WORSHIP, RELEVANCE, AND THE PREFERENTIAL OPTION FOR THE POOR IN THE HOLINESS MOVEMENT, 1880-1910

WORSHIP, RELEVANCE, AND THE PREFERENTIAL OPTION FOR THE POOR IN THE HOLINESS MOVEMENT, 1880-1910[1]

Rodney L. Reed

Contemporary or traditional, seeker-sensitive or believer-oriented, choruses or hymns, keyboards and praise bands or piano and pipe organ, worship leaders or choir members, slides and transparencies or hymnals, multi-purpose facilities and converted office space or sanctuaries with stained-glass windows, dress down or dress up for church, shouting and fainting or reverent quietness, spontaneity or pre-written liturgy? The church today seems to be in "slough of despond" over what to make of these choices. With the development of new technologies and their introduction into the church's worship and the rise to power within the churches of the "baby-boomers," these seem like such new questions-quintessentially modern (or is it, "postmodern?"). But are they?

It is my contention that these issues are not new and that the heritage of the Wesleyan/Holiness tradition speaks to them very well. Long before there was a debate over "seeker services," holiness folk were conducting them. Long before there was a question regarding contemporary choruses, holiness folk were singing and writing them. Long before the "Toronto Blessing," holiness folk were being "slain in the Spirit" and being nicknamed "Shouters" and "Jumpers." My thesis, then, is that the holiness folk of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries manifested, in continuity with the greater Wesleyan/Holiness tradition, a preference for ministry among the poor. This identification with the poor found expression in the preservation and development of a worship atmosphere, a hymnody, facilities, and special outreach methods that were relevant to the experience of that segment of society and around which swirled controversies remarkably similar to those we are experiencing today.^{^[2]}

Before we begin to blow some dust off the pages of holiness history, let me first stake out my understanding of the nature of true worship. Simply put, Christian worship is that interactive event in which God reveals himself to us and we respond to who God is.^{^[3]} From the perspective of a leader of worship, worship can fail at one of two points, if not more. It can fail to hold up an accurate vision of a holy God: the element of transcendence. Or it can fail to express that vision in a way the people can understand: the element of relevance. Good worship does both.^{^[4]} In short, good worship both lifts God up and brings God near.

Worship that fails at the point of transcendence is quickly undermined by poor theology and becomes merely a projection of human tastes and desires. Worship that fails at the point of relevance becomes meaningless ritual, whether "high church" or "low." The "accessories" (things which help give "access") associated with good worship will vary according to the culture and conditions of the worshipers. What constitutes good worship in one context will not necessarily be so in another. Consequently, a good worship leader will know both God and fellow worshipers and will seek to facilitate a worship experience that will be "meaning-full" to them.

The holiness people at the turn of the twentieth century, through their identification with the under-enfranchised of that day, were committed to maintaining and developing a worship experience that was relevant to the poor. This commitment and the need for it did not arise out of a vacuum. The larger story being played out in American Protestantism greatly affects the story needing to be told.

The Established Churches

The period 1880-1910 was one of unprecedented change in the history of the United States. Industrialization, urbanization, and the migration of people to and within the United States changed this country from an agrarian-based collection of small towns and villages to the leading producer of manufactured goods in the world. For many, the Industrial Revolution meant wealth-and lots of it. A growing middle class and a collection of immense fortunes by a few captains of industry were two of the results of this era. Unfortunately, another result was an explosion of the number of persons living in poverty, huddled together in the expanding urban centers. Extremes of poverty and wealth paralleled each other in ways not seen before in this country or perhaps in the world.

The churches that were well established by the mid-nineteenth century, the so-called "mainline" Protestant churches, were not unaffected by the changes which were transforming the greater society. William Sweet begins his discussion of this period with the following statement: "The most significant single influence in organized religion in the United States from about the year 1880 to the end of the century and beyond was the tremendous increase in wealth in the nation."^{^[5]} The mainline churches rose in their own wealth and prestige along with the bulk of their constituencies. Donald Dayton and others have coined the phrase "the embourgeoisement of the churches" to describe this phenomenon.^{^[6]} Quite naturally these churches tended to follow their upwardly mobile constituencies, moving out of the downtown districts. Aaron Abell notes the flight of the wealthier churches from the industrial quarters of the cities to the great avenues uptown.

