Classic Wesleyan theology teaches that man’s sin nature can be eradicated so that a person no longer sins. Keswick theology teaches that the sin nature can be so suppressed that a person no longer sins. In both Undergrad and Seminary, I had a theology professor (from each tradition) tell the class either, “I have not sinned in 30 years,” or “I cannot remember the last time I sinned.”
The Wesleyans and the Keswicks get away with this by redefining sin down. What most people would call “sin,” they would refer to as a mistake, or an oversight, or an error. For example, if one had a flash of anger that would not be counted as “sin” since it wasn’t premeditated. In such a theology sin is dumbed down to include only premeditated and sustained habitual sins.
Now… the kicker here is when I was in Undergrad with the Wesleyans they were telling their lads who were pursuing their ministry degrees that they would not be allowed to take a Wesleyan pulpit unless they could claim entire sanctification.
What really was curious is that among the Wesleyan profs I had and the Wesleyan ministers I talked to there was no one single definition for Sanctification. I remember once going forward during a service for one of the “Spiritual Emphasis weeks” services asking for entire sanctification from God and having two older ministers talk to me while at the altar giving me two different ways to be entirely sanctified.
Yeah… that’s correct. You got the grossest hypocrisy and judgmentalism you can possibly imagine. And that is what I witnessed.
One way this was expressed was the famous Wesleyan “Amen Corner,” which existed during the student-required morning chapels. Nearly all of the Ministry major students would sit in one particular corner of the church for the chapel with their polyester pants (it was also referred to as the polyester corner) and their button-down shirts. We used to count how many “Amens” would resonate from that corner during the chapel service. In such a way we would know how superior or inferior a chapel service we had witnessed. The Wesleyan “Amens” started with the top of the tongue rolling off the roof of the mouth so that a distinct smacking mouth noise would be made followed immediately by a guttural “AMEN.” Of course, something like that just begged to be routinely mocked, and eventually, all of our conversations would be punctuated by frequent tongue smacking and guttural Amens.
Another way this embrace of entire sanctification expressed itself on campus is that we who were not entirely sanctified got all the best girls. The best girls always like best the bad boys and it was easy to be a bad boy with the polyester pants crowd on campus. If one wore ripped jeans and a disco destroyer t-shirt one had a leg up already on the polyester competition. I married the best woman on campus and it was in part because I was a “bad boy,” as compared to the polyester pants brigade.
Another way this entire sanctification among the ministerial students was expressed was the exquisite way that they would look down on you if they thought you were their inferior. The advantage of being entirely sanctified is that one can think they are morally superior to the poor schlubs who are not. Actually, this developed into a contest between the entirely sanctified and the “bad boys” on who could be more condescending towards the other.
For myself and a few friends, all of this definitely became a matter of, “I’d rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints. The sinners are much more fun.” Of course, the polyester pants crowd was NOT entirely sanctified, and as such their personality and character were definitely injured. For all I know they continued believing that bilge to this day and so their characters and personalities remain stunted to this day. One cannot believe theological bushwa and not be injured by it. Even when I knew them these guys were injured goods.
And remember… these injured goods would be piloting Wesleyan pulpits. I can still see their faces and their polyester pants. I can even remember a few first names forty years later. There was a Danny and a Mark and a Wes and a Mike ( I remember Mike [who later got divorced I learned] because during a critique time in the homiletics class he couldn’t resist saying that my crooked mustache was a distraction while I was preaching — just the kind of comment one would expect from the polyester crowd) and a Gerald and a Tim and a Scott and on and on. I hope that they were able to get past their polyester pants beginning and learned that the whole doctrine of entire sanctification is utter horse hockey and that bad theology hurts people
