The Fire of Will
A Sunday Essay in the Wesleyan Tradition
I. The Call of the Great Man
The world, at all times, has bent under the weight of mediocrity. Men and women, created in the image of God, too often choose to live as echoes rather than as voices. They repeat the patterns of their forefathers, not from wisdom but from fear. They embrace convention not because it is right but because it is easy. Yet, across history, there rises a different kind of figure: a man or woman who refuses to be bent, who stands upright, who carries into the common world a vision that transcends it.
The Wesleyan tradition, rooted in discipline and holy striving, speaks of sanctification—of a perfection of intention, where the will is wholly consecrated. The great man, in the sense I lay out today, is one who seizes that very principle and magnifies it into every sphere of existence. He does not live merely to conform to society’s half-truths; he seeks a wholeness of being that fuses faith, reason, and will. Here lies the Randian echo, though carried into the temple rather than the marketplace: the recognition that the individual, perfected and unbowed, is the vessel through which greatness flows.
A society worships idols of collectivism and compromise because it fears responsibility. But responsibility cannot be evaded. The great man takes the full weight of existence upon his own shoulders, knowing that by doing so he bears witness to both divine calling and human dignity. In his striving, he exposes the weakness of the age; in his courage, he redeems it.
II. The Wesleyan Discipline of Will
John Wesley preached not only salvation but transformation. He taught that a man, sanctified, was called to exertion. Holiness was no passive condition; it was discipline, method, order. That is why his followers became “Methodists”—people of method, of deliberate steps toward the higher calling.
Here the synthesis with Rand is clear. Where she speaks of the virtue of selfishness—understood not as greed but as the integrity of the self—Wesley speaks of the will aligned wholly with divine purpose. Both stand against compromise, against the cowardice of half-measures. The Wesleyan man rises at dawn to pray, to study, to labour; the Randian man rises at dawn to build, to create, to think. Each rejects sloth, rejects dependence, rejects the corrosion of envy.
What the world labels pride in such a man is, in truth, the honest recognition of the image of God within him. To despise greatness in oneself is not humility—it is treachery to the gift of life. Wesley’s voice joins Rand’s in this: the man who refuses his own excellence, who buries his talent in the ground, is guilty before heaven.
III. The Tyranny of the Collective
History is a catalogue of societies that worshipped the herd. Ancient Israel demanded a king “like the nations.” Rome bowed before Caesars who promised bread and circuses. Modern democracies bend under bureaucracies that promise safety, equality, and endless appeasement. The price is always the same: the crucifixion of the exceptional, the vilification of the great.
Christ himself, the very archetype of the man sanctified and unbroken, was despised and rejected. He refused to bow to the expectations of his people, to play the part of the conforming rabbi or revolutionary zealot. He bore instead the full vision of the Father, and for that he was crucified. Every great man follows this pattern: he is set against the multitude because his very presence convicts them of their sloth.
Rand, in her novels, understood this with brutal clarity. Her great men—architects, inventors, creators—were condemned not because they failed society, but because they revealed its mediocrity. Wesley understood it spiritually: the sanctified man provokes persecution, not because he is wicked but because he is holy.
Thus we see the same law written across two domains: the world cannot endure the light of the great man, so it cries for compromise, for humility, for submission. But truth is never found in compromise. Light does not negotiate with darkness.
IV. The Sacredness of Striving
The Wesleyan sermon always returns to one point: holiness is to be pursued, tirelessly, with the whole of one’s strength. Likewise, the Randian ethos insists that life must be lived as a struggle toward one’s highest values. There is no shortcut, no surrender, no half-hearted measure.
Consider the parable of the talents. One servant received five and gained five more. Another received two and gained two more. The wicked servant received one and buried it. The condemnation was not for theft, nor for vice, but for cowardice—for refusing to strive. That servant was cast out as “unprofitable.”
So too in our lives: the man who does not build, who does not seek to multiply the gifts entrusted to him, is not neutral. He is evil. Wesley thundered this from pulpits: “Do all the good you can, by all the means you can, in all the ways you can.” Rand, in her secular fashion, thundered it likewise: “The man who does not think, who does not build, who does not live by the judgment of his own mind, is a parasite.”
Striving, then, is not merely allowed; it is commanded. To be great is not arrogance but obedience.
V. The Destiny of the Few
It is no accident that history is shaped by the few, not the many. Wesley, though mocked and opposed, founded a movement that transformed nations. His discipline, his sermons, his relentless will turned the tide of a decadent England. Rand, though hated by critics, inspired generations to see themselves as capable of greatness, not slaves to the herd.
The great man, in this sense, is the prophet of his age. He speaks a word that no one wishes to hear, yet it is the only word that can save. He lives not by the measure of public opinion but by the measure of truth.
This is why his life is often solitary, his road bitter, his reward distant. Yet in that very solitude is his strength. For the great man knows that glory is not in the applause of the multitude but in the integrity of his soul before God.
VI. Against the Age of Mediocrity
We live in an age that worships equality as its highest god. It proclaims that all outcomes must be level, that excellence must be cut down, that achievement must be taxed, shamed, or silenced. But equality is not the law of heaven. Holiness is not distributed equally; greatness is not a birthright.
Christ taught that the poor in spirit are blessed, not the slothful in spirit. Wesley taught that sanctification is possible, but only through labour. Rand taught that man’s life is his to shape, but only if he wills it. Each of these stands in violent opposition to the modern dogma of comfort without cost, rights without responsibility, dignity without discipline.
The sermon must thunder this truth: a society that exalts mediocrity crucifies its saviours.
VII. The Marriage of Faith and Will
Some might say: here is a contradiction. Wesley spoke of grace; Rand spoke of will. One insists all is of God; the other insists all is of man. Yet look deeper. Grace is not opposed to will—it empowers it. Grace awakens the man to his responsibility, it strengthens him to act, it sanctifies his striving.
The great man, then, is not a contradiction of Wesley and Rand, but their synthesis. He is the man of grace who does not beg for handouts but labours as one redeemed. He is the man of reason who does not deny the divine but embodies it in his will. He is the man who builds, not because society permits it, but because God demands it.
VIII. Conclusion: The Charge
Therefore, on this Sunday, I charge you: rise above the mediocrity of your age. Refuse to bury your talents, refuse to bow to the herd, refuse to apologise for greatness. To live small is to betray heaven; to live great is to glorify it.
Be as Wesley taught: disciplined, sanctified, unyielding in holiness.
Be as Rand demanded: self-reliant, unbent, unwavering in principle.
Be as Christ embodied: the archetype of truth, who would not compromise even unto death.
This is the fire of will, the sanctification of greatness. This is the sermon the age does not want but must hear. Rise, therefore, and be great—not tomorrow, not someday, but today.Subscribe