When the Civil War ended nearly a half-hundred important congregations had already deserted lower New York, and soon after Bostonians were leaving historic meeting houses for sumptuous edifices in the Back Bay. The new locations in New York did not result from mass removal of congregations, charged the anonymous author of Startling Facts, but "in every case originated in the change of residence of a few of the wealthier families." The plain churches, another critic pointed out, desired to "follow in the steps of the rich churches as fast as they dare...." There was in the poorer parishes, he said, "the same extra attention paid to the rich. . .and the same thrusting of the poor into the nooks and corners."^{^[7]}

One of the key results of this embourgeoisement was the estrangement of the churches from "the new masses." The new urban poor no longer felt welcome in the established churches. The churches were well aware of this estrangement and often lamented it. Yet, their attention seemed inexorably fixated on the upper classes. Martin Marty quotes the celebrated article by Oscar Fay Adams which appeared in an 1886 issue of the North American Review: "Say what we may, the Protestant Church has no place for the poor within its pale. The wealthy churches snub him till he leaves them for unfashionable churches or omits to go to church altogether." And as for the middle class churches, even though they "lay no claim to being fashionable [they] are yet not overgracious to the poor worshiper who ought to be content with the religious cold victuals proffered his kind at the mission church." Even the Baptists and Methodists, once proud to be counted among the poor, "now displayed almost frantic solicitude for the spiritual welfare of the rich."^{^[8]}

Indeed, Methodism, rapidly becoming the largest Protestant tradition in the country, was perhaps preeminent among the churches in catering to the wealthy. In 1913 L. W. Munhall wrote a scathing critique of his own church entitled Breakers! Methodism Adrift. In it he devoted an entire chapter to the problem of "Rich Men." He wrote:

With the incoming of wealth and the temptations that accompany it, many of our people became restless under our restrictive rules; and, gradually consenting to the world's allurements, took up with many of its follies, fashions, and fads; and, as a result, lost their spiritual power and distinctive character as Methodists. In societies where this state of affairs existed the congregations began to thin out and altars were soon deserted. Then they persuaded themselves that times had changed; and that the old methods, and Methodism with its asceticism, amens and revivals, were not suited to twentieth century conditions; and we must compete with other churches that never did believe and act as the Methodists. Therefore, fine churches must be built, with stained-glass windows and pipe organs, after the fashion of Rome; and paid choirs, in many instances composed in whole or in part of unChristian singers. All these things cost money; and, as Mr. Wesley put it-"Rich men become a necessity"....^{^[9]}

The change in socio-economic status of many Methodists was reflected throughout this tradition's life, especially in its worship. As the churches grew more prosperous they also grew more subdued in congregational participation and more ordered in "liturgy," a word scandalous to most holiness advocates. Congregational singing, long the predominant if not the exclusive form of music in worship, lessened in significance while large pipe organs, robed choirs, and operatic singers, divided pulpits and chancels or any chancel!) became expressions of the desire to worship God in a way more congruent with their now elevated social location. Chautauquas and summer resorts replaced campmeetings, while lectures and church fairs replaced revivals and class meetings. Gerald O. McCulloh sums up the changing patterns of worship within Methodism between the years 1876 and 1919 as the move "from freedom to form, from revivalism to ritual."^{^[10]}

The trend toward increasing formalism and high liturgy was not universally approved. Even some prominent Methodists lifted their pens in defense of the more exuberant style of worship which was passing from their midst. Bishop C. C. McCabe of the Methodist Episcopal Church, who attained prominence through his early career as a chaplain for the Union Army and for his invaluable service in the promotion of an aggressive church extension program within that church, wrote a lengthy article entitled "Shouting." In it he questioned whether those who are annoyed by shouting "are in a right spiritual condition. . .to make a competent judgment of the propriety of shouting the praise of God."^{^[11]}

Even more poignant were the remarks of Randolph S. Foster, Bishop of the M. E. Church, influential holiness writer, and former Professor of Theology and President of Drew Seminary. Foster lamented the growing worldliness of the churches.

As a satisfaction for all this worldliness, Christians are making a great deal of Lent and Easter and Good Friday and church ornamentations.... Formerly Methodists attended class [meetings], and gave testimony of experimental religion. Now the class meeting is attended by very few, and in many churches it is abandoned. Seldom the stewards, trustees, and leaders of the church attend class. Formerly, nearly every Methodist prayed, testified, or exhorted in prayer meeting. Now but few are heard. Formerly, shouts and praises were heard; now such demonstrations of holy enthusiasm and joy are regarded as fanaticism. Worldly socials, fairs, festivals, concerts, and such like have taken the place of the religious gatherings, revival meetings, class and prayer meetings of earlier days.[12]

