On Living with a Concern for Gospel Ministry

Introduction

Dear Friend,

We have no time but this present time to bear witness to the power of the Light to re-create the human heart, and thus transform our doing, our seeing, and our speaking. The ways of Quakerism were discovered and inhabited so that we might live freely and passionately, faithful to the Spirit that moves according to its own imperatives. The path to that freedom and that radical availability is one of practice, but also of learning, and we need all the help we can get from our community, as well as from the essential leader, the Light of Christ experienced within.

In this learning and helping, we cannot neglect the power of words and ideas to help individuals and communities forward along the way, though the aim is not powerful words, but lives filled more and more with God’s power. A vibrant, diverse, and dedicated ministry has always been an important contributor to Friends’ witness to the world, and to the health of Quaker spiritual life. Yet there is at present little understanding of ministry as a calling, as a long-term concern, among unprogrammed Friends.

The gospel ministry speaks from a living inward experience of Christ’s Spirit in its struggles to be brought forth in each of us, for the refreshment of its life in those that hear. Such vocal ministry has always been an essential nutrient for a vital spiritual testimony—to encourage and support the gathered community, to gather others to the community, and to turn others to the witness of Christ in their hearts, whether they join Friends or not.

Yet we have much to learn about how our ministry can grow in diversity and power in our own times, and I believe that, in part, this means learning again about the gospel ministry as a service to which some of us are explicitly, obediently committed for a long period of time. There are many good treatments of “vocal ministry in the meeting for worship,” but very few of them address what Friends have historically recognized as a calling to this service. The important missing ingredient is the element of time: that is, what happens (and should happen) if a Friend rightly continues in this service, for a period of years.

I have become convinced that an exploration of this experience is also a way to understand some fundamental aspects of Quaker practice and theology. The gospel ministry is rightly understood as complementary to all the other kinds of religious service that emerge in a community guided by the Spirit.

Moreover, it is important to realize that in traditional Quakerism, gospel ministry is much more than “preaching and teaching” as usually understood by other Christian traditions. Friends believe that worship is a simple, unceremonious act, and can “break out” whenever and whenever a Friend finds themselves aware of the awesome Presence. The traditional ministry is rooted in that point of view, and the minister is always on the lookout for “opportunities” when that Presence is to be felt and sought—in homes, workplaces, marketplace, prisons, as well as meetinghouses. In such opportunities, words may be given, in welcome, encouragement, gratitude, repentance, or joy. The ministry traditionally has always been a part of the distinctive Quaker “practice of the presence of God.” And perhaps uniquely to Friends, the minister’s consciousness takes seriously the realization that there are times when words are not called for, the recognition that if we find we are at the destination, gathered in the Teacher’s sweet presence, then human servants of the living Word can step aside while the Master is at work. For this reason, an exploration of what it means to carry this concern for a length of time may well throw some light upon spiritual issues that may arise when one carries any spiritual concern for a period of years.

The most famous treatment of the ministry is Samuel Bownas’s Description of the Qualifications Necessary to a Gospel Minister. I have received important help from this little book. Yet Samuel Bownas’s manual makes many assumptions about his audience which can hardly be made in these days. For example, he writes to Quakers who are familiar with the idea of a calling to ministry, who are familiar with the diverse activities of ministers in inter-visitation, family visits, opportunities, and the like; who are familiar with the Bible and used to seeing their own spiritual lives as a continuation of the Biblical story; who assume that Friends are to be markedly different from those around them; and who are familiar with the Quaker rhythms of worship and business daily, weekly, monthly and throughout the year. In these and other ways, the Quaker culture out of which Bownas wrote is not the culture most of us inhabit.

Our world is very different from that in which Bownas lived and worshipped. In the last 250 years, we have seen an increase in the prestige and accomplishments of science and technology, the rise of capitalism and socialism, as well as an astonishing accumulation of wealth in the North, with much of that wealth diverted to murderous weaponry on the one hand, and vacuous consumption on the other.

Even in America, the most church-going nation in the developed world, the increasingly common mindset—entrenched in the churches as well as other parts of society—is a primarily secular viewpoint, or its variant, the American “national religion.” Furthermore, consumerism is a key element of modern ideology. An essential element of this psychology is complete freedom of choice; we desire to customize our religion in the same way we might customize our home sound systems, mixing and matching components as we like.

Most Friends in unprogrammed meetings are “convinced,” and come to Friends both seeking what Friends have to offer and bringing some provisional answers of their own from previous seeking. For this reason, we are very vulnerable to the “shopping” approach to spirituality. In this climate the integrity of Quaker spirituality, and the depth of the practical resources that it offers over time, are overlooked or unguessed, as Friends and those who come among us shop in the spiritual supermarket.

Under these conditions, the spiritual work required of a Friend who feels particular concern for the ministry is in some ways very different from that confronting her predecessors from previous centuries.

While I hope that some of what follows may be valuable to anyone seeking to understand the Quaker way, I am particularly concerned for Friends in unprogrammed meetings who are willing to consider the possibility that the gospel ministry is for them a central, long-term “concern,” or might become one. [Gospel ministers, whose gift was the gift of articulation, felt it part of their duty to record their experiences as they sought to exercise their gift faithfully. This means that, from some periods of Quaker history, we have a lot of information about the growth, nurture, and pitfalls of gifts in vocal ministry. This reflects the central role that the ministry has played among us during the entire lifetime of the Quaker movement. On the other hand, other Friends, with other undoubted gifts, have not left us any such record of their lifecycle in ministry. Since Friends have not yet redressed this balance, we often find ourselves referring to the great body of history about vocal ministers, as a point from which to draw speculations or analogies about other kinds of ministers. I wish we could find a way to get around this artifact of our history! Nonetheless, the record of these ministers holds important instruction for anyone under a spiritual concern, and is a treasury that we have not profited from enough.]

Anyone in a meeting for worship is likely at some time or other to be pulled to their feet with a message for the meeting, and this openness is a precious aspect of our practice. As the disciplines say, “Do not assume that vocal ministry is never to be your part.” In fact, I believe (and hope) that the considerations written here may be of value and interest to any Friend.

However, it has been part of our experience from the beginnings of our movement that for some people, the vocal ministry becomes a concern, which is carried for some length of time, possibly for life, and that the presence of such Friends concerned for the Gospel ministry is a vital element nourishing the faithfulness of the whole body:

We do believe and affirm that some are more particularly called to the work of the ministry and therefore are fitted of the Lord for that purpose, whose work is more constantly and particularly to instruct, admonish, oversee, and watch over their brethren.
— Barclay 2002 [1678], 274

I use the term “gospel ministry” not primarily for continuity with the usage of earlier times, but rather to emphasize some important characteristics of the ministry as Friends have understood it. The Gospel is the “power of God to salvation”; it is the life and light of Christ at work, in characteristic ways, [That is, the Spirit of Christ is not just any spirit, and where it is at work it produces specific effects that testify to their source.] to bring us into freedom from spiritual bondage. Gospel ministry is service whose goal is to encourage, support, push, or invite people to seek and respond to the guidance, teaching, and activity of that Light and Life at work in all, right now. It is not merely speaking words in meetings for worship, but, under a sense of obedience to the motions of the Spirit, using words, deeds, or silent striving to help others (and ourselves) forward to the more abundant life that Jesus sought for his disciples, his friends. This ministry can take many forms, as will be explored hereafter, but the goal is always the same:

The main design of gospel ministry is to turn the children of men to the grace of God in themselves, which will teach them to work out their own salvation, and diligently to seek the Lord for themselves.
— Griffith 1779, 128

In what follows, you will find short essays on a range of topics. My hope is that you will dip into them as needed, as if reading letters from a friend. The reader will discover many stories and illustrations drawn from Quakerism of the past three centuries, but I must stress that this is not a nostalgic book. To the best of my ability, I am writing out of modern, lived experience, both mine and of many other Friends I know. However, our experience builds on the lives and testimony of many lives before us which have shaped the Quaker path, and they still offer important lessons for current living. They are our contemporaries and companions in the Spirit, and the continuity of fellowship is both a source of strength and of challenge to us.

My language and my testimony is Christian. Friends do not and should not enforce doctrinal standards, but it is clear to me that Quakerism is an innovative, radical, and “alternative Christianity” (Punshon 1982). In these times we need to be forthright in articulating our understanding of life under the guidance of the Spirit of Christ—and what is characteristic of that Spirit as opposed to others. “See if your Christ be the same that was from everlasting to everlasting, or is he changed according to the times?” [James Nayler, in Drayton (1994), 41.] The indispensable minimum is an intentional, reflective, direct discipleship to that Spirit.

Our experience will raise questions and conflicts. Jesus never said, “Blessed are those who have figured everything out.” Childlike, we must accept both the blessings and clarity that come, and the experience of ignorance as well. As we make room for the Christ spirit, and it grows stronger and more fully within, we will be better able to say and live, what we know, and wait upon the rest. This experience of obedience and openness has always been at the core of the experience of Gospel ministry, as well as Quaker practice in general, and the minister must be a persistent and patient student of that path and its mysteries of creation, healing, suffering, rejoicing, death, and rebirth.

The reader will see God referred to variously in my own prose. I don’t assign God a gender, but when I have Christ in mind, I sometimes use the masculine pronouns, though sometimes not. I have not edited the language of any quotations, except to shorten some (gaps are marked in the usual way, with ellipses), and occasionally to supply missing words for clarity, marked by square brackets.

Thou deep wader for the good of souls, this is wrote principally for thy sake, that thou mayest see others have gone the same way before thee, and be encouraged so as not to sink under thy burden. I found in the Lord’s time (as thou wilt, if thou patiently holds on thy way) that tribulation worketh patience, and patience experience, and experience hope.
     — John Griffith, 1779

— Brian Drayton
March 15, 2019
414 Pettingill Road
Lyndeborough, NH 03082 drayton.be@gmail.com

Part I: Foundations

Chapter 1: The Dilemma of Gospel Ministry in the 21st Century

Anyone who feels a concern for the Gospel ministry these days—that is, ministry that arises from, proclaims, and reaches to the life of the Gospel as Friends have understood it—faces several challenges which can be discouraging, and call into question the very notion of such a concern. Some of these challenges are specific to modern Quaker culture. Some are reflections of the broader society. Many of them challenge the life of faith itself. Perhaps another way to say this is, we are often unsure of what the Gospel is, and whether it should be preached, or its life encouraged; and we have a constricted view of what it may be. It behooves every Friend, but especially those who speak in ministry, to recognize and engage with these tensions honestly, with intellect, heart, and soul, because in them lie many of the spiritual challenges which we all face. The following are those which have seemed most pressing to me; doubtless you will think of others to add.

1. A tendency to restrict the room for divine activity in our lives.

Friends as a group are as infected as most members of our society with a strong reliance on human reason and strength. We constantly canvass the best ideas and opinions that we find in our workplaces and social or political life, and then make decisions in what might be called a businesslike manner, with only a hazy view of how the decision grows out of and relates to the divine life of the Holy Spirit. This is not because we do not care about divine life, but because we tend to seek divine guidance only in moments of high stress, or in important decisions about big questions. Yet we forget that our discernment is likely to be better when we come to such big issues after we have been practicing on the small things, both in our meetings and in our daily lives.

2. The fragmentation of the Quaker movement.

The divisions among Friends are long-established historical trends, which have characteristic realizations in each nation. While in places like Britain or Kenya the theological variations are held in uneasy solution within Yearly Meetings; in North America, these trends took on substantive expression in umbrella organizations such as Friends United Meeting, Evangelical Friends International, and Friends General Conference. These associations arose in response to a sincere desire for effective witness and mutual support, and as a partial gesture towards unity. They have also, to some extent, institutionalized a state of faction. Each “branch” in North America has developed its preferred religious language, literature, customs, and organizations.

For many Friends, and perhaps especially the majority of unprogrammed Friends, the consciousness of this remarkable diversity has made it hard to speak with any sense of confidence about the relationship between our subjective life, the central assertions and discoveries of Quakerism, and the life of the world at large. Respect for individual experience, a fundamental Quaker value from the earliest times, is now accompanied by modern developments that loosen or eliminate our connections with our religious tradition, including the post-modern response to a diverse world. We find it hard or impossible to speak with joy and confidence out of a shared experience of the work of Christ in and through us. Early Friends were remarkably diverse as well, yet they still felt unity, not in their beliefs primarily, but in their understanding of their center: the Light of Christ which was the key to their experience.

3. A secular view of time.

People have always been liable to be so absorbed in their business, family, and other affairs that they do not reserve substantive time for prayer and reflection. This is not a malady of the twenty-first century alone, but a persistent feature of human life. The sources of this busyness are many; beyond a certain point it is not because of necessity. Rather, in activity we feel our reality. In some kinds of activity, we establish or reinforce our importance to others, or make an argument to ourselves about our own value. Moreover, it cannot be denied that activity sometimes provides us with escape from ourselves, and also from confronting the activity that Friends call Truth which is likely to be met in silence and stillness.

While these things are not new, it may well be that our modern society has created more means of distraction and empty activity than have ever existed before. How great a fear there is, in our culture, that we might not exercise every possible choice, or that we should ever accept any constraint upon our freedom! It is seen as positively good to always be in reach of friends, family, work, and the marketplace; and in the activity of communication and participation in the culture, we find a defense against our fear of aloneness.

Yet there is nothing that will kill a concern, and the growth of one’s ability to carry it faithfully, more quickly than an overactive mind. The habits of too much activity, too much stimulation, and too much communication, can keep us stunted spiritually, preempting the faculties of prayer and reflection. These distractions can shield us from more important things in which we would rather not engage.

4. The consumer approach to religion.

Since the beginning of the Quaker movement, people coming in to the Society of Friends have brought with them all kinds of baggage—personal, social, theological. I can attest to this personally. Commonly enough, we incomers have unpacked these bags in a way that influenced the Quakerism we joined, or at least the Quakerism we were able to experience.

However, the last 100 years have seen a remarkable, double change. On the one hand, the proportion of “convinced Friends” has become much larger than the proportion of Friends who have grown up in the tradition (in some yearly meetings it is by far the largest group). On the other hand, Quakers of whatever genesis have become much more complete participants in the surrounding culture, which has become eclectic and consumer-oriented to an extreme, even with respect to spirituality and religion.

The consequent intensified sense of personal search in a global marketplace has made it possible for Friends to hunt diligently in many different traditions for knowledge and practices that give them some sense of comfort, insight, or renewal. For my part, I have been glad to learn from several traditions, including those I was raised in before I found Friends.

Yet there are costs as well as benefits deriving from this eclecticism, and especially for the ministry in unprogrammed worship. One of the most regrettable consequences has been the loss of a deep exploration of Quakerism’s resources as a major spiritual path which makes demands upon the adherent, pulling him or her out of a place of ease, rather than being a construction conformable in most things to his or her personal preferences. In previous times, Quakers spoke of the Cross, of the death of self, when explaining how the Spirit led them beyond their own preferences and habits. Modern Friends feel less comfortable with such language, but the reality of the experience is a foundation of any claim that we are experiencing some aspect of divine Truth and engaged with a living God that is not created in our own image. It takes time to understand the implications of the Quaker understanding of the life of the soul, and the resources it offers in the challenges of life. Coming into “that life and power that takes away the occasion of all wars”—reaching to that life, and making it yours, is the work of a lifetime. It is that Life, as sought, struggled with, learned from, and embodied, which is where words come from which nourish, guide, warn, and encourage the soul.

5. Uncertainties about leadership, and communities inexperienced in caring for gifts and callings.

We are uncomfortable about the idea of leadership, and we are not clear how leadership should look among Friends. There are many reasons for our discomfort. One source of the problem rests upon a misconception about what leadership or authority is. Too often, it is related in our minds to the exercise of power or influence, as in political or corporate life.

There is no question that some Friends who have grown to positions of authority have exercised it injuriously at times. James Jenkins, an English Friend of the 18th Century, describes how some ministering Friends (as well as many of the elders) assumed a kind of authoritarian tone that he (understandably) found repellent:

I have noticed, that at the Yearly Meeting, we had the company of Samuel Emlen, Nicholas Waln, George Dillwyn, and John Pemberton [all visitors from America]…who, altho’ they often preached excellently to us, yet, in the meetings for discipline, they frequently took the lead…in that sort of dictatorial meddlement in the business of the meetings, which is seldom taken by modest strangers—even to apposite remarks, answers frequently abrupt, and sometimes rude, were given by them, and if this happened to provoke a rejoinder of censure or reproof, they stood up, and defended each other, with all the faithfulness, and zeal of true, confederacy. (Jenkins 1984, 185)

More often, a less dark arrogance still caused harm to individuals and meetings and damaged the credibility of the ministry. For example, James Jenkins described how the prominent minister Catherine Phillips:

like a great Autocratrix, sometimes governed, and sometimes without succeeding attempted to govern…. To an austerity of conduct that had much the appearance of domination, she added a sourness of temper, that disgraced the woman, and assumed an over-bearing consequence which (at least I thought) an humble minister of the Gospel could not assume. (Jenkins 1984, 118)

Moreover, abuses occurring in past eras are not unknown today, in modern form among Friends. People are very liable to prefer to have their own way when they can get it, and as hierarchical creatures, humans slip very easily into habits of command or control, overt or covert. Yet such abuses are not typically the biggest problem facing a meeting, in regard to the identification and support of gifts. More often, we are over-cautious and unsure how to proceed. Meetings may not see a need for any care of their members’ gifts, or they may fear that by addressing them, they will encourage the growth of undesirable distinctions, hierarchies, preferences, or egotism. Furthermore, we can see how purposefully undertaking some care of the gifts among our members could lead to mistaken judgments, even conflict.

It is a severe misfortune that for such reasons we are backward about accepting and nurturing gifts that can serve the life of the Spirit among us. As a result, many gifts are not cultivated and disciplined as they might be, and the life of the meeting is thereby diminished.

Does it matter that we have largely lost the corporate dimension of ministry? I think the answer is a resounding “Yes!” because the lack of corporate involvement and mutual accountability devalues the gift and diminishes the minister’s effectiveness. It discounts the seriousness and awe of recognizing a gift being given by God to the group. We are all spiritually impoverished. (Grundy 1999, 14)

Yet everything depends upon our keeping before our minds the recognition that spiritual authority as the Gospel teaches it derives from the love of God, and takes the form of service:

Jesus called them to him, and said, You know that the leaders of the Gentiles lord it over them, and the great exercise authority upon them. It shall not be so among you: rather, whosoever should wish to become great among you will be one who serves you, and whoever might want to be first among you, let him be your servant. Just so, the Son of Man did not come to be served, but rather to serve, and to give his life as a means of freeing many. (Mt. 20:25-28; my translation, and compare John 13:1-15).

The inward groundedness (humility) and teachableness which make this service possible and authentic (or authoritative) are not learned in a day, and must be relearned daily, under the many conditions of life.

6. A skepticism about ministry as a calling

Our unease and unskill at nurturing gifts is particularly acute with respect to Friends who carry a concern for a long period of time, and even more so for Friends with a concern for Gospel ministry. As a result, at present we have few living examples as patterns (or, I suppose, warning signs) from which an individual seeking to follow the concern, or a meeting seeking to nurture it, can draw guidance.

There are some who have felt that since any of us can at times be called to offer the ministry needed in a meeting for worship, there is no need to ascribe to the idea that there can be a separate “calling” to the ministry as a concern. While at first this makes sense, and accords with our increasingly democratic conception of the Society and the Commonwealth of God, it does not comport well with Scripture or with the experience of Friends over the past several centuries. However, the initial plausibility of this assertion is a warning and a reproof to us all, because it suggests that fewer and fewer Friends have seen evidence in their own or others’ lives of the fruits of faithfulness to this concern.

They don’t see evidence, or perhaps don’t know what to look for. As William P. Taber writes:

In our time…many more people take occasional responsibility for the ministry, but there are relatively few ministers who have gone through the long and arduous experience of learning by discerning that was typical of most ministers (sometimes called public Friends) of the eighteenth century. (Bownas 1989, xxiv)

Lucia Beamish writes:

Of how many could it be said today, as it was said of Benjamin Seebohm…that “his ministry was the most characteristic thing about his life; more than anything else it was evidently that for which he lived.” (Beamish 1963)

It is for these reasons that I find it more effective and useful to speak of those for whom the Gospel ministry calls as carrying a concern. Modern Friends have many ways of talking about and working with concerns. Making appropriate use of these ideas and practices can help us explore the Gospel ministry in our day concretely and practically. It also enables us to consider what this concern has in common with other concerns—and in what ways it is unique.

7. The corrosion of false religion

We are in a time when faith is hard to sustain, and when many cultural voices, both secular and religious, describe kinds of faith, and in particular versions of Christianity, which feel deeply unsatisfactory when put to the tests of mind, heart, or soul. Religion is portrayed as a system of social control, or as the ally of the state, or the market, or of this or that party. Or again it is said to be a matter of purely private and subjective concern, an arrangement of your mental furniture according to your own taste, but irrelevant to anyone else, and possibly just an accidental result of biological evolution.

There are many ways in which humanity is ailing, and one of these ways is a kind of heartsickness that arises because the Christianoi, the little Christs, have so often sided against the Gospel. They deny their failures and claim allegiance with the Gospel’s words, but in their actions exhibit hearts that seem strangers to the Lord they claim, who is both servant and teacher, shepherd and lamb, the one who seeks, and the one who knows what it is to be lost.

Who will trust their testimony, who will trust my testimony, if it is given in Christ’s name anymore? I often reflect upon the implications of John Woolman’s dream, in which he says:

I was then carried in spirit to the mines, where poor oppressed people were digging rich treasures for those called Christians, and heard them blaspheme the name of Christ, at which I was grieved, for his name to me was precious. Then I was informed that these heathens were told that those who oppressed them were the followers of Christ, and they said amongst themselves: If Christ directed them to use us in this sort, then Christ is a cruel tyrant. (Woolman 1971, 185-6) [The preceding three paragraphs taken from Drayton 1996.]

Yet, if we dare, Friends can uphold a different view, even while acknowledging the strong reasons many have for rejecting religion or Christianity. Our religion is based on our friendship with Christ, walking as children of the Light, and should lead us into a recognizable life. True religion should bear the fruits of the spirit: love that casts out fear, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance, justice, simplicity, and the commitment to overcome evil with good, and not to return evil for evil. None other can we accept. We are empowered to bear these fruits as we welcome the birth of Christ’s Spirit in us, and allow that life to put to death “whatever is of a nature contrary to itself,” as we wait in silence, worship and work in fellowship, and act on the guidance we are given. We are called to holiness, and of a kind that (for all the diversities of our natures and gifts) is given characteristic shape by the nature and work of Christ’s spirit.

Chapter 2: The Challenge of Holiness

Gospel ministry arises from a realization that it is urgent that we all be about the business of becoming holy; we have not a moment to lose. We are invited to lead a life in collaboration with the spirit of Christ working in us, in order to escape the bondage of sin, each according to our gifts and talents, each in our own situation. What are we waiting for? We need to see the challenge in its full extent and take it up as fully as we can. This is no drudgery, even if it is hard work, because the reward is freedom from fear, and a realization of our connection to an inexhaustible store of light and life.

Furthermore, while it is not something that we can do in our own power, we do not need to: we open to it, when we feel that we need and want to respond to God’s continuing invitation. “As the hart panteth for the water brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O God” (Psalm 42). This is enough to start with; we may have always had the longing in just these simple terms, or we may come to it through an inner weariness, or a revulsion or impatience about our life as it currently is. Once we look towards the Light with desire, we find that it shows us an opening way, and we can enter into the experimental life in the Spirit. We come to know our darkness, in a way that is no longer superficial and glib—it becomes harder just to say, “Well, nobody’s perfect, of course,” because we realize it is a false answer to a wrong question, and the realization stabs sharply. We come also to feel how the Spirit can work re-creation within us, that the Ocean of Light and Life can flow over the ocean of darkness

At first, it may be that all we can manage is to stand quietly in the vicinity of the Teacher—we may have no more strength than that, or perhaps we cannot see what to do. In his presence, however, as well as through his teaching, we start to get the hang of things, the way to look at our lives, and at the world we inhabit, and we start to see what we need to do, or stop doing, in order to feel more in harmony with his life, to free the Seed of it, and encourage the growth of it in our feeling and thinking, willing and doing.

It does not come all at once. The realization of what we need, and the deciding whom to follow, may be an event that we can identify with date and time. It may steal over us, however, as God’s silent working in us has found some quiet welcome, before we are fully aware.

When the merchant had sold everything and bought the land in which his pearl of great price was hidden, then what? He still had to manage his business, be a husband and father, interact with his friends and neighbors, make his choices and say his prayers. We are always beginning, and so we are always vulnerable to discouragement, and tempted to get control of things and rush ahead to the finish line. The more aware we are, the more likely it is that we will see and feel obstacles and struggles. At our first taste of God’s life and power, our early feeling of progress, we naturally can’t see how much we are really beginners, newcomers to a way of life being forged in the midst of established patterns, needs, and assumptions—both in ourselves, and in all those we live among. So naturally it will happen that as we make more room for the new, we encounter unrenovated places in us and our relationships and activities. Our new sensitivity makes us painfully aware of incongruities, but how do we resolve them? Sometimes it is a matter of simple “surgery”—I will not, and need not, do that anymore (“if thy right hand offend thee, cut it off…” Mt. 5:30); I will not say or speak such things, I can no longer think in that way (“If thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out…” (Matthew 5:29).

Sometimes, however, it’s not so direct, and there is tension, fear, anger, pain, or simple confusion. Remember, though, that the Spirit “takes its kingdom with entreaty, and not with contention, and keeps it by lowliness of mind,” and be willing to wait, not knowing, until way opens. God, who is drawing you, will remain a steady guide, and often a compassionate one.

I remember when I first met with my Guide. He led me into a very large and cross [path], where I was to speak the truth from my heart—and before I used to swear and lie, too, for gain. “Nay, then,” said I to my Guide, “I mun leave thee here; if thou leads me up that lane, I can never follow…Here I left my Guide and was filled with sorrow, and The Challenge of Holiness
went back to the Weeping Cross; and I said, if I could find my good Guide again, I’ll follow Him, lean me whither He will. So here I found my Guide again, and began to follow Him and…got to the end of this lane, though with difficulty. But now my Guide began to lead me up another lane, harder than the first, which was to bear my testimony in using the plain language. This was very hard; yet I said to my Guide, “Take my feeble pace, and I’ll follow Thee as fast as I can. Don’t outstretch me, I pray Thee. So by degrees I got up here…(Luke Cock, “Sermon of the Weeping Cross, LYM F&P #42)

We are always beginning, and so we are always vulnerable to discouragement, and tempted to get control of things and rush ahead to the finish line, rather than to keep in step with our Guide.

Yet as you keep on, day by day, watching, acting, reflecting, learning from success and from error, you will find that you have actually been carried further along the path than you thought. When you stop and ask, What reason have I to give thanks?, you will discover that you are notably more free, more available, less wrathful, more open and inwardly aware, readier to follow a good impulse, than you were before. “Fear not, little flock, it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom of heaven” (Luke 12:32). Give thanks continually, because the grateful heart is teachable and not self-sufficient.

Friends have always felt that some progress in this life is essential to the growth of the gift in Gospel ministry. It is not that a minister is better than anyone else or has an unusual allotment of holiness. On the other hand, one whose calling is to be ready to speak or act from the most essential root of things, “to the refreshment of the Children of Light,” must ground the concern for this service in a more fundamental calling, the calling that comes to all of us to be holy. Therefore, if you profess or suspect that you are called to the ministry, you have to take seriously the call to a devout life and become experienced in all the complexities that this deeper calling entails. Without a committed immersion in the Life, we cannot feel after the Life in others, where it may be encouraged, or where it may be chained down. We need to become knowledgeable about the difference between the voice of God and the voice of Self and culture. Otherwise, we will be even more prone to preach about ourselves, rather than preach the Gospel—the power of God to liberation. The minister must seek, more and more, to be an experienced soul. Thus, I agree with Bownas, that in addition to the calling of the Spirit, some authentic experience of the Spirit’s work in us is the fundamental qualification. As William Taber wrote:

When the Call is truly recognized, the budding minister—which could be any or all of us—comes to know, deep in the gut, that we are called to live in that Amazing Reality which was before all words were, and that that Reality wants to transform us into a profound wholeness…. The budding minister—and remember, that can include all of us—may have one, or even several profound experiences of transformation, graced empowerment and a deep sense of dedication, but no one of these moments of sanctification (if I may use the term) is final and absolute—there is always more to learn, and we continue to learn and grow as long as we live.

This yearning for conversion of life and manners, this daily and persistent turning and returning to the Light, this unashamed openness for sanctification, and for what earlier Friends called the Inward Work of Christ is, in my experience, the only foundation of an effective and life-changing ministry. (Taber 1996)

Now, it is hard to look at your friends and intimates, who know you well, and say “I am seeking to be holy.” Yet is this not the one thing needful, to recognize our longing to dwell immersed in the Divine Life? If you get down to the little, sweet springs of Life, you will find your proper objections, and your prideful objections, and your temptations to inflation or false abasement, and your embarrassment will melt, and you will be anchored enough to say in a voice that has truth in it, “I have found Him, the Seed and Source and companion—O taste and see that the Lord is good!”

Chapter 3: What Does the Ministry Do?

Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind. This is the first and greatest commandment, and the second is like unto it: Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself
     —Matthew 22:37

How shall we live this love, to God and our fellow humans? When you ask yourself honestly how free you are in your love to God and your neighbor, do you not have to report a partial and intermittent success? It is typical of human experience that our sense of the Divine life, and our ability to speak and act from it, will flow strongly sometimes, but then at other times weaken and grow remote, so that the version of ourselves that felt fervent and expansive with the motion of the Spirit seems strange to us, and when we are feeling our own strength of mind, will, and body, the strength of the Spirit, so very different in its flavor, seems almost a delusion.

John Burnyeat wrote in his journal of this spiritual high and low-tide:

I found, that as my Heart was kept near the Power, it kept me tender, soft, and living; And besides, I found as I was diligent in eying of it, there was a constant sweet Stream, that run [sic] softly in my soul, of Divine Peace, Pleasure, and Joy…. And furthermore, I did observe, that if I neglected, or let my Mind out after anything else more than I ought, and so forgot this, I began to be like a Stranger, and saw that I soon might lose my interest in these Riches and Treasure, and true Common-wealth of God’s Spiritual Israel. (Burnyeat 1691, 20)

Our spiritual condition relates intimately to that of our spiritual community. When we are dwelling solidly in the Divine Life, we lend strength to our friends who may be encountering the challenges of life.

We are also storing up reserves of nourishment for the darker, harder times, when joy and freedom seem far away. At those times, in fact, the faithfulness of our friends, in word, deed, or example, may be the only key into those memories and learned truths which can reassure and revive us during our times of feeling lost or cold.

A concern for the ministry is a calling to be intentionally available to put our experience of the divine Light and Life at the disposal of others, for their refreshment and encouragement. It brings a commitment to inward watchfulness, so that we grow in faithfulness, and grow in our ability to serve. As we gain more of this experience, we find an increase in the clarity with which we are able to desire, pray for, serve, and rejoice at, the growth of the love to God and neighbor as it appears in anyone. This in turn feeds the life of the group, and invites others to come and see:

It is a living ministry that begets a living people; and by a living ministry at first we were reached and turned to the Truth. It is a living ministry that will still be acceptable to the Church and serviceable to its members. [Testimony concerning John Banks by Somerset Quarterly Meeting 1711, quoted by A.N. Brayshaw in The Quakers, 1969 (1953), 247.]

A faithful ministry will support the growth of this love but different people may have particular gifts which reach to one or another person’s condition at any particular time; and anyone may contribute, as the Holy Spirit moves them, and makes use of their experience and gifts, at a particular time and place. So we need many voices in the ministry, and Friends need to dwell deeply enough, and with enough interest in the welfare of souls, that when words are called forth, they are the fruit not only of deep feeling, or deep thought, but deep experience of life and life in the Spirit. Penington wrote:

The end of the ministry is not only to gather, but also to preserve and build up what is gathered, even to perfection. And the soul being (especially at first, if not for a long time) weak and babish, not so fully acquainted with the measure of life (having had but some touches and demonstrations of it, but not being gathered fully into it, nor rooted and settled in it); I say, the soul in this state, hath as much need of the ministry to preserve, direct, and watch over it in the truth, as to gather it out of the world…. (Works, vol. 2: 368 “Some queries concerning the order and government of Christ”)

It may not seem clear why the ministry is so useful an instrument of spiritual formation in our meetings, if you have not considered how complex a process the growth of spiritual maturity is—how various the paths each of us may take, and yet how many similar patterns and trials there are. Penington points out that outward help is important, as we pass through the stages of spiritual growth. Furthermore, we are all liable to be reduced to “weak and babish” states, needing to be again gathered into the measure of life, so that the help of Friends is needful for us all at times. Barclay makes the plain point that people get help from people, even if the primary source of help is the Light of Christ:

For though God do [sic] principally and chiefly lead us by His Spirit, yet He sometimes conveys His comfort and consolation to us through His children whom He raises up and inspires to speak or write a word in season whereby the saints are made instruments in the hand of the Lord to strengthen and encourage one another. (Barclay 2002 [1678], 75; Prop. III)

It is sometimes hard to grasp this because events in our spiritual lives may be very brief indeed, and yet they may count for much in shaping our attitudes, hopes, or understandings about the soul-life. Therefore, it is worth reminding yourself to give attention to inward events for their content, and seek for their meaning, not looking at them with the everyday measures of minutes or days, nor measuring them by outward rules of success. The fruit that may come from a particular fleeting event, perhaps even a secret one, may not be evident to the observer (nor even to the participant) for a long time.

Therefore, when we enter prayer or undertake a service for others’ benefit, we need to be aware of the precious complexity and individuality of each soul, and be wary of overconfidence that we understand enough, and know the right answer. Often we do not. Our praying, saying, and doing do not reflect this attitude of respect, and the acknowledgement that (despite our best faithfulness) it is God’s work going on in the other, not ours, and our longing is for that work to go forward. It is good to consider, prayerfully, each of the effects described below.

First, each of them represents a basic need of human souls, and part of the work of the ministry is seeking under the Lord’s guidance to feel after others’ conditions.

Second, if these notes are not sounded in your meeting, or the meetings you frequent, it is good to pray that if need arises, someone will be drawn to see and respond to it. Your praying may help you become aware of gifts that you can encourage.

Third, this thinking and praying may also enlarge your own availability and concern, and you may find that your own service changes in response.

Perhaps it goes without saying, that while “the ministry” has the various effects discussed here, it may not be the case that they all are found in the ministry of any one individual!

Convicting, diagnosis.

The ministry can help make people aware of the distance between their current condition and a life of adequacy in the Light of Christ. Quaker preaching often mounted a powerful challenge to recognize and abandon self-sufficiency and dependence upon human strength in the face of our bondage to sin and the hardness and inaccessibility of our hearts to the love and justice of God. Indeed, an engagement in this conflict was the first theater of the Lamb’s War. The journals kept by ministers in the past so often report that a meeting was dipped into a state of brokenness and tenderness, often in the silent exercise of the gathered meeting, but sometimes facilitated by the faithful words of ministry. In these times, when a God-derived message is delivered faithfully, people can be awakened into concern, and convinced that they have found a path to a God-saturated life, a life freed from bondage. Thus, individuals and groups can be aroused and gathered.

This is important even in meetings where most are members of the Religious Society. Many, having once found their way among us, and taken root in a meeting, then in a way cease moving forward, as though they had really reached a destination, when in fact their journey has just begun. Even among weighty Friends, a sleepiness can overtake the spirit. The words of one who has been overcome with a fresh sense of the lively and transformative operation of the Spirit can recall the comfortable, or sleepy, or un-tender, to a sense of Presence, and a rejuvenation of their dedication and availability to the Spirit’s guidance.

Encouraging, comforting.

Of course, there are those who are doing their best to follow the Light as they can see it, and are actively engaged in their spiritual lives, and yet are in need of refreshment and perhaps guidance along the way. While the Teacher is Christ among us, it is a blessing that his counsel and encouragement sometimes comes through the voice of a sympathizing fellow-traveler. It is an encouragement to know that Jesus was tempted in all things even as we are, but we also find encouragement through the testimonies of others who share their experiences of temptation, trial, and failure, as well as how the Lord’s power was finally found, with an increase in joy and delight. “God has given me the tongue of the taught” (Isaiah 50:4).

Connecting current personal experience with tradition and Scripture and articulating from the Quaker position.

If God is at work among us, and we seek a fullness of the life of Christ in us, then our own daily experiences, trials, successes, and challenges are in some relation to this divine activity. If we affirm that God is not many but one, then our own individual spiritual experience should have some relation to the experience of others. We are not the only, nor the first, nor the last, to encounter (to our trouble and our joy) the inward motions of the divine life, and in fact our understanding of our spiritual experience is enriched and given additional meaning by recognizing this, and seeking to understand its implications. We are part of a story, which includes both our own personal plot lines, and the larger, grander ones of the times in which we live—both the good and the evil, both the world of wonders and the world of suffering that surround us. All of this is also part of the story of God’s calling to us, to live free from darkness, and free towards justice and love: the drama of salvation. This is a story in which millions have participated!

Penington points out that

…the Lord hath appeared in others, as well as to me; yea, there are others who are in the growth of his truth, and in the purity and dominion of his life, far beyond me…. Therefor…I am to retire, and fear before the Lord, and wait upon him for a clear discerning and sense of his truth, in the unity and demonstration of his Spirit with others, who are of him, and see him” (Penington 1995–7,  vol. 2:371-2).

For this reason, it is a great help when ministry helps us see how to connect our own stories with those of Scripture and Quakerism. This can be through building a bridge linking our language with the language of the Bible or early Friends. It may come in messages that “open” the Scriptures in fresh ways, with the result that this great resource is more accessible and valuable to us than it was before. It may come in messages that shed fresh light upon Quaker testimonies and spiritual practice, enabling some to find new commitment, or enabling them to grapple more effectively with difficulties they have been feeling. We are to love the Lord with heart and soul and strength and mind. Ministry that comes from the Life, and points to the Life, in a way that helps our intellect or imaginations is often a great blessing.

Setting social and political events in spiritual context; pointing towards greater faithfulness in prophetic witness in the world.

So, too, is ministry that helps us make sense of the times in which we live, and how social and political trends are related to spiritual concerns. As Christians, we are called not to be conformed to the world, but to be transformed by the renewal of our minds, hearts, and wills (by the inward work of Christ). While part of our task as members of human society is to be enculturated, to understand the norms and ways of our people, our spiritual calling requires us to get free of those same conventional norms and commitments. In fact, it is only by knowing them well, and being freed from them, that we can see and understand the truth about the costs of institutions and society, and the ways in which they exert power over us, limiting our response to the Spirit, and accepting half-hearted attempts to live more deeply.

Some ministry can help us understand the nature of these tensions and the ways to overcome them in more faithful lives and witness, lives and witness that have power. Friends have from the beginning rejected the notion that this is an exclusively individual, inward experience, but rather have seen it as inseparable from a battle against social and political evil externally:

The life engaged in the Lamb’s War is tendered and opened to injustice and violence outwardly as well as inwardly. The human soul, your soul, can be seen as a nexus, a confluence or focus, of forces tending both to your good and ill. Some of the evils can be seen as external—sources of fear, oppression, or distraction. Others are apparently inward—anger, self-indulgence, and so on. Yet we are so constructed that we and our environment interpenetrate. Inward and outward forces activate or counteract each other. Because it is this kind of meeting place, the human soul is an appropriate battlefield upon which to begin the war against “outward” evils in the world. More than this—if the battle remains unfought in any soul, then in our unredeemed regions, seeds of sin and death lie as in an incubator, from which they can spread abroad anew. The Lamb’s War against the Man of Sin, in which we use the weapons of Jesus, acting at first upon our little, inward stage, is as well a social and indeed revolutionary act. (Drayton 1994, 4)

Chapter 4: Varieties of Service: No Mold

It can’t be said strongly enough: there is no one right way to serve in the Gospel ministry, aside from faithfulness to God’s direction. Therefore, in learning the shape of your particular gift, or in considering that of others, let yourself be informed and stimulated but not enthralled by others’ examples, as one source of instruction in your schooling as a skilled and committed servant. As I sit in reflection on this subject, several people come to mind whom I have known and whose ministry is precious to me.

