John Inskip and William McDonald were leaders in the massive holiness movement which stirred Methodism following the Civil War. Their spiritual depth, careful balance, and courageous stand were recognized in 1872 by Zion’s Herald, which according to Dr. Melvin Dieter applauded them for “their admirable job of ‘holding the horses.’” By this the periodical meant that these heroic pastors were rallying the church against the effects of increasing prosperity and popularity which threatened its very soul. Everywhere the horses were galloping toward disaster; but Inskip and McDonald and their earnest colleagues were determined to reign them in.

Pointedly and persistently their call to renewal sounded throughout the Methodist Episcopal Church, which, of course, is the mother of us all. Centered in great “national camp meetings” where impassioned evangelists roused the multitudes to earnest prayer, consecrated lives, and sanctifying grace, a vigorous movement of the Spirit seemed ready to engulf the church. Thus, the “paper warned that continuing opposition to the movement was unreasonable,” as Dr. Dieter notes, “and that unless its opponents relented, schism would be the inevitable consequence.”

But the enemies of the holiness revival did not relent, and schism did result. Within thirty years, thousands of devout Methodists had left their fathers’ church in loyalty to their fathers’ faith. This faith they loving perpetuated in newly-organized holiness denominations devoted to the “old paths” and built around the old mission “to reform the continent and spread scriptural holiness over these lands.” Others remained, a faithful remnant to remind the church of its first allegiance.

Among these were Inskip and Fowler, who tried valiantly “to hold the horses” to the last. Yet despite their noble efforts, they failed to halt the mad plunge to the edge and over the brink; and the Methodist Church never recovered from the devastation. Yet their faithful witness did fortify their embattled friends who carried on the struggle; and more than a century later, it still echoes in our ears and in our hearts. For like John Inskip and William Fowler, we who love the peace and purity of Zion are also called to the job of “holding the horses.”

This sounds negative, and in a sense it is; for it suggests defensive response, disciplined restraint, and determined resistance to our innate tendency to lethargy, cowardice, and worldliness. It also suggests constant vigilance and sometimes unpleasant confrontation. At the same time, however, its results are entirely positive, for “holding the horses” is as essential to the spiritual health of any movement as it is to that of our personal lives. In every case, it must be approached with sanctified courage and holy love—all saturated in intense prayer, extraordinary kindness, and keen sensitivity to the Spirit, for otherwise it will become painful nitpicking, sour negativism, and harsh recrimination. But as mother Methodism and dozens of other spiritual movements have shown us, we will either “hold the horses,” or they will pull us to our death as a throbbing evangelical body.

“I have been a casual observer for some years of the rise and fall of denominations,” wrote Arnold L. Cook in a thoughtful study presented to the Christian Missionary Alliance in 1984. “I seems that all follow this inevitable curve: man, movement, machinery, and monument.” In time “a group reacts and breaks away to recapture the original vision and thus begins its own predestined curve. In fact, church history could be diagrammed as a series of semicircles. The old bishop must have observed this pattern when he suggested: ‘Every denomination should be scrapped every one hundred years, except the ladies’ missionary prayer circle.’”

Our Lord has built His Church upon Himself and ensures that the gates of hell shall never prevail against it. Revival comes, often in the most unlikely places, as He breathes new life into its faltering efforts and raises up a leader who sounds an uncompromising call to repentance and renewal. Around this leader forms a dynamic fellowship, gripped by blazing love for Jesus and radical commitment to His cause. Holy purpose thrills those who enlist beneath its banner, and they prepare to make any sacrifice, accept any challenge, and submit to any discipline. As “pilgrims” en route to New Jerusalem, they renounce the “vain pomp and glory of the world,” which is the sham value system of this evil culture which crucified Our Lord and militates against everything for which He stands. Often there is opposition, even persecution.

But the first generation is followed by those who profoundly respect their predecessors’ piety but who woefully lack their passion. They and those who come after them set out to institutionalize the movement, supplying it with all the organizational machinery of respectable religious life. Careful stewardship and patient frugality brings increasing wealth, comfort, and a more positive public image. This seems inevitable, and to an extent, desirable, for well-heeled, middle-class people can minister to well-heeled, middle-class people.