On another occasion, Foster wrote, "Is not the worldliness [of the churches] seen in the music? Choirs, often sneering skeptics, go through a cold, artistic, or operatic performance, which is as much in harmony with spiritual worship as an opera or theater."^{^[13]}

The embourgeoisement of the established churches was also reflected in their worship facilities. Martin Marty notes the revival of Gothic architecture which moved beyond Episcopalianism into "denominations which made much less of their medieval heritage." "The Gothic style," he writes, "was splendid, it was expensive, it evoked religious values in the midst of a materialistic world-and it was approved."^{^[14]} The Methodists built their first Gothic temple, Christ Methodist Episcopal Church, in Pittsburgh in 1855 despite the declaration of the church's Discipline, dating back to the famed Christmas Conference in 1784, which stated:

Let all our chapels be built plain and decent; . . . but not more expensively than is absolutely unavoidable: Otherwise the Necessity of Money will make Rich Men necessary to us. But if so, we must be dependent upon them, yea, and governed by them. And then farewell to the Methodist-Discipline, if not Doctrine too.^{^[15]}

The building of this church came only three years after the approval of "pew rental" as a means of fund-raising within the Methodist church. In the coming years, Methodist churches increasingly turned to "pew rents" as a means of raising the necessary income for such facilities. Several scholars have written on the effect which this fundraising method had on the churches. Suffice it to say that "pew rental" led to a caste system within the church which favored the wealthy and estranged the poor.^{^[16]}

In summary, the so-called embourgeoisement of the churches, especially the Methodist Episcopal Church, resulted in a new atmosphere in worship that reflected the changing tastes of their membership. The negative side-effect of this was the estrangement of the poor masses who were fueling the explosive growth of the new urban centers. As Arthur T. Pierson, a prominent proponent of the Keswick holiness movement on both sides of the Atlantic, wrote:

It is a patent fact that for half a century there has been a constantly widening gulf between the Church and the mass of the people.... Church buildings are transferred to fashionable localities, and if any work is carried on in the deserted quarters, it is done in mission chapels, which suggest an invidious distinction, and foster a caste spirit. Churches that were once greatly blessed of God in gathering in the people, are even now consolidating and moving "up town," both decreasing the number of church buildings in proportion to the population, and removing from the quarters, where the greatest need exists. The fashionable church, with its rich surroundings, large-salaried pastor, costly choir, etc., is not intended for the poor, and they know it, and do not feel at ease, and will not come.... Can we blame the poverty-stricken multitudes for having the impression that they are outcasts, in the very nature of things, from these elaborate temples with their elegant garniture and furniture?"^{^[17]}

In other words, when it came to the poor, the worship of the mainline churches was falling short at the point of relevance (if not also that of transcendence). It was no longer communicating a vision of God with which the under-enfranchised of society could identify. The established churches had made a decision to be relevant-but to a segment of society other than the poor.

The Holiness Tradition

Enter the holiness movement. It is a widely accepted notion that the Wesleyan/Holiness tradition has had as one of its hallmarks a preferential option for the poor. This identification with the poor continued to be a calling card of the newly-formed holiness churches at the close of the nineteenth and opening of the twentieth centuries. In many cases filling the vacuum left by the upwardly mobile established churches, holiness people who were a part of or who would become a part of churches such as the Salvation Army, Church of the Nazarene, Free Methodist Church, Wesleyan Methodist Church, Pilgrim Holiness Church, Pillar of Fire, and the Church of God (Anderson) reached out to and found their niche in ministry largely to the marginalized of society. They did so in numbers far in excess of what could be conceived as normal for churches their size.^{^[18]}

This identification with the poor found expression in the development of a worship atmosphere, a hymnody, church facilities, and special outreach methods that were relevant to the experience of that clientele and successfully brought them into the presence of God. It will be worth our effort to explore the type of worship experience developed by many of the holiness forefathers and foremothers. Bear in mind the striking similarities between the issues with which they wrestled and our contemporary worship scene.

1. A Worship Atmosphere. The presence of enthusiastic and ecstatic religion among the socially marginalized and dislocated has long been noted by historians of religion and social scientists.^{^[19]} Viewed positively from a psychological perspective, such emotional expression serves as an "adjustment mechanism," enabling those so "moved by the Spirit" to better cope with the harsh circumstances of life. It becomes a means of catharsis. Thus, in the act of worshiping God, the believer experiences psychological and social adjustment as the natural by-product of placing one's life under the Lordship of Jesus Christ and experiencing the "freedom of the Spirit." Viewed negatively, such emotionalism can lead to excess and self-deception. The history of worship in the holiness churches of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries is replete with examples of both the positive and the negative. Nevertheless, these expressions of religious fervor indirectly vouchsafe the claim of the movement's identification with the marginalized. The following will serve as examples of the atmosphere of worship found within these holiness churches at that time.

