Campmeeting Theology

“This is like our Super Bowl,” began Bishop Lamb at a campmeeting I was attending in Georgia. If you know anything of the Holiness movement, you know this to be true. Campmeetings began as a time for frontier communities who did not have a church to gather in one place and worship with others under the teaching of itinerate ministers. People would have to travel several miles with limited means of transportation. For this reason, they would camp at the location of the meetings, often for a week or more.

This summer, as part of my new job, I have attended several and I must confess, this experience has been very emotional for me. In many ways, it feels like a return to my spiritual roots. Not just because campmeeting style preaching (loud, fast, and passion-filled) is the kind of preaching I was raised on, but because the theology I have encountered is far from the pop theology of our day and much more at home in my soul.

This got me thinking about the distinctives of, what I would like to call Campmeeting Theology. This is far from exhaustive and is simply based on my experiences from the last several weeks but here you go.

First, there is always an expectation of an encounter with the power of God. This comes from the belief that God is present with His people. Campmeeting Theology believes that God is ready to transform, reconcile, deliver, and heal at this very moment. This belief charges the atmosphere and draws everyone into the moment.

Second, this power encounter leads to a call for radical obedience. Holiness people believe that the way you live matters. Campmeeting Theology sounds a lot like Bonhoeffer,

“Is there some part of your life which you are refusing to surrender at his behest, some sinful passion, maybe, or some animosity, some hope, perhaps your ambition or your reason? If so, you must not be surprised that you have not received the Holy Spirit, that prayer is difficult, or that your request for faith remains unanswered…The person who disobeys cannot believe. Only if you obey can you believe.”

Or maybe like George MacDonald,

“Instead of asking yourself whether you believe or not, ask yourself whether you have this day done one thing because He said, ‘Do it.’ or once abstained because He said, ‘Do not do it.’ It is simply absurd to say you believe, or even want to believe in Him, if you do not do anything He tells you.”

Or maybe like the Epistle of James that says, “Faith without works is dead.” Many of us are so used to a hyper-grace message that these statements seem jarring or even unorthodox, but the expectation of holy living has been a staple of Christian preaching throughout the generations.

As you fuse the first two tenets, you get a faith that expects the power of God to be present and active in all areas of life. This is why, as Timothy Tenent says,

“the Wesley brothers set up class meetings, fed the poor, wrote books on physics, gave preachers a series of canonical sermons, catechized the young, preached at the brickyards, promoted prison reform, rode 250,000 miles on horseback, preached 40,000 sermons, superintended orphanages, were avid abolitionists, and wrote theologically laden hymns for the church, etc.”

The danger of the holiness message is when it turns to legalism or pride, not when it simply requires the hard work of Christ-like living. This is where the final distinctive of Campmeeting Theology comes into play.

A posture of service is the third distinctive I noticed. I was so relieved to see real meekness in the preachers this summer. A theology that celebrates power encounters and set-apartness can quickly err towards triumphalism and pride if humility and servanthood are not emphasized. I noticed this distinctive as a balancing principle on multiple occasions over the last few weeks. Jay Pike confronted the pharisaical elements of the church when he said,

“Many seem to have the scripture backward. Instead of praying, ‘Let God arise and His enemies be scattered,’ we seem to believe if we can scatter His enemies then God might arise.”

We are not called to be the heroes of the story. I think the power of Pentecost is best visible in the life of a self-giving servant. Some pockets of modern Christianity, especially the kind you find on Christian television or Twitter, sound so arrogant and haughty that I can’t stomach it. It was so refreshing to be with women and men who are faithfully following a God who came to serve and are doing it in beautiful and even supernatural ways. People humbly doing great things without big names.

Powerful, holy, and humble. I love it!