• She came to meeting every week, a dignified older woman neatly turned out, sitting in the same spot on the same bench. Once or twice a month, she would rise to speak early in the meeting. Her messages typically included personal reflections, Scripture quotation, and stories from her childhood, in what at first seemed a stream of consciousness, a garrulous, good-hearted flow. Yet listening week after week, one came to see how important she felt it was for the children in meeting to hear ministry that they could connect with, yet not be talked down to; and she had a store of memories, Scripture reading, and literature upon which she often reflected, and drew from freely and naturally in ministry. She was not seen often as a leader in the meeting, did not travel to other meetings under concern, but over the years left a powerful and very sweet impression on many of her Friends.
• An older man, who almost never spoke in meeting, and was chiefly loved for his gift of sympathetic listening and quiet, wise conversation. Genial and soft-spoken, his quiet manner accompanied a passionate character. He took the practice of daily retirement and reflection very seriously, and steadfastly meditated on his reading in Scripture, biography, church history, devotional literature, and public affairs. He was extraordinarily gifted in encouragement and at listening. Often you would find that, weeks after a conversation, he had been mulling over some statement he’d heard, and felt drawn to take up the topic again, enriched by his prayer and thought. He was especially effective at encouraging younger people who spoke in meeting, his quiet comments showing that he had been listening with interest, reverence, and good judgment both to what was said, and what might lie behind the words—hidden even from the speaker.
• Another Friend comes to mind, cheerful and direct, deeply steeped in Scripture from her youth, and gifted in prayer and song. Her tireless travels among Friends in African and the western hemisphere gave her an acquaintance with Quakerdom of all kinds. Her particular concern was to encourage those not often encouraged—women, youth leaders, other ministers. Her ministry in meeting was often brief and simple, and usually ended in a short prayer; but her concern was enacted in many other channels, by correspondence, conversation, and fellowship. She was often a spreader of news and ideas from meeting to meeting, sometimes merely by scooping up newsletters from here, and taking them there, sometimes by connecting people or meetings who should know about each other. Any time together, with a single person, a committee, or a meeting, was a chance to recognize and give thanks for a blessing.
• My final example is a Friend who offered occasional ministry in meeting. His deepening study of Friends’ belief, and of the Scriptures, led him to start offering workshops on topics he was exploring. As he gained experience and continued deepening his devotional life and his engagement with his meeting, his ministry both in meetings and in workshops became deeper, sweeter, and in some ways more daring because of its open and searching nature. During this time, he came to see that he had a clear leading to a teaching ministry and recognized other ways might open as well.

These Friends do not fit the pattern of the modern Public Friend, seen, for example, at most yearly meeting sessions. Their portraits must be added to the entire gallery of Friends, such as Friends of stature who are called upon for specific events, whether to lead workshops or give talks and presentations. If these opportunities are undertaken after discernment, and with a real concern to act as guided by God, such opportunities can move beyond conventional form, and be the occasion for Gospel ministry. Arrangements for ministers to attend specific places at specific times date from the beginning of the Society. J. S. Rowntree wrote about the way that the Second Day Morning Meeting would plan to ensure that meetings in the London area, especially small or out-of-the-way meetings, were visited by known ministering Friends:

It is sometimes implied, if not said, that it exhibits some lack of spirituality for a Friend to allow his [sic] name to be put down on a plan to attend a certain meeting at an appointed hour. Evidently this was not felt by George Whitehead, William Penn, Ambrose Rigg, and Samuel Bownas…. Probably in nine cases out of ten, a Minister has no special drawing to one meeting above another—he has a freedom to go where his friends think him the most wanted. In the case of his having a “concern” for one meeting, way would be made for his giving effect to such an apprehension of duty. (Doncaster 1908, 271)

Of course, such an arrangement then leaves open the question, how the invited Friend will work to enable her service to be guided by the Spirit under the conditions of the arrangement, and different Friends have reached different conclusions about this matter.

The point is that Friends in the Gospel ministry have had very different kinds of service, and it is good to review some of the varieties, if only to help the reader in considering his or her own gift, or that of others.

First a note about travel, which is treated more extensively in Chapter 24. Friends may be called to exercise their gifts either in their home meeting, or at other meetings. It is not often recognized how much variety in practice there was, even during the “golden age” of travelling ministers, in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. There are extensive records of the activities of Friends ministers, during this period—journals, memorial minutes, and publications such as The Annual Monitor, which came out for many years with short obituaries of Friends who had died recently, very many of them ministers. A survey of these indicates that service by ministers was first and foremost in and around the home monthly meeting [Recall that during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, it was common for one monthly meeting to include several worshipping congregations] and neighboring meetings, somewhat less often more widely within the yearly meeting, and least often beyond the bounds of the yearly meeting. For example, in one count of about fifty such memorials, I found that 95% of the records indicated service in or near the monthly meeting; sixty-six percent mentioned visitation within the yearly meeting; and thirty-nine percent mentioned travel beyond the yearly meeting. In a significant number of cases, the visits to other yearly meetings were only within the bounds of the nearest yearly meeting (for example, travel from New England to New York, or from Great Britain to Ireland).

Even a great traveler like Elias Hicks did most of his travel within the bounds of his yearly meeting. [For this reckoning I rely on the listing of Hicks’s travel minutes given as an appendix in Forbush, 1956] Out of approximately sixty minutes for service which he received from his meeting, five were specifically for family visits in meetings on Long Island; twenty-nine for travel to meetings within New York Yearly Meeting; five for special concerns within the yearly meeting (e.g. to schools on Long Island, to Long Island Indians, to new meetings within the yearly meeting). About ten minutes were granted for more extensive travel, to three or more yearly meetings, and almost all of these were for service lasting less than six months. Thus, while it is true that the travelling ministers were an important part of the circulation of life within the whole of Quakerdom, the highest volume of circulation was within the bounds of quarterly and yearly meetings.

What forms has gospel ministry taken, either when travelling or at home? Again, there has always been a wide range of concerns, and gifts for them, and degrees of skill or effectiveness in each.

Preaching in meeting on First days is one gift that actually has historically included several variants, often noted in journals or other accounts. For example, some Friends particularly excel at vocal prayer, others at the use of Scriptural material to illuminate some topic. Some say only a few words at a time, and some speak at more length. Some have had much psychological insight, and been gifted at exposing people’s misconceptions, breaking down their sense of self-sufficiency, and opening people to the Light (a “plowing” or “planting” ministry). Some are especially gifted at reaching to those who are young in their spiritual lives and need encouragement and help in developing and deepening their practice (a “watering ministry”). Some have focused on ethics and social concerns; some on theological or doctrinal topics. There are well-known cases of Friends who have a particular calling to reach out to non-Friends, and rarely speak in their home meeting at all. I can think of one Friend with great gifts of preaching, counsel, and “presence” whose primary calling seems to be to a Latin American yearly meeting, where her gifts are called on intensively, and welcomed gratefully.

Others find that their concern is worked out best in other settings such as in writing, in teaching forums and workshops, in “opportunities” (see Chapters 23 and 24 below), or in family visits of a more systematic nature. J.B. Braithwaite’s children wrote of their father:

As a minister of the gospel, he saw openings that had never before presented themselves, and the work needing to be done was more than he could cope with…much of his early ministerial work was done among his own people, either in Westmoreland or in London and Middlesex…. This work near home was carried on during the ordinary course of life. Legal work during the week, often with pastoral visits in the evenings; First day spent at some outlying Meeting, with all the spaces between meeting diligently made use of—such is very commonly the arduous life of an earnest Quaker minister.

Understanding the shape of your concern at the present time is part of keeping close to the gift. However, it is also worth asking yourself, is more called for? Have I not seen an opening for service, merely because I did not imagine it to be possible? It seems to me very likely that we do not have all the ministry we need, in all the varied forms that would really cultivate and nourish the life in our meetings, and that many gifts of service and witness remain underused and poorly developed, because there are not enough Friends with the experience, commitment, tact, and imagination to notice, pray for, encourage, and give thanks for their Friends’ gifts and talents. After all, while you or I may have some gift or leading, it is of no effect if it is not received, and as noted above, one of the most important functions of a minister is to be eager to find others getting engaged in their own proper service. Therefore, I recommend to you, reader, that you inquire, alone and with a confidante, whether there are not other kinds of service that you might render. Remember the old story of the elder who comes to a young Friend and asks him if he might possibly have a calling to the ministry. The younger Friend replies “I have not had that concern.” The older Friend shoots back, “But has thee had the concern to have a concern?” Covet earnestly the best gifts, and work while it is day!

Another quotation from Penn’s Rise and Progress emphasizes alertness for opportunities to serve:

I beseech you that you would not think it sufficient to declare the Word of life in their assemblies, however edifying and comfortable such opportunities may be to you and them; but…to inquire into the state of the several churches you visit; who among them are afflicted or sick, who are tempted, and if any are unfaithful or obstinate; and endeavor to issue those things in the wisdom and power of God…the afflicted will be comforted by you, the tempted strengthened, the sick refreshed, the unfaithful convicted and restored, and such as are obstinate, softened and fitted for reconciliation (Penn 1980,72).

The facing bench challenge

In traditional Friends meetinghouses, you will find 2 or 3 (sometimes more) rows of benches facing the majority of the seats in the meeting room. These seats are usually called the “facing benches” or “ministers’ gallery.” When a meeting came to the conclusion that a Friend had this gift, she or he was expected to sit in the ministers’ gallery. In addition, there are Friends whose gifts are particularly those of spiritual nurture, whose work in the worship is to maintain an active, prayerful, watchfulness in the service of the quality of the worship and the ministry. These Friends, “well grown in the truth” regardless of their age, were termed “elders,” and also expected to sit on the facing benches. It was part of the orderly holding of worship for Friends with these responsibilities to face the meeting. In recent decades, the facing benches in most places are no longer “marked” for this function, and indeed Friends prefer their seating to be in circles or hollow squares, so that all the worshipers are facing a common center where no human is.

This trend reflects a typical reluctance to name and nurture those with “chronic” gifts in ministry or eldership. The gifts keep emerging, though, and we have such a need for them!

A few years ago, I was at the beautiful old meetinghouse in New Bedford, Massachusetts. It’s a splendid space, large and light-filled, built during the city’s prosperity as a center of the whale-fishery. As I often do in empty meeting houses, I went and sat for a few minutes in the ministers’ gallery, picturing the meetinghouse full and centered, in the stream of divine life and instruction. I realized that the facing benches could have held dozens of Friends. After that, I fell into the habit of computing how many people might’ve sat in the facing benches of the meetinghouses I visited. Even in our little meetinghouse in Henniker, NH, which has a capacity of perhaps sixty-five, the facing benches could seat close to twenty (and when both men’s and women’s sides were in use, double that). The facing benches constitute something like five or ten percent of the total seating capacity in most meetinghouses I’ve seen.

This architectural detail is a reminder that Friends traditionally expected that the gifts of ministry and eldership would be poured out plentifully. Each person’s gift has a different “shape,” and a meeting’s spiritual work can best be served by this diversity of gifts—and the meetings at their best felt it their duty to see and nurture that diversity. It was not an exclusive club, any more than there is a limit on musical gifts—the gifts traditionally called ministry and eldership are given to encourage all the many kinds of life in our meetings—and there’s a lot of work to be done. Can we become less fearful, grudging, parsimonious in our thinking about these matters?

I encourage you to reflect on the implications of the facing benches, even if your meeting doesn’t have any, or even has no benches! Is your meeting (or are you) so shy of seeing and encouraging people’s gifts that many remain underdeveloped, misshapen, or even overlooked? Can we so learn again to rely on the Spirit’s guidance that we can accept the abundance that is offered us, and welcome it by taking intentional practical steps to help our many gifted Friends to nurture, train, and exercise those gifts whole-heartedly? The fields are white to the harvest, but there are too few hands at work—though the Lord of the harvest keeps sending workers to us.

Chapter 5: What Does It Mean to Carry a Concern?

The Quaker use of the word “concern” reflects our understanding about how God works through humans: it is a key element of Quaker spirituality, by which the Spirit engages with the world in creation, mercy, testimony, action. In the matrix of prayer, or in some other way, a matter comes before your mind which feels important, urgent, or pre-possessing. It may be that you become aware of a particular group of people you are drawn to, or you may become riveted by an issue requiring action or service. It is easy to name such subjects for a concern—look at John Woolman’s concern for slaves, peace work, work for racial justice, or environmental protection.

A concern is more than subject matter, however, more than an area of interest or of passion, because it is accompanied (sooner or later) by a sense of duty: something is required, and at the Lord’s hand. Part of your discernment must be to determine “Is it required of me, or does my prayerful awareness enable me to see someone else who should be encouraged to consider it?”

If it is required of me, then I should ask: Now, or in the future? Does a particular action come to mind, or must I spend time in preparation and inquiry before taking it up? How shall I get advice on this from my Friends? What are the risks, and the opportunities, that may come with this concern?

At some point, you come to the conclusion that this is something for which you must make adequate time in your life; the meaning of “adequate” will depend on the nature of the concern. Concerns come in all shapes and sizes, durations and levels of disturbance; they may be acute or chronic. That is, a concern may take the form of a long-term commitment (like a concern to be a faithful Friend, as you understand it, or to be active in race relations, or to take care of the meeting property), or it may be a short-term thing, a single action to be accomplished.

Nevertheless, you become convinced that to maintain your sense of spiritual integrity, or to make way for some new inward growth, you must make room for and give attention to this responsibility. “Making room” does not necessarily mean adding new things to your agenda. Rather, it is likely that some things will have to be set aside, and in some degree your whole organization of your time, self-care, work, and relationships may be affected, in order to ensure faithfulness.

For some people, the Gospel ministry is such a concern. Any Friend may share in the meeting’s vocal or silent ministry, of course. Many (it is to be hoped) will feel a deepening commitment to worship, study, reflection, and service in the meeting. The vocal ministry, however, can itself become a concern for some people, sustained for years or for life. If you are such a person, then the concern becomes an integral part of your spiritual path, for as long as the concern remains with you; it is a path of learning, of service, of consecration, of collaboration, of humility, of listening. As with all long-term concerns, you can learn better and better to be faithful to the concern, consonant with your gifts and openings. You will learn to know your authentic kind of service, your voice, and your limits.

It is important to be aware that intentionality about the ministry can open you to a whole range of temptations and challenges, perhaps especially because it is a public function. It “lets in self”: ego, self-approval (or self-criticism), considerations of status, and many other such things that need to be recognized, acknowledged, and overcome. If you don’t do this work, your service will be harmed or prevented, and you may do harm to others as well as yourself, spiritually. I have come to see that the concern for the ministry is not a “calling to preach.” At its heart, though this may take a long time to discover, it is a state of mind which is preoccupied with the fate of the Seed, Christ, in the hearts of men and women, coupled with a sense of responsibility to encourage and support others in their spiritual lives, and to use the powerful tools of language in this work of support, articulation, clarification, encouragement, and so on. Where is the Life of Christ growing strongly, and producing good fruit? Where is it repressed or ignored or devalued? What may help someone become more aware of the motions of this Life, and more responsive to it? What in our practice feeds or inhibits the growth in the spirit? Where do we fool ourselves, and how can we become more honest, direct, and teachable? How does this relate to our social settings, our economic or aesthetic lives, our relation to the earth, our politics? When and where can I serve to help others turn to and dwell in the Light? What must I do to serve more effectively, conveying less of self and more of God? Even as I become more aware of the griefs of evil and folly, how can I dwell more in love, in gratitude, in fearlessness? How can I help people to see and rejoice in the evidences of Christ’s life at work?

Chapter 6: On Discipleship and Finding Your Way to the Cross

The core and essence of a sustained calling in the ministry is this: to learn more and more to listen, pray, live, and act on behalf of the life of God where it is at work and where it is imprisoned in your fellow human beings.

You may not recognize this way of life in yourself yet. You may be reading this book because you find yourself often standing and speaking in meeting, or giving talks to groups of Friends, or otherwise exercising leadership, and wondering whether there is something yet to be learned about this activity. Is there a deeper place to speak from, a deeper kind of work to undergo? There are many ways in which one discovers this path, and many shapes it will take in different lives, suited to different personalities and situations.

Yet if the gift is to grow in usefulness, you will find yourself drawn into a path of learning in which new depths and dimensions are constantly revealed to you.

In following any purpose, we encounter obstacles and unexpected challenges. In seeking to render service to the life of God in the people, these obstacles are often of a very painful kind, because they are often our own limitations, weaknesses, and self-delusions—or the same kinds of discouraging elements in your friends, the ones for whom you feel concerned.

Sometimes you will feel that the whole enterprise of religion is a sham and a distraction, one that has caused more harm than good in human history. Sometimes you will feel that, while your own sense of commitment seems strong, others’ is lukewarm, insufficient, halfhearted, shallow, and unresponsive to you or to others you value. Sometimes people directly oppose you and things you care deeply about, for reasons that seem discouragingly materialistic and self-serving. Again, you might find yourself feeling that, even if your whole meeting, or the whole Society of Friends, were as faithful as possible, all its efforts could not counter the vast oceans of darkness, folly, and grief that seem to threaten the sweetness of life in the modern world. You may find God distant, or not find God at all.

Such considerations, of course, may be rooted in some evidence, but whether your diagnosis is correct or not, you will find such perceptions a great danger and burden, because of the fruit they naturally bear in the human heart. Roadblocks and discouragements like these are often the occasion to discover in oneself a spirit of anger or of judgment, rejection and hopelessness. By comparison with the weight of these feelings, and the pungently distasteful aspects of oneself and one’s whole species, the little, pure, sweet thing that is the life of God inwardly perceived seems weak and insubstantial at best.

Yet you may well find that you cannot leave behind the taste of this divine life that you have had and cannot discount the joy and integrity that it has produced in others, and perhaps even in yourself sometimes. Then you cannot do anything else but return to hope, and long for that life to be a greater and greater feature of your own and others’ experience; and so you return to your concern, to live and act in such a way as to make more and more room for that life.

Your travels in the wisdom of reason, and the wisdom found in the darkness of the heart, do not leave you unmarked, however, even in such a time of return—and how abrupt and short-lived sometimes are the changes in our inward weather! Against your hopes and commitments to the Light, you have a fresh perception of what an inadequate person you are, how hypocritical you are, how little your energy is, or how inept are your attempts to serve, comfort, and support. You may also find, even in your turn towards hope, that your bleak diagnosis of the spiritual state of your friends and meetings is realistic and confirmed by your discovery of the same shabby conditions in yourself.

In dilemmas like this, when I have felt doors shut to God in myself or others, and yet can hear the pleading voice of the Visitor still asking for entry, I have come to see how the Cross, as Friends understand it, is a matter for joy, and a creative path forward. This is not because of the doctrine that Jesus’ substitutionary death on the cross outside Jerusalem wiped away the pain of sin for me and you, but rather because Christ is still about his Father’s work of liberation right now, if we will cooperate with it. It is important here to consider the process of coming to the Cross, because it is by this path that Friends have understood that we each participate in God’s work of liberation. It is also in this way that we are enabled to help each other along the same path.

We tend to go through life feeling at ease with ourselves on most points, but to the extent we seek to visit the Lord’s presence in stillness, this ease will sometimes be disturbed. When the Light shows us some new place where the Life of God is oppressed, blocked, or denied in us, whether by “human nature” or by ingrained habits, deep-rooted needs, or past wounds, we are given a choice once again: for that Life, or against it. In our desire to choose life, however, it is all too easy to fall into schemes for the removal of the roadblock by will power, psychology, and good planning. This approach is not likely to succeed. You may be very strong-willed, but the strength of the will comes to an end, sooner or later; so, too, cleverness, education, and planning eventually reach their limits.

When you see what the problem is, at that point bring it into the Light. Stop seeking for more problems, and don’t make plans or react yet, such as a different kind of work, of recognition, acknowledgement, and the removal of compulsions. Sit still until you can feel the Presence, quiet and peaceful, and then introduce into that circle of Light the difficult or ugly thing you wish to confront. In your persistent waiting for this moment of stillness and confidence, you will find and feel the work of the Cross, the little “death” or pruning through which we relinquish something which blocks the formation of Christ within.

It may take many minutes, or many days of minutes, before you can in quietness look this particular evil in the eye, acknowledge it, and move through self-judgment, anger, shame or whatever else is stirred up in you. The “crucifixion” or “death” of this attachment is located in this struggle to see honestly, and then to take the path to freedom from it. During this time of transition, of waiting and persistence towards that moment when the dark thing can stand clearly in the Light, you will learn more about its nature. You will understand how deeply it may be rooted in yourself, and how it has had some function or history, which makes it an integral part of you, and just why it’s so hard to get past. Here, in your prayer, there will be time for grief and repentance. Yet this is just the harrowing of the field, to make way for fresh growth of God’s planting.

During all this time of searching you will want to be making plans and resolutions and formulating advice for yourself and others. Don’t get attached to these developments and ideas, but don’t disdain them. Instead, note them, look at them in the quietness of the heart, and then set them aside. The important thing is to continue steadily, in the Presence, in a stillness of your own agendas. Until you have been able to look at your current problem while centered in the love of Christ, you are not likely to see the true value of these plans and ideas. Perhaps they will be very useful, when their time comes; perhaps they are wishful thinking, a premature rushing to closure. Nothing of value will be lost, in the Lord’s working in you, if you keep your eye towards his peace and stillness inwardly.

After spending time at the Center, you will find that you can, with little or no inner turmoil, look at the fault or grief or dilemma that is the aim of your current exercise. At that moment, when your peace is not shattered by the contemplation of this thing and its meanings, your freedom is begun. Now you can see how to live without it, or overcome it, or account for it in the future, so that you are not its slave any more. Now perhaps your plans and arrangements and resolutions will come in handy and help you in keeping to the lessons you’ve learned, when you put them to the test of practice.

When you have experienced the process I have just described, you will discover that the sense of confidence, of foundation, that comes with even a small advance towards the Light, is extraordinarily nourishing. If you reflect on it, you will find that you have learned more than one lesson. You will be able to see better how darkness had some hold on you, and the nature of your bondage. You will also see how the Light provides the workshop and the tools for removing those bonds, in a way that does not treat each issue separately, but helps you see how all parts of you are interrelated and integrated. So, the solutions that come in that workshop are no patches which can tear away under stress, but form part of a consistent fabric which can contain a measure of life a little larger than before:

No man putteth a piece of new cloth unto an old garment, for that which is put in to fill it up taketh from the garment, and the rent is made worse. Neither do men put new wine into old bottles; else the bottles break, and the wine runneth out, and the bottles perish; but they put new wine into new bottles, and both are preserved. (Matthew 9:16-17)

This process I have described is at the heart of what it is to live in the Cross, and it is a place of rejoicing and creation, because you pass through death to a newness of life, and in your own measure and sphere participate in the drama of salvation whose great signs are Calvary and the empty tomb. In this experience, and the making sense of it, every part is of instruction to the minister, because it gives insight in motives, needs, dilemmas, and defeats. It provides a way to interpret and empathize with others’ stories, and to take refreshment and courage from their successes and discoveries. It sharpens our understanding of the ways we can be confused or deluded by the many voices that affect us, internally and from our culture and social connections. Finally, it helps us understand how the power of God is the key that unlocks, and how little and yet how necessary are one’s own efforts in collaborating with it. With the fresh understanding gained in the school of Christ, you have a keener perception of where that of God may be found in yourself and others, and a renewed eagerness to seek it and stand in it. More than anything else, this is the school in which the minister learns and experiences a transformation of understanding, of perception, and increasingly of enactment.

While I silently ponder on that change wrought in me, I find no language equal to it, nor any means to convey to another a clear idea of it. I looked upon the works of God in this visible creation and an awfulness covered me; my heart was tender and often contrite, and a universal love to my fellow creatures increased in me. This will be understood by such who have trodden in the same path. Some glances of real beauty may be seen in their faces who dwell in true meekness. There is a harmony in the sound of that voice to which divine love gives utterance, and some appearance of right order in their temper and conduct whose passions are fully regulated. Yet all these do not fully show forth that inward life to such who have not felt it. (Woolman 1971, 29)

Chapter 7: “The” Life Cycle of a Minister

Samuel Bownas wrote of a minister’s passing through the stages of an infant, a youth, and an adult in the ministry (Bownas 1989). It is almost impossible not to have that framework in mind as we consider growth in the work of the ministry. It carries with it a substantial element of realism—and also provides both hope and guidance to the new minister.

Yet I believe that you will find that in some ways you are always a beginner, even after substantial length and maturity of service, and this is to be welcomed and cultivated. Hannah Stratton (1826–1903), an Ohio minister, was recalled thus by her meeting:

After having for many years engaged in the work, she remarked to a younger friend, ‘It don’t get easy.’ In our religious meetings the weightiness of her spirit and her humble, reverent waiting for the arising of Divine Life were instructive, not daring to open her lips without feeling a renewed qualification and necessity laid upon her to stand forth in the work. Thus, her ministry partook of the savor of life, and was sound and edifying, reaching to the witness for Truth in the hearts of those who heard her.

This is not a matter of false humility, nor of denial of real progress whose recognition is a key ingredient in one’s growth in understanding and practice. It is rather an acknowledgement that progress in the ministry involves exploring a very large inner landscape—in fact, more than one continent lies open before you. As you carry on this exploration, you will find a need to reassess what you have learned before, and the tension between new phenomena and previous lessons may be a place of opening and fresh insight.

The first continent is yourself, your own soul’s dimensions and conditions. More than anything else, your own inward experience with God as you pass through your life is a laboratory and reference library, and the place where the integrity that is essential to your service is developed. Though you are not the measure of all things, yet you have to speak from the Life as you can experience it truthfully and in substance: “that which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked upon, and our hands have handled of the Word of life.” (1 John: 1)

The second continent to explore is that of other lives. There is a great gulf between the inward universe of one individual and that of another, but in the unity of the Light, as gradually we come to know it, we are instructed both in the precious uniqueness of each person, and the things common to all humans. As we allow ourselves to be instructed and rendered more compassionate through our obedience to the Spirit of Christ, we draw closer to God’s other children.

The third continent to explore is that of culture. In human terms, the gulf between one and another is bridged by the common products and enterprises of society and culture, which then become part of the fabric of ideas within which we interpret ourselves and others. A deep exploration of this cultural matrix is necessary to an understanding of conditions.

The spiritual grounding and progress of ministers of the present day are often very different from those of Samuel Bownas’s day. Many of those who speak in our meetings and exercise leadership are not really conversant with the Scriptures or with Quaker tradition. They may not yet have developed a robust spiritual practice. Therefore, as they begin to suspect that they may bear extra responsibility for this service, they are drawn into a time of deepening and searching, which in fact often brings them back to Scripture and tradition again. Very often as well it draws them into a fresh engagement with the mystery of Christ.

If the meeting community is alert to this kind of motion in its members, then the gift that may be growing tentatively in someone can be welcomed and nurtured into maturity. If the meeting is not aware that the calling to gospel ministry is still being issued, or is not aware that it needs care and support, the gift can be neglected, or go unrecognized, or bear far less fruit than it might otherwise:

Modern unprogramed Friends who experience this traditional calling and longing to be about the work of God often experience great frustration because there seems to be little or no place for ministry as a vocation in the modern Society of Friends…. Part of their frustration lies in the fact that we modern Friends value expertise and genius in virtually every field except the spiritual, so that we don’t know how to recognize and encourage a person who is spiritually gifted and called to this work. Every generation of Friends, including this one, has had its quota of people who in other cultures might be called budding shamans or seers or medicine men or medicine women. In earlier Quaker eras these budding Quaker shamans were watched over and nurtured and in subtle ways encouraged so that many of them were able to respond to the ever beaconing Call to become a sanctified instrument of the Divine Will. (Taber 1996)

In what follows, I will explore some characteristics of three important phases of the life-cycle of a minister: the time during which one recognizes the call, the period of acceptance and apprenticeship, and the situation of one who has moved beyond apprenticeship.

Recognizing the call

Traditionally, Friends moved into a calling to the ministry gradually, and with a period of anxiety or anticipation, sometimes very lengthy. The ministers, looking back, felt they had fallen into indifference about religion, and heedless living, sometimes punctuated by periods of remorse and short-lived commitment to reform. A tension between these two moods might continue over months or years. As there was a transition into a more faithful life, and the ordering of the Spirit was felt, Friends often reported a suspicion (or fear!) that one outcome of this birthing process might be service in the ministry. Ruth Fallows wrote of this process:

As I was thus brought near to the Lord and his people, he was pleased to shew me that he had further service for me to do, which was to bear a public testimony for his name. But oh! the exercise this brought upon me, for I found self was yet for being pleased, and I was not willing to be counted a fool, and was for being almost any thing so that the Lord would be pleased without this, that I might not become a gazing stock to the world…. (Skidmore 2004, 50–51)

Opening one’s mouth in meeting was considered to be an awesome event, as it implied that one felt commissioned by the Holy Spirit to bring a word to the people. It was also frightening, because the beginner was fearful and lacked confidence, and felt that in yielding to duty they would appear foolish—either in the quality of their service, or because the Gospel might appear foolish (as Paul describes in 1 Corinthians). However, the emergence of a sustained gift in the ministry was a momentous event in the life of a meeting and required considerable care on the part of the community to discern what was happening, and how best to respond. Since God can choose anyone to be a friend or servant—wise or foolish, powerful or weak, respectable or not (1 Cor. 1:26), anyone, however unlikely, might be under divine preparation for service. Speaking in meeting, therefore, might be the first evidence of a commission to the work of the ministry.

A gift in the ministry was considered precious and deserving of careful stewardship. Though it was in some sense seen as a normal part of the life of a meeting, however, it was also an awesome thing, because the gift means that Peter, Paul, Jonah, Isaiah, George Fox, and others are your colleagues and fellow workers. It was also well known that the gift could sometimes be very inconvenient or even frightening, as well as very satisfying. Because it is precious, other things must make way for it, and you couldn’t predict at the outset how intrusive and demanding it might be. The power of the Spirit can be consuming and bewildering; at times, you must just abandon yourself to it, in obedience and hope.

This is still true. God may well make use of you in ways that are not so hard to accommodate in the life you currently know. It may be, though, that God will sometimes (or increasingly) make it your duty to work harder than you are inclined to, make choices that will be hard or surprising, push you in ways that test your emotional, spiritual, or physical strength. If you are really under orders, and not merely moving according to your own designs and desires, then you may well be taken off guard. Just remember that when you hear ministers speak of the challenges and trials they have undergone, you will also hear them speak of the joy and peace they have enjoyed. Do not dismiss this as cold comfort! The joy and the peace are very real.

In modern times, it seems to be rare for someone to have a sense that they are under preparation for Gospel ministry, before they are actually engaged in it. As William Taber has written:

It is almost as if, in the late twentieth century, Bownas’s first qualification [of sanctification] does not tend to occur before one speaks in meeting, but rather stretches out over a number of years, gradually transforming and eventually bringing that person’s life and spoken ministry to a deeper level. (Bownas 1989, xxii)

It seems also to be the case for many modern Friends that speaking in meeting is part of their preparation, so that engaging in that activity is itself a schooling process of the Spirit, however unaware we are that this is the case. Putting things into publicly uttered words is a way of identifying an increasing seriousness and commitment and implies an intent to live accordingly. Jonathan Dale writes:

I was led to minister in ways that called me to a position that I had not yet reached, and then demanded a greater consistency between the words uttered and the life lived. However that ministry spoke to others, it certainly played its part in changing me. (Dale 1996, 37)

This is reminiscent of my own experience. I had been attending meeting for perhaps five years, and during that time found myself among those who spoke in meeting several times a year. Seasoned Friends would sometimes say a quiet word of encouragement to me, which was reassuring, as my standing up was always attended with a feeling of turmoil and risk.

Friends my own age were in the habit of talking about meeting events, and we naturally discussed the meeting for worship, as well. We gave each other comments and advice, explored why we were moved by some people’s ministry and not others on a particular day, chewed over how each of us could serve, and what we seemed to be good at. We named gifts that we saw in each other. My friends’ reflection of what they saw developing in me made me wonder—Could I see in myself what they were seeing? What might be the roots of it? If they were right, what difference should it make in my life?

The words I was saying challenged me to greater integrity, but so did my friends’ encouragement of my service; and so did mistakes and rebukes. Our conversations about each other’s gifts and growth made more of our inner lives accessible for reflection and cultivation. I rejoiced when I received inward or outward guidance that helped me forward, but I felt the need of more experienced companions, as well.

I did not know of any Friends in my community to whom I could talk, even if I had been able to formulate the questions I was feeling. It was at this point that I started reading journals, branching out from Fox and Woolman to Bownas and beyond, and found some real solace in the lives and experiences of these dedicated men and women. It also happened that Darcy Drayton and I spent a few days visiting at the parsonage of Durham (Maine) Meeting, with Ralph Greene. In conversation one evening, when I described to him my growing sense of responsibility, he said, “What you’re dealing with is a call to the ministry, don’t you see?”

I meditated on Ralph’s challenge in secret for a long time, struggling to figure out how that “calling,” so clearly a part of previous periods of Quakerism, could take any acceptable shape in the Society of Friends I knew. Yet once I was able to accept the nature of the challenge, not only did my own inner spiritual life feel clearer, I was also able to see others who were actually exploring the same question. I found living teachers in unexpected places, and other beginners like myself, just coming into an acceptance of the concern. We helped each other along.

The sort of clarity that came as I was able to identify the service I felt called to is one evidence that a concern has been identified and accepted. This clarity, in turn, is also the beginning place of many inquiries. The encouragement of others, both the more experienced Friends, and those who were younger in their Quaker lives, was instructive, and encouraging. We need to hear that we have been helpful, so that our discernment is not too self-referential.

The ministry, (as Samuel Bownas says) is a birth, and at its birth is tender and vulnerable. It can be nurtured so as to grow in stature, and the individuality of the person unfold in ways that are beneficial to themselves and to their society—but it may also not receive the care and welcome that it needs for its good growth. The best nurture comes from those who respect the mystery of the individual, while remembering what it is like to be fresh-born, and knowing from their own or others’ experience some (at least) of the elements that should be actively available while the child’s development goes forward towards fullness and freedom. John Bell (in a ‘Testimony’ prefaced to the life of James Dickinson, 1744) wrote of the importance of the community to the care of a newly emerging gift in the ministry:

I would also beseech Friends, when it may please God to raise up and qualify any for the work of the ministry, that they do not slight it, nor despise the instruments who may be so concerned, how mean soever they may appear in the eyes of men, for it is the Lord’s work, who is able to qualify; but be diligently exercised in your minds, that they may feel the help of your spirits for their strength and encouragement, for the exercise and concern of the true ministers is of more weight to them than some are aware of.

It is true, however, that “feedback” can also cause different problems if it plays into insecurities or tendencies to inflation. Insecurity can make us fearful of following our guide, but when combined with encouragement can contribute to the construction of protective illusions and tempt us to think of our ministry as personal property, or a matter of more or less effective performance. John Griffith writes of his experience in youth (which I also felt in some degree), when encouragement from his friends led him to move too fast, and to believe he had made more progress in the spiritual life (out of which ministry grows) than he actually had:

Many young well-minded people, and some others of little experience, seemed to admire my gift, and would sometimes speak highly of it, which they did not always forbear in my hearing. But oh how dangerous this is, if delighted in by ministers! It may be justly compared to poison, which will soon destroy the pure innocent life. My judgment was against it; yet I found something in me, that seemed to have no aversion thereunto, but rather inclined to hearken to it, yet not with full approbation. The same thing in me would want to know, what such and such, who were in much esteem for experience and wisdom, thought of me. I sometimes imagined such looked shy upon me, which would much cast me down; all which, being from a root or fibre of self, I found was for judgment, and must die upon the cross, before I was fit to be trusted with any great store of gospel treasure. I begun [sic] also to take rather too much delight myself in the gift…I have reason to think, that solid friends, observing my large growth in the top, with spreading branches, were in fear of my downfall, in case of a storm. However, in the midst of my high career, the Lord was pleased to take away from me, for a time, that which he had given me, viz., the gift of ministry, and with it all sensible comforts of the spirit…. In this doleful state of mind, I was grievously beset and tempted by the false prophet…to keep up my credit in the ministry, by continuing in my publick [sic] appearances. (Griffith 1779, 29)

Encouragement and guidance from admired Friends can have a similar effect of leading us to think we have discovered more than we have. Catherine Phillips wrote of going to a large public meeting early in her service, and of the careful way more experienced ministers responded to her:

It was attended by many valuable experienced ministers, who were careful of laying hands suddenly upon me, although I had good reason to believe that the most weighty of them loved me; but were fearful of hurting me by discovering too much of their approbation or affection; which some minds, in the infancy of religious experience, have not been able to hear. (Skidmore 2004, 70)

We need to listen to our Friends, but always come back to God, to the quiet place where we feel free to be honest, regardless for the moment of our fears, hopes, plans, and impulses.

Wherefore let your food be in the life of what you know, and in the power of obedience rejoice, and not in what you know, but cannot live, for the life is the bread for your souls, which crucifies the flesh, and confounds that which runs before the cross. (Nayler, in Drayton 1994, 69)

Apprenticeship

Few people have the chance to experience the process of being an apprentice in a craft, in the old-fashioned sense. I have seen it up close in several forms, and it is worth stopping for a moment to draw some lessons from those experiences which also apply to the apprenticeship in the Gospel ministry. My experiences with apprenticeship have included both a “white collar” experience (graduate study in a science), and also craft work (watching my father undertake apprenticeship as a piano tuner in middle age, and myself in informal apprenticeships in blacksmithing and lobster fishing).

The first thing that bears in upon you is the desire to become a competent practitioner of the craft, eventually maybe even a master. You want to be the best workman you can be. Your recognizing this in itself has far-reaching effects.

Second, you gain real insight, a concrete feeling, about the range of things to be learned on the path to mastery—all the things you need to learn, and maybe don’t see how to. There are many small, simple things which are needed, before you can try the more obviously rewarding acts. As an apprentice blacksmith, for example, you need to learn quite a lot about the building, shaping, and maintenance of the fire in the forge, and how different sorts of fires relate to different kinds of work. Of course, this means a lot of experience with smoke, steam, and coal dust, a lot of metal not heated enough, a lot of welds not completed: simple stuff, but all in the service of the craft or art, the “higher” work you seek to learn.

Third, you learn that competence can take many different forms. Personal styles and limitations enter in, along with the accidents of one’s history—the people you’ve been able to watch, the guidance or help you’ve received, the challenges or opportunities that have come your way. You also start to see how your own practice has to emerge.

Fourth, you learn how to accept criticism. A real test of your condition with regard to a concern is, can you receive rebuke or advice mildly and judiciously? This does not mean that you need to accept the other person’s assessment, or agree with their view point. Yet it is important to acknowledge that they are very likely seeking your good or that of the meeting, even if it does not feel like that to you, and defensiveness in the face of hard questions is a strong piece of evidence that ego is involved to an inappropriate degree. This is a danger sign!

Finally, most “masters” have a keen sense of what else they have to learn. Part of apprenticeship, one of the surprising doorways to the wisdom of the craft, is learning what to do with not-knowing.

These kinds of lessons are likely to arise when you enter into an apprenticeship in the Gospel ministry. Nowadays, especially in unprogrammed meetings, we take a long time to realize or even bring ourselves to admit that we are called to have a concern for the Gospel ministry, and most people have little sense that it is a work in which one can—should—grow more capable over time. The language for talking about it is not usual with us, we don’t see others around who admit to having travelled different distances along that road, meetings don’t usually name the gift that is stirring in us—many reasons! When you come to see, however, that this is one of the organizing concerns in your life, then you can actually begin your apprenticeship.

This is a time of joy, even exhilaration, and also a time for care. When we start to be intentional about service, we are prey to many kinds of anxieties about performance and adequacy. We may also (perhaps because of such anxieties) be defensive, assertive, or prideful, becoming hardened when we should be growing more open and fearless. We are tempted also to compare ourselves to others.