The early years of the mother Church of the Nazarene in Los Angeles nearly constituted a perpetual revival. Phineas Bresee, its leading figure, spoke often of "getting the glory down." E. A. Girvin records numerous notable services, with the following one adequate to show their character.

Sunday, May 29, 1898, and the following Monday were devoted to the celebration of the anniversary of the Pentecost. The services on the Sabbath were peculiarly precious, and the outpouring of the Spirit in the morning was so blessed that songs of praise and shouts of victory burst out in the midst of the preaching of the Word, in such a way as to make it at times impossible for Dr. Bresee to go on with his sermon. The all-day meeting on Monday, which was really a continuation of the Sabbath services, was a scene never to be forgotten. At times the waves of glory were such that amid the shouting and singing and dancing one could easily recognize what it was that made the outside world think that the disciples were drunk.^{^[20]}

The worship of the Salvation Army, which came to America in 1880, was anything but formal or traditional. Army services were characterized by soldiers doing "knee drills" (praying), or being moved to "fire a volley" (to shout "Hallelujah") and to "fix bayonets" (to raise one's right hand in public declaration).^{^[21]} William Booth's Christian Mission, the original mission work from which the Salvation Army grew, conducted special services called "Holiness Meetings," accounts of which included persons falling "flat on the ground," remaining

in a swoon or trance for many hours, rising at last so transformed by joy that they could do nothing but shout and sing in an ecstasy of bliss.... The floor would sometimes be crowded with men and women smitten down by a sense of overwhelming spiritual reality, and the workers of the Mission would lift their fallen bodies and carry them to other rooms, so that the meetings might continue without distraction.^{^[22]}

Though these early holiness services appear to have been exceptional in their emotional demonstrativeness, later Army services were always characterized by joyfulness and spontaneous celebration. This was so much the case that one of Booth's biographers could write:

Objection was made by the Established clergy to the excitement generated in the Army meetings. They did not like to hear the people yelling "Glory" and "Hallelujah." They did not like to see them jumping up and down or falling in a faint. They regarded some of these physical manifestations as an evidence of immorality. They just didn't know church history. They forgot that their own folk were doing the same thing a hundred years before in the Wesleyan Revival.^{^[23]}

A rather typical write-up in the Wesleyan Methodist of a campus revival at Wheaton College, which was still informally supported by the Wesleyan Methodists at that time, declared: "The sanctifying power of the Holy Ghost was poured upon many persons, and the great audiences, often crowding all the rooms of the church, were moved like swaying masts in the heavenward storm." Here too, in the Wesleyan Methodist Church, there were "excessive manifestations" of emotion sufficient to occasion articles calling on the believers to exercise moderation and some semblance of propriety.^{^[24]}

Alma White founded the Pillar of Fire in 1901 and it wasn't long until the press and public latched on to the epithet "Jumpers" to describe the Pillar of Fire people because of the physical demonstrations during their worship. When White and company conducted an extensive revival in England, the London press noted (and in some cases satirized) their dancing in worship. The Metropolitan Church Association, which began as a result of a holiness revival in the Metropolitan Methodist Episcopal Church in Chicago in 1894, also bore with pride the name "Jumpers." As part of their justification of it, in 1909 they reprinted George W. Henry's 1859 book, Shouting: Genuine and Spurious, in All the Ages of the Church, adding to it the new primary title, History of the Jumpers.^{^[25]}

While the debate continues over whether the exuberant worship among black holiness people, most of whom later joined the Pentecostal Movement, had its roots in the general (predominantly white) holiness revivalism of America or in African religious traditions, all are agreed that black holiness worship was characterized by "freedom in the Spirit" and physical and emotional demonstrativeness. In fact, the prospect of ascribing the emotional intensity of black holiness and pentecostal worship to an African heritage only serves to bolster the claim that the poor and disenfranchised of society found in the Holiness Movement a worship experience that was congenial to them. In other words, the very fact that the most consistently marginalized class of society, the black slave who tenaciously clung to that aspect of his or her past that provided some measure of solace in a dehumanizing world-namely emotionally demonstrative worship, later found a home in such large numbers among those who were promulgating holiness and pentecostal themes, provides a measure of independent confirmation that holiness religion was, indeed, a religion of the poor at that time.^{^[26]}

