I am a sixth generation preacher. Five were Baptists; the first was a Methodist circuit riding preacher. The circuit riders have always been the hall of famers to me. God used them mightily. Historians say Methodism began to decline when the circuit riders dismounted.
We preachers can have somewhat of a martyr complex, feeling under-appreciated and overworked. Laypeople have trouble understanding the never ending, subtle, under the surface pressures that never leave us, even in the middle of the night. For all our complaining, though, we are grateful to have the greatest job in all the world. To think, God called us to be the ones He would entrust with the message about His unspeakable Son.
Speaking of hardships, I read last night in a history book by Roger Finke and Rodney Stark, two highly trusted writers, a brief summary of the circuit riders' plight. "The life of a circuit rider was one of extreme hardship. Of the first 700 Methodist circuit riders, nearly half died before age thirty, 199 of them within their first five years of service."
Makes me want to cry. Makes me proud to stand in their wake. Makes me want to never whine again. Thank You, Jesus, for letting me have the privilege of serving you as a Minister of the Gospel.
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