During this time, it is good to look around for others who may be under the same concern in their own way. A good place to begin is with Quaker journals and other written accounts, because they are at some distance of time and culture, and the differences between your experience and theirs are stimulating of perspective and reflection. Furthermore, their stories, however filtered, allow you to think about the way lives unfold under the influence of a long-term concern, from the tender beginnings through decades of service.

The most important thing, however, is to practice the basics more carefully—going to meeting for worship regularly, attending meetings for business, attending committee meetings, even silent grace at meals. These accustomed activities will start to feel different under the consciousness of the concern for the ministry, because they will seem linked by the opportunities with God that they offer—and sometimes do not deliver. On the other hand, you will come to your meetings, committees, workshops, etc., in a more centered and observant frame of mind, more alert and teachable.

This is also a good time to visit other meetings, to listen carefully to the ministry in meeting, to consider the characteristics of experienced Friends, and to reflect on any ministry you may be moved to offer. [Samuel Bownas wrote in 1702: My dear friends, every time you appear in the ministry, when it is over, examine yourselves narrowly, whether you have kept in your places, and to your Guide; and consider whether you have not used superfluous words that render the matter disagreeable, or such tones or gestures as misbecome the work we are about, always remembering, that the true ministers preach not themselves, but Christ Jesus our Lord. Let us bear this in mind, that neither arts, parts, strength of memory, nor former experiences will, without the sanctification of the spirit, do anything for us to depend on. Let us therefore, I entreat you, keep to the living fountain, the spring of eternal life, opened by our Lord Jesus Christ in our hearts.] It is good to set yourself the task of listening and observing afresh, to see as well as you can what are the concerns, the opportunities, the limits, and the strengths of modern Quakerism.

During this time, your consciousness of a desire for service, and opening way to it, will make you careful to adjust your life so as not to dishonor the ministry that you claim to participate in. You will start to learn both the rewards, and also the kinds of adversity that come from self-criticism, or from the inner weather of the spirit, and our wavering faithfulness. You will also find your eye and heart sharpened to feel the way you are chained and bound by fears, bad habits, cultural detriments: to use traditional language, you feel how you need to come under the Cross, if you are to be any use at all to the Lord who seems to be calling you.

Sometimes things will seem easy and straightforward; sometimes rather the opposite. Be patient, and return patiently to the Lord for guidance, and also support. Bownas wrote of this time in his own life:

The poverty of my spirit was so exceedingly great and bitter that I could scarcely bear it, but cried out loud, which so surprised my companion that he, being on foot, he feared it would be too hard for me, for I complained that I was deceived or mistaken; because, while I was in my master’s work, I rarely by day or night was without some degree of Divine virtue upon my mind, but now I could feel nothing but the bitterness of death and darkness; all comfort was hid from me for a time, and I was baptized into death indeed. As we went along, I said to [another young minister] with a vehemence of spirit: “Oh! that I was in my master’s work again, and favored with my former enjoyments of Divine life, how acceptable it would be!

…The Lord let me see his kindness to lead me through that state of poverty, which was of great service to qualify me to speak to others in the like condition, and that trials of sundry kinds were for my improvement and good, tending to my establishment in the true root of a Divine and spiritual ministry; and the doctrine of our Saviour and his apostle did much comfort me, so that I became, in the opinion of several, an able minister, although but short, seldom standing a quarter of an hour. But alas! I have seen since that I was but a mere babe in the work. (Bownas 1839, 5)

As your service continues, you should take steps to ensure that your experience and inward condition are not solely a private affair.

One way to do this is to seek out a spiritual friend or friends—someone with whom to practice complete honesty and simplicity in telling the story of your current experience and questions, opportunities and roadblocks. In such a friendship, though, the first priority should be shared worship, time spent in God’s presence together. This rootedness in the ardent and peaceable spirit of Christ will help counteract a tendency to close in, to become overly preoccupied with self, or too ethereal, to lose perspective and hence stop learning. William Taber wrote:

It seems especially important for the person experiencing the call to ministry to find a spiritual friend or mentor, someone with whom it is possible to sit in deep silence before God as well as to stay accountable and to test leadings, and to explore what it means to live on the razor’s edge of ministry. Ideally, this person would be a member of the local worship and ministry group, but don’t give up if you can not find such a person there; there may be someone else in the meeting, or that person may exist in a nearby meeting, or you may have to seek someone who lives a hundred miles away. But a right spiritual friend is somewhere to be found for every seeker and for every person who feels called into ministry. Actually, as one becomes more experienced, opportunities for finding spiritual friends and spiritual peers tend to increase, so that one called to ministry gradually finds oneself discovering a network of kindred souls, with increasing opportunities for “opportunities.” It is as if those called to ministry are often drawn to opportunities with many people, as if we become a part of a vast process of cross-fertilization of the Spirit throughout the entire Society of Friends, and far beyond. (Taber 1996)

In previous times, when Friends assumed that some would be particularly called into the Gospel ministry, they were forthright about craftsmanlike considerations, such as the proper procedure for getting a travel minute, and observing matters of personal style and presentation that may actually hinder your simple, direct, and honest testimony. One of the charms of Samuel Bownas’s reflections is his willingness to consider pretty mundane issues, in order to be a good workman. For example, in the following passage from his journal, he addresses many problems that arise for most people who speak in meeting and question whether they have done it appropriately:

I found I often hurt myself by speaking too fast and too loud…but when I felt my heart filled with the power of Divine love, I was apt to forget myself and break out. I found it proper therefore to stop, and make a short pause, with secret prayer for preservation, and that I would be supplied with matter and power, that might do the hearers good. Thus I went on, and grew sensibly in experience and judgment, and became in some small degree skillful in dividing the word. I had been straitened in my mind respecting searching the Scriptures, lest I should be tempted thereby to lean upon them, and by gathering either manna or sticks on the Sabbath-day, death would ensue. But at last I had freedom to examine the text, and to consider where the strength of the argument lay; both before and after the words I had repeated. By this I saw that I was often very defective, in not laying hold of the most suitable part to confirm the subject or matter I was upon, and this conduct did me great service. Another difficulty stood in my way, which was this: some former openings would come up, which I durst not meddle with, lest by so doing I should become formal, and lose that Divine spring which I had always depended upon; but the Lord was pleased to show me, that old matter, opened in new life, was always new, and that it was the renewings of the spirit alone which made it new; and that the principal thing I was to guard against was, not to endeavour to bring in old openings in my own will, without the aid of the spirit and that if I stood single and resigned to the Divine will, I should be preserved from errors of this nature (Bownas 1839,7). [Bownas clearly learned this lesson well, as he was in later life famous for starting very slowly to preach upon first standing up. “Samuel stood up, and proceeded in his usual slow matter at the commencement of his sermons, when a smart little gentleman…said aloud to Samuel, ‘Sir, you make very poorly out, I advise you to sit down…[Bownas] made a short pause, and then replied, ‘Have patience friend, and things will mend,’ and then went on. The little man had patience, and after…some time said ‘Well, I think things do mend,’ and listened with silent attention.” Jenkins 1984: 517–8.]

After some years

After living with this commitment to service and gaining some experience with acting out of this orientation, you will find (to your surprise, perhaps) that you have in fact learned much. Your experience will present you with some challenges not felt before. You will also have begun to learn the many ways that guidance can come, and how a growing sense of integration is one of its telltale signs. William Taber, in writing about this growth of discernment, nicely connects the growth of discernment about a particular act of ministry with the growing acquaintance with God’s guiding voice, and the increased awareness of it throughout the day:

In the beginning it can be so subtle and delicate as it first rises up through the clear pool of consciousness that it certainly does not seem like a motion or a voice. It is simply a quiet knowing with no fireworks, so that it can easily be confused with other thoughts and impulses if we are not attentive. Sometimes, the Spirit pushes the inward motion up through the layers of consciousness so that we can not ignore it, and the Spirit overcomes our resistance to it by causing us to quake, or at least to cause rapid breathing and heart beat, which are often regarded as the signs that one must speak in meeting.

But, as we become experienced in recognizing and responding to the inward motion, the Spirit does not need to expend so much energy on us; we become more able to discern the power of the Divine Urgency of the true inward motion and to discern which other thoughts and “motions”—no matter how good and worthy—are to be left alone, or at least not be spoken as ministry. Of course, the inward motion, or the inward knowing which is another way of describing the guidance of the Holy Spirit, is not just an esoteric skill for those who speak in our meetings. Quakerism is about, among other things, the fact that this guidance through the inward motion is available to every one of us, in the daily affairs of our lives, as well as our special ministry in family, meeting community, and world to which each of us is called. (Taber 1996)

You will have learned a lot about what you are called to do, the kinds of service you are gifted for, your personal “style” of ministry. As part of this, you will have gone through several experiences of specific events and gained some perspective on the “typical” course that may be expected. For example, several times you may have felt a calling to travel to some place or undertake some specific concern, gone to the meeting with a request for a travel minute or other endorsement, and carried through the discernment process. Then you will have undertaken the visit or task, and returned the minute—and learned over time how these rhythms can include deep periods of doubt and frustration, or a dawning understanding, once you’ve begun, of what the nature of the concern really was, what you needed to learn by doing it, as well as what you might actually have to offer to the people you are sent to. You will have gained some experience with unexpected blessings, insights, inspirations, and discouragements.

By now, you should also be feeling both confidence that God can be relied upon, and that you have learned how to be reliable in listening, in acting or keeping still, as led. One way to say this is, you will have gained some freedom from fear, including the fear of being wrong or foolish, and from many preconceptions about the ministry. You will perhaps feel secure in the service, and also more teachable and committed to gratitude for your own blessings, and for the growth and life in others.

As part of this learning, you will no doubt have been advised several times about mistakes you have made, places you’ve made people uncomfortable, blind spots or bad habits that interfere with your contribution to the life of the Society. If you have been able to stay low enough to come through these challenges with meekness, and a singleness of purpose to be faithful, your openness and firmness both will be instructive and nourishing to yourself and your community.

Perhaps most important, you will have learned ways in which to speak to others from time to time about their service, speaking even difficult things in love, in a tone that is direct but conveys also your support for their growth and gifts. For my own part, I have found that I have more and more taken joy in the times when I have been able to speak encouragement to others in various kinds of service, to help them forward in times of doubt or struggle. I have been restrained, I trust, from an over-eagerness to give advice: the joy is not in being an authority, but in being able to feel others’ conditions sympathetically but not sentimentally and make some contribution to their way forward.

Finally, the distance you’ve travelled, and the things you’ve learned from your work should be bringing you to a deeper sensitivity, both to the sorrow and darkness in the world, and the great joy that there is, so that you can say with George Fox that you see the ocean of darkness and death, and yet the ocean of light and life flowing over it. Your real acquaintance with the night makes your testimony of joy more precious.

Praying for continued growth

There are issues to confront with growing experience.

First and foremost is a loss of keenness, of real availability to the Spirit. Depending on how you enact it, the ministry can be an unobtrusive career, and therefore you can become by degrees habitual and lukewarm in the concern. You will have confronted some dilemmas about your own gifts and limitations. You will perhaps have encountered some opposition or discomfort within your meeting and reached some accommodation. You will have made some adjustments so as to continue securing your livelihood, while not quite abandoning your ministry. In short, you will have moved to a place of comfort.

Sometimes, a place of stability is achieved because you have kept the balance in a dynamic system and are moment to moment sensing the pull of one force or another threatening to dislodge you, and yet able to compensate. The risk is that you may be stable because you are at a point where there is no risk. A living prayer life is the most reliable avenue to being able to tell the difference between good balance and stagnation, and so it is valuable to make sure that as part of your “system” you build in times when you are regularly forced out of your normal rounds—making an annual retreat, for example, or arranging to have periodic meetings with a spiritual friend whom you have asked to challenge you from time to time. Meeting with other Friends in the ministry can play the same role, if the conversations sometimes explore the questions: Are we being faithful and open to new paths of service? Are we learning? Are we feeling challenged? However still and small the voice of the Lord in our experience, you may need to remind yourself to wait a little longer until you find again the taste of dimensionless mystery.

At times like this it is good to explore a bit, to find things you are uncomfortable about, and understand why. Someone in the meeting is raising an issue you have no patience for, perhaps. There are developments in society or politics that make you irritated or depressed or confused. A good exercise is to read attentively through Friends periodicals of differing styles (for example Friends Journal and Quaker Life), and really make yourself confront and debate (inwardly) with the authors, while also asking yourself what of their opinions is true but uncomfortable. The point is an intention to seek your boundaries and growing edges. Some people do this habitually, and they are wonderfully alive. You may not have achieved that state yet, as most of us have not. This kind of intentional search is a specific way to pray for fresh growth.

In the end, however, one is trying to keep as simple, as available, and as little self-assertive as possible. If your growing experience does not bear fruit in joy, as well as humility, sensitivity, and a confidence in God’s secret work, then it is important to ask whether you are coming to rely upon yourself, and value yourself, more than is healthy. If so, you are in good company, since almost all ministers who’ve ever recorded their experiences have reported such a tendency. Once being alerted, however, turn back to God’s presence, and feel towards the simple, child-like Spirit, where resides the power you really wish to serve. James Naylor counsels:

As the Spirit sees your wants, your love will spring and move in you, and bring forth towards God and man upon all occasions; which if you willingly serve in its smallest motion, it will increase, but if you quench it in its movings, and refuse to bring it forth, it will wither and dry in you, not being exercised.

And it is the like of gentleness, meekness, patience, and all other virtues which are of a springing and spreading nature, where they are not quenched, but suffered to come forth to His praise in His will and time, who is the Begetter thereof, and to the comfort of His own Seed, and cross to the world: And if you be faithful daily to offer up your body as a sacrifice, to bring forth His image, name, and power before His enemies, then what He moves you to bring forth shall be your inheritance, and will daily increase with using; but if you will not give up for His name[‘]s sake, but would hold the treasure, and escape the reproach, then will it be taken from you, and given to him who will yield the Lord of the vineyard His fruit in due season; for that which the Father freely begets, He will have freely brought forth, that the shining thereof in the dark world may praise Him. (James Nayler, in Drayton 1994, 56)

Does the concern continue?

There is no sense that gospel ministry is a “lifetime appointment.” By thinking of a calling to ministry as a concern, it is natural periodically to ask the question, Does the concern continue with me? Is it still alive, or should I lay it down?

More than once in my own history I have been on the point of resigning my position as a recorded minister; not from any doubt as to my original call, nor on account of any apprehended disunity with my service, but because I felt it so desirable that the Friends of my Monthly Meeting should have a definite opportunity of reconsidering their judgment after a few years’ observation. If their approval had been reaffirmed, it would have afforded me encouragement (at times greatly needed) to persevere in the work. If otherwise, it would have enabled me to lay down with a clear conscience a responsibility which often seemed too great to bear. (Dymond 1892, 49-50)

I believe that it is important to keep this question alive and revisit it from time to time. I make a point of addressing it explicitly in reporting to my meeting every year (see Appendix 2), because an honest consideration of this question helps keep me mindful that I should be seeking to serve, and to act in this particular kind of service under a fresh sense of Divine requirement. Making it explicit also gives my meeting an opportunity to comment upon it. There are times when, like Dymond, I would feel a real sense of relief at the sense of being released from this focus, either because of fatigue, or a sense of inadequacy, or discouragement. I suspect that this feeling is more widespread among ministers than is known or documented. For example, Hannah Stratton, a 19th-century Ohio minister, wrote, “I feel that, as I am nearing the setting sun of life, I may be released from this awfully responsible field of labor.” In the same vein, a contemporary Friend told me that, after many years of service, he unexpectedly felt the concern taken away from him. He reported that (contrary to his expectation) he felt no grief, but peace, in the release from the sense of particular requirement.

Other circumstances may require a break from service

Yet when a time of dryness or a sense of uselessness comes, and you consider that perhaps you should lay down the concern, it is important to get some distance from the feelings of the moment, and not be too hasty to set aside a gift still being given. It is good to consider this carefully, and in consultation both with your meeting (under some circumstances) and perhaps first with other, experienced ministers, because the life of this concern can have seasons of rest or abeyance, arising from many different causes; and also because the identification of the concern rests in part on your own discernment, and in part on that of the community. In the end, after all, this gift like all gifts is from God, and the question is not, “Have I had enough?” but the old Quaker challenge: “Was thee faithful? Did thee yield?”

The feeling of barrenness may come because you have gone through a period in which unwittingly you have relaxed your daily watch. This will dull your inward alertness and can bring on a sense of coolness and distance from the things of the Spirit, which will sap one’s usefulness. If this is continued too long, it can lead to significant disaffection and, in effect, the loss of the gift, sapped by a loss of love and engagement. This is something that all Friends are vulnerable to, of course, and it is especially valuable for ministers to understand this. In a way, the issue is more poignant, or more clearly drawn, since the minister is following a vocation to service, while also for the most part needing to seek a livelihood and otherwise engage in domestic and professional activities. It is a gift that a concerned Friend can give others, to acquire and maintain the discipline needed to balance the many demands of “temporal” and “spiritual,” and in this way grow in an understanding of the unity between the two. The challenge of temporary coldness has been known from the beginning of our Society. Here is James Nayler advising on this problem:

when you feel your way darkened, or affections grow cold towards heaven, then take heed with all diligence in the pure light to search, for your enemy has got some entrance, which by faithful and patient waiting in the light you will come to see…. Wherefore, that which you have received of the Holy One, His Unction, hold fast till He come, and with it stand armed against whatever would enter, to lead out to any outward observations; but with all diligence observe that which you have of His in spirit, which the adversary seeks so much to draw you forth from, lest you should increase your Lord’s money, and herein you maintain your daily watch, and war with that you have of life and power, and not with that you have not: So are you faithful stewards, and are accepted in what you have, and not in what you have not. (Nayler, Drayton 1994, 68)

Again, you may be in a time of quiet because of personal challenges that are deeply disturbing and require much spiritual work of you—healing or growth. A death in the family, a personal illness, the loss of a job, trouble in the meeting, or simple fatigue—so many things may burden us, and at times like this it may well be important to be quiet, and take the time of retirement you need. After all, your discernment will likely be impaired, and the springs of gratitude and confidence in God may well be hard to find. During such times, maintain your practice of retirement and prayer, and as part of that be sure to stay available, and willing to serve when the time comes.

In this connection, I have often thought about an incident from the life of John Stephenson Rowntree, a minister in Yorkshire in the last century, and uncle of John Wilhelm Rowntree. A loved and diligent minister, in early middle life he lost his beloved wife. His biographers write:

As each day brought an added realisation of change and loss…his sensitive heart was torn not with grief only, but with the pangs of a questioning that tested the very foundations of his faith…. A cousin writes it was some time after this great bereavement before his voice was again heard in the ministry. He rose first with the question of the prisoner in Machaerus, “Art thou he that shall come, or look we for another?” (Doncaster 1908: 35)

Rowntree had been challenged by his grief to examine his faith and determine if he could honestly speak in instruction and exhortation. Clearly, the sense of responsibility to minister had not left him, but his inward condition required healing and clarification, if he was to speak under the Spirit’s leading, and not merely because it was expected of him.

Finally, you may actually be led into silence because it is the lesson you need to learn, and perhaps also to teach. If you are familiar with Quaker journals, you have read many instances in which the minister feels called to “set an example of silence,” because she felt the meeting was too expectantly waiting for words. Yet again, we may need to be silent because we have become comfortable with speaking, feel much satisfaction in our service in that line, and need to recalibrate ourselves, re-centering on the Inward Teacher, and getting away from too much reliance on our ideas, reading, experience, opinions, gifts of expression.

Catherine Phillips describes her experience of a time of learning silence, in terms that many of her contemporaries did, as they came through searching times to the same realization:

I was stripped of that strength wherewith the Almighty had been pleased to clothe me…insomuch that I was ready to doubt of all that I had known, and call in question my commission to minister, and…[I was] baptized into a cloud of darkness. This dispensation I afterwards saw to be useful…for therein I forgot all my former services, was emptied of all self-sufficiency, and became weak and depending as when I first engaged in the weighty service of ministry; and it lives in my experience, that thus the Lord will deal with his servants, for their preservation, that they may dwell in a continual sense, that the excellency is of Him; from whom proceeds wisdom, power, light, utterance, peace, and every good gift. (Skidmore 2004, 71)

In this time of outward inactivity, we may come to feel an intensified focus on prayer for the state of the meeting, and for the appearance there of fresh signs of growth and development—in witness, in a strengthened sense of personal acquaintance with God, in ministry in worship, in forgiveness, or new commitment to the community. In such times, we are able to feel more vividly the currents of life moving within the meeting and renew the simplicity of our hearts.

William Taber often described a time in his life when he was silenced, after a period of growing freedom and effectiveness in the meeting. During this time, he continued to recognize when the meeting needed a message, and what the message was, but he felt a “stop” in the way of his offering it. He came to understand that he was being taught about the most important ministry of all, “the ministry of secret, silent radiation of God’s love to all who are present in the meeting.” (Abbott and Parsons 2004, 114). There were Friends who might never speak in meeting, might not be seen as leaders or “weighty,” whose gift to the meeting was their steady centeredness in love. “When I had fully learned this and had begun to discover how to become a radiator myself, I could again speak in meeting, with the same power as before.”

These women and men would not have understood if I had complimented them on being masters of the Quaker technology of shifting levels of consciousness and the secret of prayerful presence.

In fact, they would probably have been embarrassed and confused by my language. But, with all their humility, they were exercising the technology with great skill in a way which made it possible for fools like me to speak…. Fortunate is that meeting which has such inconspicuous and silent, radiating souls within its midst, for their faithful presence helps not only to raise up a living spoken ministry, but also to encourage the gathered and covered quality of the worship out of which the ministry flows. And fortunate is that meeting in which those who speak are, at the same time, also practitioners of the invisible and silent ministry. (Taber 1996)

When I first experienced such times of schooling silence, it caused me some confusion and anxiety, because I had only recently accepted the calling to ministry. What could it mean that my inward commitment was followed, not by an increase of service, but a diminishment? Eventually, I realized that, while silent, I was feeling no rebuke or sense of having erred. Rather, I recognized a strong need to study, to listen to others, and to learn better how to pray, both privately and in the meeting. It was as if I was rewarded for my commitment by a vision of how much a beginner I was, and by guidance into the next lessons that I needed to learn. Looking back, I can see that I was drawn into a new period of preparation and qualification for a more public service, but saved from any presumption that I knew “my business.” It isn’t my business, after all, it’s God’s; yet in this I found confidence. Thanks to this preparation, I was then able to profit from the stories told in the journals and by living Friends about such experiences. I find now that I am even cheered by such times of quiet—even when they are outwardly inconvenient.

Finally, I have come to be a little freer from attachment to the gift, thanks to these times of quiet. Being taught to listen more carefully to the sources of real life and power in the meeting, I understand better how the ministry “fits” in the dynamic of a healthy meeting, and the value and limits of my own passing contribution. I know that if a time comes when I ask, “Am I to lay down this concern?” and the answer is “Yes,” I will be able to hear it in peace.

Chapter 8: Motions of Love and the Parable of the Sower: The Content of Ministry

We are to feel where the Seed, the Divine life, dwells in those we are drawn to serve; to feel how it is oppressed in them, as in ourselves; to sympathize with them as they seek to pass through the experience prefigured by Jesus’ crucifixion and triumph, into fuller, freer life.

Samuel Bownas and later writers on the ministry (for example Joseph John Dymond, John Graham, and John W. Rowntree) have written at length about the content of ministry. What we’re likely to hear in meeting has changed with time; it is instructive to compare the ministry you have heard with the many sermons available at the Quaker Homiletics Home Page. Sermons there include lengthy doctrinal arguments, extended Biblical expositions, searching and detailed addresses on personal conduct, forceful denunciations of unrighteousness in private and public life. There are also relatively brief messages, often only a few sentences, exhorting the listeners to turn to the Light, mind the inward Monitor, live faithful to the Light given. Some of these brief messages offer consolation in troubles and grief and are very tender in their tone. [A favorite 3-word sermon attributed variously to Anna Cox Brinton or Agnes Tierney is: “Do less better!”]

From a reading of memorials to deceased ministers, as in the 19th century series The Annual Monitor, or collections published by various Yearly Meetings, I think it likely that most messages in most meetings were relatively brief, exhortatory, and saturated with Biblical quotation. As Howard Brinton writes, an important aim of the ministry in such messages was to encourage Friends to enter a certain emotional/ spiritual space, creating awe and accessibility to the Spirit:

The preaching [in my boyhood meeting] was of the oracular, prophetic type…always a simple, direct appeal for obedience to the inward admonitions of the Spirit. Its object was to arouse religious feelings rather than religious ideas…. Although as small boys we invented games to pass the time in meeting, sometimes even we felt the wind of the Spirit blow over us, as from a supernatural world beyond and above. Our response was awe, wonder, and reverence…. The Wilburite type of sermon, though not concerned with a logical presentation of ideas, often had in it a quickening, elevating, purging effect which no intellectual discourse about doctrines or social concerns, however edifying, can convey. (Brinton 1960, 6)

I know of no systematic study that has been done on recent Quaker sermons, [But see Beamish 1967, Graves 2009, or Bauman 1983 for treatments of preaching from earlier Quakerism, and see Burns and Wallace 2010 for a 1694 collection of 15 sermons] but I suspect that such a study is likely to demonstrate that modern Quaker messages show a strong tendency toward brevity, and tend to be messages that are either personal reflection and testimony or statements on social issues. A topical consideration, however, is perhaps not the most valuable for our present purposes; so I would like to consider the Parable of the Sower:

A sower went out to sow his seed; and as he sowed, some fell by the way side; and it was trodden down, and the fowls of the air devoured it. And some fell upon a rock; and as soon as it was sprung up, it withered away, because it lacked moisture. And some fell among thorns; and the thorns sprang up with it, and choked it. And other fell on good ground, and sprang up, and bore fruit an hundredfold. (Luke 8:5-8)

Now, the aim and concern of the ministry is to help the Life of God to take root and flourish in the hearts and lives of men and women, bearing fruit in good works and a life lived in the clarity of the Light. It is for this reason that the differing fates of the seed are good to think on. There are so many ways in which we can allow the Word received in the heart to be snatched away, or choked out, or suppressed by the press of challenges to our strength and patience. Whether it forms the content of messages or not, the minister should spend much time meditating not only on ideas, and Scripture, and events, but also on the human condition. This includes the ways we are tempted, the ways we presume to run before we walk, the ways we mistake our own needs and inclinations for something divine, the ways we fail in love, and rush into judgment and partisanship, the ways we do not rule our tongues, or improve our talents, the ways we cede our autonomy to our society, or peers, or job, or habits, or appetites. We should become aware of the mind-forged manacles which we all tend to wear, unless the Spirit frees us, and we follow promptly and humbly, testing our new hope with faithfulness and persistence.

It is important to remember in our meditations that while culture changes, and history marches on, and 2020 is different from 1652, yet humans are the same creatures, with the same dilemmas. Each new child born into the world must discover how to live in love, to reckon with fear, to accept death, to maintain hope. No matter how much technology there is, or how much of a social network surrounds us, we still all start at the beginning, meet grief and exaltation and desire and despair, do good and evil and have to live with the consequences. None of us should in our spiritual lives forget this primal, basic, simple truth about ourselves and those around us, the basic news about motives, needs, hopes, and illusions. The minister most of all must meditate, like Jesus, on what is in the human heart (John 2:25) and work out of a desire for everyone’s enjoyment of God’s presence and fellowship.

From an inward purifying and steadfast abiding under it, springs a lively operative desire for the good of others. All faithful people are not called to the public ministry, but whoever are, are called to minister of that which they have tasted and handled spiritually. The outward modes of worship are various, but wherever men are true ministers of Jesus Christ, it is from the operation of his spirit upon their hearts, first purifying them, and thus giving them a feeling sense of the conditions of others. (Woolman 1971, 31)

Whatever our gifts and style of ministry, we must come to see how to observe, reflect, and experience our lives, and feel where our commonalities are with our brothers and sisters. We must gain practice in bringing every change of weather, every chance and sorrow and triumph before God in stillness and confidence and allow the Light to play over and through it. Through this inward research we come to understand in compassion and honesty the journey towards “salvation,” which is freedom in the Spirit from bondage.

It is for this reason that the fundamental message, which we may more and more feel to be present under or around or behind the present message, is that of the divine Love and Light at work and available, with which we can reconcile and cooperate. Yet that Light and Life is oppressed and hindered in its growth in us: The Christ life is crucified and suffering. Gospel ministry has its root and purpose in the experience of the Seed’s presence, growth and health, and of its oppression under many burdens—encouraging the Life where it springs up and identifying and combating the oppression. Paul’s declaration, “I was determined to know nothing among you but Christ and him crucified” ( 1 Corinthians 1:1; my translation) challenges us all to listen attentively in our ministry to where the divine life is struggling to take shape, to welcome its progress with joy, and to serve it.

The preaching of early Friends had power not because of its sociology, not because of its politics, but because they knew themselves as part of the drama of salvation; their story was the latest chapter in the story that began with Adam and moved through Noah, Moses, the prophets, Jesus and the apostles. They were seeing in their own time the Dawning of the Gospel Day, the fresh action of God inviting them to freedom from the bondage of sin, and the overcoming of Darkness with Light. Sometimes the story was told so as to embrace the great movements of history, sometimes it was made as simple and particular as admonitions to honesty in business, avoidance of war taxes, living gently on the earth. In each of these themes, large or small, cosmic or intimate, the great story is seen unfolding.

Over and over again, through an infinite variety of messages, each of which they believed was specifically given by the Spirit for that specific occasion, [the ministers] called people out of the darkness surrounding ordinary human nature, into the Light which can transform that human nature through spiritual communion with the living Christ…the initial entrance into the light [w]as only a preliminary, though necessary, step; the real question was whether a person would continue, throughout life, to move along with the Light. To deny the Light at any point might mean that it would be lost. Thus, the infinite variety of Quaker sermons was frequently aimed, like a surgeon’s scalpel, at deftly exposing that little sin or that great omission which a specific Friend was allowing to cloud his access to the Light. (Taber 1980, 12-13)

Finally, out of that growing inner experience, you will find yourself treasuring the work that has brought you along and finding joy in it. More than that, you will be happy to feel where a desire for service is rising in anyone, and to encourage it. You will come to feel how important it is to encourage others to consider the ministry as a primary concern, but you will also be more and more aware of the power of God moving in any kind of concern, and feel the kinship among all kinds of service that is rooted in love and compassion. You will be glad to see this work going on, and grateful enough to thank others for their faithfulness. This may often be the most important act a minister can perform, to encourage someone else as they try to do their part.

Joseph Hoag wrote of how, while he was wrestling with the sense that he was being called into the ministry, David Sands paid him a visit in his home to do this very thing:

Almost as soon as he entered the door, he singled me out, and not only told me that the call was right, but took hold of the reasonings and difficulties I had passed through for years, more correctly than I could myself. Then, in this moving language, said, ‘As sure as thou knowest all this to be true, so sure thy exercise, thy concern, and thy call is right; and if thou wilt give up and be faithful, the Lord will be thy strength, and thy reward, and will surely carry thee through all thy straits…. Thou hast many trials to pass through, but the Lord will be thy leader and thy reward. (Hoag, 1861)

Part II: Growth in the Gift

Chapter 9: The Minister’s Devotional Life

[I here borrow the title of a valuable little address by Geoffrey Nuttall (1967), from which any Friend may profit.]

The largest portion of the labor entailed by a concern for the ministry is enacted in private listening, rather than in the outward events where the gift may be exercised. Every Friend is admonished to find a time of quiet retirement daily, and to study the Scriptures and other devotional literature regularly. But if you are led into a concern of Gospel ministry, you need even more to pay attention to your devotional life. The reason is that this time is an important part of your school and your laboratory. It is here that you wait to be instructed by the Lord, both in expectant waiting, and in reflection upon the material of your experience and your reading.

Earlier I made the point that “a living ministry begets a living people.” Here I wish to emphasize that a living ministry is a listening ministry. Your growth in your gift should be accompanied by a growing ability and desire to listen for the life of the Spirit in events, stories, people—both from the present and from the past. In this chapter and the several following, I address several aspects of this listening: study, prayer, Scripture, and Friends tradition.

Study and writing.

It is worth spending a little time on the subject of reading and study, because Friends have always asserted that right ministry is not a matter of intellectual accomplishments. You are not expected to learn ancient languages, read abstruse texts, and keep up with current developments in philosophy and theology. However, concerned Friends in every age, from the time of Fox down to the present, have found that study of some kind becomes an important part of their discipline and growth.

Reading helps amplify one’s personal scope, sets people, issues, and events in context, feeds the search for the causes of things, reminds us of the complexities of life and the universe. Furthermore, it is often valuable to know what has been written and said on the topics of special concern to you, whether it is prayer, social action, doctrine, history, or whatever. Since the service of gospel ministry is in part a service of words and thought, your service may well be strengthened by systematic encounter with others’ ideas and formulations, Quaker and otherwise. The main thing is that whether you study widely or not, your reading should be informed or guided by your commitment to service, and your desire for the good of souls.

By this, I do not mean at all that the study and reflection are intended as preparation of sermons to be delivered—a point widely addressed in books and advices already. I will only add here, that if you read and study, and do it in a reflective way, and especially if you keep a journal or other notebook as an aid to the reflection and as a learning tool, you will often find yourself constructing inward discourses on the basis of passages or ideas that capture your attention. This is so natural to our minds, that one may want to defend it as reasonable and harmless, as long as the material is not unloaded before it is really called for. Indeed, decisions in this regard are made more complicated by the habit of some ministering Friends, for example Rufus Jones, of noting down important insights or lines of thought and reviewing from time to time, so that sermons in a sense grow organically around these kernels. In terms of meditation and deep consideration of ideas or issues, there is much to recommend this. This seemed especially attractive at a time in Quakerism when a renewal of the “teaching ministry” was one of the most frequently voiced needs, and it was felt that rightly prepared Friends were too inclined to stay silent.

Yet it is my experience that if one keeps this kind of encapsulated notes, sermon-kernels, it is harder to judge when one is really called to speak this message to these people at this moment, as distinct from a time when a good thought has ripened until it is ready for dispersal. Therefore, if you are a person who likes to take notes, organize your reading, and so on, your discipline before and during meeting must include additional care to set such prepared material aside, and seek in real openness for a sense of present need. If, as you ask yourself whether such material is called for at a particular time, the answer is always “Oh, go ahead!” it may well be that you are answering to your own satisfaction rather than waiting for real guidance.

This is not a new problem. Concerned Friends have always found their minds engaged in trains of ideas and images that feel as though they are intended for use in the ministry. Here is John Conran, an Irish Friend (1739-1827), describing his experience:

In managing my outward business, in the garden and fields by myself, I sometimes have felt a living language in my heart as if I were addressing an assembly of people, and it used to begin so imperceptibly in me, that it would be moving some minutes before I would turn my attention to it, and when I did, it increased so much as to bubble up like a spring, and break me into tears, and left a sweet savor and comfort behind. These were I believe only the first-fruits of the Spirit, and the ministration of preparation for the important work of the ministry, and which I fear some have taken for the work itself. (Conran 1877, 33-4)

Such experiences are not uncommonly reported in the journals, and the authors are unanimous in their sense that such openings are serviceable, provided one never used the material so assembled just because it was cogent and instructive. It was to be set aside, in one’s mind or in writing, with a prayer that it enrich one’s preparation, and go into the storehouse from which the good servant draws good things new and old to share when the real need arises, and the Master directs. Nothing is ever wasted.

I should add further that when you are in a period of concentrated service, as in an extended visit in the ministry among a series of meetings, your mind may rightly be so thoroughly engaged and dedicated during that time, that your meditations are entwined with your concern for the people being visited more or less constantly. You still need to wait until a real call comes. In your discernment, be open to the possibility that you may be used in ways which you have not been while at your own meeting, or at times when you are following a concern in a less concentrated fashion. Job Scott reports how in his travels in the ministry, his mind was engaged with meetings he was about to visit for hours ahead of time, as though he had already entered the space of worship where he could in the Spirit meet with the Friends towards whom God was directing him. I have experienced something of the sort myself, and I suspect it is commonly felt by travelling Friends. [Moreover, this sense of engagement may continue after one travels on—one motivation for “epistles” to meetings or individuals, and for repeat visits: it may take some time to feel “clear” of the sense of responsibility to a meeting or other group.]

Moreover, in reflecting on your devotional life, remember that a key part of our work in the ministry is understanding the nature of our gift—and I believe in consequence that our devotional life should reflect our real needs and gifts. To study widely or not, to keep a journal or not, to develop “rules of prayer” or not—these and many other technical questions are open, and to be answered by experimentation and experience. If in the quiet, one feels drawn to write, or to begin a systematic study of a book of the Bible, or the writings of a theologian, then try it conscientiously. If it feeds you, if you can keep it soaked in the sense of the Spirit’s presence, if it feeds mind and heart, but not pride, then it may well be safe and nourishing. If it precludes a time of humble, expectant waiting, then it is taking too much space, because, as Penington says, the business of a Christian is to know Christ. In our reading and our reflection, in our waiting and in our writing, Christ’s companionship and instruction should be present, even as we learn about history, or human psychology, or reflect on the needs of a friend. We are to seek the life of God in all.

Writing, whether in a journal or notebook or other form (such as letters or a blog), can be a tremendous aid to reflection, and if you do not write reflectively in some form, I urge you to experiment with it. There are many “traps” to be avoided, any one of which, if you fall into it, could convince you that writing is not for you. While you can be guided by any of the genres of reflective writing that you’ve seen or heard about from others, treat these as avenues of exploration, rather than straitjackets whose “rules” you need to learn. The notes you take are for your own use. You don’t need to write on a schedule, you don’t need to use high-sounding language; you don’t need to write finished prose, tell a continuous narrative of your life, or meet anyone else’s expectations at all.

Your notes may be quotations from your reading, or telegraphic reminders of things you’ve heard people say. They may arise as part of your devotional reading, or your daily walks, or in relation to classes or workshops you attend. They may take the form of letters, or stories, or poems, or half-shaped phrases—or they may be a jumble of all of these.

I recommend three important characteristics for your journal or notebooks: freedom, diversity, and cultivation. [This framework is drawn from Drayton 2004.] By freedom, I mean that you write in the styles, and on the topics, that you find most useful at the time, and as honestly as possible. Your notebook, an extension and expression of your mind and spirit, should range as widely as you like and need to. Feel free to cut and paste from one document into another. The stuff you put in there is for your use. By diversity, I mean that you allow the material to be miscellaneous and to change over time: add in sketches or dried flowers or news clippings or anything that records your reflections usefully for your later use and information. Keep more than one kind of notebook for different kinds of material. Open new notebooks for specific projects, if that helps. Finally, cultivation: writing it down helps, but you need to read it, too. You are your own audience, and from time to time, you should extend the reflection that led to an entry by revisiting it, perhaps annotating it, adding to it or cross-referencing to other entries. In this way the book becomes a real tool for learning.

If you find that your ministry includes writing for others (whether for publication or correspondence), or a teaching ministry, this will shape the note-taking you do, of course, and the notes or journals may become places where ideas are explored more formally, in preparation for the creation of pieces for publication, or letters to be sent under concern.

I conclude this section with a wise quotation from Lewis Benson:

The work of the prophetic minister is real work. It involves enriching his mind with the language of prophecy and the imagery of prophecy. It means finding time for the maturing of insights and the quiet prayer and meditation that leads to wisdom. It means meditating on the great themes of the Christian faith. These meditations will later enrich his ministry, but they are not rehearsals of sermons to be given at any particular time or place. (Benson 1979, 51)

Chapter 10: The Workshop of Prayer

For a minister, frequent listening is a fundamental part of the work, that is, it is the essential daily training for a life seeking to orient itself around a public service like the gospel ministry, which is so vulnerable to the needs of the self and the calculating mind. The development of some practice of prayer which fits your life is both an important achievement in itself, as well as being the foundation for both growth and endurance. There are two modes of prayer which you should seek to realize. One is a dwelling in watchfulness—going through the day aware of God’s presence, sometimes brought to the foreground by a brief shift of attention, often in the background. The other mode may be called intentional prayer, in which we bring to the foreground our intention to spend time with our Friend and teacher. This includes times for focused search on specific issues, and naturally the subjects will range across our whole lives. In the context of this book, however, I want to mention three tasks in which listening prayer seems especially important: evaluating your service, intercessory prayer, and listening in decisions.