These and many other examples demonstrate the emotionally charged atmosphere of worship in the late nineteenth century Holiness Movement and the apparently "user-friendly" nature of that type of worship for the under-enfranchised of society. Contributing to the kind of worship atmosphere that would be inviting to the poor was the holiness concern for plainness of dress. While the admonition regarding apparel often was shot through with "legalism," nevertheless, the strictures regarding dress frequently were justified by appealing to the needs of the unfortunate and condemning the desires of the rich.^{^[27]} This was clearly the idea behind the uniforms of the Salvation Army officers. Even so, in their slum work, the principle of identifying with the poor led their "slummers" to take off the uniform and dress in clothes that differed from those of their neighbors, but "only in cleanliness and neatness." Two reporters from the New York World investigating the ministry of these slum workers reported:

These soldiers are not living under the aegis of the Army, however. The blue-bordered flag is furled out of sight, the uniforms and poke bonnets are laid away and they have no drums or tambourines. "The banner over them is love"-of their fellow creatures, among whom they dwell on an equal plane of poverty, wearing no better clothes than the rest, eating coarse and scanty food and sleeping on hard cots or upon the floor. Their lives are consecrated to God's service among the poor of the earth.^{^[28]}

In this way, by refusing to "adorn" themselves with costly attire or anything that drew attention to the flesh, these holiness servants of the poor were creating an atmosphere that said to those who could afford no better, "You are not out of place among us."

These and many other examples underscore the point that holiness worship was worship designed for the poor. Initially, few understood that, in order to make worship meaningful for this class of persons, different tactics were needed. Consequently, holiness groups, especially the Salvation Army, were the subject of ridicule and persecution. Eventually, though, their mission to the poor came to be accepted and admired by others. For example, in 1890 a Catholic magazine out of Chicago, the Citizen, described the work of the Salvation Army "Slum Corps," waxing eloquent about Mrs. Maude Booth:

She is as lovely in manner and appearance as she is earnest and plucky in her work of aiding and saving the unfortunate. Everybody who knows her, loves her, and there is not a woman in New York or Brooklyn to-day so popular with all classes as she. She stands as the practical and cultured exponent of the principles of the Salvation Army. When we listen to her powerful words, it is no longer the hurrah and hallelujah circus we once thought it, and we learn to have patience with the cymbals and the drums, and to understand that the inhabitants of the slums can never be reached by the usual priest and minister, or by fine rhetorical phrases and logical statements.^{^[29]}

Reverend J. E. Roberts of Kansas City surmised that the Army's ways "are the inevitable reaction from our methods in which passion is quenched by the executions of our hypercritical refinement, and the spirit and power of religion are sacrificed to the vain-glorious pride of decorum." Another commented that the success of the Army is in large measure "due to one great and yet very simple discovery. . .that in carrying the Gospel to souls one degree above the bestial you must use their language, express your feelings as they express theirs."^{^[30]} In short, the worship atmosphere and methods fostered by the holiness people came to be recognized by their peers as that which was relevant to the experience of the poor.

2. Worship Facilities. Not only was relevance the case with their worship atmosphere, but the very facilities used by holiness people for worship were intended to say, "Welcome!" to the poor. Protest against rented pews was pervasive throughout the Holiness Movement and was precisely an effort designed to protect the interests of the poor who could not afford to rent a seat in the sanctuary. Prominent in this protest against pew rents were the Free Methodists. Their 1866 Discipline stated their position strongly:

All their churches are required to be as free as the grace they preach. They believe their mission is two-fold-to maintain the Bible standard of Christianity-and to preach the gospel to the poor. Hence they require that all seats in their houses of worship should be free. No pews can be rented or sold among them.^{^[31]}

This conviction was maintained through the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries until pew renting was no longer in use.

Benjamin T. Roberts, the first Bishop of the Free Methodist Church and the primary shaper of the denomination's early identity, wrote in the Earnest Christian that the New Testament ethic is one characterized by self-denial, quoting Luke 9:23. Roberts saw as blatantly contradicting that ethic of self-denial the increasing tendency of the people of that time to spend their wealth on themselves and on churches which sanctified that effort.