There is a trade-off, however, for social approval often means spiritual surrender. Once the movement stormed the citadels of secular culture and religious compromise; but now it makes its peace with the first and becomes a part of the second. Its old distinctives seem embarrassing, and so they are prudently shelved in the archives, except for rare commemorative occasions, when they are dragged out and dusted off. Though there is still talk of discipleship and commitment, it is mostly in terms of tepid generalities; and nobody denounces the world any more, because the movement is now indistinguishable from it.

Of course, it is not a movement anymore, but a monument to the “glory days,” which as everybody knows are long departed. The obvious successes of that early period are duly recalled, but its dismaying fervency and disciplinary strictness are selectively forgotten. There is occasional nostalgia for the old piety, but not for the old passion which nourished it. General superintendents churn out cleverly-named promotional devices, but their primary thrust is now to perpetuate institutional existence. Ad hoc committees struggle over “redefining our mission,” and make dutiful reference to the founder’s vision; but nobody has the courage to raise his uncompromising call to repentance and renewal. Frankly, the same “historical drift” which necessitated the origin of the movement has come full circle to destroy it!

Somewhere it was because somebody failed to “hold the horses.” ‘“Historical drift’ is unavoidable due to the innate human factor in all organizations,” concluded the 1984 study, but “the usefulness of a denomination or a movement can be greatly extended if strong, spiritual leadership is willing to confront and swim upstream against the current.” But this is exactly where breakdown occurs, because there are too few Inskips and McDonalds among us who are willing to deal with the real issues as they arise, call worldliness by its rightful name, and throw up barriers to the little compromises which so quickly merge into total ruin.

Dr. Phillip Schaff, dean of American church historians, declares that next to the Bible, history is our most important teacher. If history has any lesson for us it is that spiritual decline may almost always be traced through the same distressing pattern. This pattern we should carefully consider as it was played out in Methodism and then apply its warnings to ourselves.

First is lost the emphasis upon definite, personal conversion and dynamic spiritual life. Every authentic Christian movement begins with profound focus on saving encounter with God through the Spirit and sanctifying relationship with Him thereafter. But in time, spirituality becomes mostly a routine of ritual acts, learned responses, and external patterns. In 19th-century Methodism, the time came when Methodist parents became more concerned that their children be catechized, cultivated, and confirmed than that they be “soundly converted” in the old manner; and Methodist pastors welcomed into the church vast numbers who had neither desire to forsake their sins nor evidence of new life in God.

Second is lost the disciplines of careful, holy living with their insistence on separation from the world. It was not until 1872 that the Methodist Discipline was amended to forbid gambling, card-playing, dancing, and theater attendance; but by then the legislation was too late. Earlier generations had not needed the specific rule, because their pastors and class leaders were very pointed about worldly amusements; and besides, everybody knew that earnest Christians did not resort to them. But as Methodists lost their zeal for intense religious experience and the warm “heart for God” which it assumes, they threw off the old restraints. The earlier emphasis on a careful, disciplined walk with God gave way to worldliness, not only in entertainment, but also in such areas as Sabbath-keeping, dress, and even the use of intoxicants.

Third is lost the integrity of doctrine. Deviation from Biblical teaching and then grievous heresy follow the decline of spiritual life and conscientious lifestyle. For a time much ado may still be made over holiness theology, but in the lives of most individuals and congregations, it has become a non-issue. Later the creedal landmarks themselves come under attack. By 1900, Methodist theologians were drawing from the wells of higher criticism and “scientific humanism,” learned in German seminaries; and when we are unsure of the reliability of Scripture and the resurrection of Our Lord, nothing is safe anymore.

“Only revival can actually turn back the hands of historical drift and extend our usefulness as a movement,” Arnold Cook told his denomination in 1984. “However, spiritual leadership at every level can certainly greatly curtail the inevitable toll…We must remind ourselves that denominations, seminaries, colleges, and missions do not drift—only people do.” Our task, then, is not to overlook the drift or to excuse it, but to label it for what it is and in Christ’s name to confront and overcome it. So how are we doing at “holding the horses”?