Evaluating your service

You will probably often be tempted to over- or undervalue your service. When being conscious about a concern which includes so personal an outward performance as Gospel ministry, one is easily drawn into this kind of instability. It is very hard not to evaluate one’s actions for success or failure; it is also hard sometimes to see when something new should be attempted, or an old fear set down. It is of course needful to reflect upon one’s doing or withholding; the difference in the fruitfulness of this reflection is in the light in which you reflect, the marks by which you judge, and the results you hope for. Therefore, listening in prayer is necessary as you learn how to see, test, taste, and value your ministry—the nature of the gift, and of your stewardship of it. You should seek to be able to pray honestly about your service, and expect to be shown what is missing, what is worth preserving, and what is to be rejected.

As ever, the first motion is to wait until you can feel the cool, quiet, strong flow of light and love. Wait until no content, no specific subject is before your mind. This most quiet stage may last briefly, but you must wait to reach it. Then allow the reflection to begin, but at many points, pause and feel for the springs of light again. Stay close to that quiet place, and then you will truly be able to regard your experience prayerfully.

Intercessory prayer

If you have not been in the habit of intercessory prayer, then you have not yet come to one of the necessary sources of instruction and discipline for service. This is a kind of prayer that comes easily to some, but is more difficult for others; it may be because intercessory prayer, “praying for someone,” raises central questions about the nature of prayer. My own experience with intercessory prayer has included long periods of not-knowing—and in those times, I have not practiced prayer at all. I believe that in waiting, and longing for guidance, I was led into a place of renewal in prayer. The result has been that, though I may not be great in prayer, I am at home with it, in both its sweet manifestations and its bitter. In case it is of use, I would like to set down here something of what I do.

When I first was experimenting with intercession, all I could feel to do was to articulate some desire or request on someone’s behalf. At times this could seem alive and real. At other times, I found myself straining or worrying, trying to figure out what to pray for, and falling back into vague and quite formulaic good wishes for the objects of my prayer. I am sure that the Lord accepted these for whatever good intent was in them, but it did not feel like a productive path.

I discovered quite another way during an unexpected opportunity with a beloved older minister; it has been my usual pattern ever since. At first we were sitting, each at a desk on opposite sides of the room, quite unconnected, each occupied with some work of his own. Quite suddenly I felt that my friend had dropped into prayer, and even though our backs were to each other (because of how the furniture was arranged in the room we were using), I was drawn into a real place of quiet reverence. It was in that quiet, unforced sense of the beloved Presence of God, shared with my friend, that I felt myself praying in quite a different way, first for others, and then at last for myself, something I had never been free to do before. The memory of that time remains fresh and sweet to me.

The lesson I learned then was, it is good to spend some time in a wordless, un-striving sense of the presence of God, in which my only purposeful act is to direct my attention towards someone I wish to pray for. Sitting in the Light, I see the person in that Light, and in a sense I just stand together with him or her in the Presence.

In that time, I am just aware of my cherishing that person, and his or her deepest welfare, as though I am telling God that I care for him or her, and asking God to do so, too. Sometimes I am led into a reverent and searching reflection on something about that person’s life or condition. I may even be able to feel a place where they may be challenged or the Life oppressed in them.

From this meditation may arise some sense that I should speak or write to them or do something for them. Sometimes, though, I am left only with a sense of fresh awareness about these individuals (or subjects), or a clearer knowledge of them. This sense of intensified awareness is a fruit worthy of much gratitude for its own sake, and a major contributor to serviceability in word, deed, or silent ministry. After a time, the image is released, and I can leave the place of prayer, or move on to some other focus.

I have also found that it is good to spend some time just waiting openly in the Presence to allow a face, or group, or concern, to rise up unsought for. When this happens, I feel particularly attentive to who or what arises, and to any particular motions relative to the subject. Very often, the result is nothing more than an education for me—I become more aware of the name, face, group, or issue that arises, and therefore, I am just a little better prepared to listen, pray, learn, or act in the future. Sometimes, the subject that arises may take on a more focused importance, and then it may be that a concern or leading is taking shape.

Listening in decisions

Listening in the midst of deciding is an exercise that all we Friends should be practicing in our lives, but perhaps we do not indulge in it as much as we could. For a minister, this is something that should grow to be very usual practice, more especially if we are deciding about any religious service—and we should bear in mind how hard we find it to do, and how many lessons we may have to learn in attempting to be faithful in it. Moreover, such discernment may bring valuable instruction about the dynamics of a person’s or meeting’s spiritual life, and the minister should reflect upon such events, as if upon a devotional text.

While it may be that Friends very generally seek divine guidance in their daily lives, we tend not to speak of it, and that is regrettable, as some more open testimony in this connection might be helpful to others. To that end, I briefly note here my own practice. I can mention three kinds of listening that I have learned to do when deciding.

First, a quick inward retirement—a momentary pause, a brief period of mindfulness, in which God and the decision are both in my awareness. If no prohibition arises, then I feel free to proceed as seems best upon other considerations. I imagine that this is the commonest way Friends “check in” during the day, and it was discovered early among us. Hugh Barbour writes of it as part of the daily practice of Quakers even in the early period: “In some ordinary activities, no special guidance was looked for, and it was enough that Friends found within themselves no contrary balks or ‘stops to their minds.’” (Barbour 1964, 114). This is the kind of listening that I try to do at work and around the house, and it can be a powerful if very simple tool for noticing places where I have allowed myself to become encumbered to the impairment of my spiritual health.

Second, “sanctified debate.” By this phrase I mean simply taking time to become deeply aware of the Presence, and then undertaking an intentional meditation and reflection on the decision. This allows my reasons, pro and con, to be examined in the consciousness of my deepest commitment, and thus to allow the Light to a certain degree to search my motives, fears, and hopes. I may find then that I refrain from something, because I see that to act on it on the basis of my most prominent motives would be a betrayal, large or small, of my sense of the divine truth that I have; or would serve to harden me against something that is uncomfortable but important—something that is making me less tender (and here I might include even just too much busyness).

Finally, “seeking the opening way.” I have sometimes found that when I sit with a decision, there is no prohibition or stop that directs my choice (by eliminating an alternative). Nor do my reasonings produce clarity. If I feel I must act, then I have found it good to wait until I feel a path opening as I look in one direction or another, and a sense of release or freedom when I contemplate taking that route. Then, even if I feel doubts or concerns, unless these intensify, I go ahead in trust.

Recently, a Friend told me of another practice that seems very similar. He told me that when faced with a choice of which city to go to for a medical procedure, he waited, and felt that City A had “more light on it” than City B, so he went to A and felt that all went well. Not long after hearing that story, I found that John Churchman, in his journal, speaks of this practice as well. Since hearing from my friend, I have in decision-making paid attention to this sense of light, and found it is a good additional technique for living more mindfully.

I wish to emphasize that I do not recount these practices of mine as in any way representing a manual of prayer, nor as if they are of any profundity. I write of it only because it is part of the work of a minister to grow in listening prayer, in more and more settings, and I have been encouraged and instructed to hear others’ practice and experience in this regard. Over the years, these considerations have become part of my learning to keep the daily watch, as faithfully as I can.

Chapter 11: Listening to Scripture

People have different feelings about Scripture, beyond any ideas about it they may have. To some people, it feels like a mountain they have to climb, or a toilsome duty. To some, it is an Authority, either to rely upon, or to rebel against, or to use in some company but not others. Some people enjoy it as an encounter, almost like travel in a distant country partially known—some places familiar, always some surprises, but a trip undertaken with confidence and real relish. Some people just ignore it. The list of feelings about Scripture is quite long, and of course each of us may feel any or many of these at different times in our lives, and sometimes simultaneously.

Nevertheless, it is important for the Quaker minister (no matter what kind of ministry they are called to) to find a way to read Scripture frequently and deeply—and actively. If it is not part of your practice, I urge you to make it so. If this is not easy for you, I suggest that the most important thing is to stay engaged with Scripture, become familiar with its many moods and dimensions, and take what meaning you can from it each time.

It is often a first impulse in these days to tackle the Scriptures intellectually, acknowledging the great distances of time and culture that make them often inscrutable. The Advices encourage us to study them regularly, making use of modern aids to understanding and interpretation. This intellectual approach is a “cool,” careful way to start to know the Scriptures, if you are not comfortable reading them. Furthermore, such study, if it deepens our familiarity with the text, can be enriching and invaluable.

However, I would recommend that, aside from any study you may undertake, you make sure to spend time just reading them when you are centered and aware of the divine presence. Start reading slowly, not trying to interpret or translate, but just with the feelings and imagination, and an inwardly open attitude. When something rises up, catches your attention, read it over several times slowly, and then stop reading and let it echo in your mind. You may form definite ideas about it, you may even write them down, but the most important thing is to read them in the Spirit, receiving them as you do someone’s ministry that comes quietly amidst a gathered meeting. George Fox spoke of reading the Scriptures in the same Spirit in which they were given forth, and if we dwell deeply when reading, we can feel somewhat how it may have felt to hear or even write the words; in any case, they are as if new.

Now, there are many good reasons to become conversant with Scripture, and all of them enrich our spirits and our service. The point which I wish to emphasize for present purposes, however, is this one: We are today just as liable as any other people in history to fall prey to idolatry. A habit of honest encounter with Scripture is one way to combat this tendency.

By “idolatry,” of course, I do not mean the obvious, old-fashioned paganism, offering worship to images of God or gods. I have more in mind the tendency to mistake the human for the divine, the facade for the substance, and in short, to worship gods of our own making, who bear an eerie resemblance to ourselves. We are all too prone to shape a religion for ourselves that is unchallenging and comfy, and we bow down to an image in a mirror. This may be particularly easy in Quakerism, which nowadays does not even enforce eccentric clothing or unusual speech upon us. How easy it is to feel we are simple, peaceable, Spirit-led, faithful, when we may in truth be merely conventionally moral, fearful, and shy of conflict! In the struggle to get past our comforting illusions, and reach towards a God of truth, whose love is also judgment, and whose Light both convicts and heals us to be stronger than we were before, a habit of grappling with the Scriptures at all the levels of feelings, imagination, intellect, and prayer is a powerful help indeed. As our inward life takes on new dimensions of experience and truthfulness, our encounter with Scripture will become more vivid and important for us.

Finally, our grappling with, listening to, and being interrogated by Scripture can serve as a model and parable for the kinds of observation and prayerful reflection that the minister should bring to more and more aspects of our lives. We are not only to live mindfully, as everyone ought, but as servants with particular responsibilities, we are to live watchfully, on the lookout both for our own instruction or healing, and for our next task.

Chapter 12: Listening to Friends Tradition

Tradition is the living faith of the dead; traditionalism is the dead faith of the living. Tradition lives in conversation with the past, while remembering where we are and when we are and that it is we who have to decide. Traditionalism supposes that nothing should ever be done for the first time, so all that is needed to solve any problem is to arrive at the supposedly unanimous testimony of this homogenized tradition.
     —Jaroslav Pelikan.

What gain is there in listening to the voice of tradition, especially in a religious movement in which “continuing revelation” is a deeply-held value? For me, the fundamental reason to listen carefully to Quaker tradition is the oneness of God, and the human tendency to take our own customs, ideas, values, and commitments as revelation. I believe that Quakerism truly arose under a fresh in-coming of the Spirit of Christ, and under its guidance the first Quakers in a remarkably short time were led into a way of walking as Friends of the Truth, and Children of the Light (of Christ), a way with its own integrity. Since this is our path, it behooves us as we live our lives today to seek deeply, and critically, in the stories and practices of our predecessors for insights and resources that we can learn from, adapt, or possibly use, for problems in our times.

It is true that God, whatever God is, has been in operation among all peoples in all times, yet this does not mean that all aspects of all cultures are manifestations of (His, Her, Its) action and guidance, any more than all of our culture is consonant with God’s will and spirit. How shall we separate the godly from the ungodly elements in our living? While nineteenth century liberal theologians liked to talk about humans’ progress in their understanding of God, and today’s process theologians can speak of processes and change within God as well as in human understandings of God, I find a different metaphor more useful, one that I suppose borrows more from science than anything else.

One might say that since the early stages of Judaism, through to the times of Jesus, and then through the ages of Christianity to the rise of Quakerism, a certain theory about the relation of God and humanity has been slowly under development. [This view, a theory of successive choices of interpretation, explicitly rejects the theory about the relation of Judaism to Christianity known as supersessionism.] As with any powerful and comprehensive theoretical structure (for example, evolutionary biology), some areas will be well developed and move beyond question, while others are more debatable. The general thrust of the theory remains coherent, however, if it has any explanatory power at all, even as bits are pruned, added, or deeply refurbished. It is by recognizing and working with the consistent architecture that progress is made at the frontiers of ignorance.

Quakerism represents a relatively recent “theory” about Christianity, and while we must be humble about the vast possibilities for confusing human preferences and culture with Revelation about the nature and actions of the Divine, Quakerism as a structure had developed into a consistent and powerful vision by the early 1700s. That is, it had developed on the basis of the great openings of the 1650s into a web of practice, faith, and experience, in which all parts are interdependent. It provided a coherent fabric of life, whose primary purpose and design was to enable us to live under the immediate guidance of the spirit of Christ, in our worship, our church affairs, and our daily activities as well, with far-reaching implications for civic affairs, social justice, and all other aspects of human life.

Now, was this fabric complete? Was it perfectly faithful to, reflective of, Divine guidance? Must it be normative for our time in all respects? Of course not. Yet one of the things about the Modernist era in which we live is the cultural conviction that the most recent is the most authentic; the thing we know best and feel most comfortable with is to be taken most seriously. Such assumptions are productive to a certain degree, but they must always be put to the test; and at their worst—or at our most heedless—they can encourage self-indulgence and the sort of idolatry that reshapes the world and the God we worship after our own image.

Yet God moves now and has moved in the past. Traces of the Quaker experience of divine activity is embodied in Quaker tradition in various forms—in documents and journals from the past, stories, and folklore, as well as in the discipline, testimonies, language, and customs that are still distinctive to us. These are all the results of lives lived in the Quaker way, under the guidance of the Spirit. To repeat a passage of Penington’s:

The Lord hath appeared in others, as well as to me; yea, there are others who are in the growth of his truth, and in the purity and dominion of his life, far beyond me. (Penington 1995-7, vol. 2, 372)

Therefore, on this basis alone, it is valuable for a modern Friend to become deeply familiar with the Quaker tradition in its various forms, and to understand it in relationship to its original purpose, as a way to live faithfully in the Spirit, rather than a set of customs now outgrown, or a set of beliefs.

But I have been writing in intellectual or theological tones, and this is only the surface of the matter. In this seeking, as in all your inward research, the goal is to feel after the Life. Just as you should seek to be aware, habitually, of the Light in the people you meet, and seek for the spiritual in the events of your time and your own experiences, it is important to find out why a particular aspect of Quaker practice arose, in relation to the fundamental drive to contain Spirit in temporal life, and remember that many aspects of the Quaker “system” were mutually reinforcing, and therefore plucking one by itself to eliminate or emphasize, in isolation from the whole system, may ignore or distort its actual, systematic meaning.

As I have lived with the concern for the ministry for many years, I have often been drawn into places of sympathy and understanding with regard to ministers of earlier times, others who carried the concern I now feel. On the basis of the common work, and some similar experience, I have found myself able sometimes to see from their point of view, and to understand something of the freshness and clarity with which they regarded aspects of Quaker practice and spirituality that before I had not felt any real connection to. In this way, as I felt my way a little into their condition, I was better able to learn from them. Often this sympathy has enabled me to recognize when their writings, often so opaque at first, were speaking of tangible, spiritual conditions, and events that I could connect with, and be challenged as well as instructed by.

I am not a plain Friend, nor am I anything but a person of my times. My religious experience reflects my own life history, talents, social milieu, and limitations, as anyone’s does. I am not advising a Return to the Past. On the contrary, from my own experience and practice I can report remarkable sources of inner nourishment—spiritual, emotional, and intellectual—when I have borne in mind that God has spoken to others as well as to me, and when I have taken seriously the bond that the Spirit makes within our community, both with contemporaries and with Friends of the past. Though this effort brings conflict with it, as well as other blessings that are easier to accept and understand, it is a vital consequence of our faith in God as a reliable teacher.

We are not alone, we few thousand modern Friends, and our community has not arisen just in our lifetime as Friends. The living tree is growing and active in its leaves, and the thin, outer layers of cells that surround the wood have been laid down in years past. But this year’s life would not be possible without the tissues laid down last year, and in all the decades before.

Chapter 13: On the Ordering of the Holy Spirit

The Advice, “Bring the whole of your life under the ordering of the Holy Spirit” is a central challenge for anyone under concern, and it may especially be so for you if you are faithful and useful in the ministry. This is because the exercise of the gift is a kind of leadership and makes one visible—hence the ancient label of “Public Friend.” As Edward Hicks once wrote, “My public character is certainly a kind of public property” (Hicks 1851, 128). Your experiments and experience with this spiritual work, the heart of simplicity, are important for several reasons. First, it is our calling as followers of Jesus; second, this ordering and clarifying of your life is likely to be necessary if you are to be faithful to your calling to service in the ministry; and finally, it will provide you insight and understanding about how hard it is, and how a dependence upon God’s guidance and power are at the heart of our success in this endeavor. All of this should season your ministry and deepen your charity towards others struggling with the same choices.

Most Friends are aware of the challenges of balancing our work lives and our spiritual lives—but even as I write that, I hope that you who are reading it are thinking, Isn’t our goal to “bring the whole of life” under the ordering of the Spirit? Furthermore, the work of getting a livelihood is an important source of instruction and insight on many levels, from the personal to the social and political. If we are careful, our jobs are ways to serve and also to witness with our lives. Yet there are times when one kind of work is in the foreground, and the other seems to recede. It is a mark of maturity that we are increasingly aware that God is nearby, in a benevolent and sanctifying sense, throughout the day. The balance is always dynamic, however, because all our actions draw on our limited stock of time. The challenge for a Friend under concern is to work with that dynamic balance consciously.

The work of spiritual nurture requires some time of focus, in devotional reading, silent reflection and prayer, and the other exercises we may be led to. Giving one’s economic and social demands their due—but no more than their due—is never easy, and for most ministers there is not one final solution, but a frequent consideration and attention to the question over the course of one’s life. Bill Taber conjectured on the basis of his study and experience that probably the majority of Friends ministers were not rich. Sometimes an acceptance of one’s calling means also accepting that success in business life will be limited, because even if you throw yourself conscientiously and even with joy into your job, you must reserve some of your time and energy—and not the dregs—for your service in ministry. I have found it so.

John Woolman’s description of a time when he made an adjustment in his business life, so it would take no more than its share of his time and attention is well known, but worth considering again:

The increase of business became my burden, for though my natural inclination was toward merchandise, yet I believed Truth required me to live more free from outward cumbers, and in this exercise my prayers were put up to the Lord, who graciously heard me and gave me a heart inclined to his holy will. Then I lessened my outward business, and as I had opportunity told my customers of my intentions, that they might consider what shop to turn to, and so in a while wholly laid down merchandise, following my trade as a tailor, myself only, having no apprentice. I also had a nursery of apple trees, in which I employed some of my time—hoeing, grafting, trimming, and inoculating. (Woolman 1971, 53-54)

It is well to remember, however, that it is not only one’s livelihood that can create “outward cumber.” Job Scott wrote about this particular kind of cumber, arising from over-activity in Quaker affairs:

I have found it my business, sometimes of late, to be more inward in travail, and less active in the exercise of the wholesome rules of society [i.e. the Society of Friends] than I once was; and believe, when I have obeyed the call into this inward, still abode, and there felt my loins rightly girded, it has contributed much more to the right exercise of the discipline, than when, through a desire for its proper administration, I have, by overacting, seemed to do a good deal for its execution. (Scott, 1831, vol. 1:133)

“Meeting work” can take up rather more time than is appropriate, and I find myself every year, during “nominating season,” asking myself what might be my limits and freedom in this connection. On the one hand, I want to be of use, and to take my fair share; on the other hand, if I am really concerned to work in the ministry, that is in fact an important portion of my share. I need to make sure that on the one hand I do not shirk it, and on the other hand I contribute in other ways as I feel free to, when Friends request.

To offer a concrete example of one Friend’s “balancing act,” I here note my own practice. For the past few years, I have tried to limit workshop or similar commitments to three per year (an arbitrary number) and turned down most committee assignments. However, I have made this part of my discipline explicit to my meeting, to give them an opportunity to advise me if they think I need to make a change. In my report to my meeting for 2004, I wrote:

My job is demanding, and this coming year will perhaps be more so, so I need to be sure that my Quaker work takes an appropriate amount of my time, and no more. If I look back over 2005, and have done fewer things, but done them well, I will be satisfied. I should also say that I am not easy in my mind about my service within our meeting. That is, I am not sure that I have been seeking hard enough to perceive openings in which I might contribute more. I will continue as [monthly meeting] clerk through the coming year, but I am not clear that I should continue beyond that. It may well be time (or more than time!) for someone else to take that role.

The dynamic balancing of activities, the becoming ordered, is life in the Spirit. It takes particular shape in the life of one who has accepted the calling to ministry, and the integrity of our lives is part of our testimony.

It was also expected that they [early Friends] would add deeper commitments to their daily lives as they became able to do so; it wasn’t a matter of picking and choosing bits with which they were comfortable and complacently ignoring the rest…. The question for us is, are we exemplars of faithful living…? Are we open to ongoing nudges from the Spirit to cling more closely to the Root while continuing to discard things, activities, acquaintances, habits, and thought patterns that distract us from closer obedience?… (Grundy 2012, p.11)

Chapter 14: On Growth in the Gift: Learning from the Work

You will find it profitable to examine, from time to time, what happens when you exercise your gift. Much material for reflection arises when you act, as you believe, upon a call to service. Some of this material comes as feedback of various kinds. For example, people may receive the service as you expected, but they may not. The response may be unexpectedly negative or positive. From the nature of content of the response, you get some information about the condition of those you thought to serve, as well as your own discernment about when to speak or keep silent, and what to say.

A second kind of feedback comes from analysis in hindsight, which may have its roots in promptings from the Spirit, to show you your condition. When you sit down after speaking, or next find a quiet moment of openness, you may feel an inward rebuke, a sense stealing over you, perhaps, that you were wrong, or ill-timed, or that you acted from a mistaken motive. Even if objectively it felt “good,” or Friends express satisfaction, you may still hear inwardly “I have not required this at your hand.”

If the call is really from God strength will be given. If not, the minister will feel a gentle rebuke and inner disquiet after he has spoken. Experience will teach him to distinguish between a sense of uncertainty that comes from God and human uncertainty. (Benson 1979, 49)

Worse, you may realize or suspect that you undertook the work quite cold-bloodedly, because you felt it was expected of you, or because you were anxious that someone should do something, or had reason to believe such a message would “do the meeting good.” The work may have been prompted because your own estimation of yourself required it.

A third kind of feedback is to be found in your personal response, your feelings about the event. Do you feel your ego fed? Do you calculate the effects you hope to have had on this or that Friend (whether fearfully or with self-congratulation)? Were you too restrained from timidity, or just not inclined to exert yourself beyond a certain point? Are you surprised, worried about your reputation, or anxious about the implications or reception of your words?

Of course, such things happen to us all from time to time—you are not alone. You keep close to the gift here, in the aftermath, by your inward posture during this time of review or reflection. This posture, or attitude, arises as you take care to cultivate a spirit of watchfulness, and the habits of mind and practice that support it. At first, you may need to devote a lot of attention to this—”need” because you find it hard to do, so you must put energy, will, and perhaps thought or craft into doing it. You may also “need” to pay close attention because you are needy—fearful, prideful, too critical of self or others.

Yet it is important not to obsess or get lost in self-important self-scrutiny. If every event feels dramatic, dramatically good or bad, in your eyes, while it does not to others, you need to be cautious. It is a species of scruple to examine every event with fear. It is a species of pride to seek to read more significance into a thing than it warrants, or to overdramatize your experience. Find the root, learn to name it, and then seek to face it down (a subject to which I return in more detail later). Understand where it has real meaning (as providing a warning to you), and where it is the expression of an aspect of self that is as yet unilluminated by Christ’s teaching and guidance—that is, an aspect which you have not yet brought before Him openly and with confidence in his healing and instruction.

For the key to this sort of exercise is to submit your condition, with all its fears, ills, or confusions, to the work of Christ, as far as you understand it. To the best of your ability, look past your anxieties, fears, and analyses, until you have taken the time to sink down to the quiet, to come to the dwelling place of prayer. If, in your waiting, you still feel a great tension in your body, or your thoughts return to issues or arguments that insist on taking center stage, look at each of these things with love, until you feel them lose their grip on you. By “looking with love,” I mean, acknowledge that they are real and important to you—don’t think “I shouldn’t be this way.” Here truth is the path to progress in the spiritual life. If you need to, personify your besetting images, and assure them (or yourself) that they will receive their due, once you have come into the true quiet.

It is most important for you to know first and foremost that you stand before the Lord as openly as you are able and give yourself a moment (however long) to feel God’s love, and your safety and dependence upon it.

Now you can take breath and then bring your issues forward, one by one. In that quiet place, you can be almost as undismayed by your disorder as God is. You can know, perhaps even with a certain rueful humor, that even if you couldn’t admit your need, the Lord of Counsel knows it. Hiding or dissembling is a pointless delay, really, and so the easiest thing to do is to bring the case forward into the Light.

The lesson you are seeking to learn, until it becomes a settled, unquestioned reflex, is how to have a teachable mind. Thus, whenever you do a thing because you are called, or feel it is required of you, turn inward, and feel your condition. You will soon come to recognize—most of the time—when there is a major issue to address and when you can feel safe to move on without paying it much attention.

This can be put another way: As you act on your gift and continue to learn from it, you learn to be available and teachable as a habit. As a result, the inward eye or ear opens more easily, and your mind is more and more illuminated by the mind of Christ. The goal here is to be open and watchful, trusting, and unforced. As Douglas Steere liked to quote, you ask “Was thee faithful? Did thee yield?” Sometimes the answer will be “No!” and sometimes “Yes!” In either case, by cultivating the habit I have described above, you will be able to give thanks in your confidence in the Lord’s guidance and make use of that guidance. If you don’t ask, you won’t learn.

Chapter 15: On Discouragement

You will often feel discouraged in your service. Highs and lows are a usual part of any spiritual life. Physical fatigue, oppressive weather, perplexities at work, unhappy news or difficult interactions, can cast you down. Further, events like these can be distracting from your spiritual practice, so that without your noticing it, you are not taking the time you usually do in prayer and devotional service, so that some accustomed spiritual nourishment is lacking, and your healthy rhythms are thrown off. If you are being very mindful of your spiritual health, and notice this kind of dryness, you may be tempted to treat it as more serious than it really is. If you re-establish your practice, a dryness due to such temporary causes will pass off quickly.

It is good not to think of one’s faithfulness as depending upon “inspiration,” in the common sense of that word. Typically, this implies a surge of energy and enthusiasm which makes things flow. There is adrenaline in it, and a sense of expanded possibilities. It does not last long; it is taxing on the body and the emotions, and soon runs out of steam, sapped by fatigue or opposition.

Of course, a minister may well have these moments of high energy and excitement, and they are not to be dismissed or devalued. They may be part of the movement towards an act of service, whether speaking in meeting or during another event requiring some risk. Nevertheless, they cannot be given more importance than they deserve. The “inspiration” you are after may include such moments, but will more durably consist in a sense of spiritual clarity, attention, and availability or presence to God and to those you meet.

But supposing that you have learned to look beyond these short-term changes in mood, sometimes you still will find yourself in a more extended time in which you feel disheartened and weak. In such moments, the safest and the wisest path to insight is to sit down and wait to feel the Lord’s presence before considering your condition.

This is not because sitting in the quiet will necessarily bring quick, specific consolation, or some magic answer. The important thing is first to reestablish your connection with your Guide and Counsellor. As Mary Capper wrote:

None has ever sought the Lord in vain, though He is pleased at times to hide the light of His countenance from His waiting, dependent children. In simplicity, humility and faith is our safety. (Capper 1860, 57)

You must begin by sinking down to where you can recognize God’s presence, regardless of your feelings of unworthiness or restlessness. Be ready to see that some or much of your restlessness or sense of burden is really anger or frustration. Whether this is justified or not, it will need reckoning with. Seeking for the source must follow on recognition of your condition.

Be patient in seeking the place where you can feel the Seed, because it is in this presence that you can do the work of understanding and responding to your discouragement. We are called upon to love the Lord our God with all our heart, soul, strength, and mind. It is only when we are at the place where we can feel God beloved, and ourselves loved in return, that we can undertake the prayer work needed to understand our condition. When we are in that place, we are likely to feel reassurance of our fundamental value as God’s children. We are emboldened to look at ourselves in the truth, and made humble enough to take guidance, first from the Lord, and second from any of his faithful servants who may come to us with advice. I also find that it helps to recall the scripture here: “Fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul; but rather fear him which is able to destroy both soul and body…. Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father.” (Matthew 10:28-9) Even at our lowest and weakest, if our desire is to be faithful, God reaches to us even in our unfaithfulness or bewilderment.

Now, when you have found this place below fear and self-recrimination, you can begin to consider, in the Light, the nature of your discouragement. As you seek for the answers, and use both mind and heart in the search, you will be able to recognize when you have found some of the truth. But do not rush to seize on the first thing that occurs to you, the first complaint you utter inwardly. At those moments, continue waiting in the Light, letting any other complaints you may have, or other fears that you have felt, rise up into your consciousness. This will help you avoid premature conclusions, and premature closure to your inquiry.

Perhaps during this time, to spare your memory from too much work, you may wish to write your issues in a journal, or even on a piece of paper which you will discard once you are finished. The most important thing, however, is to stay in the place of quiet confidence, so that you need not fear anything that comes to mind. “The eternal God is thy refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms” (Deuteronomy 33:27).

It may be helpful to you to read some of the kinds of discouragement that other ministers have felt and struggled with. I have found that in considering these things, I sometimes have said, “Oh, that’s what it is!” but just as often have said, “I am sure it’s not one of these things, what else might it be?” and thus used these ideas as a way to push myself to seek harder for the sources of my own trouble.

Have you been unfaithful in some requirement?

This is a question that has much occupied ministers in all eras, however great their calling and their growth in the spirit. In fact, as you grow more practiced in listening for the Lord’s voice, and feeling where his life rises in yourself and others, and greeting it with joy, you also become more aware of where this life is blocked, and especially where it may be blocked by your own deeds or attitudes. Certainly, in my little measure, this one has cut deeply.

You may well know very clearly that you have fallen short in something. In his essay “On being moved by the Holy Spirit to minister in public worship” Lewis Benson writes: “If the call is from God strength will be given. If not, the minister will feel a gentle rebuke and inner disquiet after he has spoken.” Sometimes, another Friend will reinforce the message that the Lord has provided inwardly.

I remember one time when I had spoken in meeting, taking as my text the Lord’s prayer. I sat down with a sense of disquiet, feeling that perhaps I had made a calculation that the message was required, rather than feeling led then to bring that matter to those present. Within minutes, a visiting Friend arose, and first quoted Cromwell: “In the bowels of Christ, think it possible you may be wrong.” He then went on to quite a different message, very suited to the meeting’s need, noting as he made the transition that he did not see the connection between the Cromwell quote and the rest of the message, but feeling sure he must say it. Who knows if he was led to this because another Friend—me—needed a lesson in discernment?

I would like to add here a passage from Joseph Hoag’s journal:

We were at Mamaroneck meeting. Here, finding my mind led into different subjects, I was thoughtful to close in good season; but after sitting down, I did not feel that clear quiet, which I commonly feel when I time it right; but being unwilling to rise again, or kneel—for my mind was arrested with both—I sat until it wore off, and then broke the meeting. After I got out, an Elder came and took me by the hand, and said, “Joseph, thou has been preaching to others to be faithful to their gifts; hast thou been faithful to thine? I confess I did not expect the meeting to end so,” and turned away. Though I did not expect to be found out in that way, I was glad to meet with such honesty from the Friend. (Hoag 1861, 153)

Of course, the problem may be rooted in some act you took or neglected in your work or family life. The inner trouble that arises from such an event can make you less able to sense where your path should go, and raise up emotional squalls and upheavals, so that your judgment is impaired, and your strength lessened, for a time. All of us are likely to have points on which we feel chagrin, regret, or shame, and which remind us that we have a way to go before we are really living from day to day, and hour to hour, in conscious awareness of God’s presence. Furthermore, we must be alert to our share of the work of reconciliation in the world, and especially where we have some difference with another person, or a need to seek or give forgiveness. It may well be that you must cease from ministry until some resolution is found: “If thou bring thy gift to the altar, and there rememberest that thy brother hath aught against thee; leave there thy gift before the altar, and go thy way; first be reconciled to thy brother, and then come and offer thy gift.” (Matthew 6:23-4) Yet it is important not to seize too quickly on an answer. It may be that an idea that bears with it some weight of truthfulness is really only the door into your real trouble.

Do you feel that your work is not succeeding as you had hoped?

Perhaps the service you offer is not encouraged or is even discouraged. Perhaps you feel that Friends or others misconstrue your intent, your sincerity, your methods, or your competence; this is particularly painful if your home meeting is not able to support your concern or engage with it seriously and respectfully. It may also be that circumstances seem to conspire against you; “way does not open,” sometimes for a lengthy period. Then it is important to explore whether you are to remain committed to the concern, perhaps with a change of plans for action.

I know a friend who had received a powerful, clear leading to help build a new institution to serve some poor Friends in Africa. So clear was it that, as she recounted the opening, it raised a sense of delight and inspiration in those who heard her tell the story. Yet as she moved forward, more and more she encountered human obstacles. Others had agendas of their own; some suspected her motives; some feared that helping her would diminish their own status; some felt she should fit into some institutional structure that had no real room for her. How acute is the anguish when we meet such obstacles! How painful is it, to have something so beautiful treated as a suspect and maybe sordid matter! How long can the hope and tenderness continue before we start to ask: What really happened? Was it a motion of God’s love, or just a good idea of our own, with no sense of Divine life flowing in it, to open the paths to realization? You may bring this to prayer, and to the advice of your Friends, and be guided to persevere, to wait with hope for the next way to open. This was my friend’s experience.

Yet it is good to be willing to consider without fear whether your leading is being withdrawn. This may happen for reasons that have little or nothing to do with you. It needn’t mean failure, but just that you have been as faithful as required. Another passage from Joseph Hoag is relevant here. In 1823, Joseph felt drawn to pay a visit to Friends throughout several yearly meetings. Because, he wrote, he had been active in the discipline, he had made some enemies, who then were not comfortable in supporting his leading: “In so doing, I had offended so many, that they would not let me go. My Master returned the answer, ‘Do what I bid thee, and if I do not make way for thee, thou shalt be clear’” (Hoag 1861, 249).

A final question to ask, however, is “Am I mistaken?” Tension between yourself and your community may be an indication that your friends feel a reluctance or resistance that is well-founded. If your words or actions cause dissension or division, or a feeling of scattering and depletion rather than one of gathering and opening into fresh life, then it is your friends’ duty to address this simply, lovingly, and directly, and your duty to listen, in prayerful openness.

Do you feel that you are not getting the recognition or support that you deserve?

This is a feeling that is well known to anyone who strives to serve. It is, however, something that is very hard to admit. Often when we are ashamed of a thought, we do not allow ourselves to honestly look at it. Here is one of the times when the Light at work in us leads us to uncomfortable places and shows us things we would rather not see. It is important then to seek to the Lord for quietness of mind, so that you can reflect upon your feelings in a productive way. It is only once one has explored these feelings and their causes carefully that it is possible to move towards solution, or perhaps better said, towards freedom from them. But you cannot be free of them if you do not excise them at the root, and this may be long to seek.

Beyond this: It is hard sometimes to see what is one’s right “status” in the community of God. Many a time, one can say to oneself, “He who would be greatest among you must become the servant of all,” and know it intellectually. Yet being able to feel the rightness of it, and to dwell with the movement of love which enables one to serve as the Lord intends is not so easy to come to. After all, the goal of such service is to enable one’s brother or sister to live as a citizen of the Divine Commonwealth, and (as way opens) to nurture the life of Christ that is growing in him or her.

Yet, although we can and should rely first and foremost upon God for sustenance, there are good reasons as well to want some human feedback, some assurance that you are in fact rendering service that has value. Our service is rendered for others, and in a social and psychological setting, which has its own truth to be considered. Yet sometimes we are alone, as far as human support is concerned. If the feedback does not come, yet it is clear that you are in your right place, then you must accept the sense of deprivation as also part of the ordering in which your service is enacted.

If upon serious reflection and prayer, however, the question is persistent, and makes you doubt your calling, then it is time to seek for guidance from your friends. It may well be that your way is being shut up, that people are not receiving your services, and your inquiry will enable your advisors to explain if there is something you are doing which weakens your offering. On the other hand, your request for guidance may prompt Friends to recognize that they have been too backward in acknowledging their gratitude for your work and encourage them to find appropriate ways to let you know that your service has been acceptable. For there is an art and skill to encouraging which we are not as quick to develop as we might be. I have found that, being a naturally reserved person, I did not really realize how little I did this, until it came before me in prayer, and I found myself encouraged to be more quick to affirm the good things that others have done, in a way that they can hear and take encouragement from. Inward good opinions sometimes are not enough to nourish a minister who is exerting herself, and perhaps at some real cost.

Just as great physical exertion requires rest and nourishment, so also faithful service of any kind does, as well. Yet it may be that we do not recognize when this reward and encouragement comes, or do not draw from it the real value it contains for us. Therefore, when you have acted on a concern, be on the watch, not only for inward confirmation that you did not miss your way, but also for the reward that comes as well. If you get in the habit of giving thanks as soon as you can and accepting the sense of right action that comes after faithfulness, then you will in fact have much of what you need of recognition.

Do you feel that you need help, do not know how to proceed, or are facing an insuperable obstacle?

It very often happens that a Friend takes up a concern for some service, and gets along fine at first, but then obstacles arise. The way seems shut to us, or we feel as though our energy and optimism ebb away, so that we just can’t seem to take the next step.

Friends say that if we are following a true leading, “way will open.” When the way seems to close, our impulse is to question the leading, or our discernment about it at the beginning. Maybe I was just wrong about the timing, or the calling, or my understanding of the task; maybe my committee was not centered enough, or honest enough about their doubts. Something must be wrong.

Of course, something may have been wrong at that time of beginning. It may also be, however, that the material you are working with, the people or coalitions or the issues, are just extremely difficult, and will require persistence and a renewal of vision. The journals are full of lamentations about how hard the work of the ministry can be sometimes. Sometimes the writer is clear that the meeting itself is hardened and unreceptive to the ministry being offered, which is, as Elias Hicks wrote more than once, “hard for the poor traveler.”

The journalists tend to seek for meaning when in the sense of abandonment or hindrance, and sometimes these meditations are very useful to remember, even if your explanations might be couched in other language.

Job Scott, for example, was increasingly grateful to these times of trial, as they reminded him of the limitations of his own strength, and of the fact that his ministry was only in support of the inward work of Christ, whose life was seeking to gain its sway in the people. This helped him remember that he was only a servant, and if he was faithful in what he was given to do, nothing more was required, and he could take satisfaction that he was in step with the Guide.

I travelled through many heights and depths in my own mind…and seemed to be the nearest losing all faith and hope in God, that I ever remembered to have experienced…. I did not always abide sufficiently on the watch-tower, in confidence in him who has never failed me… (Scott 1831 vol 1., 243)

In writing about a trip in the ministry to Ireland, Martha Braithwaite asked herself why she so often tasted the joy of acceptable service, and then fell into a time of emptiness and weakness. She “reflected that the vessel that is often in use must often be cleansed and returned to the shelf, ready for the next time,” and thus saw that the swings of mood were in fact part of a larger whole, which was her being consistently ready during a time of intensive service.