That religion which encourages its votaries to build for themselves on earth, splendid mansions, and adorn them with every luxury and elegance which wealth can purchase, and then, in order to be consistent, builds splendid temples and dedicates them to God; and then sells the right to worship him in these temples to the highest bidder, is, whatever it may be, not the religion of the New Testament.^{^[32]}

In October of 1895, the Church of the Nazarene in Los Angeles held its first worship service in a rented hall with eighty-two charter members. The church had to move from one hall to another, in large measure because of the complaints of neighbors that the services were too noisy. By the spring of 1896, not even a year later, a lot was leased and a plain board tabernacle was constructed which could seat up to 800 persons. "The Glory Barn," as it was affectionately called, was built in harmony with the stated convictions of the early Nazarenes. Soon it was too small to house the growing church and in an 1899 article in The Nazarene we find the following:

We need large and more commodious accommodations for the enlarging multitudes. . .but we do not desire anything finer. We want places so plain that every board will say welcome to the poorest. We can get along without rich people, but not without preaching the gospel to the poor. We do not covet the fine churches of our neighbors; we only long for the richer anointing with the Holy Ghost, that we may be permitted to reach the poor and the outcast for whom some care so little, but for whom our Redeemer lived and died. Let the Church of the Nazarene be true to its mission: not great and elegant buildings; but to feed the hungry and clothe the naked, and wipe away the tears of the sorrowing, and gather jewels for His diadem.

Later, in the same issue, Bresee writes:

What must [Christ who made himself poor for our sakes] think of His people today, spending their time and strength and money which would feed the hungry and clothe the naked and send the gospel to the unsaved, in placing stone upon stone, building massive towers, carving forms of beauty, adding elaborate and expensive adornments, putting thousands of dollars into grand organs, and all tending necessarily to drive the poor from the portals of the so-called house of the Lord?^{^[33]}

The identification with the poor by the holiness people at the time also found expression in their extensive city mission work. The Church of the Nazarene, Free Methodist Church, Wesleyan Church, Pillar of Fire, Church of God (Anderson), and several other holiness groups, not to mention the Salvation Army, were significantly involved in city mission work at the turn of the century. Many of their churches began as city missions in rented halls, store-front buildings, taverns, dance halls, and theaters.^{^[34]} The "conversion" to noble purposes of places of disrepute, vice, and sin was a source of great pride and joy to these holiness people, thus, making a virtue out of necessity. These facilities, by their very nature and environs were easily accessible, both geographically and emotionally, to the poor. Many of the urban poor, having frequented these places prior to their conversion, felt more comfortable in such places than in the stained glass sanctuaries being built by the established churches.

3. A Hymnody. Like Charles and John Wesley before them, holiness people were innovative in creating a hymnody adapted to meet the needs of the poor and despairing. The Salvation Army seemed to specialize in this, even to the point of setting the secular and vulgar tunes of the day to Christian texts. At first, General Booth was "dubious of these tactics," wrote one historian/biographer. But when he witnessed the "swelling roar" of approval from the congregation gathered in Worcester theater after they had listened to a converted sea-captain sing "Bless His Name, He Sets Me Free" to the tune of "Champagne Charlie is My Name," Booth was convinced. "That's settled it. Why should the Devil have all the best tunes?" he responded to his son, Bramwell. In another notable instance, the text "Storm the Forts of Darkness, Bring Them Down" was set to the tune of "Here's to Good Old Whisky."^{^[35]}

Other holiness song writers created their own tunes as well as text. Thomas and Flora Nelson were Free Methodists involved in rescue work. They reported to the Free Methodist on the General Holiness Assembly in 1901 at which they were received as rescue superintendent and rescue worker respectively. The Nelsons and Fannie Birsall composed and published a notable collection of rescue songs, Garden of Spices: A Choice Collection for Revival Meetings, Missionary Meetings, Rescue Work, Church and Sunday Schools. Several of the song titles spell out the content: "Earth's Vanities," "Blighted Boy," and "Down in the Licensed Saloon" which was a companion song answering the question raised in "Where is My Wandering Boy Tonight?". Other songs in the collection included "Magdalene," "Prodigal Daughter," "Somebody's Boy," "Some Mother's Child," "Free Indeed, " and "The Prodigal Father."^{^[36]}

Perhaps the most popular city mission song was that of the blind song writer, Fannie Crosby, whose own wedding of personal piety and compassion for humanity exemplifies those now under our microscope. The song "Rescue the Perishing"-a song which still appears in many holiness hymnals-was, according Crosby, occasioned by her conversation with a despairing man in New York's Bowery Mission.^{^[37]} Other songs, such as "Diamonds in the Rough," spoke of the kind of people the holiness converts once were:

I used to dance the polka, The Scottish and the Waltz,

I also loved the theatre, Its glitter, vain and false;

And Jesus, when He found me, He found in very tough,

But praise the Lord! He saved me,

I'm a diamond in the rough.

