e., bright, confident, opinionated
in a very healthy way and filled with the daily awareness of God’s
presence. Because Susannah’s
father was so controversial in his theological views, he attracted
open-minded seminary students to their home for discussions. One of
those students was named Samuel Wesley. When Samuel met Susannah, it was
love at first sight. It was
not long thereafter that the two were married. Susannah became a
minister’s wife for the next 45 years and then a minister’s widow during
the last seven years of her life. Once he was
ordained, Samuel was appointed by the bishop to Epworth, a parish that
was unlike all others in It was here that
Susannah delivered a baby every year for the first 20 years of
their marriage. She had very difficult pregnancies and the birth of
their first son, Samuel, Jr., almost claimed her life.
Because there was no medicine being practiced, Susannah and
Samuel buried ten of their children in infancy or in their early
childhood. In spite of these
conditions, the two managed to rear six extremely attractive daughters
and three sons. The Wesley girls were so beautiful that everyone talked
about them; but only one of them had a happy marriage. Susannah had
home-schooled each of them as she had been, but five of them married
Epworth men who prized their sensuality while despising their
world-views. In fact, life
became so oppressive for her daughters that Susannah once wrote,
“Sometimes it is better to lose them in infancy than to suffer with them
during their adult lives.” The conditions of
the Epworth parish were miserable.
The salary was worse than poverty wages. What made matters worse
was that Samuel failed at everything. His people skills were
nonexistent. He appeared to possess no common sense.
He tried so hard, but his sermons only succeeded in angering
people because he continued to condemn the quality of their lives. The relationship
between Samuel and his congregation had deteriorated to such an extent
that one night a riot broke out in front of the parsonage.
Samuel had gone to a religious convention.
Believing that he was home, members of his congregation burned
fires, beat on drums and fired their guns until dawn. A number of hours
before the riot started, Susannah had delivered a baby. The baby was
with a nurse across the street from the Wesley parsonage. In the very
early hours of the morning, the nurse had fallen into a deep sleep. Weary herself from being up all night, she rolled over on the infant and
suffocated it. Here was Susannah, totally exhausted, up all night from
the noise of the riot, a house full of children, her husband gone, and
in came the nurse to put a lifeless baby into her arms. Then there were the
three fires in the Wesley home. It was the third fire in 1709 that has
meant so much to Methodist lore.
Little Hettie awakened to
burning ambers falling on to her bed from the ceiling. She woke up
everyone in the house and there was immediate chaos. Once they gathered
outside, Susannah counted the children and there was one missing. Suddenly someone spotted little
Jackie up in the second story window. Samuel rushed toward the
house, but the fire was so intense he could not enter.
He knelt and prayed
for God to receive their son into his kingdom while Susannah organized a
rescue operation. She got strong men to stand on each other’s shoulders.
Jackie, who later became known as John, was snatched just seconds before
the roof caved in. Susannah
later wrote in her diary, “God must have saved John for a purpose.” The Wesley family
never recovered economically from that fire.
Samuel’s years of labor on his
book went up in smoke. Susannah lost all her father’s papers and sermons
that had become her most precious possession. Even years later, people
coming to the rebuilt parsonage saw how partially furnished the home was
and how poorly dressed the children were.
For 45 years, this was the garden in which Susannah
grew. Where was the joy? Where was the pleasure? Where were the happy
moments, the sense of personal fulfillment and peace that comes with
God’s presence? Did
Susannah ever wonder, “What is the purpose for all of these events?” Apparently, she never had such thoughts. Our lesson today from the Gospel of John provided words of encouragement for Susannah during the years of chaos and drama in her life. Jesus said, “I love you just as my Father loves me. If you follow what I have taught you, your spirits will always be expressing love, just as I have followed and remained in my Father’s love.” (John 15:9f)Susannah loved God more and more with each passing year. She refused to make any judgments about her experiences. She never speculated about the meaning of anything. Three times a day she withdrew from her worldly cares for moments of prayer, scripture reading and quiet. Every day she practiced extending her loving presence in all circumstances just as Jesus had instructed and had done himself. She also followed through on instantly letting go of feelings that did not serve any loving purpose. Out of the swamps
of Epworth grew this lovely, energy-filled woman.
She was armed with a verse from our lesson today, “I have chosen
you to go and bear much fruit, the kind of fruit that endures.”
The
fruit that endures is what
produced that one solitary life.
Susannah’s father
and mother had taught her self-worth. When a young woman is told all her
life that she is a domestic
animal and society reflects that image back to her, think of how
difficult it must have been for Susannah to learn that. She had
inherited a lot of her father’s defiance of their society’s prevailing
attitudes. There came a time
when her husband, Samuel, left Susannah and the children for a year.
The tension between the two had grown so great that they could
not remain under the same roof.
The Assistant Minister that assumed responsibility for the
Epworth parish could only preach about money. Sunday after Sunday every
sermon was some new exposition about money. The congregation grew weary
and started to dwindle in numbers. Sensing what was
happening during her husband’s absence, Susannah began holding meetings
in her kitchen, a setting that later expanded into her lawn area.
Within a few months, the number of people attending had grown to
over 200. The Assistant Minister wrote Samuel about Susannah’s
activities. Samuel was furious and wrote a scorching letter ordering her
to stop immediately, citing that it was inappropriate to hold meetings
outside of the church, but even more so because she was a woman. She responded by
picking up her pen and writing Samuel a long letter discussing all the
wonderful things that were happening. Then she said, “If you want me to
stop these meetings, you are going to have to give me such an absolute
command to do so that I will be absolved of all guilt when you and I
stand before God during the final judgment.”
Samuel did not respond.
Instead, he decided to return home. Susannah spent six
hours each day home schooling her children. Their three boys all became She became a
self-taught lay minister and theologian. She was responsible for lay
preaching in the Thomas Maxfield was
the first lay preacher. When John Wesley heard what Thomas was doing, he
returned to Susannah had given
Methodism its name, she provided the disciplines for teaching others and
she introduced lay preachers to the movement. What caused her
fruit to endure was her love.
The miracle was that she loved her husband deeply in spite of his
faults and failures. Her
love grew to embrace the world community.
When John Wesley wrote, “The world is my parish,” those words
came from his mother’s influence. By this time, John
and Charles were traveling hundreds of thousands of miles preaching,
establishing meeting houses and writing thousands of hymns.
One day with her death close at
hand, Susannah sent for her children. Just before she lost the power to
speak, she said, “Children, as soon as I am released, sing a hymn of
praise to God.” Susannah had discovered that all
circumstances, in spite of the misery they can produce, had the power to
refine human life rather than define it.
Because Susannah never forgot that, she produced loving energy
patterns that transformed every obstacle into an opportunity to serve,
an opportunity to bear witness to her faith.
In so doing, she became the
mother of Methodism. More
than likely, we would not be here this morning had it not been for her
ability to make her faith visible.
As we have said before – now it is our turn to pass it on.
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