Of course, you must seek in prayer for guidance, and also confide in a Friend or Friends whom you think may be able to listen effectively, and comment usefully. Be on the lookout also for unexpected guidance, as your inner debate or questioning continues. The most important thing is not to be hasty in judging what to do, either to press on or to give up. “Try the fleece wet and dry,” especially if the leading seemed very clear, and was supported and affirmed by discerning Friends. Trust the gift as it came clearly to you, and in present difficulties be very reluctant to relinquish the sense of blessing that came with it. Especially if your present troubles have to do with arrangements and process, allow yourself to step back to pray in quietness of heart, indeed insist upon spending time in rest and prayer until quietness of heart returns, and remember that prayer is also action. You need to be free of the need to succeed, and even though longing to carry on, willing to stop—and vice versa. When you are really in that willing place where you can give thanks for what your portion is, you will be more able to take counsel and discern the next step.

Do you feel disheartened because people or ideas with which you are out of sympathy seem to be widespread or gaining currency?

In these times of cultural turmoil both inside and outside the Society of Friends, you will sometimes encounter things that make you feel pain or even despair about what witness Friends may be making to the world. Your own preferred language and beliefs may be discounted or dismissed, and things you think of as being pivotally important seem of no importance to many others. Hearts will seem hard, or (even worse) indifferent to the deepest matters. This will tear at you. When things you find important are dismissed by others, and marginalized, the sense of pain and outrage can be very strong and persistent. Moreover, the more progress you make in your spiritual life, and the more you are watchful for and obedient to the Light, the more you will come to feel that spiritual dangers and openings are essential, and urgent.

Knowing that this kind of distress has been the lot of many over the centuries is only small consolation, however: you will feel the temptations of anger or discouragement freshly for yourself. Yet the only safe path, the path that witnesses to the Spirit of Christ, is one that bears with these things, and seeks in hope for the witness of God, which is unfailingly present.

Chapter 16: Discernment, Guidance, and the Role of Elders

Elders

In recent years, as Friends have discussed what is necessary for vital meetings in these days, we have sometimes referred to the traditional roles labelled “minister” and “elder.” We proceed best in considering elders when we remember that we are not talking about an abstract “job description” but rather individuals who are “well-grown in the Truth,” alert to the promptings of the Inward Monitor, and lovingly concerned for the meeting as well as for its members. What does “eldering” look like?

First a word about the institution of “elders.” Early Friends assumed that persons of mature spiritual stature would be raised up under the Spirit’s leading in their community, and like many other groups they adopted the term Elder to describe such persons—a term that has good biblical roots. At the early stages of Friends, even into the eighteenth century, “elder” was a description of someone’s condition, rather than an office to be filled. Thus, George Fox, the great example of the prophetic minister, was described as “that worthy Elder in Sion,” and so also were most of the Publishers of Truth at one time or another. However, from early times, it was recognized that there were people in each community whose spiritual qualities provided an anchor for the community life different from, and complementary to, what was provided by the Publishers of Truth. William Dewsbury as early as 1653 encouraged Friends to identify a few elders in each meeting, those “well grown in the Truth.” These Friends, who were experienced in the inward life, were the core of the meetings for business, which were at first not inclusive of all members of the meeting (there not being formal membership then, hence the value of naming some who were recognized as being well settled spiritually).

The elders’ functions were various, and as with ministers, there were no fixed roles to fill. They were the points of contact for travelling Friends; they arranged the holding of meetings and had care for the right holding of the meetings for worship (then as now). Sometimes these Friends gathered for mutual support and counsel. Corresponding to the Second Day Morning Meeting of Ministering Friends in London was a biweekly meeting of men Friends not in the ministry.

It was in the 1690s, in Ireland, that we have the first records of Elders as a specific office. Elders (a few in each meeting) were to be chosen, to meet separately from the ministers to consider the spiritual condition of the meeting. They were also to attend the meetings of ministers which had been held regularly for guidance, counsel, and refreshment from the earliest days of the movement. Thus, began the trend that later became infamous for Elders to exercise an influence counterbalancing that of the ministers in the leadership of the Society. In fact, formal meeting leadership evolved into a stable triad of contrasting or complementary roles: elder, overseer, and minister.

In the positive sense, however, the elders had essentially a nurturing role. One might say that their voice is embodied in our queries, for they were always to be asking questions: How is the meeting for worship? Do Friends have the ministry they need? Are the young being well-educated? Are you regular and punctual in attendance? Are Friends being buried, married, set up in business, and choosing their habitations after the manner of Friends?

By the middle of the eighteenth century, the structure of meeting leadership had settled into a stable pattern that dissolved (along with so much else) during the course of the twentieth century. The ministers exercised charismatic authority; the elders exercised the authority of discernment; the overseers exercised the pastoral authority. The division of labor was thorough. For example, the Wilburite yearly meeting in New England recommended that an elder should be the one to have care of meeting and close it, so as to free ministers from the special attention that this duty should entail. More striking, if an elder began to speak in meeting, he/she was to suspend the exercise of eldership, and would wait to see what his/her calling might be—there was little thought (at least in the discipline) that one might be both. While it seems unnecessarily rigid, it reflects the important insight that the kinds of inward work appropriate to each sort of service often are very different from each other.

The feeling we have now, looking back on that era, is that the ministers were the source of innovation and fresh leading—and sometimes error; the elders and overseers spoke for stability. [This stereotypical tension is encapsulated well in the controversy over Job Scott’s essay on Salvation by Christ. Luke Howard, in writing that Job Scott was guilty of unsound doctrine in some of his writings, says, “There was certainly in the character of this dear Friend, a perceptible excess on the side of the imagination and the feelings. This had been the case with many good and useful men before him: and such a temperament makes a minister faithful, or courageous and energetic in the discharge of duty‚ but in measure disqualifies him from being a competent judge of doctrine and controversies.” (Scott 1993, 70–71)] This is no more true than any such generalization—true in some cases, inaccurate in others. Certainly, elders felt the need to provide stability and continuity during times of turmoil in the Society, and where powerful innovators arose, powerful personalities arose to resist them. The conserving role of the elders led to the negative connotations of the term “to elder.”

Ministering Friends are easy to spot; part of their calling is to stand up and be heard. But it is hard to know how to nurture the birth and growth of elders, because they can so often be unobtrusive. They are the quiet, thoughtful, prayerful Friends whose learning and inward growth do not stop, and whose care for the meeting grows as they grow.

A meeting’s life needs guidance, stimulus, and cultivation—a healthy diet of several kinds of discipline. A loving elder (of whatever age!) can speak the hard truths of support and encouragement, and of restraint or even reproof, because we see how they love us faithfully. Of course, words are not needed, when the living is the message, and I know for myself that I have been learning the lessons of simplicity, directness, and simple prayer from some elders I meet who teach merely by their commitment to living Friends’ understanding of the Gospel, in the inward life as well as the outward.

Always, Friends in the ministry, or others under a concern, have been encouraged to seek out a discerning elder or two, who should listen with sympathy and honesty to the concern. Not all concerns should be followed, or followed right away; not all should be followed by the one who first perceives the need, or in the form that first appears. An elder who has had experience with many Friends, and who has maintained an inner watchfulness, provides a powerful connection with Truth for the minister or other Friend in the turmoil of leading, confusion, or temptation. A Friend can better open him or herself to the sense of divine power, and dare to take risks in service, knowing that wise, concerned Friends (whether “elders” or “ministers”) will understand, advise, encourage, and restrain in love and honesty as needed.

Seeking counsel from other ministers

We should be grateful that Friends have rediscovered the importance of Friends with a particular gift for eldership. It is good also to remember that “eldering,” like ministry, can, under the guidance of the Spirit, be offered by anyone on a particular occasion. Moreover, nothing can take the place of the counsel and fellowship that ministers can offer to each other, and there is great need for this kind of mutual cultivation and support. Indeed, the reason this book was begun at all was because such frank interaction among Friends in the ministry is so rare and precious; this little book was intended to offer at least an echo or taste of it.

When a Friend is young in the concern, there is a lot to learn about knowing when to act or speak, and when to keep waiting. Those who have struggled with the same questions can offer support and advice that is grounded in personal experience. Ann Crowley describes how, while she was accompanying some Friends travelling in the ministry, she began to feel called to appear in the ministry. She held back, however, believing that she might be mistaken, and in any case her companions were more experienced and she should not get in their way. She kept silent, but they also did as well. She felt turmoil in her uncertainty, but:

I spent an instructive evening with my companions, who I believe were dipped into a sense of my condition. The next morning…[my] exercise was renewed; but I was still fearful of believing myself called to so great and important work, as to become a minister of the everlasting gospel of peace and reconciliation. (Skidmore 2004, 147-8)

She came to understand that her companions’ silence was in fact a consequence of hers, that in those meetings she was given some service which would open the way for the others:

This withholding more than was meet, appeared to shut up the way of my dear companions, for public labour. Indeed, I have come to believe…that, in order to know the life and power to arise in our religious assemblies it is highly needful for all the living members of the body, to keep their ranks in righteousness, whether in doing or suffering for the sake of the cause. (Skidmore 2004, 147-8)

Other challenges arise, however, as one carries the concern for service through the ups and downs of life. In such cases, the sense of kinship and mutual responsibility between ministers can lead to real consolation as well as frank advice. Lydia Lancaster writes to an old friend,

The last time I heard of thee it was a time of great weakness with thee, which took deep hold of my mind…. Maybe we shall see each other at our spring meeting, meanwhile let us be true in our desires for each other, and for Israel, and for the heritage of God everywhere, that Truth may increase, and cover the earth in a more general way to his praise, and the comfort of all his mourners, that they may put on the garments of praise, instead of the spirit of heaviness—so wisheth, so prayeth, thy firm friend and true lover in the covenant of endless life. (Skidmore 2004, 39-40)

It’s not just at times of struggle and darkness, though, but also times of joy or solid accomplishment, that a word from someone you know to be an experienced colleague can confirm and solidify your experience. A few years ago, I found myself with a message breaking through with a fresh sense of freedom and fearlessness, to speak both more strongly and more tenderly from my inward experience than I had felt able to before. An older Friend said to me in an opportunity later, that he could confirm that he heard something authentic and fresh, and that I was finally “getting somewhere.” Knowing his gift for listening, and his own long history of seeking for faithfulness, I was greatly encouraged—and put more on the watch than ever. When such a Friend says, “Thee was used, today,” it is very meaningful; and it makes one more eager to affirm and encourage others.

But these personal encounters, important though they are, do not exhaust the resources that Quakerism has developed for the support of those carrying the concern for Gospel ministry. A great service of the traditional meetings of ministers and elders was that they provided a regular opportunity for those under the same concern (each according to their own gifts) to speak to and guide each other. Where these meetings exerted control and repression, they were harmful, and no one would wish their return. Yet they had this virtue, that they were an explicit assertion by the Society that ministers sometimes should meet together for support and counsel.

In his article, “Our Quaker ministry twenty years after the cessation of recording,” T. E. Harvey (of London Yearly Meeting) deplores the loss of the chance at yearly meeting for recorded ministers to meet and counsel with each other, which he found a great solace and help in his youth. It may be, however, that some will not have a clear sense of what kinds of advice he might have in mind when he writes:

There are all kinds of simple, practical advice which those who are called to speak in meeting can offer to one another, and which cannot be given in the same way by those who never open their mouths in meeting and do not know from within what it means to do so. (Harvey 1946, 189)

It is also likely that such meetings could arouse concern or fear that they represent a potential “elite” within the larger body. Such fears can only be addressed by the experimental evidence of more humble, courageous, and effective service among those who attend and benefit from such gatherings.

They were occasions in which experienced ministers, with great tenderness, and under the sense of a blessed unity in the love and service of Christ, often gave wise and helpful counsel to their younger brethren. Offerings in the ministry from those whose names were not yet recorded on the list of approved ministers were passed under review, in a confidential and loving spirit; and when occasion seemed to call for it, individuals were deputed to procure interviews with some of these Friends, and to convey to them messages of counsel or encouragement as the case might seem to require. (Dymond 1892, 15)

Perhaps more practical for modern unprogrammed Friends is the notion that ministers (which might mean “anyone who speaks in meeting and feels drawn to the gathering”) should gather together informally from time to time, for mutual support and advice. This kind of gathering is sometimes hard for Friends to organize in their home meeting—perhaps because of embarrassment, or some other sort of inhibition about naming gifts, or causing disagreements or discomfort within the community. For this reason, a concerned visitor is sometimes better able to help this happen. Sometimes Friends in the ministry were concerned to convene ministers either in their home area, or when travelling. Such episodes are quite common in the journals of the Quaker middle period from Friends such as Scott, Churchman, or Bownas, for whom this was a perennial concern. More recently, T. Harvey writes:

I can remember attending in London some forty years ago [ca. 1900] the meeting of Recorded Ministers which was held at intervals…that is almost the only gathering of Friends engaged in the service of the Ministry which I can recall from my own personal experience, in spite of the very definite instruction of [London] Yearly Meeting encouraging everywhere this kind of fellowship. (Harvey 1946, 189)

Such gatherings were known from the earliest days of the Quaker movement, and through meetings and correspondence, those Friends who bore some share of the ministry trained, guided, encouraged, and reproved each other, frankly and in love, for the work’s sake. From the 19th century, J.J. Dymond recalled the value of such occasions, and urged their renewal in his own day:

If something like the restoration of the “Preachers’ meetings” which existed in the very early days of the Society could be brought about, it would be to me a joyful realization of the desire of many years…it is needless here to describe in detail what should be the duties of such meetings. They would…afford opportunity for united prayer, for considering the needs of the flock, and for taking counsel together in order to the furtherance and efficiency of the work of the Gospel among us. (Dymond 1892, 16)

I can report recent, hopeful experiments in this direction, which might help make this whole idea more concrete, more realistic, and less forbidding than it might appear to some readers of this chapter so far. In the 1980s and 1990s in New England, Friends who were travelling in the ministry met together three or four times a year and communicated also by way of an occasional newsletter. These gatherings were quite informal, typically on a Saturday for a few hours; attendance varied from six or eight, to as many as 15. After some opening worship, we would spend the time it took to tell each other what we had been doing, where we had been going, interesting things we’d noticed at meetings we’d visited. In this way, we all improved our knowledge of events around the yearly meeting, and also became aware of meetings that were particularly in need of visits from Friends.

Many of us attending were not travelling much, or were only thinking of doing so, and such Friends could hear all the various kinds of intervisitation that were going on, with or without minutes, with or without specific concerns or topics to talk about. We gave each other advice about travel minutes or questions about reporting to our own meetings, and gave each other feedback, and prayed for each other. We also found partners, made agreements to accompany each other, and shared potluck lunches and the stories of our everyday lives. The meetings faded away when a couple of the convening Friends were unable to continue scheduling meetings and putting out newsletters. While they continued, however, they were instructive, refreshing, encouraging, and fun.

Since that time, I have had a concern to hold gatherings of ministering Friends both within New England and beyond. My role has been to create the opportunity for a first session, which makes visible part of the community of ministering Friends in the region. Such events include some social time, some worship, and some conversation. I share my understanding of the value and possible role of such groups for mutual instruction and encouragement, get Friends to talk with each other, and after the initial meeting I stay out of the way, except by occasional correspondence. In some cases, an appointed meeting resulted in a continuing practice because some local Friend felt led to convene the group, which then in each case has developed in its own way. Other Friends have undertaken similar efforts, within New England and around the US. Whether a one-time event, or a continuing gathering, these informal events have been encouraging.

Reading the Journals

[H]ow earnestly some of us have scanned the published biographies of ministers who have gone before us in search of such insight as we might there obtain into the way in which they have been led. How deeply interesting to us have been words dropped by living men and women who were treading the same path of service to ourselves—perhaps a little in advance of us—if therein we could find some hints for our own guidance or comfort? (Dymond 1892, 30-31)

Despite their healthy distrust of human reason and intellectualizing, Friends ministers have been drawn to read and study—the scriptures, of course, Friends’ writings, but also (according to their inclination) history, philosophy, science, theology and more. However, in addition to other material, I highly recommend a reading of the journals and other writings of Friends ministers from the past. These are our brothers and sisters, colleagues in the work, who have done their best to record their experiences as they have tried to live faithful to their concern for the people, both Friends and others.

When first I came among Friends, I was convinced by the life I felt in the meeting that I found. After a time, however, I was hungering for guidance that I was not able to get from the Friends surrounding me. I do not say they were unable to give it, but I did not know what I needed, and no one else diagnosed what was working in me, either, for quite a long time. I began to seek among Quaker writings for help; writings from twentieth century Friends and George Fox were not what I needed. When I encountered Howard Brinton’s book Quaker Journals: Varieties of Religious Experience among Friends, I was made aware of a whole world of personalities whose testimony might speak to me.

I began with Woolman (always a good choice) and then found Samuel Bownas and Joseph Hoag. As I read their accounts, I profited from the sense of the deep work they were engaged in, and the sense that this engagement was under the influence of the Spirit of the Lord. When, with some opportune eldering, I came to a realization of my condition as a nascent minister, I then went “to school” seriously with any records I could find of Friends who had grappled with this experience, both in the distant past, and more recently. Once my eyes were so opened, I was able to see more and more people whose words and lives could instruct me. While the words and example of living Friends are most precious, I recommend the reading of journals to any Friend, but especially to those who feel some stirring of a call to service in the Gospel ministry.

The value of making “journal reading” a habit is that as your experience grows in the service your need for the good advice—and example—of other ministers does not go away, and your own experience allows you to see and hear things that would not have registered before. At first, they may seem to be moving in a culture that is quite distant from yours, almost like Scripture stories. Their experiences may seem distant and hard to grasp, and not only because of the language they use to describe them. As your service matures, however, you will come into a personal and vivid sense of much of what they describe. Sometimes it is easier when one is wrestling with new experiences or new questions to visit such counsellors, who do not demand interactions or conversation from the reader, and whose commitment and earnestness saturate their storytelling.

Notes on being a recorded minister

[Adapted from Drayton 1997, which includes some more historical background.]

When Friends talk about encouraging ministry, especially in connection with the naming and nurture of gifts, the topic of “recorded ministers” is likely to come up. It creates uneasiness, sometimes taking the form of passionate dispute. I can attest that to be a recorded minister has been to draw, in a humble measure, a lot of different kinds of lightning. In what follows I offer some reflections from my experience. I do not argue that where the institution has fallen out of use it should necessarily be recreated. I would like to claim the following, though:

First, that the institution is often misinterpreted, and this makes it harder to understand its possible relevance for today.

Second, that the institution served several purposes which Friends still need to accomplish. In this respect, therefore, it poses a challenge to Friends to find alternative structures if this one is no longer serviceable.

Third, that this challenge is related to central questions of theology and practice among us about which it would be well to work towards a shared understanding. It seems to me that the right questions have to do with the way our community recognizes (in the sense of “comes to see”) the gifts being poured out upon us, and takes an appropriate, active role in their cultivation, without which the gifts will not bear fruit as they should.

All discussion about “machinery,” or more politely “church polity,” has to take second place to a focus on practical attention to the nurture of gifts. How can we grow stronger as a witnessing, prophetic community? There are words we are not saying, deeds we are not doing, questions we are not asking, and I suspect that some of our weakness is related to the way we care for the gifts bestowed on our community. Furthermore, we suffer because the range of gifts traditionally called gospel ministry, or public ministry, are not supported and nurtured as they could be.

As discussed elsewhere in this book, Friends from the beginning of the movement recognized that the call to sustained public ministry was a great responsibility and humbling service—especially if your theology says that all ministry comes from a fresh movement of the Spirit of Christ. The problems, challenges, pitfalls, and rewards of a passionate engagement in such a vocation were quickly noted, and Friends felt the need to care for who found themselves in this condition. In the early days of the movement, Friends who felt the call to public ministry were in touch with each other by frequent meetings and in correspondence on a local, regional, and national level. They came forth spontaneously, and were intensely aware of the colleagueship, their special kinship with other Public Friends, as a result of their shared calling.

By the 1670s, there was a regular meeting in London of all (male) Public Friends who happened to be in town. The way you were accepted as a member of the Second-Day Morning Meeting was to sign in a big book on Second Day morning, as you came to attend. It happened in 1734 that a Friend signed in, whose right to attend the meeting was challenged. After lengthy wrangling, the yearly meeting ruled that the Second Day Morning meeting could not exclude anyone who came with a letter from his monthly meeting attesting to the fact that this Friend was a minister in good standing there. This London custom was taken up, in combination with other customs—the older meetings of ministers, the practice of traveling Friends carrying letters testifying to Friends’ unity with them, the addition of elders to the ministers’ meetings—to produce the system of nurture and accountability that obtained through most of the 18th and 19th centuries (with complex developments subsequently).

What was the process I went through?

I was recorded by Salem Quarterly Meeting at the request of Lynn Monthly Meeting in October 1983. I was thirty years old at the time of recording.

It had been some many years since the quarterly meeting had recorded a minister, though ministers had transferred their recording with their membership, into the quarterly meeting from elsewhere. In addition, there were meetings within the quarter that had minuted their opposition in principle to the practice of recording. They felt it was outmoded, and perhaps not in keeping with Friends principles, and no longer needed. A further complication is New England’s status as a once-divided, now united yearly meeting. As a result, there are several pastoral meetings in New England. Many Friends in unprogrammed meetings associate the practice of recording ministers with the pastoral system.

There was, therefore, a wide variety of views, both approving and disapproving of the action, and Friends were forthright in bringing both kinds of opinion to me. There was certainly an implication on the part of some that I was seeking to create an authoritative status for myself or committing some other sin of pride. A couple of elder Friends made it clear that they didn’t think that anyone “deserved” the status, since some ministers from the past had transgressed Friends principles unchastised, and many another Friend passed important, sanctified lives of service within and outside the Society and never had such a label. Some wondered if I were casting in my lot with the “pastoral wing.” This took place during a time when Christian language was emerging from the shadows in many meetings, and sometimes causing division. It was an exciting time in New England, which is generally an exciting yearly meeting anyway.

What difference has it made in the meeting?

First, I want to say that being a minister has conferred no particular status on me, any more than a meeting’s clerk or treasurer is set aside in any exclusive way. I often think of this comparison when I hear Friends say that noting gifts in public ministry is somehow undemocratic. Friends who are chosen to be meeting treasurer, for example, are recognized as having the skills and temperament to carry the responsibility, and those who feel its importance carry the awareness of the spiritual meaning of our finances even after they cease filling the official position. Many such Friends are valued because of their sagacity and insight—they have spiritual authority in our meetings because of their gifts and the way they have occupied them, and grown in them, through service and prayer.

The New Testament (see Acts 6, Romans 12, 1 Corinthians 12) teaches the importance to the community of all kinds of service exercised in love. Each is to be received with gratitude and occupied with diligence. There is no barrier to there being many Friends in a meeting who have the same gift (variations on the same theme, see Chapter 4 “Varieties of service), and indeed a meeting is richer if this is true, all working under the guidance of the same Spirit. So, too, with the public ministry (see in Chapter 4 “The facing bench challenge”).

Friends have seen my service in functional terms, and in a way it represents an open question. I have not been the first person the meetings go to for adult education or for other matters. The meetings have expected me to be aware of my leadings, and follow them, and report to them, asking for help as I need it. My service (when faithful) is one of many fruits of the meeting’s life, and no whit more exalted than the others. [Our meeting at present has two acknowledged ministers, and our callings are very different; though we feel a sense of kinship because of the sense of commitment or (one might say) consecration to the work as we understand it.]

What difference has it made to me?

Encouragement. The recording process was a time for the meeting to name a gift it saw in me, and task me with its stewardship. This has helped me persevere in the commitment to service, and the daily watch, especially at times when it has been hard to know how to go forward.

Collegiality. Becoming a public minister made me aware of others (both in the past and living now) who have accepted the same calling. I have felt that worshipping and conferring with others who carried the same concern is part of my service. It is part of the continuing apprenticeship.

Clarity about my work. I have considered carefully what my gifts or calling might really be. Was it what was complimented, when Friends talked to me about the recording, or about this or that workshop or meeting visit? I began to explore this in more depth for myself, to apply a new level of skepticism about my assumptions about myself. This sense of increased care, and of increased commitment to faithfulness, started during the process of deliberation about my recording, during which I felt that something important (both exciting and frightening) was taking place, and I was caught up in something whose integrity I needed to uphold as well I possibly could. I became quieter. I exercise much stricter discernment in accepting invitations to lead workshops or visit meetings and regulate my meeting calendar as carefully as I can, to keep my schedule open for unexpected concerns to visit meetings or individuals.

Accountability. How, in practical terms, should I be accountable to my meeting? While it is widely said or written that a minister by being recorded enters into a kind of covenant with his or her meeting, in very many cases this does not take any concrete or visible form. Neither the minister nor the meeting is sure how to proceed. This has been my experience in all four of the meetings where my membership has been, since I was recorded in 1983. Since there are no generally accepted methods for accountability for long-term gifts or leadings (including long-term gifts in the vocal ministry), every meeting must experiment. The many experiments that have been made are, I hope, recreating a fresh and effective Quaker culture of accountability and nurture.

To conclude

The modernization movement that swept through British Quakerism in the late 1800s and early 1900s made the renewal of a vital ministry a central issue. As one consequence of this movement, London Yearly Meeting did away with the practice of recording ministers in 1924, while adopting advice to itself and its constituent meetings that Friends’ gifts in the ministry, and the vigorous life of the spirit out of which all ministry springs, should be carefully nurtured. A retrospective address by T. H. Harvey in the 1940s, however, suggested that the yearly meeting had not succeeded in its plan to care for the ministry by more “democratic” means.

Much remains to be done in our present day, as well. I do not claim that the old machinery is what we need, but that the old machinery was [1] consistent with our theology, and [2] addressed real needs which are not now being met. Since few of us grew up in a setting where the old traditions lived on in some measure, the old ways cannot mean the same to us now. But they can be instructive and challenging. This includes the ways in which the traditional practices were not adequate to their tasks, of course—no social system is perfect!

Our challenge as a society is to face the real needs of our community. What will release and make the best use of our gifts and opportunities? The discussion of recording must continue among us in such a way that we do not just decide about an old custom, but take creative steps that build on our current understanding, and on three centuries of Quaker practice—practice in a very specific spiritual path with its own boundaries and its own kinds of truth.

[On recording as “professional qualification.” Often, when people are asked what value ministers can have, the answers point to things like getting access to places (like prisons or hospitals), ecclesiastical endorsement of pastoral counsellors, having people who can speak or act officially (for example, perform weddings), and representation at things like clergy associations.

I must confess that I am very uneasy with the use of the process of recording of ministers to provide some kind of professional qualification. This uneasiness stems from several sources. The decline of gospel ministry as a concern has coincided with an increase in the value placed upon formal training for Friends leaders, and with the establishment of the workshop or “invited leader” model of the Public Friend. It seems to me that we should be jealous to preserve our ideal of the free Gospel ministry, which includes the assertion that anyone may be called, learned or not. Further, the line of thinking that there are many kinds of ministry—true and evident, without doubt—has been extended to devalue or overshadow the vocal ministry, despite its enormous importance to the rise and health of the Society.

For these reasons, it seems better to find different ways to provide the kinds of “ecclesiastical endorsement” that may be needed for professional practice in fields such as pastoral counselling, chaplaincy, and so on.]

Chapter 17: The Community of Ministers

Friends are in urgent need of faithful ministers of the Gospel—those with gifts of speaking, preaching, teaching under the guidance of the Spirit. There certainly is a need for more workers, but we also need have a way to help the ministers we do have get better at their work—each according to their gift. Being under some kind of monthly meeting guidance is important, of course. Courses and study groups and retreats can be helpful. So also are support or oversight committees, a mechanism which more and more meetings are using to support Friends who are engaged in some long-term concern, which have taken a lot of different forms.

Our tradition also includes a technique that one might call “an educative network for Spirit-led workers,” using such general terms because the approach can be used by any group seeking to carry out long-term work under the guidance of the Holy Spirit.

Although I draw this sketch based on the practice of Friends in the first few years of our movement, I do not write out of antiquarian interest, or nostalgia for some by-gone “golden era,” Rather, it is because in that practice I see several characteristics that are well-suited to our times. There are certainly differences, as well, and I do not ignore them. I see our tradition as a resource, not an idol.

We should use our tradition discerningly, in the same way that we make use of ministry we hear in a meeting for worship: receive it, hold it in the light, and draw from it in ways that have life. What does not at present have life for you is not rejected, but rather held respectfully—it may yet be seen as nourishment for another time, or perhaps not.

I also find our tradition important as a counter-balance (not “corrective”) to the many voices I hear (and Friends hear) from our present culture. We know very well that even as we seek to live by the guidance of the “Pure principle,” we hear many other voices from self and culture proposing, compelling, inviting. Some of these, if not from God, may nevertheless be useful; some may be contrary to the life we seek to embody. I hearken back to the practice and testimony of past Friends as a way to triangulate, and to challenge myself to test whether some alternative I am weighing is more or less consistent with Quaker spiritual commitments.

I have come to see some parallels between the current situation of the Quakers I know and that of the first Friends, which I think make the use of the “educative network” idea particularly useful.

1. Faith unsettled: There was then, as there is now, a plethora of alternatives, styles, interpretations, vocabularies, and spiritual resources for the seeker—from non-theism and atheism, through various kinds of mysticism and skepticism, through a bewildering range of Protestantisms, not to mention Catholicisms and more. Even though Judaism was denigrated, there were enthusiasts for the Kabbalah, and the Qur’an was available (at least in part) in translation. The variety was stimulating to some, threatening to others, and paralyzing to many.
2. Missing tradition. The first Friends were gathered to form a people, not born into a pre-existing institution. They were adults, many of them young adults. All had a history of search for an authentic spiritual base and community; most were deeply steeped in the Bible as instruction, and as a narrative in which they participated. In the Quakerism I am most familiar with, in the 21st century, the large majority of Friends are also convinced Friends. This is both a source of strength and also of challenges to the coherence and integrity of the movement’s vision. Convinced Friends (then and now) have chosen their “family,” and bring with them fresh perspectives and energy. There is (& was) sometimes also a tendency to see in Quakerism some of what they valued from their prior paths.
3. Practice emerging or in transformation. The first Friends had no structures or customs with which to shape the life of the Spirit into human terms, though the New Testament patterns were important anchors. Modern Friends have abundant resources in this regard, thanks to Quaker history, though we often are learning them from the outside, as newcomers. Friends must find the meaning and then test the value of traditional practices, to ensure that we are bringing our lives “under the ordering of the Holy Spirit.” One value of such inherited structures is that they indicate a need or function that followers of the Quaker way at one time found important to address. Though we may decide that their solution doesn’t work anymore, we do well to understand why the solution was developed, and how it was shaped to hold the Spirit. This can help us maintain openness to the inward teacher active both then and now and increase the likelihood that we will follow that guidance faithfully.
4. Balancing freedom vs. regulation. The first Friends were always tempted on the one hand with Ranterism, and on the other hand with the need for regulation—which can tend in some cases to verge on over-regulation or control. We must balance the same tendencies. Our God is a God of order, not confusion, but where God is, there freedom dwells.
5. Crisis of authority. The commitment to the ultimate authority of the Spirit of Christ shaped the use and interpretation of the Scriptures, and the severe critique of church tradition developed since apostolic times. These days, there is no agreed-upon authority among Friends except the Spirit—with the additional complication that we are not in agreement about what spirit is guiding us, and how it is to be known. Hence, our practices of discernment and shared seeking and accountability are of crucial importance for the health of the spiritual body.

This is a lot of moving pieces! Amidst the noise generated by the religious and political ferment of their times, those who called themselves the Children of the Light tuned in to the presence and activity of the light and spirit of Christ, inwardly and in the gathering people. This growing focus was made possible by the Publishers of Truth and others who came forth in the ministry, who articulated, for the Children, and the world, what was happening, and explained the shapes that faithfulness was taking—in speech, behavior, worship, and more. They also explained (or developed explanations of) the ways in which this new movement was in continuity with prior revelation—one of the major tasks of Barclay’s Apology, for example. Other innovations, such as the growth of some common discipline and organization, both shared in this work, and were (are!) in tension with it, as is probably healthy, if we are indeed to be guided by the Spirit that “bloweth where it listeth.” The Gospel life is a mysteriously lawful freedom.

The first generations of ministers among Friends saw that their model was a radical, new birth from the Spirit. The wise ones saw that it was real work, and full of real dangers, both to the movement and to the ministers. They were shown early on that, when faithful, their efforts were all fruits of the one Spirit, whose servants they were, on behalf of the whole gathering people. Being public, visible spokespeople on behalf of that Spirit, they had to be on their guard that they do nothing that would harm those who were spiritually young, nor dishonor or tarnish the movement in the eyes of the unconvinced.

They took seriously this sense of collaboration, in several ways—and it is my opinion that all of these “methods” were needed, and were mutually reinforcing:

1. They worked together as way opened or as Friends asked. They made plans for campaigns and journeys, they shared writings, they coached each other on the best way to handle opposition and controversy. They drew up schedules and lists to support their work
2. They held each other in prayer, and in love for the work’s sake.
3. They wrote to each other. There are quite a few general letters “to Friends in the ministry” from most of the early leaders, and from occasional others over the first two centuries of the movement (Some Friends had a particular tenderness for their fellow servants—e.g. George Fox, Charles Marshall, Martha Routh, Samuel Bownas). Additionally, there are many letters between individuals in the ministry—sharing news about what they are doing, places they’re visiting, people they are talking to, challenges and triumphs, sorrows and joys. Their communications were not just supportive, but also educative. They gave each other advice and warnings and called on each other for help.
4. They met as often as they could to worship together, and to share mutual counsel and comfort.
5. They expected that faithful workers would grow in the gift, through experience and through all this mutual, forthright support. They remarked on individuals’ progress and mistakes.
6. They kept steadily before their eyes their service from the Spirit of Christ, for the Body of Christ, in collaboration with other gifts and callings, and remembered that whatever they received was a gift from that Spirit to be husbanded and not possessed.

A key piece of this strategy is mutual challenge and accountability for faithfulness and growth: How can we get better as we carry the concern for gospel ministry? How can we help each other get better? For me, the root of an answer has two branches: first, being explicit about the intent to grow in the work; second, recognizing that all callings and services led by the Spirit are one, are different manifestations of the work of Christ in the world. We are all bound together closely in the common work of the common life. Just living into these two principles will stimulate possibilities for mutual support. Here I offer some thoughts of my own.

When ministering Friends gather

In at least four of the Quarters of New England, there have in recent years been gatherings of ministering Friends which were first convened by a visiting Friend, and then have felt led to gather again, a few times a year, each finding a different form and rhythm. As one who has attended several such meetings, I have wondered, How can we take the next step in active, intentional mutual education, so that we all grow in the work intellectually, spiritually, and practically?

We have to keep it simple—make careful use of time and other resources, so that people and meetings are fed and not burdened by too much structure. On the other hand, we need to not over-simplify or underestimate the work we need to do. Third, there need to be many channels of support and communication, both to the group and between individuals—emails, phone calls, letters, blogs, mutual prayer—as well as meetings large and small, planned and spontaneous.

Physical meetings—in called gatherings or simple visits—anchor and feed (and are fed by) the continuing connective tissue of correspondence and communication, so that we maintain and enrich our sense of companionship and mutual care, our presence to each other.

When ministering Friends do gather, I suggest that. after worshiping, they take time to explore together a few key questions, which we should be asking ourselves and each other persistently. I have developed a list which has been serviceable in gatherings of ministering Friends over many years—not that all need to be addressed in every gathering, but all are good to speak about openly from time to time.

1. What have you been doing, in the line of the ministry? How would you describe your concern? How do you relate your concern to the gospel, to the roots of your religious commitment?
2. Have you been faithful? Were there times when you have not been faithful? What were the issues you faced? What do you have to be grateful for in this work?
3. How is your devotional life? Have you made changes in it? Are there ways in which you are struggling? How does your calling affect the way you spend your prayer time (or not)? Does your life feel orderly enough that you can maintain the daily watch, or is there work to do there (whether because of personal issues or factors that appear beyond your control)?
4. What are you reading? Why? Are there particular questions, topics, or issues that you are seeking insight into? What are you finding challenging or valuable? In what ways are you engaging with the Bible? Quaker writings?
5. How is your relationship with your meeting (especially if your concern leads you to activities largely out of sight of the meeting)? How does the meeting know about your work in ministry? How do you report or recount what you are doing? In what ways does the meeting support or encourage you?
6. What questions are opening for you or growing edges? What do you want to hear about from other Friends? What are you praying about? What prayer support would you request?

As I say, these have been serviceable. The recent “Minute of exercise and queries for Ministry and Counsel” of New England Yearly Meeting can also be valuable.

The key requirement is that Friends come to the conversation with an earnest, practical desire to improve and become more useful, more available to any work God may ask of you for the refreshing of the Children of Light.

A.R. Barclay’s Inner life of the Religious Societies of the Commonwealth (pg. 287) reports the minutes of a meeting of just this type, from 1698.

Chesterfield meeting of ministers & elders

The 5th day of the Eighth month, 1698.

At our meeting of Friends in the ministry and Elders, in the meetinghouse, in Chesterfield, these things following passed:

First, in our waiting upon the Lord, the Lord appeared very sweetly and powerfully amongst us, and in us, to our great comfort. Praises to his name forever.

Secondly, we had a precious time in prayer and supplication to the Lord in a sweet stream and current of Life Eternal.

Thirdly, after prayer, we—every one that had a part in the ministry—declared how it had been with us, as to our faithfulness therein, and where we had found by experience that the enemy had hurt us or overtaken us unawares at times.

Fourthly, the snares, baits, gins, traps, nets, &c of the enemy were spoken of, and laid to plain view; and caution, counsel, and advice in the love of God given freely from him amongst us.

At a time when there were few traditional resources that could offer lessons learned and affirmed by the body out of its experience with the guidance of the Light, Friends worked from that guidance alone. In the Spirit, scripture’s authority was used for precedent and insight and the wisdom of individuals and worship groups was evaluated. Those with gifts of prophecy, teaching, and counsel, trusting that when faithful they were guided by the same life and truth, lived into a shared apprenticeship—mutually accountable for the diverse gifts and operations of the one Spirit. We can do this too!At a time when there were few traditional resources that could offer lessons learned and affirmed by the body out of its experience with the guidance of the Light, Friends worked from that guidance alone. In the Spirit, scripture’s authority was used for precedent and insight and the wisdom of individuals and worship groups was evaluated. Those with gifts of prophecy, teaching, and counsel, trusting that when faithful they were guided by the same life and truth, lived into a shared apprenticeship—mutually accountable for the diverse gifts and operations of the one Spirit. We can do this too!

Part III: Special Topics

Chapter 18: Being Dipped into Sympathy: The Minister’s Eye, the Minister’s Belly

Earlier, I recalled Bownas’s comment that the ministry is a birth. If so, then it is not surprising that a minister will find her spiritual senses exercised in new ways, and perhaps unsettling ones. The source of the change is related to the change of perspective (the renewing of mind) that the growing into ministry brings about. As one Friend said to me, when describing how his meeting’s acknowledgment of his gift affected him: “I couldn’t believe it. The whole world suddenly looked different somehow.” The minister, learning his or her way into their sense of responsibility, of waiting upon the Lord’s requirements, grows to see, hear, feel, wait, pray as a servant. Sometimes the minister is faithful, sometimes they fall short, but the concern abides daily, and colors their way of being in the world. A passage in Martha Routh’s journal conveys some of this experience:

While sitting under the renewal of baptism, I had to believe that the state of the meeting was very complicated. But it is only for thee to read, oh fellow traveler, thou who art able to do it, in a similar line, what it is to be so engaged, and how great the care and watchfulness which is necessary, even when under the holy anointing. The states of the people are opened like flowers in a garden, some appearing beautiful to the eye, and affording a pleasant savor; others of a contrary appearance yielding an offensive smell; others having little or no scent. To know how the culturing hand should be turned upon these, in order to help, is indeed a weighty matter; and nothing short of that adorable wisdom, which alone is profitable to direct, can accomplish it according to the divine will.