Chorus:

The day will soon be over, When digging will be done,

And no more gems be gathered, So let all press on;

When Jesus comes to join us, And say, "It is enough,"

This diamond will be shining, No longer in the rough.^{^[38]}

Furthermore, we find a heavy emphasis on the subject of heaven in holiness hymnody, reflecting the desire for a "better world" than people were experiencing in the present.

These songs were written with choruses which could be easily sung and memorized for the sake of situations where there were no song books to be had-a situation prevalent in mission churches. They were part of a larger, new genre of music which was revolutionizing much of Protestant worship, a genre which we might call "Gospel hymns." Fanny Crosby, Ira Sankey, and Philip Bliss were just a few of the names of song writers who were composing "texts of testimony" and setting them to catchy tunes which appealed to the common person on the street.

In contrast to the established church, the hymnody of the holiness people, like their style of worship and their worship facilities, reflected a decision to make the worship of the Holiness Movement relevant to the marginalized of society. The standard hymns of the church by Isaac Watts, Charles Wesley, and Martin Luther were sung with great appreciation, to be sure, but to that was added music which was more immediately accessible to those on the lowest wrungs of society's ladder, music that arose out of their Sitz im Leben and reflected their experience.

4. Special Outreach Methods. In addition to the creation of an atmosphere of worship, worship facilities, and a hymnody that was relevant to the experience of the poor, the holiness people of the late nineteenth century also pioneered or re-tooled the use of other special methods of reaching the poor, some which the average church-goer looked on with disfavor. One such method was the use of street meetings. If the masses were not going to the churches, then it was believed by many in the Holiness Movement that the churches should go to the masses.

Street meetings or "open air" services were a part of the Salvation Army's arsenal from its earliest days as the Christian Mission. In 1868, Booth wrote:

[Open-air work] we regarded at the outset, and consider still, our special sphere. It was the throngs in the great thoroughfares, roaming about on the Lord's day, thoroughly indifferent to spiritual and eternal things, that first woke our sympathies. It was these that God laid on our hearts. On coming to closer contact with them, we found that, though the aversion of the working classes to churches and chapels was as strong as could readily be conceived, yet would they eagerly listen to any speaker who, with ordinary ability, in an earnest and loving manner, could set before them the truths of the Bible in the open air. At any season of the year, in nearly all kinds of weather, at any hour of the day, and almost any hour of the night, we could obtain congregations.^{^[39]}

The Salvation Army band, first marching through the streets playing musical instruments in 1878, was the first and only image of the Army for many people. Known as "Hallelujah Bands," the early Salvationists were often thrown in jail on charges of disturbing the peace. In many instances the charge was accurate because of the impatience and lack of practice on the part of the new converts who took up whatever instrument was available with little regard for musical ability. So often were Army band members incarcerated for their marching that, at the time of the writing of In Darkest England, Booth could boast of "being at the head of the only religious body which has always some of its members in jail for conscience' sake."^{^[40]}

The Church of the Nazarene soon took a page from the same book. At Bresee's Los Angeles Tabernacle, visitation among the poor and a street meeting preceded every Sunday evening service. In the South, street meetings were regularly used by small groups of mission workers. In 1905, when the Holiness Association of Texas held its annual meeting, several of the services were devoted to city mission and rescue work among "fallen women." One of these meetings proved to be so stirring that the entire gathering of some two hundred left the hall where they were meeting and marched through the slums of Fort Worth, stopping in front of a theater and a saloon to hold a street meeting, using a beer keg as a platform. In the East, the ministers of the Association of Pentecostal Churches regularly helped each other by the use of "home campmeetings," which amounted to outdoor urban revivals under pitched tents. In Nashville, J. O. McClurkan gave the students of his Bible Training School on-the-job training, "teaching them to preach on the streets, in old stores, in tobacco warehouses and in tents."^{^[41]}

A press report from the Denver Post (December 12, 1903) indicates that twenty-four members of Alma White's Pillar of Fire were put in jail for their street meetings. Earlier reports to the same effect indicate that this was nothing new. These folk not only believed that their street meetings were constitutionally protected, but were a civic asset rather than a nuisance. As Alma White, the leading light of this holiness group, commented:

Our work and our methods appeal to the floating population. I have often men tell me that they had been on their way to commit crimes-to rob or steal or go on a debauch in the slums, when they were attracted by our services and gave up their evil ways, and were shown the way to a better life.^{^[42]}

Typical of the holiness street meeting was that of the Penial Hall in California. In the words of Charles Edwin Jones:

From its beginning the mission held evangelistic services every night. Preceding the regular service, workers conducted street-corner meetings, where by hymn singing, testimonials, and tract distribution they drew a crowd. At the end of the street meeting workers encouraged the street congregation to follow them to the mission hall where a second, more conventional evangelistic service was held.^{^[43]}

These street meetings and the ones that followed inside the mission doors were the "seeker services" of the poor a century ago, complete with their equivalent of a praise (marching) band and a heavy dose of testimonies.