“The minister’s belly” [Adapted from Drayton and Taber 2016]

William P. Taber sometimes spoke of “the minister’s belly,” a term which conveys the visceral [The phrase recalls the frequent use, in 17th century Quaker language, of “bowels” to mean “visceral compassion,” as in this passage from an epistle of William Dewsbury: “Dear Lambs, called in the Light to lye down in the safe fold of rest, in Christ our life, in the tender bowels of love in him I beseech you, be faithful in meeting together, in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, and diligently watch to know your own measures of grace in Christ.”] experience of awareness and compassion that underlies authentic ministry. This curious phrase had its roots in Bill’s memory of being embraced as a youth by a beloved, portly minister, whose solid bulk somehow reinforced his warm expression of love and concern. “The minister’s belly” expressed the sense of whole-hearted, benevolent caring that lies at the bottom of much Gospel ministry, and has the power to reach over boundaries, draw out gifts, encourage reconciliation, and overcome fear.

We must keep this love in mind, especially as we turn to other words that ministers used to describe their service. When someone like Catherine Stephens or Job Scott wrote that on a particular occasion, they found themselves “deeply exercised” (see the Glossary) or “wading deeply” as they felt the condition of a meeting, we think first of their sense of grief at the alienation from God that they felt among the Friends before them. When Samuel Bownas or Elias Hicks spoke of seeing a “wide field of doctrine” opening up as they sat, “keeping their eye” on an embryonic message rising up in them, we may find it easy to focus on the intellectual work that was involved in shaping such a message—but if they were speaking in the Life, then the love was palpable as well. Walt Whitman conveys this, in his reminiscences of Hicks’s preaching heard in his boyhood:

A pleading, tender, nearly agonizing conviction, and magnetic stream of natural eloquence, before which all minds and natures, all emotions, high or low, gentle or simple, yielded entirely without exception, was its cause, method, and effect. Many, very many were in tears. (Whitman, “Notes (such as they are) Founded on Elias Hicks”)

There was, however, another nuance to Bill’s phrase, “the minister’s belly.” It could connote the inward spaciousness that comes when the minister is relying on God’s strength and not his own, so that time and energy also expand to meet the needs of the moment; it comes of dwelling more and more in love.

Being dipped into sympathy

Friends traditionally have used the word “baptism” or “being dipped” in many senses, but very often it connotes a journey of spirit into deep and vivid sympathy with the condition of a meeting or individual. While at times this happens in an unexpected or spontaneous fashion, often it comes as one result of an exercise in prayer about the person or meeting in question. When you come to realize that you have been brought by the presence and power of the Spirit into this sympathy with another, it may lead you to more purposeful or directed prayer, as the inner exercise makes you alert to issues about which the sympathizing Friend is exercised.

[T]o visit the immortal life, where it lies, requires great abstractedness of mind…Oh! sometimes when in this situation, how clearly has the state of meetings and individuals been opened, to my mind, as plain as ever I saw the face of another with my natural eyes! (Grubb 1863, 39)

Concern for other ministers

Often, ministers feel such a concern for others in the ministry, and part of maturing as a Friend is being alert to opportunities to act on that concern. It often seems to me that we too rarely offer a word of encouragement or thanks. I have on more than one occasion been lifted up out of a feeling of spiritual fruitlessness when a Friend happens to speak of some way I’ve been helpful, often years before. A story told about J.S. Rowntree illustrates both this practice, and the way that loving concern should be yielded to:

His own share of ministerial service gave him a deep sympathy with that of others, both older and younger, and he did not fail to show it. An esteemed minister was visiting York on religious service…under a secret feeling of deep inward discouragement…. With sympathetic insight, [Rowntree] had probably divined her depression, and it nerved him to break through his natural shyness and reserve, and to tell her how, years before, in a “family visit,” some words of hers had gone home to his heart with helpful power, and been just the message he needed. As she listened her sadness and depression passed away, and she entered the meeting with a song of rejoicing in her heart, strong once again to do her part. (Doncaster 1908, pg. 25)

Thus, the first need is to listen sympathetically, and with an intent to support the other: “Prove all things; hold fast to that which is good” (1 Thessalonians 5). A Friend moved by concern may sometimes be required to offer advice or reproof, when it is felt that the other was not being faithful.

Edward Hicks described how, as a young minister, he was reproved publicly by an elder. Meekly but firmly he accepted any rebuke that applied, but asserted that he still felt that he was not in the wrong. He reports the comment of an older minister at that point:

Thomas Scattergood then spoke nearly in the following manner: “I rejoice, Friends, that this matter has taken the turn that it has. I was sorry for the interruption, and felt much for the young man, who I saw was a stranger. I thought that he had got a little lost, and I was travelling with him in spirit, to find a safe landing place….” (Hicks, pg. 60)

A well-known case is that of David Ferris, who was prodded in this sense by the aged and experienced Comfort Hoag to recognize and act upon the responsibility that was dawning on him:

[While accompanying Comfort and her companions as she was visiting my area] I attended a meeting with them, in which I felt a concern to speak to the assembly, but, as usual, evaded it. After meeting Comfort said to me, “David, why didst thou not preach today?” I…endeavored to appear innocent and ignorant of any concern of that kind…. On the following day, a similar concern came upon me, and I evaded it as before. After meeting, Comfort again said to me, “David, why didst thou not preach today?” I endeavored to pass it by as I did before; but she said it was not worth while to evade it, for she was assured that I ought to have preached that day, and that I had almost spoiled her meeting by refraining, which had hindered her service. (Grundy 2001, 52)

When he finally gave in to the call to speak (he had by this time been resisting all such concerns for twenty years), Comfort came to him and said:

Her anxiety for my deliverance from that bondage was such that she was willing to offer up her natural life to the Lord, if it might be a means to bring me forth in the ministry; and that on making the offering I rose to speak. (Grundy 2001, 53)

This kind of experience is known today, for sure, and occasionally described, especially when Friends are discussing the spiritual interplay between ministers and elders during intervisitation, when anxiety and the sense of demand and focus are heightened. Yet it often enough happens in a weekly meeting for worship, and I have more than once been made strongly aware of the condition of a Friend, either present with me in the same meeting, or at some distance, whose feelings and needs are perceptible as I sit in waiting worship—and so my own needs have appeared as well to others.

This sensitivity can also play an important part in the good order that arises under the guidance of the Spirit during worship, when there may be several Friends present who are feeling the meeting’s exercise. Then it is especially good for each Friend who feels drawn to stand and speak, to cast about one more time, to feel whether someone else should instead stand at that moment. The discernment about this can be made easier if the Friends who have care of meeting are not punctilious about closing by the clock but wait to allow the meeting’s exercise to reach a good stopping place.

Job Scott describes his own thoughts on this matter of getting in each other’s way:

It may be that I stept into the service of some other exercised instrument. For I am convinced that there is such a thing, as having so much feeling sense of, and sympathy with, another’s exercise, as to make great caution necessary, lest we move in each other’s commission, without a real commission of our own…thou mayst feel thy spirit dipped into a near sympathy with the exercise of another who is under the qualifying hand, and just ready to move in the strength and clearness of a right commission. And if thou art not strictly careful to wait for a clear opening, thou mayst move in a feeling of another’s exercise, to thy own hurt, the hurt of that other instrument who was receiving the commission, and even to the great hurt of the whole meeting. And in thy missing thy way, and running before thy guide…thou wilt retard thy own progress in the right way…. But if thou art always careful to wait for a right commission, and never to move without it, thou wilt never thus err from the right way, but will surely be preserved. (Job Scott 1831, 1:232).f course, the sympathy that one feels may not be related to speaking in meeting. You may be given a clear vision that a particular Friend should be encouraged about some other concern, and while it is natural to be tentative about announcing this sense (since we can be mistaken easily enough), it is also good to act, however cautiously, on the sensation, because you may well have been made aware of another’s situation at a crucial moment. Acting in concern, with due care, will provide you with some experience and wisdom about the accuracy of your discernmen

Chapter 19: Being in Your Own Meeting: Being under Discipline

If you have a sense of calling to the ministry, then you are presented with a problem by your faithful attendance at your home meeting. How often should you speak? What danger is there in speaking often in your meeting? It is true to say, “Keep close to your gift, and speak only when called,” but frankly being in your own meeting may introduce considerations that make this discernment rather difficult.

If you think that First Day meetings at home are the only place to exercise your gift, then you will exert much time and effort, indeed feel much anxiety at times, in trying to figure out if you should speak, every time you go to meeting. This is especially true if you are new to the calling—as I can attest to from my own experience.

We do not often sit in families, have appointed meetings, travel under concern, and have much open worship in our meetings for business. With valuable exceptions, our practice in that sense is impoverished, and the openings when ministry might be called for are very few. A person with a real calling who exists in a Quaker culture that is so very constricted may very well feel more pressure to speak at meeting than might really be right to yield to.

There is both a problem of ego, and also a problem of stewardship here. If you have a calling, and you don’t exercise it, how can you tell you have the calling after all? From the point of view of ego, speaking in meeting can become important for self-validation. This problem may be most acute if you are just coming under a sense of concern for the ministry and need the sort of guidance and affirmation that outward action can elicit. The issue of stewardship arises from a kindred anxiety to be as faithful as possible, which can be construed to mean “be as active as possible.”

Another source of tension (and temptation) may arise because you may be operating upon a theory that meetings need a certain quantity of ministry, and if no one else will offer it, you need to. The pull to speak may be especially strong in a meeting that is weak—because it is dwindling, or because it is new and small, or because it has few experienced Friends, or because it has lost its way and become drowsy and shallow. A concerned Friend who is sensitive to the silent indicators of a meeting’s health will feel these conditions of weakness very acutely, and just on that basis will want somehow to respond constructively.

I have felt that pressure very strongly in very small meetings, where the sense of spiritual life was low, and the rare vocal exercise that happened was stereotyped, or didn’t seem grounded in spiritual experience, however thoughtful it might be in other ways. At times in such conditions, I have spoken in the hope that a new voice might encourage these Friends to look to their own responsibility more and take more part. There are very many meetings in which faithful ministry can play a valuable role in building up the life from a low point, and if you have a very strong sense that the meeting is passing through a time of need, this may be a stimulus to be more watchful for authentic leadings to speak, and more watchful in times of prayer between meetings.

I don’t believe I did much harm in times when I spoke from anxiety rather than from a real spiritual motion within the meeting. However, I also believe that at such times my activity was a merely human gesture, which probably did not add any positive quality to the meeting’s spiritual practice, but left it in the shallows. When I have offered ministry that was too superficial, it may have encouraged others to speak too easily, and too much from the head or the heart, rather than the Spirit’s teaching. Some people offer messages that are drawn from their own thought, and shy away from claiming any divine impulse to speak, and yet make their offerings with good intention, and they form part of the meeting’s teaching ministry. A steady diet of this, however, is not healthy for a meeting, and it can become so if the concerned members feel too strongly the need for words.

Sometimes people make a good beginning, gain a sense of confidence and helpfulness, and then giving themselves too much credit, speak in meeting as a way to establish their own importance, or as a way to honor encouragement that has been given. This is human, easy to feel, and poisonous if it is not recognized and expunged promptly.

I believe that some of us are tempted to think, that unless we appear to take some active part in Truth’s service, we may be looked upon by others, and perhaps by ourselves, as useless, lifeless members; but far otherwise is my judgment at this time. The humble, patient traveller, who bears the burden of the word, until the right time comes for deliverance (when the message will be accompanied by a measure of power and authority), assuredly works essentially for the general good. (Capper 1860, 53)

Now, speaking in one’s home meeting is a safe way to go to school. It is there that you are most likely to get honest encouragement or restraint, given in love and real knowledge. If the messages offered are not arrogant, too intellectual, or combative—if discerning Friends feel that you mean well, and are not merely affirming yourself—then the meeting will hold what is good, and gently encourage it, and their love, prayers, and comments will help you learn your way, understanding what your gift is at the time, and what is not really called for. The Advices down the centuries have from time to time encouraged forbearance on the inexperienced and over enthusiastic whose intent is good, but judgment unformed.

Over-frequent speaking also can arise naturally enough from a surfeit of new discipline. If you are feeling drawn in your devotional practice to more Bible reading, for example, or grappling with the roots of the peace testimonies or some other great issue that engages your mind and heart, you will be filled with ideas and excitement, and your spirit will be cultivated. It may very well be that this should find its way into ministry—but not necessarily now, and not necessarily while it’s most fresh in your mind!

Everyone who speaks in meeting will speak more frequently sometimes, and less often others. It is good to monitor yourself, and ask yourself if you perhaps are too eager, too accustomed, or too needy when rising. Some people speak more when they are undergoing some inner work or trouble. It is good if we can come to see when this is the case, and that we are seeking comfort for ourselves, rather than speaking for the meeting’s help. Not that these are mutually exclusive! It may be that the ministry that you need to hear can sometimes come through your own service.

Some Friends rightly speak often in their own meeting, serving Friends there humbly and simply. If to the best of your understanding you are really being led to speak very frequently, however, then it is good to consider whether you should perhaps be travelling, because you are being worked upon very intensively by the Spirit, and the concern may be not just for your home meeting. Here is where consulting with your advising Friends will be important, because in wrestling with such questions, it is very easy to mislead yourself. It is for the good of the meeting as well as your own service that you should take care about over-frequent “appearing” in the ministry.

I leave this section with a quotation from Penn’s Rise and Progress. [Of this booklet, John William Graham said, when delivering the Swarthmore lecture on Quaker ministry, that in 1691 Penn had already written the Swarthmore Lecture on ministry. Pages 65–85 in the Friends United Press edition are delightful, wise, moving, and in Penn’s most lucid and winning style.]

If therefore it was once a cross to us to speak, though the Lord required it at our hands, let it never be so to be silent when he does not (Penn 1980,69).

Having said this much on some matters of judgment, let me return for a moment to an encouragement to move beyond our conventions. The more Friends feel open to, and indeed eager for, worship in many places, and diverse times, and for shorter or longer periods of time, the better for us all. While I recommend this as a generality, it is also a key point for the health of your ministry, and for the renewal of a living ministry among Friends. Therefore, it is good to be open to the possibility that you are called to other kinds of service than in First Day worship.

The important point is that the minister, who is on the watch for motions of the Spirit to encourage, may become aware of an opportunity to serve at any moment, and in a variety of ways. It may not be in delivering a message in meeting. It may be in speaking to someone at a moment of tenderness and accessibility or doing some simple act of material service for them. It may be dropping into a short period of prayer while travelling to work, or otherwise going about your daily business. In this way we can learn to become more fully awareness of the Presence at every step, and in every situation. Living in this awareness is the source of nourishment and prophesy to ourselves and our times, when there is a desperate famine of hearing the words of the Lord (Amos 8:11). It may be yielding to the sense that it is now urgently time to write to someone, thank them, or spend time thinking out a problem that has burdened us somehow, and now suddenly is ready for solution.

Finally, it is a real contribution for every minister (like every member) to take part in our meeting for discipline, committees, and other meeting work as reverently, humbly, and alertly as possible, and thereby even if we are silent, we help others participate in depth. This is also a necessary part of your spiritual schooling, as it opens new ways to see the Life of Christ at work in your fellow-members, or inhibited in them, and to learn from them.

Many of these actions will be invisible to anyone’s sight, but they are part of the work as much as the act of speaking. They are part of our experience of the Spirit, which we are given both for its own sake, and possibly also for others’—if we digest them correctly—so that when the time is right they temper or color or enrich our service, or make our speaking more truthful and more faithful. As Joseph Hoag wrote, “Preachers have a need to learn as well as teach.” (Hoag 1861, 342).

Being under discipline

Spiritual gifts are given for the health of the Body; the blessing that is offered in addition is the opportunity to care for the gifts within the community. When Friends accept this responsibility, they have thereby made a decisive change in practice. If we believe, as we say, that a concern arises as a result of the work of the Spirit, then the faithful stewardship of each concern provides evidence of God’s activity. Many meetings do not know how to care for gifts—recognizing when they are emerging, encouraging and cultivating the minister’s growth in service, supporting and guiding both the young in the work, and the veterans, and holding them all, lovingly, as the fruits of the one Spirit at work.

The minister is advised to seek methods of accountability to and with their home meeting, but also to recognize that this may require the meeting to grow in sometimes uncomfortable ways. In some yearly meetings, Friends have become accustomed to appointing committees for the care of a concern—variously called oversight committees, support committees, or the like. If all the Friends go into this work with humility, and the commitment to help the minister be faithful, then the committee, the “target” minister, and the meeting will accept the inevitable surprises and challenges as integral parts of the gift they are supporting. In some meetings, indeed, the committee sees its work as mutual accountability.

One question is whether the committee is merely advisory or exercises more decisive authority on the meeting’s behalf. I have known Friends who ask their committee to discern whether to accept new opportunities for travel or other service—if the committee says Go, the Friend goes; if the committee says No, the Friend declines the opportunity. Other Friends meet with their committee rarely, and use them principally as a sounding board, rather than a discerning body. The expectations for the relationship should be explicit and reexamined from time to time. There are very many experiments under way in meetings across the Quaker world, and the diversity of models and lessons learned would furnish the material for a very valuable research effort.

My own experience has been somewhat different. I have mostly been a part of small meetings (sometimes very small), with limited resources for committee work, and often few Friends who have any experience with spiritual accountability, other than the use of clearness committees. Knowing my need to be responsible to my community, I have used the following strategies:

1. Report to my meeting regularly and make it clear that I will accept whatever guidance they are led to offer.
2. Treat my meeting as my oversight committee, so that when I have a question about how to proceed, I bring it to the meeting for business for discernment by the Friends assembled.
3. Stay in correspondence with experienced ministering Friends and elders from other meetings, sharing my reports, and sometimes asking for guidance on specific questions. Indeed, these are spiritual friendships, many of long standing—though I take care to listen carefully to younger Friends whom I haven’t know or worked with so long.
4. Whenever possible, gather with other ministering Friends, relying heavily on the “community of ministers” for insight, refreshment, and challenge.

To close with a very basic point, more important than all questions of method or organization: Spiritual gifts are given for the health and growth of the community, but the contribution of any particular Friend does not center solely (or perhaps even primarily) on their specific exercise of the gift. What builds the body is each person’s whole-hearted participation in the life of the body: our strengths and our weaknesses, the gifts we bring, our needs for nurture by others, and the deep and child-like joy and delight in seeing each other living whole in the common life, fruiting and budding branches of the one Vine.

Chapter 20: Listening to the Ministry of Others

As you become more intentional about a concern for the Gospel ministry, you may become more vulnerable to the tendency to focus on your own speaking or not speaking in meeting, and less focused on the prayer that the Gospel be preached to and in the hearts of those present. So an important thread in your prayer during the week, and when you sit down in worship with your Friends, is the longing that whether in words or through the silent operation of God’s Spirit, Friends are instructed, opened, led, and comforted as they need.

As part of this earnest prayer for the prosperity of Gospel life, you should also pray that the right people be led to speak if that is called for, and to support them with your attention, charity, and love when they appear. In this connection, it is good to seek to be more and more attentive to the ministry of others, praying that it be fruitful in the lives of the hearers, and exerting yourself more to see how it may instruct or nourish you. In addition, it is sometimes possible to follow along with those who are offering ministry, as you support them in prayer. As illustrated in the previous chapter, Friends have often been able to feel when someone has been too timid, holding back, or wandering too far from their leading.

This sympathy, and desire for the welfare of the meeting and those ministering, can make you more ready and insightful in giving encouragement and fellowship. You will also profit from learning more about the many forms of gift that are poured out upon the people. It may lead to instructive conversation and mutual guidance.

Samuel Bownas wrote about how he and his friend Isaac Alexander, who came into the ministry at the same time, had gotten back together after a time of separation, and observed that each had grown in their gift:

We were glad to see each other, as well as to hear each other, which when we did, it appeared to me that Isaac was improved considerably, and he said the same of me, observing that I preached the practical doctrine of the Gospel he thought, more than he did; for his preaching was very much in comparisons and allegories, which he apprehended were not so plain and easy to the understandings of the vulgar, as what I had to say. We had now an opportunity of opening our minds to each other. (Bownas 1839)

There is a possible risk, however, which is that listening carefully and attentively you may see things in another’s gift which make you discount your own gift, and wish that you had his learning, her eloquence or ability in expounding Scripture, use of humor, etc. The other Friend may seem to be better accepted, more sought after, speak with more authority, somehow be more accomplished. Even to state such feelings is to see clearly how petty and unworthy they are—yet they do occur, especially if we are in a time of uncertainty or difficulty, and we are seeking to be as serviceable as possible in the work. The only possible recourse is to be frank with yourself and God. Remember God’s love and forgiveness and wait patiently until you can feel the pure and sweet gift of the divine presence, freeing you from the worries and discomforts that your own self-judgment bring to you. Then wait for a renewed sense of what you personally are called to right now.

Chapter 21: Passionate Attachments

While the path of spiritual growth should be a journey towards greater integrity of the personality, this integrity comes step by step. Often, our spiritual growth is slow or at a standstill, and we await something that can precipitate a breakthrough. We may well be unaware that we have come to a period of stagnation, so when the breakthrough comes, it adds the power of surprise to the excitement of awakening, and our first sensations are those of warmth and expansiveness. If we come to this breakthrough because of a personal encounter, the person may be very much a focus of our attentions, and recipient of the warmth to an inappropriate degree.

I am speaking in very general terms, because this kind of experience has more than one form. The minister is as liable to such confusions as anyone else, and yet has more reason than most to be aware of them, and to look past them, because it distracts you from listening to your Guide. It can take the form of a passionate attachment to a party or faction, for example, so that your judgment is ceded to the group, and under its spell you come to hold opinions of issues, people, and events merely because these are the opinions or policy of the group.

Very often, however, it takes the form of passionate attachment to a person, whose voice, words, example, or personality somehow have touched you and awakened you, so that you feel opened and more lively, optimistic, motivated, committed. In many cases, this does little harm, and even much good, and the initial intensity passes off soon. But it can in fact do great harm under some circumstances. Here I will address two forms this can take: hero-worship and sexual attraction. Ministers may be the object or the subject of either of these; the way they respond may have important consequences for their own spiritual well-being, and for that of the other person involved. A determined focus on clarity, purity, and stillness is necessary as the foundation for a constructive response to this powerful, ambiguous, but creative experience.

Hero-worship

Perhaps this is more common for young people, but some personalities are liable to it at any age; I believe this is true of myself. Someone who has force of personality and insight may have just the characteristics to engage, awaken, challenge, and inspire another, and they seem to embody a whole course of study in themselves. The feelings, entirely natural and in a sense commonplace, can be quite strong, especially if the “hero” seems to have been the catalyst for the solution of an important problem, or a particular source of solace. Speaking in the idiom of another time, here is James Nayler writing to George Fox in 1653:

My father, my father, the glory of Israel, my heart is ravished with thy love above what can be declared…within this month I have suffer[ed] much; since I heard of thee my heart is filled with love. Pray for me my dear; they are for blood in this place, but the living truth spreads abundantly, praises forevermore. (Nayler 2004, 2:577)

When you are caught up yourself by a person who has such an effect upon you, if you retain your own bearings, and in the Light seek to incorporate what the “hero” has enabled you to see as nourishment for your own search, then the experience is a real blessing. In fact, the act of centering into the Lord’s presence, and then giving thanks for the person and their effect upon you is a way to move beyond the personal, and begin to separate what is in the Life from what is more temporary, without despising the human feelings involved.

It may happen that you yourself engender that sense of excitement for someone else, and you may become aware of it. Then it is good to remember the phrase, “nursing father (or mother) in Israel,” (Isaiah 49:23), and your calling, which is to love, honor, and encourage the divine life in others as you are able. A passage from Catherine Phillips is very eloquent on this point:

When we are singularly made instruments of good, in the hands of Providence to any soul, there is a natural aptitude to lean a little to the instrument, and to prefer it above others, which may for a time be allowable. The Lord, leading the mind by gradual steps from the love of other objects to the entire love of himself…may permit it for a season to lean to an instrument; in which case a prudent reserve is necessary, as well as a tender regard to the growth of the party thus visited (Catherine Phillips, in Skidmore 2003, 76)

Sexual passion

The rush of warmth engendered by an experience of spiritual intensity may take quite another form. Perhaps the best way to put it is that such moments of opening make us very aware of someone on many levels, and this may include the level of sexual passion. Logan Pearsall Smith writes with asperity about his charismatic father’s unfortunate affair with a woman who attended one of his revival meetings:

[N]ature, in one of her grossest economies, has placed the seats of spiritual and amorous rapture so close to each other that one of them is very likely to arouse the other. Even the holiest of saints and most devoted of nuns—so exactly do these two forms of ecstasy feel alike—have sometimes found it extremely difficult to distinguish between them…. When a holy preacher sat near a sanctified sister, or a female penitent close to her confessor, they became more conscious of the Baptism of the Spirit; and as my mother sardonically expressed it, the nearer to each other they sat, the deeper and richer this consciousness became. (L.P. Smith, in West 1990, 378–9)

In a way, this hardly seems worth remarking upon, since it is a commonplace of church scandals from any century. Yet it is important to name it in this book, because it is a phenomenon that is common enough among Friends, even when we minimize the importance of charismatic leadership. If in unprogrammed meetings we do not have people whose attractiveness is amplified by microphones and high production values seen in some evangelical settings, we do have a practice which fosters and values intimacy and openness, and is quick to take note of a sense of passionate engagement in spiritual matters. Radiant people are attractive to others; a Friend who is sharing with intensity about his or her inner life is radiant. So also is a Friend who listens openly and with a real sense of focus. The initial response to that radiance may feel like the beginning of a love relationship, and so both parties are vulnerable, because the signals being sent are often exchanged at an unconscious level and engage one or both before they are aware. There is warmth, and delight, and a sense of fitness and expansion, which are natural and powerful, and can open paths that are better not to walk.

This is not a feature peculiar to recent times, when the “hedge” of formality and Quaker protocol has been removed. We can quote Catherine Phillips again, cautioning “young women in a single state, who travel in the service of the ministry” with words that apply to either sex, of any age:

[They should] guard their own minds, lest they admit of any pleasing imagination, and stamp it with the awful name of revelation; and so slide into a familiarity and freedom of conversation and behaviour, which might tend to engage the affections of young men. Secondly, [they should] endeavor to retain a feeling sense of the state of the spirits of those with whom they are intimate…so will they be the better able to judge of their motives for accompanying them, or of any other act of kindness; and may wisely check any forward thought which looks beyond friendship. (Phillips in Skidmore 2003, 76)

The challenge is always to accept the positive value of such openings, and in a sense choose from among the many strands of feeling, to encourage those which promise true spiritual growth. This requires of the minister considerable self-awareness and tact. Withdrawal or distance may be called for in some cases, but most often a careful attention to limits is enough to establish the relationship on a safer footing. Phillips writes:

I confess, it is sometimes a nice point, to be ready of service to such, and preserve the unity of the spirit, free from a mixture of natural affection; a distinction which I fear has been overlooked by some to their great hurt, but which Truth, if adhered to, will make; and will also direct to steer safely betwixt these dangerous extremes. (Phillips in Skidmore 2003, 76)

Any public Friend is likely to have encountered such an emotional situation. Most negotiate it appropriately. Some, however, do not. In such a situation, it is critical to remember that you are an emissary, a servant carrying out a task, and that if you have been faithful up to that point, part of what has opened up the feelings of the other is the sense you convey of the reality of the Presence, and the beauty of that Spirit by which you have been led. If you do not remember that, and do not feel a concern not to dishonor the claim to service and calling that brought you there, then you do great damage to the spiritual life of yourself, the person you become involved with, and any who become aware of the situation.

It is important to be clear about the source of the damage: it comes because you take a thing that is claimed to have a divine element and make it a matter of human emotion. There is nothing wrong with falling in love, and there is nothing wrong with the prior process whereby, in a time of spiritual openness and trust, one person becomes very open and drawn to another. The wrong comes from not distinguishing the motives at work, from the temptation to deceive self or other, and from not recognizing that, if intense emotions are awakened, one’s ability to discern is likely to be quite impaired. When such situations arise, it is very painful to speak about, and Friends are reluctant either to raise the issue to a valued friend, or have the concern voiced with reference to themselves. (See Chapter 23 below, “On Opportunities 2.”)

I believe that travel to other meetings or large gatherings like yearly meetings, the Friends General Conference Gathering, or FUM triennials, are times when this kind of confusion is even more likely than in one’s home meeting. When traveling, there is the natural fact of being outside the constraints and stresses of everyday life, and encounters with new people draw us out and stimulate us. There is also a tendency when traveling to be at one’s best—in fact, in the course of a true leading to travel in the ministry, it often happens that you reach a state of coherence and interior clarity that is not always your condition under normal circumstances, and is in a sense a special gift arising from your focus on the service. If you recognize that your journey has helped provide an unusual time of spiritual focus, and keep yourself carefully centered, this focus experience may well be an opportunity of growth and guidance for you. This humility, in addition, can serve to help discernment if you find someone being drawn to you at this time of intensity and openness.

None of this is unique to the traveling Friend, but the informality and naturalness of our interactions, the value we place on leadings and feelings which may have many sources, our lack of formality about oversight and support for Friends traveling under concern—these bring additional reasons for caution.

In the end, the fundamental point is, remember Whose you are, and for whom you are empowered to be at work.

Chapter 22: “Bearing the Burden” of a Concern

A concern or leading is evidence of God at work among us. Concerns can be large or small, short or long, private or public. They can be the impulse to speak in meeting on Sunday, or to write a letter to your senator, or to undertake work within your community on race relations, or to take better care of your health. If they come with the sense of divine requiring, what could be more important, more awesome, more confirming?

There are occasional stories in the journals in which a “burden” on a minister is not approved by a meeting, and the minister “leaves it with the meeting” to carry. For example, from Joseph Hoag’s journal:

I found my mind impressed from day to day with a prospect of paying a religious visit to the inhabitants of Nova Scotia and the adjoining British Provinces, and to Friends with others, generally in New England. After considering the importance of the subject for several months, the Lord gave me to see clearly that the time was come to inform Friends of my concern, which I complied with at the next monthly meeting, under a feeling sense of the greatness of the undertaking. The meeting took up the subject and appointed a committee…they kept it along about one year without giving a decided report. At length the concern left me, as though it had never been; of this I informed the meeting. It seemed to shock the Friends who had held back; the business dropped here. I felt no more of it for more than a year, being quite easy; but those Friends who held back, were much uneasy the whole time. (Hoag 1861, 78)

Again, Edward Hicks describes a time when he comes across an isolated Friend, long out of contact with a meeting, and clearly not very religious. Hicks asks him, as the only Quaker in the region, to arrange to invite people from the area to a meeting. The local Friend professes no interest in helping and dismisses them rudely. Hicks’s companion then says “We do not wish to put thee or anybody else to any trouble or inconveniences, and are only sorry that Friends…should be so mistaken in their man. We will therefore bid thee farewell, and pass on.” Hicks writes:

My friends then arose from their seats to depart, when the old man replied in substance, Stop, stop, this won’t do, you are not going to throw the responsibility of the concern on my shoulders. I can’t submit to it; I must see if the Methodists can’t accommodate you; they like preaching as well as any.” (Hicks 1851, 79)

At first there is something very mysterious in this kind of story. Yet further reflection reveals some of the understanding that lies behind it. First, Friends then (and now?) believed that if a Friend felt a concern to undertake religious service, it might well be God intervening in history, just as in former days God sent the prophets and apostles off on missions. Second, since Friends believed that the meeting should test to see if this was a true leading or not, the meeting shared the responsibility for the ministry, a responsibility that was not abstract. Woe to the meeting if it blocked the authentic motions of the Spirit! Clearly, in the story from Edward Hicks, even the skeptical old Friend who had no use for preaching still felt some residual reverence for the minister’s concern and saw it as something requiring responsible care.

An additional dimension has to do with the way a community accepts concerns in its midst. In accepting a minister’s concern, if it is in right ordering, the meeting is opening itself to spiritual gifts of several kinds. It is encouraging one of its members to be faithful to the Spirit’s guidance, and not hold back. It is enacting its faith that the Spirit pours out gifts for the good of the people, and that the meeting and the individual jointly can sense and accept these gifts, and take good care of them, however large or small they might be. Perhaps no one would predict the good that comes from Joseph Hoag’s faithfulness—the encouragement, the enhancement of spiritual health, the good example he may set for others, the comfort and guidance he may be able to offer, and not least the learning and spiritual growth that will come to him if he is faithful. All these constitute real values, spiritually speaking, which are at stake in the response to the “burden” that the minister feels and shares with the meeting. It may be right for the meeting to say, “No, we are not clear for you to go,” but it is good for the meeting to do it knowingly. This is also why it is so important for meetings to be constructively and prayerfully involved in the support of concerns: it may open the way to more abundant life for one or for many.

One final reflection: in providing oversight for Friends under concern, it is all too easy to talk about logistics, or about the Friend’s experiences to date, or his or her emotional condition or perplexities, in a way that is humanly warm and supportive, but disconnected from the concern itself. Caught up in the experience of the work, and the personalities and events of it, the ministering Friend may sometimes not be able to keep the core of the concern in mind. The oversight committee, or you as a sympathizing friend, must preserve the presence of mind enough to make sure that the context for all the necessary, natural, and fascinating conversations always be the care and stewardship of the concern itself: Has it changed? Do the difficulties or opportunities that the Friend relates look different if the original concern is recounted? Is there something being overlooked?

This may seem to go without saying, but I believe it does not. Often enough I have seen something like the following (a slightly disguised blend of two true and recent stories). A Friend had a concern to service in a developing country; the calling came with a lot of purity and urgency, at an opportune but surprising moment in her life. Way seemed to open marvelously to find funding, advice, and allies, and the clarity of the concern was evident to her meeting and oversight committee. Furthermore, as she followed the concern, she found new gifts she did not know she had, or had not understood before, and her faith—that is, her reliance on God’s guidance—was strengthened. As she went ahead with the concern, she encountered problems: aspects of herself that needed to be transformed or healed, logistical challenges unforeseen, and mixed motives among her allies, so that she could not be sure what the meaning was of commitments and promises made to her, apparently in support of her work.

Naturally enough, when the outward conflicts and the inner doubts rose to a high enough level, the Friend was frozen from moving forward, not wishing to do wrong or to keep at a hopeless task, and not free of the leading to help. When her committee met with her, the natural inclination was to follow up the details of the issues, discussing them and making sense of them; this kind of reflection was definitely needed. Yet if unchecked, it would tend to stay at the level of personalities and motives, strategies and tactics. In fact, while these might be helpful, they were also in some ways confusing to the Friend in travail, because this level of discussion focused on specific actions and their consequences. This can be like stepping from one room into another: the original context is left behind, and if you keep moving to the next room and the next, that origin is harder and harder to return to, and the frames of reference shift further and further from the entry point. A Friend on the committee realized how the conversation was drifting, and said, “Wait a minute. Let’s return to your original concern. Can you describe it again, just as it came to you? That concern was precious and clear. Is it still with you?”

This was a liberating moment, because it provided a coherent position, grounded in prayer and tested by the community, from which to ask how the current issues related to the original gift. It then allowed the Friend and her committee to consider, if the concern remained with her, whether she might not find another way to act upon it, or if it had changed, how so, and how did it relate to the current difficulties. Perhaps more important than any other effect, this return to the gift enabled the Friend and the others to reconnect with the moment of grace and power that had been felt, and from that place of health to consider whether the way forward was blocked, or the call was to persistence, or some new path was called for. Therefore, the key move was to remember that the Friend and her community had been given a gift, in the form of the concern, and they shared the burden of its right care.

This attitude must follow, if we believe in fact that concerns and leadings are the result of God at work in the heart. While you may be led down a lonely path, with no real company, and your meeting may not be led to take up the concern with you, yet it is a little, precious treasure, for whose welfare everyone should feel solicitous, like a spiritual guest that has come to visit for a while. Hospitality may primarily rest in one heart, but the whole community should be anxious to care for it.

Chapter 23 Opportunities: Part 1

[This chapter is adapted from an article which appeared in Friends Journal, 36 (Sept. 1990), 8-9. It appears here with permission.]

One way that the Quaker spiritual system of earlier days offers us instruction for our own time was that worship, in many forms, was assumed to be part of daily life. In the insistence upon “frequent times of retirement” for prayer, Friends echo the experience of almost every religious practice of East or West. A distinctive note, however, is heard in the Quaker use of group worship. Aside from the gatherings on First Days, Friends of an earlier day made sure that the unpredictable presence of God played a central role in many aspects of pastoral care and religious instruction. They developed methods for attending to the divine dimension at home, at work, or in the interstices of the normal. The usual rhythms of life were perturbed, to further the inward work of Christ. Such incursions of worship have been called “opportunities.”

The word “opportunity” implies a great deal about the dynamics of our spiritual life. These occasions are gifts, interruptions in the routine, that provide another, less institutional way to meet the living God, mediated by a living human messenger. If someone is led to offer an unscheduled occasion for worship in public or in the home, this is to be accepted gratefully, because you never can tell what God has in store. In years past, Friends assumed that, for example, Rebecca Jones’s visiting with all the families in a meeting was as much a sign of God’s care and activity as was Jonah’s trip to Nineveh, that great city. The opportunity is an evidence of God at work, a stirring of the waters as at the pool of Siloam.

There are two kinds of events that Friends have called opportunities. The first is a wholly spontaneous thing, which many of us can report from our own experience: a group of Friends is talking, and in the midst of the conversation, someone feels overcome by a sense of awe or presence and falls into silent worship. As the concerned Friend is seized by this sense of spiritual attentiveness, others become aware that something is happening, and the concern spreads among the group, which finds itself, to the wonder of all, worshipping deeply for a little time. The Friend who was at the epicenter of this event may speak out of the silence, or the group may gradually “surface” again, and continue its socializing as before—yet with some lingering effects of reverence and spiritual exercise.

The second kind of event that Friends have called an opportunity is different because it is more intentional, and it was at one time a principal means of pastoral care in our meetings. It has almost fallen out of use, partly because modern lives tend to have less space than lives once did, partly because the practice is very demanding. But as the concern for intervisitation and the renewal of ministry among unprogrammed Friends has proceeded, many Friends have been led into a renewal of this kind of opportunity as well. This is the focus of the present chapter.

This sort of opportunity can take place in the course of travel under concern, as a result of a special concern for one group or another, or just in the normal course of life in a meeting. Friends travelling in the ministry today tend to do so by invitation rather than under the pressure of their own concern, and the scheduled event can end up as the sole focus of the visit. Nevertheless, it is good when Friends look for the chance to meet with individuals or small groups in the course of other public tasks and build some extra time into their schedules to allow for the possibility. Increasingly Friends travelling under concern will feel it right to stay in an area for more than a day or two, “visiting in depth,” and opportunities can be a part of this.

The effectiveness of this kind of visitation from outside, however, depends on the extent to which we become familiar with other kinds of opportunities, when we feel specifically drawn to meet with a Friend or group of Friends within one’s own meeting. It can be nourishing in any case; but if the community culture is familiar and comfortable with opportunities, it can encourage visitors to suggest them (when they might have been hesitant to otherwise). Therefore, it is good when Friends can encourage each other to seek opportunities and be very open to possible settings for them. The concern to request an opportunity can be of many different kinds. For example, one Friend in our meeting has sought opportunities in many meetings with Friends who tend to speak often in worship; other Friends have felt led to visit politicians in a worshipful manner; and sometimes in the context of worship, or a time of quiet contemplation, a face or name will appear to the worshiper with a sense that it would be good to meet with that person. This might be because he or she has something particular to say to that person. It is possible that you will feel led to seek an opportunity with someone because you yourself might gain guidance or counsel from that person, or perhaps for no reason that you can see. It may just feel important to take time to sit quietly in God’s presence together.

Some may find themselves drawn to people in a particular station in life, such as shut-ins, or couples about to marry, or newcomers to the meeting, or frequent speakers in meeting. Other people over the years have become watchful for the Guide’s promptings toward individuals and can implement these occasional leadings in a gentle and acceptable manner. Such Friends have done a great deal of the pastoral care in meetings, in a way that is complementary to the work of the overseers or other “structural” devices. A special case of this is when a Friend feels called to visit systematically some or all the membership. It is good to remember also that it was once common for meetings to appoint a small committee to undertake visits to every household in the meeting, and though these were sometimes undertaken with a desire to more strictly enforce the discipline, they were also often times of support, refreshment, and deeper acquaintance.

The opportunities that arise within the bounds of a meeting are especially important, but such occasions can be hard to undertake because we are timid about meeting so intimately, or because we feel embarrassed about being overtly religious, or for any number of reasons. When someone proposes such a visit with you, you may wonder if the initiator has some agenda, some criticism, or some work for you. It is important that the person seeking an opportunity be very clear that “love was the first motion,” and that God’s love and presence form the fundamental content of the visit, within and beyond any other transaction or content that may be included.

What happens in such an opportunity? One can generalize about this in the same way (and with the same limitations) that one can about meeting for worship. Here is a composite picture, assuming that two people are involved (though of course more might be).

Typically, after meeting at the agreed time and place, the two spend a little time connecting with each other in conversation. Before settling in, they should make any arrangements that will keep the time of worship relaxed and uninterrupted. It is helpful to be clear about any logistics or other details that may affect the session, and to make necessary arrangements before settling into worship. If there is some necessary limitation of time or otherwise, arrangements can be made then. If there is some specific topic that is part of the occasion, the two might address that if it is needed in preparation (as in a meeting for clearness).

The two then fall silent, and worship proceeds. The silence in such a situation can be of an extraordinary quality, and the intimacy of the setting, and of the agreement to meet together before God, makes the time precious.

The worship can continue for a long time, though often the opportunity will be on the order of half an hour, more or less. It is hard to say, though, because the session may develop in such a way that deep worship may mix with conversation over a lengthy period.

Often, though not always, words will be spoken out of the silence; one or both may have a message on their hearts for the other. Vocal prayer often flows more freely in such a session than at other times and can develop in extraordinary ways. In fact, the opportunity may be especially powerful as a “school of prayer.”

The words that come may or may not be personal in their bearing. Many Friends can testify that they have been given tasks, warnings, prophecies, or specific encouragement in such sittings, when a gifted Friend “speaks to their condition”; but this is not to be expected nor forced, for when it is not from God, the counterfeit is obvious and can be harmful. The opportunity has been one of the principal settings in which ministers have received counsel, and “infant ministers” encouraged in their calling.

Very often, whether words are spoken or not, one feels especially searched, comforted, opened, and loved. Even if the session has no apparent results, the people involved feel they have been refreshed in spirit, and often in body as well.

The time of focused worship will come to an end as the Friends begin to move about or otherwise signal that this time of special attention is over. Now may come the sweetest fruits of the opportunity, as the two exchange thoughts or feelings that may have arisen in the silence. The concern that has led to the meeting may come out most fully here, liberated by the unity found in worship. The conversation will have a leisurely, tender quality, and the sense that both are listening keenly will remain, even when words replace deep silence.

Modern Friends have incorporated some of this experience in our meetings for clearness and in some other small group gatherings. Worship sharing groups and committees often have opportunities of the spontaneous kind, when their gathering is especially permeated with the sense of God’s presence and action, and the relationships among the group members deepen in a tangible way. These occasions, welcome and valuable as they are, are not enough, however. If we are to take up sincerely the challenge to be constantly aware of the presence of God throughout the day, and in all settings, we need to help each other become more alert and responsive to that Presence, and less self-conscious about doing so. It is exceedingly difficult to open our schedules and perhaps our homes to others for such an event, and even difficult to suggest it. Many have a circle of acquaintances with whom the idea is comfortable and almost expected as part of their social visits. This is a wonderful addition to these relationships, and a good way to cultivate experience with opportunities, but the chances we have to seek and acknowledge God’s presence in all of life are not limited to such customary settings. This is another way in which we can keep alive the “experimental” nature of Quaker life.

Chapter 24: Opportunities: Part 2

The previous chapter provides, as it were, a general overview and introduction to the idea of the “opportunity.” Here I wish to spend some time on the visitor’s perspective.

I have found that the times when I have requested to worship with a family or an individual have been among the high points of my spiritual journey. These high points came when I arrived at the house very conscious of what a blessing it was simply to be welcomed there, and clear that my first purpose was to draw near to the Light of Christ in each of the people present.

This inward clarity removed my anxiety and allowed me to sit easily with the person(s) being visited. It also freed me in a surprising way from any preconceptions I had about the visit, or the person being visited. I was most grateful for this when I had some strong feeling, either positive or negative, towards the Friend, and I was enabled in simplicity and a real sweetness to see that person in some measure of Gospel love, which in important ways is not personal, yet embraces the person before you.

I found this was true as well, when I had requested to sit with the person with a definite concern in mind. Even if, for example, I had come because this Friend had recently been much more active in some ministry, and it seemed like a good time to come and encourage or otherwise be present as she explored the new dimensions in her spiritual life and practice, I have found it very valuable to sit down and reach towards the Light first, and not address the issue that I thought had brought me there. In this way, I was able to be a servant to the Life in that person, as much as I had capacity for, and the session ended up being nourishing for us both.

It is good to remember that an opportunity may include more than one kind of communication. One or both may speak out of the silence in real ministry to the other; sometimes the words or silence or both are just preambles to a leisurely, friendly conversation in which the Light is very much felt to be present. Sometimes, the whole opportunity is a slow, reflective conversation, with pauses in which the participants reach towards the Presence again, just checking in to make sure that the next words said are authentic.

It is important in a session like this to be very wary of giving advice, which can too often lead one to speak glibly. Advice may be given, for sure, but it should really be drawn from the moment, with much care. In times past, Friends visiting a home might really “preach” at or to the person present and be tempted in a way to play at being a Quaker minister, rather than rendering actual service. Counterfeit, even if self-delusion, is harmful. It is now rare that anyone requests an opportunity, and the visit you are making might be the only such event that the visited Friend has ever had. If it is not done humbly, sincerely, and courageously, the result may be to damage the faith of both of you. It may lessen respect for the idea of opportunities, and the experience of prayer, and may also lessen respect for you, the visitor. Our faith is weak enough, in these days, that we should be incredibly careful of damaging it with anything fake. John William Graham wrote, “I have once experienced this family sitting from an American Friend in my youth. I regret to say that it was all wrong in my case, and I thought it was pretence. The gift cannot be had by routine” (Graham 1933, 34).

In fact, in my experience, the deepest and sweetest times have been those in which, if words are spoken during the “waiting worship,” they are prayer. I have remembered vividly a time when a beloved minister visited my house, and we sat together before bedtime, in worship. As was often true of him, he was led to pray aloud for us, long and sweetly thanking God for many things about my family. The power of the prayer came because his thanks centered on an area which was a place where much trouble was brewing, though I did not know it, and so could not have spoken it. He never knew how his prayer affected my life, but as he poured out simple, warm words of gratitude, my eyes were opened to see the unseen darkness; and so some healing began.

So, too, I have found in my own case, that when I have been most empty, and most centered on the Lord’s presence with us, I have been led into prayer of a kind I had not otherwise experienced, and it was the gift that needed to be given. In this way, in such times of direct vulnerability of one person to another, one can see experimentally the Wisdom of the Lord, and his mercy, at work in his children.

On the basis of this experience, therefore, I think it important to bring the following points to any Friend who feels drawn to make family or personal visits under concern:

• If you have a specific concern that you’re travelling under, make sure you don’t press it in the worship time, unless it returns with a real sense of life and appropriateness. If you feel a rebuke or resistance that is more than shyness, heed it! Your presence there in love is the fundamental gift, so stay with that if you are in doubt.
• Be willing to have the time pass quietly. As long as you stay with your Guide, the value of the visit will emerge. Most Friends are happy just to have worship in their homes, which often of itself is a real pleasure. In every journey in the ministry (however nearby), the fundamental message is the Love of God at work among us.
• Make sure to start by being open, and holding each person present in prayer, being careful to be present with them, so that the meeting is centered on them and on their lives. If then you are led into words, be confident that as long as you remain in a tender place, the words may be few but appropriate.
• On the one hand, it is important not to fall into the trap of clairvoyant sham, on the other it is important to speak truth if one is really convinced it is true. If the message comes and persists with light, compassion, and power, it is likely to be safe. If it comes with the appearance of power [that is, with urgency], but not light and compassion, beware!

I would like to add something here about sitting with a Friend with whom you feel you must raise a difficult issue. I have a few times had to speak to Friends, who were also personal friends, in warning, because I had a very strong perception that the state of their personal lives was such that it rendered them temporarily unfit to serve in the ministry to which they felt called at that time. There was no way to express hesitation about their going on as usual, without addressing the specific issues which seemed an impediment. In these cases, my concern primarily was that their first responsibility was to deal with troubled relationships, and secondarily that if they went ahead as though nothing were wrong, their condition would be evident, and bring reproach on the whole idea of service under obedience to the Holy Spirit, rather than out of more personal motives. In one of these cases, I was so focused on the pain I thought I might cause, however cautiously I raised the issue, that I fear I was not able to speak in love as well as truth, and the bond of trust and friendship between us was damaged, a source of lasting pain for me.

In another case, some years later, I was somehow able to wait long enough to get a clear sense of the Friend’s gift, which had been validated by Friends before, and exercised helpfully across our Yearly Meeting. Waiting until I could feel God present, and then sympathize with the troubled Friend, sharing the friend’s regret that a real, living concern had to be set aside for a while until the Friend was clear again, I was given words which spoke to the Witness in that person. Thanks to that, the words I spoke were heard as the reproof that they were, but also as a message of encouragement to move through to a new freedom.

There are few services more rewarding than visiting in homes, or with families, or individuals. It has been the school in which I have learned most intensively how it feels to rely upon God’s guidance rather than my own judgment and worked hardest to reach the place of simple and truthful reliance. It is for this reason that there are few things more costly to the minister who is faithful, even if you go away rewarded with a sense of joy and assurance that all was well: the cost and the joy are both true aspects of the experience. It is humbling, staggering, to read descriptions of Rebecca Jones or Elias Hicks visiting seventy families in a week! Yet it is encouraging, too. I do not need to emulate these people in anything except willingness to serve, but their example makes me ask, am I doing all that I really should be? Lord, is there anything more?

Note on “public” meetings for worship as opportunities.

There are stirrings amongst many these days to open Quaker worship more widely, and to be more inventive about holding “public meetings” outside the safe walls of the meetinghouse. Silent, worshipful vigils are common as part of our witness for peace and justice. Some meetings have arranged “open house” events, actively extending invitations to Quaker worship, and sometimes providing a little quiet instruction about what we find valuable about our silent worship, and what we do during it. Often an important motivation for such events is to open the door to those who might find Quakerism valuable, if only they knew a little about it.

Beyond these valuable activities, however, I believe more is required of us. We are also called, I feel, to invite others to share Christ directly, not primarily in order to introduce them to Quakerism and bring them into our meetings, but to encourage them to turn to the Light and follow it. This is different from “telling about,” and “explaining.”

This is scary and feels almost unnatural to Friends, who are otherwise quite bold in advocating for their concerns. It does challenge us to ask: With all our seeking, what have we found? I believe that experience with the opportunity, as described above, is a productive pathway forward. In a few cases, I have been in such opportunities with non-Friends, who knew nothing about Quakerism. God was present and guided us into prayer and sharing that was profound, moving, and quite un-self-conscious.

This, it seems to me, is how “appointed meetings” should be seen: as opportunities, with a few or with many, in which the minister’s role is to seek after the Divine Life in those present, and rely on the Inward Teacher to reach those present, and bring forth the words or worship that might be needed then. Framing the challenge in this way helps me bear in mind the sweetness, trust, and boldness that such an event requires, and helps me see also the spiritual, intellectual, and emotional work it demands, to explicitly preach the Gospel as Friends understand it.

Chapter 25: On Travel in the Ministry

Many have written on one or another aspect of travel in the ministry, which has been a key ingredient of our movement’s growth and health from its beginning. I do not intend to write a complete treatise here; [See, for example, Samuel Bownas (1989), Abbott and Parsons (2004); Baker and Makhino 2016, Glover 1997. It was taken for granted that a minister would sometimes or often be called to visit other meetings or other communities. The positive benefits of such service do not cancel out times when the ministers allowed themselves to be caught up by controversies or factions, and thereby did real harm] nor will I rehearse the reasons that a widespread renewal of mindful visitation is necessary to the survival and faithfulness of Friends witness. I only wish to advise you to seek to root the action in love, encourage plainness and patience in the concern, and seek to be free of current convention. Take nothing for granted!

The root of the action

First, as to the root of the action. You may or may not have a particular concern in mind when you go out to visit a meeting or meetings. Yet as with any specific enactment of a sense of concern for the ministry, I think that your work will have the greatest good effect if you wait to find where the springs of love and divine life connect with this opening before you appear in the work.

This is even true when you have had an invitation to come and speak on a topic to a workshop or some other forum. It is wise to be suspicious of what is extremely easy, draws on your practiced strengths and accomplishments, and can be treated as an everyday transaction. For example, you may have been asked to come and offer information or reflections on a very specific topic, such as the meeting for worship, or the peace testimony, or some aspect of Quaker practice, or some political or social question—whatever you may have a useful knowledge of. Take the time to explore how this invitation relates to your basic concern for the abundance of life in the people of God, and more specific concerns you may be carrying in your ministry. You may well find, upon waiting with this question, that your right course is to offer what you have been asked to; no doubt this will typically be the case.

Yet the waiting and asking beforehand may transform your understanding of the experience, even while you offer the fruits of your experience or learning that led to the invitation in the first place. It may not even change the words you choose when making your presentation. The effect may be only to sharpen your awareness that in such an event, people’s spirits are engaged and active. Fresh openings may come unexpectedly to those who are on the alert; or fears and confusions may become visible, whose consequences reach beyond the content or the intent of the specific occasion. You may only be given the chance to hold the tendered soul in prayer, or some other opportunity may arise. In any case, your centering your service in the Life, and a real feeling of care for those you meet, makes it more likely that the occasion will facilitate a spiritual encounter, along with the intellectual and social transactions that take place. When you are called to such an event, however typical a workshop or forum it may be, your calling means that you need to be on watch!

Plainness in the concern

Second, it is important to preserve the plainness or simplicity of the concern laid on us. I have known ministers whose concern for intervisitation has centered first and foremost on presence, on just coming because of the love they feel for those visited. Rufus Jones famously said that the travelling ministry in the eighteenth and nineteenth century was like the blood circulating within the body of Friends, connecting all parts to each other, and carrying nourishment to every extremity. Very often, these travelling Friends had their greatest effect just in arriving: the simple fact of their presence, out of a sense of kinship in the Spirit, was a powerful testimony to the reality of God’s activity in their lives. If they were led to provide teaching, prayer, exhortation, advice—that was an additional blessing, for sure, and to be hoped for. I believe, however, that Friends are deeply famished for lack of the simple gift of presence in love.

Therefore, please consider whether, when no specific task lies on you, you are not drawn simply in Gospel love to be near other Friends, either in their homes, or in a meeting nearby or distant. When, on such a visit, I have been graced to say aloud that I had come with no specific purpose other than out of love, that simple statement had a tendering effect. After all, the aim of all our work is more abundant life and an increase in the sense of fellowship, and of the Presence of the Lord. If you enable Friends to feel those, you have done them a great service, though you said no word.

William Taber, in describing his work as a Released Friend for Ohio Yearly Meeting, gives an amazingly effective description of this simple response of love, in this case for his yearly meeting:

As I began to take up the concern…I was given the vision that my most important task was to draw near to the Light of Christ in each of our meetings and in every individual; and to ask others to share in awareness of this Light…. Therefore, I first visited members here and there, asking them to join me in a continuing work of prayer, recognizing this Light and praying for its growth in our midst, even while we were traveling or working. For several years, then, I saw my most important task to be to allow myself to be drawn to individuals or groups, so that we might enter into awesome fellowship where two or three are gathered in His Name, and the Light grows. In my mind’s eye, each meeting seemed like a cluster of light, and its members were points of light; and I was required to circulate among these points of light, so that our silent recognition of the Light, our sharing on this level of consciousness, would allow this Light to grow. (Taber 1985, 229–30)

Even a concern that has a specific “content,” such as a peace or social justice theme, or a desire to encourage Friends’ prayer practices, should primarily be rooted in love. No one has expressed that with more power than John Woolman, writing about his concern for the Indians, when he names love as the first motion; then a concern arose to visit among the Indians.

Freedom

Most of the time these days, travel in the ministry takes the form of a gifted Friend being invited to a meeting (monthly, quarterly, or yearly) to give a talk or workshop. With appropriate discernment and prayer, this can be a valuable kind of ministry—but it has too much become the typical, that is the paradigm, kind of event. My yearly meeting, New England, has sometimes taken steps to make meetings aware of Friends who are willing to come and visit with a particular concern. Other yearly meetings and Friends organizations have similar committees. This is very useful, both to the meetings, and to the Friends, since it is a way of encouraging Friends who have a concern or gift and stimulating the circulation of gifts among the meetings. It also stimulates our awareness of meetings that may be in particular need of visitors because of isolation or some other issue exercising the meeting.

Yet we still need something in addition to this very organization-centered sort of activity. This useful system has not led to a renaissance of travel in the ministry of the old style, in which the minister feels a prophetic call to draw near to the Life of God somewhere, with or without a specific message. This is too precious an element of our religious life to let die. When a Friend comes under obedience to God, this is an opportunity for an unexpected blessing for the visited meeting, for individual Friends, and the visitor. Neither the visitor nor the visited can predict, if they are really open, what might occur, and if they accept the opportunity with thanks, the spiritual nourishment may be very great. Even if no signal event seems to occur, it is valuable to remember that God may visit us at any time, inwardly or in the person of another, and we may entertain angels unawares (Hebrews 13:2). Thus, we grow in the precious gifts of gratitude and simplicity.

Therefore, Friend, if you are visiting to do a task at a meeting, for example, to lead a workshop or give a talk, be alert to the possibility that you have an opening to do something more. This might take the form of staying longer in a home, requesting a meeting for worship, visiting particular Friends who are in need, or whose concern you wish to encourage, or whom you wish to thank for something they have done for you. In addition to the specific preparations you may need to make for the workshop or address you have been invited for, make sure to spend time in prayer, with the question on your mind, Is there anything else, Lord?

Although meetings and books of Faith and Practice exhort their members to travel to other meetings, most Friends don’t do it, even out of simple curiosity. It is even rarer for Friends to undertake systematic intervisitation under concern, and part of that may well be owing to a misapprehension of what forms intervisitation “ought” to take. From what precedes, I hope the reader feels freed from the notion that one cannot travel unless one has a “message” to deliver, some specific issue to bring to meetings.

Now let us consider how the service may take shape, in logistical terms. I have four specific issues in mind: first, finding the right timescale for the concern; second, keeping the travel rooted in the home meeting; third, being open to leadings for unusual messages, for example to specific individuals or groups; fourth, travel with a companion.

Time

First, travel in the ministry need not be conducted in an extended block of time. That is, a real concern to travel may not require you to set aside weeks or months of uninterrupted focus on the concern. There are many accounts from the heyday of the travelling ministry which tell how ministers under a particular concern wove it into the fabric of the rest of their lives, dedicating evenings or Sunday afternoons to the work. Even so great a traveler as Elias Hicks often carried out concerns for family visitation or for visits to Friends schools by a series of separate meetings over the course of weeks or months, interleaved with his occupation with “temporal concerns around home.”

This has been the most common pattern for my own meeting visits. For example, in 2003 I felt a strong leading to visit meetings in New England. I brought the concern to my monthly meeting. In the resulting discernment I was asked to set aside one Sunday a month for the concern, since our meeting is small, and every member’s absence is significant. As I followed that discipline, I still felt that more was needed. After waiting with this disquiet for a while, I found ways to visit during the week with meetings on ministry and counsel. In this way I learned more about each meeting, and could visit more deeply with a few Friends than I might have done only coming to First Day meetings.

Yet when it happens that one is able to dedicate an extended period of time to a journey in the ministry, there are special gifts that can come from the intensity and unbroken focus, especially if one has companions with whom one can sometimes speak frankly and freely in reflecting on the experience. In recent years, two weeks spent as a companion to a Friend called to South American Friends, and a week working with a minister from another yearly meeting in New England, were inspiring, educative, and joyful: as one of us said we had “an apostolic good time.” At such times, even if you are not normally a journal-writer, the use of a notebook or journal can be invaluable both for reflection at the time and for use later as an aide-mémoir.

Relation with your meeting

Second, while the intervisitation comes from a concern that has arisen for you, it is also an outgrowth of the meeting’s life. This is true even when there is some resistance or discomfort about the concern, or about the whole process of travel in the ministry. Therefore, it is an important discipline, for which you will come to be grateful very soon, to have in the forefront of your mind that you come with the loving greetings of your Friends for the meeting or people visited. It is also important to be aware of the need to report back to the meeting when the concern is completed (or, if it extends over a long period of time, at points during the service). Your experience of other meetings and their conditions, interests, challenges, and activities can provide valuable nourishment for your Friends at home. Your reporting is also another way for the meeting to feel the rightness of your concern (and their support of it), and to get some understanding of your own growth as a result of the service.

It is a common experience of many Friends with concerns (for peace, prison work, etc.) that they have trouble connecting this point of excitement and inspiration in their lives with the life of their meeting, and that their meeting doesn’t quite know how to embrace their work. Travel under concern, which requires a minute from the meeting, and thereby leaves open the expectation of a report at the end, is one valuable way in which meetings can gain some experience with this question, and learn to expect reports on concerns. Thus, when meetings find a way to support a concern for Gospel ministry (for which our tradition has much guidance to offer), they may also find that the lessons learned encourage them to find appropriate ways to encourage other kinds of gifts and callings.

In regard to the process of clearness and oversight for Friends who have a concern to travel, I wish only to remark that sometimes these clearnesses do not go deep enough in exploring how the concern is actually rooted in the life of the minister. It is not uncommon to feel a clear, strong leading to travel, but not yet be mature enough to carry the concern appropriately. The integrity of the message depends upon the evidence of the Spirit at work, but the power and meaning of it are given credibility and force by the minister’s integrity in other ways. John Griffith tells of a time when Friends explored beyond the concern itself, to examine if his preparation for it included ordering his life to follow the leading faithfully:

A certificate was prepared, setting forth their unity with my service in the ministry, and with my intended journey; desiring my labouring therein might tend to the edification of the churches where my lot should be cast, and for my return to them again in peace; also expressing that I had settled my outward affairs to the satisfaction of that meeting—for I had acquainted friends how I had settled them, as I thought it concerned them to be satisfied in that, as well as other things; it being my earnest desire to have the full concurrence of my brethren in so great an undertaking. (Griffith 1779, 67)

Speaking to conditions

The journals and Quaker folklore are replete with examples of Friends speaking very directly to the condition of specific Friends or meetings. This is to be expected sometimes, if part of the service of the ministry is to help people see where they are and what the state of their spiritual life is. A famous example is the time when Anne Wilson, visiting a meeting, spoke directly to the young blacksmith’s apprentice, Samuel Bownas, who sat in the rear of the meetinghouse drowsing in the quiet. As he wrote in his journal:

[O]ne First Day, being at meeting, a young woman named Anne Wilson was there and preached. She was very zealous, and I fixing my eye upon her, she…pointed her finger at me, uttering these words with much power: “A traditional Quaker, thou comest to meeting as thou went from it the last time, and goest from it as thou came to it, but art no better for thy coming; what wilt thou do in the end?” This was so suited to my condition that…I was smitten to the ground, but, turning my thoughts inward, in secret I cried, Lord, what shall I do to help it? (Bownas 1839, 3)

Many journalists describe moments in their travels when they had “close work,” and felt led to speak in very pointed terms about the state of the meeting, or the leadership, or the appearance of the young people. In that culture rough-tongued elders, speaking “plain,” could say, “Friend, thy words have not the savor of truth!” [Job Scott in his journal speaks eloquently of how harsh rebuke can be harmful and counterproductive, and masquerades as “plain speaking” when it may really have baser roots. See the anecdote from Edward Hicks’s journal, in Chapter 18 “Being dipped into sympathy.”] The idea of bearing a prophetic message to a specific individual, especially in the line of a rebuke, has long been unknown among us, and the idea of its returning is disturbing to imagine.

On one hand, it is so easy to be judgmental, to assume the cloak of “prophet,” scorning to speak “smooth things,” and enjoying the pleasures of self-righteousness. It is likely to be quite rare that one is securely enough situated in the Spirit as to speak such a message in a way that it reaches to the Seed and is not merely a personal exercise. On the other hand, such speaking to conditions is a very significant risk for the speaker. There are so many ways that we may be mistaken, that such directness is frightening. It is easier, perhaps, for us to “speak Truth to power,” to confront a politician whose policies we oppose, than to confront deplorable conditions amongst our Friends. We prefer to speak in generalities, hoping that if the shoe fits the right person will try it on; this is less confrontational than Ann Wilson was. Perhaps we are not brave enough to accept when we have been given a very direct message for a specific person or group. Greater experience in “opportunities” and prayer with one or two others can provide some tutelage in this regard, perhaps.

I believe that we should be more open to this kind of specific speaking, but I do not believe that if we are faithful it will usually take the form of warning or denunciation. I would like to recount a case from my own experience. In one year, I twice visited a meeting in New England, one which I know fairly well and am very fond of. In this meeting it is the custom for children to sit in meeting while it gathers, and then, after about fifteen minutes, go out for First Day School. On both occasions that year, I felt strongly compelled to stand and speak before the children went out. The messages that I was given were decidedly not “for the children,” though in one of them, I was led to speak to the children, pointing out how the message related to them as well as to their elders. At the rise of meeting, when introductions went around, I felt again a sense of requirement. This time, I felt led to explain to the meeting that I had twice been led to offer messages earlier than was customary so that the children were present. The sense of urgency and concern made me ask, “Was there a message beyond the words of the message?” It seemed that they might well ask themselves what their children’s experience of worship was: was it always in the controlled, “introductory” mode, or did they have the opportunity to experience a full meeting for worship, even if the silence and the ministry might seem “over their heads”? I felt urgently that this good and wholesome meeting was being called to try a new thing.

I was very worried that this might sound like “giving the meeting advice,” which would have felt presumptuous. Yet I was very conscious also of a real sense of God’s love present among us, and felt “used” by the Spirit, and accompanied by it in my speaking. The meeting received my words with no sense of defensiveness, but rather welcomed them, and several spoke to me afterwards of how my message felt both striking and loving. Once again, I believe the key ingredient here was the real sense of love, and the impulse to offer more abundant life—therefore, there was a positive invitation, which carried with it a probing question, rather than an accusation of short-coming, followed by a prescription. If a direct challenge is to come sometimes, I believe that it will most often take a form that may speak of shortcomings, but mostly speak of invitation to the love of God, and in that spirit reach to God’s inward witness.

Travel companions

In the “classical” model of travel in the ministry, the minister should travel with an approved companion. This has deep roots, not only in Quaker practice, but also in New Testament models of the apostles travelling in pairs for mutual support. The practice is very valuable on many fronts.

A rightly-concerned companion can often do much to make logistical arrangements to support a minister’s work—notifying people ahead of time, overseeing travel arrangements, writing down phone numbers and names, etc.—the sort of work of which Job Scott wrote, in the 1790s, that “it is of more importance than many realize.”

In addition, your companion can supply important support in prayer, before, during, and after a visit, and also be a trusted confidante. In addition, if the travel is for any length of time, having a familiar face can be a great solace. To refer to Job Scott’s letters again, he notes, after tenderly empathizing with his wife left behind while he is on a visit to the southern states, that at least she is surrounded by their home and friends, while he experiences day after day in which he arrives unknown to an unfamiliar community, finds a place with the Friends there, joining them for worship and perhaps conversation, under the constraint of his gift, and then has to pull up roots and do it all over again with a new set of strangers—a wearisome experience, however welcoming the Friends may be (as they usually are!).

It is common to speak of the person under concern as “the minister,” and the companion as “the elder,” but I would like to point out that this should be taken primarily as a description of functions that each may perform on the trip, both in acting on leadings during the time, and in supporting each other along the way. Ministers travelling together can develop deep bonds and provide deep comfort and frank commentary to each other, and Quaker history is full of such teams that become as close as brothers or sisters.

Samuel Bownas’s journal describes many occasions, especially during his younger years, in which he and other young ministers travelling together encouraged each other as they went along:

We took meetings in our way, as they suited, and I found my companion under a great concern to speak something in meetings, but very backward and loath to give up to it. I gave him what encouragement I could; and in Tewksbury meeting after some struggle in himself, he stood up, and appeared very much to his own, and Friends’ comfort, and so in every meeting after, till we came to Bristol; and indeed he appeared more like an elder in the work than a babe. At Bristol he did not get through what he had before him to his liking, and sat down under great discouragement; but I cheered him up as well as I could, by giving him an account of my experiences; and when we came to the little country meetings again, he did finely, and gathered strength and experience in the work (Bownas 1839, 40)

One satisfying experience with such teamwork I have had was on a two-week trip to Cuba, in which I accompanied a Friend who had a concern to visit the meetings there. His was the concern, and at every meeting I worked to make sure that he had an opportunity to share. Yet I also felt free to act on openings for service that came to me, and in such cases he supported me freely. In fact, at that time I had had more experience in travel in the ministry than he. In some ways, therefore, it felt that my feeling free to act as led would help him do the same; and so it turned out. In preparing for the trip, we discussed how we would work together—on what points each of us especially wanted feedback (or reassurance), questions each of us was carrying about our visit, and also reasons that each of us found in the other for confidence. During the trip, we both offered informal and spontaneous comments to each other, and made the time occasionally for more formal conversations: How has it gone with you recently? What have you noticed? Is there anything particular you think should happen next? Is there something you think I should know? The collaboration between us was very sweet, and both of us learned much from each other, as well as the very basic lesson in every place we went, which is that God is to be relied upon, as he opens human hearts to each other.

“Travel in pairs”: not a hard and fast rule.

Traveling in company, whether with one companion or more, is very wise, and sometimes to be insisted upon. Nevertheless, very many occasions are recorded in the journals and other narratives from times past, in which a rightly concerned minister travels alone, trusting that guidance and counsel will be provided when it is needed.

This has often been my experience, especially when the service takes the form of discontinuous episodes, such as visits to a series of Sunday meetings over several weeks or months. Sometimes it is possible to find a traveling companion before the visit takes place, but sometimes it is not, and if the service is pressing, you must get on with it. When this is the case, it is useful for you, the traveler, to take care beforehand to recall that you must be in a listening frame of mind, and go ready to learn, as well as speak—and as ready to be silent as to speak. In addition, it may be that when you arrive, a particular Friend there appears as a counsellor and guide for you, though no preparation was made ahead of time. A request for prayer often brings a warm and ready response. In many such cases, I have found someone at the visited meeting who has provided the kind of grounding that a travelling companion can.

Much of my travel has been to meetings or individuals within my yearly meeting, and I have interwoven the visiting with my working schedule and family life. For this reason, it has most often been the case that I have gone alone. It has been very educative to spend the time en-route in prayer, in part getting free of pre-conceptions, and in part looking forward with a kind of eager attention to learning and listening as sensitively as possible in the meeting I am approaching. The time alone has been helpful, therefore, in my own training and discipline, and I believe that it has meant that I am more “present” to the meeting than I might have been if I were accompanied. In a sense, the encounter is more direct. I have learned greater caution, seeking to recognize when I am not as centered as I’d like to be, to expect some wishful thinking or self-delusion, and to relax in God’s presence to let the illusion fade away.

The honor of Truth

A minister, especially if traveling alone, must know an inward discipline, in which he or she actively keeps aware of the responsibility and role as servants. This discipline must draw on previous and current guidance received from Friends and the Spirit in the exercise of the gift, and on continued teachableness. In this connection, I often recall the phrase, “the honor of Truth.” The claim that one is a messenger on behalf of God, in unity with one’s meeting, carries this implication: you are thereby claiming your service to be evidence of the Truth by which your community seeks to live. You are in a position either to encourage or discourage the spiritual flourishing of those among whom you are sent. Give no reason to doubt that your presence and your exercise arise from a motion of divine love, lest you cause some tender one to stumble, and you yourself get out of the way you long to walk in and advocate to others.

I end here with a quotation from Stephen Crisp, which leads from the present chapter to the last:

And I was exercised, according to my ability, in visiting the assemblies of the Lord’s people in Essex and Suffolk, where it lay upon me; and in helping and assisting the Lord’s people according to my ability, both in their spiritual and temporal concerns, as the Lord God of my life gave me an understanding: for I gave up the ordering of my spirit unto Him; and he opened me in many things relating to the affairs of this world, that I might be as a staff to the weak in these things, and might stand by the widow and fatherless, and plead the right of the poor. In all which, I sought neither honor nor profit, but did all things freely, as I received of God: and he whom I served was my reward, so that I lacked nothing. Therefore, who would not praise the Lord, and who would not trust in His Name? (Crisp 1850, 151)

Chapter 26: On Taking Joy in the Service

These things have I spoken unto you, that my joy might remain in you, and that your joy may be complete.
     —John 15:11

Jesus teaches us to expect joy in following him, and in our unity through his Spirit with our brothers and sisters. Take time to experience joy in the call to service, and in times when you have served faithfully. The Gospel ministry is costly; yet if it is a concern you are carrying rightly, it is path of rejoicing, and growing peace. The increase of joy, and of confidence in God’s reliable presence, has always been accepted as evidence that the minister has been faithful.

This is not to be mistaken for self-congratulation or a sense of superiority, which are antithetical to the joy of which Jesus spoke. In the inward training that we go through, we come more and more to know how to anchor our life and service in divine love, and find our fears diminished and defeated. We become more sensitive to evil in ourselves, our society, and those we meet. We become more compassionate, knowing the many ways that we are likely to be mistaken, deluded, or limited by our personalities, our understandings, our experience, our culture. We feel it more keenly when we come to recognize the Seed’s oppression, and we come to understand Nayler’s words, when he said that the spirit he felt “is conceived in sorrow, and brought forth without any to pity it, nor doth it murmur at grief and oppression…with the world’s joy it is murthered. I have fellowship therein with them who lived in dens and desolate places in the earth.”

Yet even so, we are given along with this a heightened sense of gratitude. We become great in thanksgiving and feel how gratitude is a taproot of prayer and upwelling life. With Fox we “rejoice to see the springs of life break forth in any,” and are free to take delight in the multitudinous evidences of the Life and Light, in other people, in the natural world, even in ourselves. As Lewis Benson wrote, “It is a wonderful thing to be called to the ministry of the Gospel of Jesus Christ” (Benson 1979, 51).In being open to this service, and following it with increasing faithfulness and abandon, we are shaped and reshaped, sifted and refined, so that less and less stands between us and our sense of God’s presence, in ourselves and in others. Ecstatic phrases cannot really convey the comfort, peace, delight, and safety that we feel in God’s presence, and if our lives are more and more given to the service of this Life in all, in waiting, in doing, in speaking, and in silence, then we are more and more surrounded by all these things, which can be summarized in the short powerful words: Light, Life, Love.

A Bibliography on Quaker Ministry and Other Works Cited

Note: Many citations from journals provide only the first page of the article. Note also that the high proportion of citations from Friends Quarterly Examiner results from an intensive search for discussion about the practice of recording, and its relation to cultivation of gifts, in London YM.