Conclusion: The Relevance Of Relevance

What does the Wesleyan/Holiness heritage have to say with regard to the question of using overhead transparencies and slides instead of hymnals, or building sanctuaries with stained glass windows, chandeliers, and pews that are bolted to the floor, versus multi-purpose rooms with stackable chairs and retractable basketball goals? Three concluding observations are in order.

1. First, we can see that many of the controversies that come to mind when one surveys the worship landscape at the close of the twentieth century have significant parallels a century earlier-and that the holiness people of that era were very clear about were they stood on these issues.^{^[44]} They made use of new choruses that might have seemed vulgar to many. They worshiped in facilities that surely did not inspire a reverent and holy awe. They held "seeker services" nightly on the streets and in their missions, a practice obnoxious to many Christians of the time. They employed musical instruments in worship that were often the tools of night club performers. They fostered a worship atmosphere that was judged weird by many. Thus, when someone mentions the cutting-edge ideas of a Saddleback Valley Community Church, the novelty of worshiping in an office tower, the toe-tapping tunes being played by the praise bands, or the excesses of emotional expression, we can say as a part of the holiness heritage, "Been there, done that."

These are not new issues. The context and "accessories" are new, but the central issues remain the same. The central issues do not revolve around the terms "contemporary" and "traditional," but around the phrases "human relevance" and "divine transcendence." How relevant to human experience can we make our worship experiences without sacrificing the transcendence of God? In other words, how far can we go in tailoring our worship of God to fit our circumstances before we begin to tailor God to fit our circumstances? This is a question with which the church has struggled down through the ages.

For better or for worse, the holiness people of late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries were willing to push the issue of relevance to the limit for the sake of marginalized. They became pioneers in developing expressions of worship and evangelism that would be "user-friendly" to the poor.^{^[45]} This is not to say that everything that happened in these young holiness churches deserves our approval. But it is to say that our holiness forefathers and foremothers were committed to couching the gospel message in a way that would speak to their constituencies, much like John and Charles Wesley did before them.^{^[46]}

2. The excesses within the history of the Holiness Movement and of some Christians today do not deserve commendation, but patience and understanding. Before we pass a quick judgment on any worshiping community, whether it be the Willow Creek Community Church or the Toronto Airport Vineyard Church, we should be careful that we are not, in fact, playing the role of those who scorned and scoffed at our holiness forefathers and foremothers a century ago.

3. At a deeper level, we modern Wesleyan/Holiness people should ask and answer the question, "Is the preferential option for the poor, which we tend to find in our heritage, an essential part of our understanding of who God is (and by implication, who we should be), or is it accidental or contextual?" Did "the poor" simply represent the "homogeneous unit" or the "target of the marketing strategy" (to use the language of the modern church growth movement) of the holiness people a century ago, which may or may not be our "homogeneous unit" or "marketing target" today, or do the poor represent an essential part of every truly Christian mission, with important implications for where and how congregations conduct their worship?

We must think seriously about this question. I do not propose to give a definitive answer here. Many well-educated holiness people today are far removed intellectually and socially from the kind of people their holiness forefathers and foremothers were and were reaching out to. In fact, they (we) much more closely resemble the embourgeoised Methodists at whom our forefathers and foremothers aimed so many of their barbs and invectives. If left to natural social tendencies, the worship of the holiness tradition will become shaped in ways that will make it more difficult for the poor and marginalized of our society to feel "at home" within it. Such worship will be relevant to "us," but not to "them."

If the Kenosis passage in Paul's letter to the Philippians has any meaning for us who now are leaders within the modern Wesleyan/Holiness tradition, part of its meaning should be that we be willing, as occasion requires, to give up the "worship" that is rightfully ours, "not considering it something to be grasped," and "taking the very nature of a servant" (that is, one of lower estate), "humble" ourselves, and seek to preserve an expression of worship that is meaningful to those less fortunate than we. To do so would not result in a "dumbing down" of worship, unless the incarnation is a "dumbing down" of God. Nor would it result in a capitulation to a consumer society. Instead, it would be a recapitulation of the mission of Christ within the context of corporate worship. The "dumbing down" of our worship and its capitulation to the ways of the world are ever present threats; but if we truly believe that we have a special mission to the poor, we must be willing to take the risk of relevance.

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