• Abbott, Margery Post. Walk Humbly, Serve Boldly: Modern Quakers as Everyday Prophets. San Francisco: Inner Light Books, 2018.
• Abbott, M.P. and P.S. Parsons, eds. Walk Worthy of your Calling: Quakers and the Traveling Ministry. Richmond, IN: Friends United Press, 2004.
• Baker, Marian and Priscilla Makhino. Travelling in Ministry: Let Your Light Shine. Philadelphia: Tract Association of Friends, 2016.
• Barbour, Hugh. The Quakers in Puritan England. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1964.
• Barclay, Robert. An Apology for the True Christian Divinity. Glendale, PA: Quaker Heritage Press, and Warminster, PA: Peter D. Sippel, 2002 [1678].
• Bauman, Richard. Let Your Words Be Few: Symbolism of Speaking and Silence among Seventeenth-Century Quakers. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983. Beamish, Lucia K. “Consecrated ministry.” Friends Quarterly, 14(8): 343–52, 1963.
• Beamish, Lucia K. Quaker Ministry: 1691 to 1834. Privately published, 1967.
• Benson, Lewis. “On Being Moved by the Spirit to Minister in Public Worship.” New Foundation Publications no. 4, pp. 48–51. Gloucester, England: George Fox Fund, 1979.
• Bownas, Samuel. A Description of the Qualifications Necessary to a Gospel Minister. Wallingford, PA: Pendle Hill Publications, 1989.
• Bownas, Samuel. An Account of the Life, Travels, and Christian Experiences of Samuel Bownas, a Minister of the Gospel in the Society of Friends. In Evans, W. and T. Evans (eds) Friends Library, vol. 3, pp. 1–70. Philadelphia: Printed by Joseph Rakestraw, for the editors, 1839.
• Brayshaw, A.N. The Quakers: Their story and Message. London: Friends Home Service Committee, 1969 [1953].
• Brinton, Howard H. Prophetic Ministry. Pendle Hill Pamphlet 54. Wallingford, PA: Pendle Hill, date unknown.
• Brinton, Howard H. “Friends for Seventy-Five Years.” The Bulletin of the Friends Historical Association 49(1): 3–20, 1960.
• Brinton, Howard H. Quaker Journals: Varieties of Religious Experience in the Religious Society of Friends. Wallingford, PA: Pendle Hill Publications, 1974.
• Burns, P.J. and T.H.S Wallace, eds. The Concurrence and Unanimity of the People Called Quakers, as Evidenced by Some of Their Sermons. Camp Hill, PA: Foundation Publications, 2010.
• Burnyeat, John. The Truth Exalted in the Writings of That Eminent and Faithful Servant of Christ, John Burnyeat. London: Thomas Northcott, 1691.
• Capper, Mary. A Memoir of Mary Capper, Lately of Birmingham, a Minister of the Society of Friends. Philadelphia: Association of Friends for the dissemination of religious and useful knowledge, 1860.
• Conran, John. A Journal of the Life and Gospel Labours of John Conran. Philadelphia: Henry Longstreth, 1877.
• Crabtree, Sarah. Holy Nation: The Transatlantic Quaker Ministry in the Age of Revolution. Chicago: Chicago University Press, 2015.
• Crisp, Stephen. The Christian Experiences, Gospel Labours and Writings of That Ancient Servant of Christ, Stephen Crisp. Philadelphia: The Friends’ Library XIV. pp 134–278, 1850 [1894].
• Dale, Jonathan. Beyond the Spirit of the Age: Quaker Social Responsibility at the End of the Twentieth Century. London: Quaker Home Service, 1996.
• Doncaster, Phebe. John Stephenson Rowntree: His Life and Work. London: Headley Brothers, 1908.
• Drayton, Brian. Notes on the Friends practice called “recording gifts in the ministry.” Unpublished ditto, 1988.
• Drayton, Brian. Selections From the Writings of James Nayler. 2nd ed. Worcester, MA: Mosher Book and Tract of New England Yearly Meeting, 1994.
• Drayton, Brian. Treasure in Earthen Vessels. Worcester, MA: Mosher Book and Tract Fund, New England Yearly Meeting, 1996.
• Drayton, Brian. “Being a Recorded Minister.” Published by Pendle Hill, at http://www.pendlehill.org/newpage11.htm, 1997.
• Drayton, Brian. “Darwin’s Journals—and Yours.” Hands On! 27(1):18–20, 2004.
• Drayton, Brian. Getting Rooted: Living in the Cross a Path to Joy and Liberation. Pendle Hill Pamphlet #393. Wallingford, PA: Pendle Hill Publications, 2007.
• Drayton, Brian. and W. P. Taber, Jr. A Language for the Inward Landscape. Philadelphia: Tract Association of Friends, 2016.
• Dymond, Joseph John. Gospel Ministry in the Society of Friends: A Series of Letters. London: Edward Hicks, Jun, 1892.
• Forbush, Bliss. Elias Hicks: Quaker Liberal. New York: Columbia University Press, 1956.
• Fox, George. Journal. See Nickalls, John L., 1952.
• Glover, Sue. Go and the Lord Go with Thee! York: Sessions Book Trust, 1997.
• Graham, John W. The Quaker Ministry. Swarthmore Lecture, 1925. London: The Swarthmore Press Ltd, 1925.
• Graham, John W. Psychical Experiences of Quaker Ministers. London: Friends Historical Society, 1933.
• Graves, Michael P. Preaching the Inward Light: Early Quaker Rhetoric. Waco, Texas: Baylor University Press, 2009.
• Griffith, John. Journal of John Griffith. London, 1779.
• Grubb, Sarah Lynes. A Brief Account of the Life and Religious Labors of Sarah Grubb. Philadelphia: The Tract Association of Friends, 1863.
• Grundy, Martha Paxson. Early Friends and Ministry. Boston: Beacon Hill Friends House. BHFH-1011, 2012.
• Grundy, Martha Paxson, ed. Resistance and Obedience to God: Memoirs of David Ferris. Philadelphia: Friends General Conference, 2001.
• Grundy, Martha Paxson. Tall Poppies: Supporting Gifts of Ministry and Eldering in the Monthly Meeting. Pendle Hill Pamphlet #347. Wallingford, PA: Pendle Hill Publications, 1999.
• Harvey, T. Edmund. “Our Quaker Ministry Since the Cessation of Recording.” Friends Quarterly Examiner, 80:187–92, 1946.
• Hibbert, Gerald K. A Plea for a Deeper Ministry. London: Friends’ Book Centre, 1933.
• Hicks, Edward. Memoirs of the Life and Religious Labors of Edward Hicks, Written by Himself. Philadelphia: Merrihew & Thompson, Printers, 1851.
• Hoag, Joseph. Journal of the Life of Joseph Hoag, an Eminent Minister of the Gospel in the Society of Friends. Auburn, NY: Knapp and Peck, Printers, 1861.
• Jeavons, Thomas. “Living Ministry.” Friends General Conference Quarterly 16(2):1 and ff. Philadelphia, PA: Friends General Conference, 1984.
• Jenkins, James. J. William Frost, ed. The Records and Recollections of James Jenkins. Texts and Studies in Religion, Vol. 18. New York: The Edwin Mellen Press, 1984.
• Nayler, James. The Works of James Nayler. Volume II. Glenside, PA: Quaker Heritage Press. 2004.
• Nickalls, John L., ed. The Journal of George Fox. Cambridge: at the University Press, 1952.
• Nuttall, Geoffrey F. To the Refreshing of the Children of Light. Pendle Hill Pamphlet 101. Wallingford, PA: Pendle Hill, 1959.
• Nuttall, Geoffrey F. “The Minister’s Devotional Life.” In The Puritan Spirit. London: The Epworth Press. pp. 246–54, 1967.
• Ohio Yearly Meeting. So That You Come Behind in No Gift: Ohio Yearly Meeting’s Gathering on Eldering. Barnesville, OH: Ohio Yearly Meeting, 1996
• Penington, Isaac. The Works of Isaac Penington, a Minister of the Gospel in the Society of Friends. Volumes 1 to 4. Glenside, PA: Quaker Heritage Press, 1995–97.
• Penn, William. The Rise and Progress of the People Called Quakers. Reprint edition. Richmond, IN: Friends United Press, 1980.
• Punshon, John. Alternative Christianity. Pendle Hill Pamphlet #245. Walllingford, PA: Pendle Hill Publications, 1982.
• Rowntree, John S.. “Gospel Ministry in the Society of Friends.” Friends Quarterly Examiner, pp. 415–36, 1904.
• Scott, Job. Essays on Salvation by Christ and the Debate Which Followed Their Publication. Glenside, PA: Quaker Heritage Press, 1993.
• Scott, Job. The Works of That Eminent Minister of the Gospel, Job Scott, Late of Providence, Rhode Island. Two volumes. Philadelphia: John Comly, 1831.
• Skidmore, Gil. Strength in Weakness: Writings by Eighteenth-Century Quaker Women. Oxford: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, Inc, 2003.
• Steere, Douglas. On Listening to Another. New York: Harper and Row, 1955.
• Taber, William P. “The Teology of the Inward Imperative: Travelling Quaker Ministry of the Middle Period.” Quaker Religious Thought 18(4): 3–19, 1980.
• Taber, William P. The Eye of Faith: A History of Ohio Yearly Meeting, Conservative. Barnesville, OH: Ohio Yearly Meeting of Friends, 1985.
• Taber, William P. “Quaker Ministry: The Inward Motion and the Razor’s Edge.” http://www.quaker.org/pendle-hill/taber.html, 1996.
• North Carolina Yearly Meeting (Conservative). Vocal Ministry. Journal of the North Carolina Yearly Meeting (Conservative) volume 1, 2000.
• West, Jessamyn. The Quaker Reader. Wallingford, PA: Pendle Hill Publications, 1990.
• Wilson, Lloyd Lee. Essays on the Quaker Vision of Gospel Order. Wallingford, PA: Pendle Hill Publications, 1993.
• Wilson, Lloyd Lee. Accountability and Vocal Ministry. Journal of the North Carolina Yearly Meeting (Conservative) 1:8–11, 2000.
• Wilson, Lloyd Lee. The Exercise of Spiritual Authority within the Meeting. Philadelphia: School of the Spirit Ministry, 2014.
• Wilson, Louise. Vocal Ministry of One Friend. Journal of the North Carolina Yearly Meeting (Conservative) 1:6–8, 2000.
• Woolman, John. Phillips P. Moulton, ed. Journal and Major Essays of John Woolman. New York: Oxford University Press, 1971.

Appendix 1: Two letters to meetings

To Friends in and around Multnomah meeting, on praying towards unity

Dear Friends,

Since we were with you a few days ago, I have found that, when I sit in the quiet, I am not free until I share one thing more with you. This is to encourage you in love to pray towards unity as you follow your concerns. Indeed, this prayer towards unity may itself be a concern to follow, when no other path or leading is discernible. What do I mean?

1. Imaginative participation. Prayer takes many forms, and some of those forms are available even to someone who does not think they know how to pray. A wordless, steady regard, in a time when one is quiet in reverence, is a powerful way of working, or rather of allowing oneself to be worked upon. When we are truly centered, even for a short space of time, we are tender, that is, vulnerable and teachable. If then we bring into that place a longing or need that is on us, it can be a time of discovery and movement, and imaginative participation in the concern we are holding, and the community we love.
2. Heightened awareness. One of the results of this kind of contemplation is heightened awareness. In that receptive place, where we are most able to hear (or see or feel) the truth, one is often given fresh understanding. One may perceive more details about the community life—or one’s own participation in it—seeing connections, or even questions, that were not apparent before. As ever in such times of quiet openness, as we feel safe or grounded, we may be given to see barriers that need to come down, if growth is to occur, or new things that must be learned, or rifts that must be mended. A deep fruit of this kind of work is an increase in inward spaciousness and freedom, a peace that is the peace of the ripening or opening seed; and a gift of thankfulness. It is quiet, but it is also the workshop of turbulent, organic creativity, as in the stillness and tenderness all the materials of ourselves, our works, and our world can be in fluid contact. Remember how Jesus said, “My peace I give unto you—not as the world gives, give I unto you.”
3. Praying towards unity. The Spirit by which we are guided, and which underlies all our separate concerns, longs for, persuades towards, our unity. A frequent attention to the community, and a waiting to feel where the unity stands (beneath all our diversity), is a gift to oneself and one’s meeting. Gifts are not elicited by demand or strength, but are things received from love. The kind of prayer I am advocating is one in which our selves, and all the parts and actions of our spiritual body, are held lovingly and known at bottom to be deeply connected. As we make this kind of attention, or attentiveness, a steady thread of our practice, we can find our way, experimentally, into an understanding—and an ability—to see, and then to live, in unity, in some measure. We may well lose sight of the unity, but once we have had the taste of it we know that it can be found and felt again.

   This unity may be expressed in many ways, and may well grow into a strong, shared vision for community life. The beauty of this is that such a growing understanding, rooted in prayer as well as hard work and good thinking, may be a fresh way to understand and share Gospel living—remembering that the good news is the power of God to work liberation. This can be a way to live into a demonstration of that.

   “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart and with all thy soul and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind.”

When Darcy and I came away from our time with you, we were refreshed and encouraged by you, and by the sense that we had been faithfully led among you. The encouragement, curiously, was a longing to be more ready for any next opportunity for service. This is often the way, that acting from a right place, being faithful in one’s measure, is nourishing and healing, makes one humble in growth, gives capacity for further work under the Spirit’s guidance—and gives a sense of hope and excitement.

Many of you, however, spoke of the familiar problems of action that is dispersing, and may be mixed so much with fear or urgency that each one’s work, however good, feels like a private matter, and not vitally connected with others’ activities. Even thinking through the logical ways that “your concern is related to mine” does not satisfy the need for substantive connection.

The prayer that I am writing of is a path towards safety, of practicing so that our action and concern are not scattering, but in some measure gathered in the Spirit—and once we live up to our measure, more will be given. This way is founded on longing and desire, a sense of need, a love of justice and truth, a watchfulness and faithful response to what is shown us. So many great souls have shown us how it can be a place of rest as well as renewal, and as we are unified in ourselves, we find ways to come together as one community, whose actions in the world are various, but come with power out of the work of discovery, and unification, in the Spirit.

In Christian love your friend,
Brian Drayton
Lyndeborough, NH
April 18, 2015

Friends, whatever ye are addicted to, the tempter will come in that thing; and when he can trouble you, then he gets advantage over you, and then you are gone. Stand still in that which is pure, after ye see yourselves; and then mercy comes in. After thou seest thy thoughts, and the temptations, do not think, but submit; and then power comes. Stand still in that which shows and discovers; and then doth strength immediately come. And stand still in the Light, and submit to it, and the other will be hushed and gone; and then content comes.
     —George Fox, Epistle 10

Becoming Again a Witnessing Body: A Letter to New England Friends

Dear Friends,

Let us not speak falsely of our condition as a people. Jeremiah said, “The false prophets dismissively ‘healed’ the shattering of my people, saying “Peace, peace,” but where is there peace?” [Jer 6:14. Translation from the Septuagint version.] We Friends in New England often act and speak as members of an association or interest group do, not as members of one body unified by a common life, or as a people gathered by the workings of a precious and holy Spirit. But we also speak and worship together yearning for unity, for peace amidst our works and concerns, and for adequacy in the face of our lives and our times.

Friends, let us continually help each other remember that unity is not an accomplishment, or a product, but a process, a living process, which requires the food and care appropriate to itself. A living body maintains its health, in the face of abrasive, down-tearing, consuming forces, by constant up-building, nourishment, rest, and creative action. The result is a sense of well-being, of flourishing, which speaks of a body and mind in balance. When we live as members of one spiritual body, and that body is flourishing, we and our body will give evidence: patience, love, mutual forbearance, eagerness for good works, courage in the face of doubt or trouble, compassion, simplicity, truthfulness, teachableness, joy. If someone should examine our condition and find these alive in us, find them reliably to be true of us, then we can hope with some confidence that our flourishing has roots in the life of God flowing through us, which John’s gospel called Logos, which is God’s creating and healing power.

This in truth is the gospel, the power of God which works for our liberation, each of us, but also makes us know how and where we are one, and where we can be confident of that unity. Jesus’ last commandment was that his friends love each other as he had loved them, but in his prayer at the last supper, he asked that all might be one, as Jesus and the Father were one, and with them. Where daily waiting in silence and expectancy comes to be characteristic of us as a people, we participate in the process of challenge and transformation which prepares us for the unity Jesus prayed for, and equips us for it. If our worship does not work a change, so that we bear the fruits of the Spirit, and the marks of those who have met with a living power beyond and yet within them, then our worship is not yet true enough.

Worshiping in truth day by day, we can avoid mistaking the benefits of this powerful common living for the essence. From that unity we can speak with power, act with endurance, awaken the sleepers, and invite others to the great work of living justly, creatively, and without fear, in balance with the nature forces upon which our bodies and our cultures depend. But we cannot manufacture that power, that truth, that fearlessness, if we are not living in unity. Now, therefore, in a time when our unity feels fragile, let us practice unity by seeking each other’s well-being and faithfulness.

In recent years, New England Friends have grown more accustomed, as a people, to acknowledge that there are diverse gifts among us, but we have not yet gone far enough in this work. We are called further, to act on, act in, the expectation that all can be faithful stewards, for the gift’s sake, and for each other’s. As we are diligent in our own faithfulness, and worship more and more in truth, we will grow ever more aware of how our own callings are bound up with the common life, and we find more ways not only to assert that connection, but also to affirm and forward it in concrete and specific ways. Let us receive concerns with joy as the evidence of God’s action in our time, day, and measures, and be eager in praying for and nurturing these gifts, loving our neighbor’s concern as if it were our own. Let us challenge ourselves and each other often, asking, What concrete things have I done to welcome another’s gifts, so that I rejoice to feel the growth of God’s life in him or her, and feel myself nourished thereby?

Friends, remember how Isaiah rebuked the people of his time:

This is a rebellious people, lying children, children that will not hear the law of the LORD: Which say to the seers, See not; and to the prophets, Prophesy not unto us right things, speak unto us smooth things, prophesy deceits: Get you out of the way, turn aside out of the path, cause the Holy One of Israel to cease from before us. (Isaiah 30:9-11).

Isaiah was sent to a people in whom spiritual and ethical teaching had grown unfaithful. The conventional prophets were committed to giving the people what they asked for—complacency and comfort, rather than speaking the truth for their troubled times, and pointing the path to life in harmony with God, and ultimately with each other. But what would have happened if the people, yearning for spiritual health, had confronted these teachers prophetically, saying,

“Help us better know and live in the life of the Holy One, tell us the truth in which we can be free. David once had sung (Ps. 20), ‘Some trust in horses, and some in chariots, but we will call upon the Lord our God,’ seeking to learn from God the path of life. We want this to be true of us! Be faithful in your work, so that we can be faithful in ours. Be faithful in your life, so we can be faithful in ours!” What will happen if we can learn to listen prophetically in this way to the motions of divine life in each other?

Paul writes, “The eye can’t say to the hand ‘I don’t need you,’ nor can the head say to the foot, ‘I have no need of you’” (1Corinthians12). Feel into this: We need each other, as a body needs all its parts. And Christ, the head, needs our feet and hands and eyes—and these need the head, and the life that circulates and nourishes all parts in one enlivening stream. It is from this mutual need and experience of the common life that a witnessing body is fed and grows in strength, not by declaration or by assertion of unity—these articulate hope, or announce our condition, but cannot create or substitute for the shared living, the actual spiritual organism.

The Gospel life is one, as God is one, and so all God’s people as they are in that life are one. Sometimes we must take that on faith, when the unity is hard to see or feel. We can make a precious testimony, if we daily seek to feel where that unity lies, but also to enact it, as part of our discipline as servants of that Life. In this, Jesus promised we would find joy, as we can sometimes declare, out of our own experience.

In Christian love your friend,
Brian Drayton
August 4, 2012

 

Appendix 2: Sample Annual Report to Monthly Meeting

Annual Report to Weare Monthly Meeting
January 2017

Dear Friends,

In what follows, I render account of what work I have done under my concern for Gospel service, and what I can foresee for the coming year. As always, I would be grateful for guidance from the meeting, or from others to whom I send this; and I am also glad to provide more information or reflection on any point herein.

I am clear that my concern for Gospel ministry remains an active one. I find I am still feeling drawn, or impelled, towards a ministry of kindling, and a longing for a refreshed and present feeling of Christ at work—sometimes acknowledged, sometimes secret—in lives and works and days. In the uncertainty of our times, however, it seems to me that unless some (many!) Friends take up the work of understanding and articulating the challenges and opportunities before us in connection with the Gospel as understood by Friends, our Society will have less and less to offer the world. Of course, the first task for all of us is to be present and aware in the world of our daily lives, and in that place to seek where God is to be found and understood; but for the building up the common life, and supporting each other in our spiritual journeys, we need to speak of our experience, our discoveries, our hopes and burdens, and how these fit into our part in the drama of salvation—our response, ever more free and truthful, to the God that has drawn us thus far together.

I. The year past

A. Travel in the ministry

Over the past year, I have been drawn into various places and various opportunities. These include:

1. 1. A visit to worship with Keene Meeting in February. This is a small meeting, with a strong fellowship but uncertain as to their long-term future. They very much appreciate being visited, but Friends are advised to contact them ahead of time, as their meeting place varies during the month.
   2. In March, I led a gathering on travel in the ministry at the Friends Center in Barnesville, co-led with Noah Baker Merrill. This was a solid time, and I believe helpful to many who attended.After leading several such weekends at the Friends Center there, I informed the Friends Center Committee (which oversees the Center on behalf of Ohio YM) that I believed that some other Friend(s) should share in the work of convening gatherings for Friends in the ministry. After two years, the Committee found someone for 2017, so that I can lay this annual event down as a continued concern, unless and until some fresh opening comes. It may be that the Committee will develop a “team” of Friends to carry this concern, and that I would be part of that—I have suggested something along those lines. I have to confess that it was a wrench to set this work aside, but it was very clear to me that I should—for the work’s sake. For this year, at least, Marge Abbott of North Pacific YM, and Honor Woodrow of New England will lead the weekend—an exciting prospect!
   3. In April, I traveled in ministry in New England with Lloyd Lee Wilson, accompanied by Susan Wilson, which I reported on fully at the time (and if anyone wants, I can send that report again).
   4. In June, I visited Durham Meeting (Maine) for worship, followed by an appointed gathering of ministering friends from Falmouth and Vassalboro QMs, according to my travel minute. This was a good gathering, about 10 Friends present, and I think grateful for the opportunity. There is some likelihood of this gathering continuing in future, although no Friend has emerged yet to convene it.
   5. In September, I worshiped at Hanover, and attended the NWQM’s gathering for ministering Friends. This was a wellattended gathering, and the first one I’d attended since convening the group three years ago. The NWQ Friends invited attendance from Friends across the YM, and there were people there from several other QMs, with some mutual encouragement.
   6. In October, I went to Friendship Meeting, in North Carolina (Conservative). I led their meeting retreat, and attended worship on Sunday. On Sunday afternoon, I was the resource person for a forum on the recognition of gifts and the practice of recording ministers. As with New England Yearly Meeting, this practice is still part of their discipline, but the more liberal meetings, with members from many streams of Quakerism, are uncomfortable with it, and lack good information about its purpose & possible value. It was a lively time! I stayed with Lloyd Lee and Susan Wilson, which was a good time of fellowship and mutual encouragement.
   7. In December, Darcy and I visited Dover Meeting, under a sense that they might value some encouragement at a time of some struggle; we attended worship and business, and I believe we were some help if only as a friendly presence.

I also attended other meetings while traveling for business or vacation, e.g. Fresh Pond meeting several times and Amsterdam Friends Meeting when there on holiday. I have also had opportunities with many individual Friends, and I try to be alert to leadings of this kind, though I always have to overcome a certain shyness in initiating them; though I know from experience (at last) that the point is the sitting together in the Presence, and if we do that, the meeting is a blessing.

B. Writing

1. The Language for the Inward Landscape. This was published at last in the spring of the year, and so that writing project is completed (though other work arising from it continues). As of the most recent meeting of the Tract Association, at least half of the printed copies have already been distributed, and the book has been reviewed in Friends Journal, FGC’s “Book Musings,” Quaker Religious Thought, Quaker Life, and the newsletter of the Barclay Press—so, through the diligence of the Tract Association, the book has been noticed in all the branches of American Quakerism, and in Great Britain as well. I have heard of several meetings, both in New England and elsewhere, that are using it in study groups. So thanks to the support of many F(f)riends, this project seems to have been of use. It is interesting, and evidence of a widespread hunger among Friends for Quaker resources for deepening the spiritual life, that in roughly the same time period several other books came out that are complementary, or even in a way unintended collaborators with each other—most notably, maybe, Marcelle Martin’s Our Life Is Love, David Johnson’s A Quaker Prayer Life, and Doug Gwyn’s A Sustainable Life, all of which repay careful reading.As I undertook the Language project, I had discussed with Fran Taber the possibility of writing a biography of Bill Taber, and have been keeping that possibility open for all these years. However, when I went to Barnesville in March, and had a chance to sit with Fran, I was clear that I should not take on the biography project. Ohio Yearly Meeting finally completed its memorial minute for Bill this past year, and it constitutes a brief but full biography and appreciation of Bill’s life and service. This seems enough for the time being. As with the decision about the Friends Center work, the “Taber Papers” project was not easy to let go, but I have felt clear about it, as did Fran.
2. Book reviews. As in years past, I have written several book reviews for Friends Journal, and also for FGC’s Book Musings.
3. Blog. Last year I began writing a Quaker blog, “Amor Vincat” (amorvincat.wordpress.org). I had been considering such a thing for years, but at the 2016 YM, during an opportunity with Eric Edwards, (as reported last year) it became clear to me that it was time to concentrate on writing short pieces on Quaker spirituality and related topics. I have been able to keep it up steadily for several months, about every two weeks (I had hoped for more frequent writing, but this is so far what’s been possible).
4. Dewsbury Works. (See below)

C. Prophetic Climate Action Working Group.

I have been part of a group of Friends which formed during Yearly Meeting, which adopted the following mission:

We are a working group called to prophetic witness, challenged by the reality of climate change affecting profoundly this earth and all its inhabitants. We believe prophesy are words and actions God calls individuals and communities into—to live in the tension between the Commonwealth of God on earth and the human world as it exists—inviting others into the possibility of living into a new way of being together.

This has been meeting regularly, and finding its way forward. We convened a gathering at Framingham in November for Friends under concern from around the Yearly Meeting, but I am quite certain that at this point our role is not to be an organ of the Yearly Meeting (as committees such as Ministry and Counsel or Earthcare Ministries are), but rather to maintain integrity as a fellowship of Friends under concern—I hope one of many that will form for mutual encouragement, guidance, and spiritual search as each member tries to follow their leadings.

II. What I see for the coming year

As always, I would appreciate feedback and guidance from the meeting about my priorities or plans.

1. Travel

I continue to feel that my work in visiting meetings and individuals is to focus in New England, as way opens, with particular concerns for climate change, and to encourage Gospel ministry. I hope and expect that the gatherings of ministering Friends in Ct. Valley, Dover, Rhode Island/Smithfield, and Sandwich QMs will finally take place this year; a gathering for Connecticut Valley has been scheduled for May 13, with the support and aid of Jerry Sazama and Benigno Sanchez-Eppler.

I have also been asked to undertake some other specific things:

1. Putney: I was asked to be a resource person at Putney meeting to help in their discernment about the process of recording ministers in New England. This took place Jan 8, and seems to have been a useful time.
2. Salem Quarterly Meeting: At the end of January, I have been asked to take part in the program for Salem QM—Greg Williams and I will lead a session on the two Yearly Meeting testimonies adopted in 2016, on white privilege and on climate change.
3. Earlham School of Religion: I have been asked to deliver the Willson Lectures in March—this is an annual event, which this year will consist of two public lectures and a workshop, with material growing out of the Language for the Inward Lanscape.
4. Ohio Valley Yearly Meeting: I have been asked to lead a retreat for Ohio Valley Yearly Meeting in late April.

B. Writing

At present, I have only two writing projects clearly in hand:

1. I continue to work on my project to collect and publish the works of William Dewsbury (1621–88). As I wrote last year, I have projected this to be a 5-year project, and at my age I feel I should add “God willing,” though of course this applies to projects at every age! I am in the second year of 5 that I estimated for this project. It has gone more slowly than I’d hoped, but I have taken it up again more systematically. Within a month I will have transcribed the full text of his Works as published in 1691, as well as a few other pieces. The next step is to find any works published afterwards (e.g. in Quaker history journals), and then transcribe the remaining unpublished pieces (mostly letters).
2. Amor Vincat, the blog, will continue.
3. In addition, I expect to continue writing book reviews from time to time.

C. Prophetic Climate Action Working Group

My involvement will continue, as far as I can see, and I continue to be clear that my main focus is to do what I can to encourage meetings to engage seriously with this testimony, and the spiritual challenges that it represents.

D. Yearly Meeting Ministry and Counsel

At last Yearly Meeting, I was asked to serve as recording clerk for this committee. I have not felt free to attend this for a couple of years, but in this time of testing and (I trust) renewal among us, Ministry and Counsel may be able to find its way to a clearer sense of its service in the life of the yearly meeting, and the incoming clerk is carrying that concern. I am hoping that I can be of some help. I undertake this with some trepidation, because of the time it will require. On the other hand, we must do the work before us while it is day, and trust to God’s guidance to keep in simplicity.

I end this year with the verses from Psalm 71 that I have found so encouraging recently.

O God, thou hast taught me from my youth, and hitherto have I declared thy wondrous works.

Now also when I am old and grayheaded, O God, forsake me not; until I have showed thy strength unto this generation, and thy power to every one that is to come.

 

Study Guide to On Living with a Concern for Gospel Ministry

I. General Suggestions

The first edition of this book was widely used for group study. We supply some questions which may help you in work with the book, organized by sections, but here are two general recommendations:

1. 1. Each Friend or group of Friends will bring their own questions and points of view to the reading, but a good general method to facilitate group discussion is the one developed by Joanne and Larry Spears for Friendly Bible Study (http://www.read-thebible.org/friendlybiblestudy.htm).

 

They recommend that for each reading selection, you ask yourself the following questions; the group conversation can then discuss each other’s responses, according to any plan they prefer. The questions are:

1. 1. 1. What is the author’s main point in this passage? (MAIN POINT)
      2. What new light do I find in this particular reading of this passage of the text? (NEW LIGHT)
      3. Is this passage true to my experience? (TRUTH)
      4. What are the implications of this passage for my life? (IMPLICATIONS)
      5. What problems do I have with this passage? (PROBLEMS)

 

1. The author makes frequent use of quotations from the Bible and from Quaker sources. If time permits, each of these can be a focus for study and reflection. We recommend the following possible strategies.
   1. Lectio divina or reflective reading. Read the passage attentively at least twice. Then sink into stillness, and when you feel centered, allow your reflections and interpretations to unfold. Pay attention to how the passage makes you feel; this may include noting body responses such as relaxation or tension in muscles of head, neck, midriff, legs—wherever tension gathers for you characteristically. Then pay attention to imagery that arises—either supplied by the passage itself, or imagery of your own that is stimulated by the passage. Then think about the content, that is, what the passage is saying, and what sense you make of it, including connections with other things you’ve read or thought before. What does it remind you of? Does it cast light on something in your experience, or relate to a question you’ve wondered about before? What questions arise after you’ve sat with the passage? Finally, think about consequences for practice or for action. Does the passage make you want to find out more about something? Does it make you want to talk with someone or take some action?
   2. Place the quotation in context. The author has tried to make it possible for the reader to find the quotations he has used. You can see the quotations in context, and in this way learn more both about the meaning of the quotation on its own terms, and also about what it contributes to your understanding of the book on gospel ministry. You can also let these quotations lead you to new authors which you may want to explore!

Discussion questions for Introduction

1. In recent years, there has been much discussion about the message of Quakerism, and how to articulate it as part of outreach to inquirers or the education of new members. The author in this introduction describes his understanding of the message of Quakerism. What surprises you? Disturbs you? Helps you? How is it similar to your own understanding?
2. The author suggests that the composition of the Society of Friends has changed dramatically in the past century, with the result that new Quakers find it hard to draw on the resources of Quaker spirituality in their own development as Friends. By what paths did the members of your meeting become Friends? How do your new members learn about Quakerism? In what ways is Quakerism in your meeting similar to, or different from, the Quakerism of other meetings in your Yearly Meeting?
3. The author quotes Robert Barclay’s Apology as follows: “We do believe and affirm that some are more particularly called to the work of the ministry and therefore are fitted of the Lord for that purpose, whose work is more constantly and particularly to instruct, admonish, oversee, and watch over their brethren.” How do you interpret this quotation? Do you agree with it? Why or why not? Does your yearly meeting’s book of Faith and Practice have this quotation, or something like it?
4. What is the author’s definition of the Gospel? How would you put his definition into your own words? How does this compare with your own understanding of the Gospel?
5. The author asserts that he is Christian and will be using Christian language (as the majority of Friends now and in the past have done). Does this make it harder for you to read the book? Easier? Interesting? Why or why not? The author writes, “Jesus never said, ‘Blessed are those who have figured everything out.’” What does this tell you about his understanding of Christianity? If you are not comfortable with Christian language and ideas, what ways do you have for listening and re-interpreting such language and ideas so that you can engage with them?

Part I. Foundations

1. Dilemmas. The author posits several issues that make it hard to be religious, and specifically a Quaker, in our times and culture. In what ways do you see these issues at work in your own life and that of your meeting? What are your meeting’s strengths and weaknesses as a counter-culture? How does this chapter relate to the challenge of articulating “the Quaker message” nowadays?
2. The challenge of holiness. The author argues that, at the most basic level, we are being challenged to holiness, and that Quakerism developed as a way to meet that challenge. How do you understand this challenge? This point of view sees an aim or direction for spiritual maturity. What is your idea about how spiritual maturity looks? How does it compare with the author’s? How does this relate to the Quaker testimony of integrity?
3. Purpose and varieties of ministry. What kinds of vocal ministry occur in your meeting? Are there kinds of messages that you wish were more common? Less common? What do you think about the whole idea of the vocal ministry as a concern to be followed? Do you know people who appear to be feeling that responsibility?
4. The author in these chapters touches on his understanding of growth as a result of following the concern for ministry. What is surprising, challenging, or intriguing about this picture? Does it relate to or compare with anything in your own experience? What benefits and pitfalls do you see might result from this way of thinking about growth in the gospel ministry, or in any other concern over time?
5. The author suggests that “love” is the fundamental message and motive of all gospel ministry. In this connection, he uses the following quotation from John Woolman: “From an inward purifying and steadfast abiding under it, springs a lively operative desire for the good of others. All faithful people are not called to the public ministry, but whoever are, are called to minister of that which they have tasted and handled spiritually. The outward modes of worship are various, but wherever men are true ministers of Jesus Christ, it is from the operation of his spirit upon their hearts, first purifying them, and thus giving them a feeling sense of the conditions of others.”What is strange to you in this passage? What is appealing to you in this passage?

   Is this one way you think about what goes on in worship and prayer? Do you feel that when you or others speak in meeting, that love is the motivation? What does the phrase “lively operative desire for the good of others” mean to you?

6. Drayton argues that as Friends understand a concern, it is not only a purpose or task, but also for each individual a necessary step in their spiritual path: it is part of what “faithfulness” means while the concern lives. What positive results may derive from this point of view? How is this a community as well as an individual matter? You may wish to reflect on this idea in the light of Romans 14; or Thomas Kelly’s essay (in Testament of Devotion) on the simplification of life; or of the role that “leadings” play in the life of John Woolman.

Part II: Growth in the Gift

1. Devotional life and resources. The author suggests that someone with a concern for the ministry has several resources available which support the minister’s spiritual growth in their service, and also enrich their ministry. Four of these include [i] experience in exercising the gift; [ii] prayer; [iii] Scripture; and [iv] Friends tradition. What role do these resources play in your own spiritual practice? How do they inform the worship and activities of your meeting? To what extent does each of these resources provide a common language or shared point of reference for your spiritual community? How might the encouragement of gifts in ministry relate to your answers?
2. Gifts of the meeting. How are gifts noticed in your meeting? In what ways does the meeting communicate with individual members about gifts they have and should steward? If the meeting does not do these things, why not? What benefits does your meeting derive from its current practice? Does your meeting experience a spiritual abundance?
3. Eldership. What does eldership mean to you? Where do your ideas or impressions about eldership come from? Having read about elders in this book, are you able to think of individuals in your meeting who probably have that gift? How would your meeting be different without them?
4. A Community of Ministers. What here is new to you? Attractive? Worrisome? Are there processes in place in your meeting whereby people who share the same concern get together to help each other do their work better? Does this include people with gifts of gospel or vocal ministry? If not, why not?
5. Encouraging Gifts in Ministry. What formal methods does your meeting or yearly meeting employ to identify and encourage gifts in ministry? Does the ancient practice of “recording” or “acknowledging” ministers still exist in your part of Quakerdom? What purpose do you believe it was designed to accomplish? What issues or problems do Friends in your meeting or region see with a practice like that?
6. What reflections do you have on the minutes from the 1698 meeting of ministers and elders at Chesterfield?

Part III: Special Topics

1. How does the chapter on being dipped into sympathy, etc., relate to the earlier chapter on the ordering of the Holy Spirit? What is the theology that underlies these chapters? Do you share it? If you do not, what is your understanding of how unity is developed and maintained in meetings?
2. Drayton writes about various aspects of “passionate attachments.” In your experience among Friends, have you seen phenomena like those he describes? What are the spiritual issues involved, in your view?
3. Have you experienced an “opportunity” such as Drayton describes? In what unexpected places has worship happened to you? How have such experiences affected your spirituality, your understanding of worship, or relationships with individuals or a meeting?
4. Have you experienced travel in the ministry—either receiving a visitor or being one? What was the concern that motivated the travel? How did the visitor’s meeting support him or her in the travel? How often does travel in the ministry happen in your yearly meeting?

Appendices

1. Letters to meetings. Drayton elsewhere has compared unity in the life of a meeting with the homeostasis by which bodies maintain their health, writing “that unity is not a product, but a process, and that ‘living in unity’ is another way to describe the watchful life that is the heart of Friends response to the presence of the inward Teacher. When we feel disunity, therefore, we are recognizing the effects of a break in the flow of the divine Life within and among us.” How does this process look in your meetings (monthly or yearly)? How might the ministry as portrayed in this book serve as one way to support the process of unity?

If you are carrying a concern of any kind, how does the idea that all true concerns are united in their root change the way you regard the other Friends whose concerns you know about? How might it affect how the meeting cares for all the concerns arising in its life?

2. Report to meeting. How does nurturing accountability look, in practical terms, in the life of your meeting? Does the meeting extend this kind of care to all Friends whose concern has come to the meeting’s attention? What difference does it make? If it does not, why not?

If your meeting has developed its own practices in this connection, have you shared them with others in your yearly meeting or beyond? What have you learned from other meetings about this?

Acknowledgements

It is a pleasure to remember the friends who have helped me along the way with this book, in the first or second edition or both. First and foremost, I thank Darcy Drayton, spouse and spiritual friend whose love, intelligence, and witness have been nourishing and instructive. Also thanks to her for the cover art (both editions). Then dear friends from Fresh Pond Meeting: Bruce Neumann and Pat Moyer, Will and Lynn Taber, Bill How and Nancy Shippen. And loved others, who read, commented, advised, criticized, and supported: Jan Hoffman, Cathy Whitmire, Linda Chidsey, Marty Grundy, Elizabeth (Minga) Claggett-Borne, Marian Baker, Eric Edwards, Lloyd Lee Wilson, Rosemary Zimmerman, Susan Smith, Fran Taber, and Bill Taber. I am not the only one who can say that Bill’s friendship and ministry changed my life.

Thanks also to Brent Bill and Jana Llewellyn for encouragement and good editing.

All these Friends have been of substantive help, and I have tried hard to benefit from their wisdom and care. But blame none of them for any inadequacies you find in this book.

About the Author

Brian Drayton of Weare (NH) Monthly Meeting is a plant ecologist working in science education research. He has traveled widely among Friends in gospel ministry. He has given workshops, retreats, and addresses on a range of topics in Quaker history and belief for monthly, quarterly, and yearly meetings and retreat centers, and has a special concern to encourage Friends in ministry. A recorded minister in New England Yearly Meeting, Drayton has written numerous works such as James Nayler Speaking (Pendle Hill Pamphlet #413), Getting Rooted (PHP #393), and, with William Taber, A language for the inward landscape (2016). His blog is Amor Vincat (May love have the victory!), at amorvincat.wordpress.com.

Praise for On Living with a Concern for Gospel Ministry

A must-read for all Quakers. Not since Samuel Bownas has a Quaker author written as helpfully and as feelingly about the inward and outward life of one who feels a “chronic” call to the service of the Gospel—a vocational call that becomes the purpose around which the rest of one’s life is organized. Whether the call involves a gift in vocal ministry, in radical hospitality, or any other religious service, both the individual carrying the gift and the meeting community which has been gifted face particular opportunities and challenges. In this “lightly revised” second edition, Brian Drayton describes those opportunities and challenges, illustrating both with examples of how they have been experienced and dealt with by other Quakers, both past and present. If you feel a continuing concern for some public ministry in whatever form, if your meting contains one or more Friends who feel this or who might feel this way if they were helped to name it, or it you want to understand this continuing experience in the Religious Society of Friends, On Living with a Concern for the Gospel Ministry is the book to read.
—Lloyd Lee Wilson, member of North Carolina Yearly Meeting (Conservative) and author of Essays on the Quaker Vision of Gospel Order and Radical Hospitality

This book is a love letter to the Religious Society of Friends from one of our most seasoned and faithful ministers. May we receive its call to holiness as a message for our time. The freshness of this book rises from the deep springs of the Spirit, and I expect to read it again and again as a source of spiritual renewal in the years ahead.
—Cathy Whitmire, member of North Pacific Yearly Meeting and author of Plain Living, A Quaker Path to Simplicity

From its first publication, this book opened a door into the intricacies and spiritual depth that grow through faithfulness to God’s call to live in the light and life of Christ at work in each of us—and, while so living, to encourage others to grow in that Life as well. This second edition is enhanced with improved organization and updates gleaned from a decade and a half of additional experience.

Brian Drayton weaves his personal experience as a committed minister together with scripture passages and well-chosen excerpts from the writings of earlier Friends. The result is a clear, sweet nurturing of that Light within us. The book also offers useful suggestions for addressing specific challenges encountered in ministry. Drayton speaks in particular to committed, present-day Quaker ministers and the Friends meetings that support them. However, his insights and encouragement are relevant to everyone, including those of us who feel called to God’s service through spiritual gifts other than vocal ministry.

This book abounds in precious gems. Many paragraphs are inspired, their words filled with the beauty of Truth. After reading through Brian’s book the first time, I read it again as a devotional aid, pausing to ponder and pray whenever a passage rang for me with God’s truth. I stopped often, and grew in joy.
     —Susan Smith, member of Ohio Yearly Meeting and author of Unity in Business—Another Fruit

Publishing Information and Permissions

Copyright © 2019 by Brian Drayton All rights reserved.

QuakerPress of Friends General Conference 1216 Arch Street, 2B, Philadelphia, PA 19107 www.fgcquaker.org

No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, except as may be expressly permitted by the 1976 Copyright Act or in writing from the publisher. Requests for permission can be addressed to the author ℅ info@inwardlight.org

ISBN 978-0-9993823-6-3 (paperback)
          978-0-9993823-7-0 (ebook)

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Drayton, Brian

On living with a concern for gospe7l ministry / by Brian Drayton. p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references.
ISBN 978-0-9993823-6-3 (paperback) / ISBN 978-0-9993823-7-0 (ebook)
1. Pastoral theology—Society of Friends. IISBN 978-0-9993823-0-1 (paperback) (binding: soft back) 2. Society of Friends. 3. Spirituality.

Scripture citations: All Scripture quotations are from the King James Version, unless otherwise noted.

Further thanks are due for kind permission to use certain material: Chapter 23 first appeared in substance in Friends Journal 36 (Sept. 1990), pp. 5–9, and is used with permission. Quotations from W. Taber (1996), “Quaker ministry: the inward motion and the razor’s edge,” used with permission from F. Taber. Quotations from Skidmore (2003), Strength in Weakness, appear by permission; spelling and grammar as normalized in that book.

To order more copies of this book or other QuakerPress titles call 1-800-966-4556 or see the online catalog at www.quakerbooks.org