• 1791 AD – Selina Hastings Countess of Huntingdon Endures Slander Yet Advances the Evangelical Revival
    Aug 22 2025
    1791 – Selina Hastings, Countess of Huntingdon, Endures Slander Yet Advances the Evangelical Revival Published 8/22/2025 ------------------------------------------------------- Small Group Handout COACH: Church Origins and Church History Selina Hastings, Countess of Huntingdon (1791) Summary Selina Hastings used her wealth, influence, and courage to fuel the Evangelical Revival. She trained ministers through Trevecca College, sponsored chapels called the “Countess of Huntingdon’s Connexion,” and supported leaders like George Whitefield and John Wesley. As a woman leading boldly in the 18th century, she endured slander and ridicule — yet remained steadfast until her death in 1791. Her life reminds us that revival comes through faithfulness, generosity, and endurance, not comfort or reputation. Scripture for Reflection 1 Peter 4:14 — “If you are insulted for the name of Christ, you are blessed…” Hebrews 13:16 — “Do not neglect to do good and to share what you have, for such sacrifices are pleasing to God.” Galatians 6:9 — “Let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.” Discussion Questions Selina faced constant ridicule — would you keep serving Christ if your reputation was attacked? How can ordinary believers today use their resources (money, homes, influence, skills) to advance the gospel? Selina trained ministers and emphasized holy living. How can our churches better prepare leaders to endure slander, temptation, and pressure? Revival in her day reached coal miners and servants as well as nobles. How can the church today better reflect that same gospel inclusiveness? She lived for God’s approval, not society’s. What pressures tempt us to live for people’s praise instead of God’s pleasure? Application Personal: Ask yourself — what sacrifice am I willing to make if mocked for my faith? Group: Commit to praying for someone in leadership who faces criticism or spiritual attack. Church: Discuss how your community can use generosity, prayer, and hospitality to strengthen revival today. Prayer Prompt “Lord, give us courage to endure slander, wisdom to use what we have for Your kingdom, and hearts that value faithfulness over reputation. May we, like Selina Hastings, live for Your pleasure alone.” -------------------------------------------------------------- 50-Word Description In 1791, Selina Hastings, Countess of Huntingdon, died after decades of championing the Evangelical Revival. She built chapels, founded Trevecca College, and defended preachers like Whitefield and Wesley. Though mocked and slandered, she endured with faith. Her legacy birthed churches, missions, and a bold witness that shaped Protestant evangelicalism. 150-Word Description In 1791, Selina Hastings, Countess of Huntingdon, died, leaving a legacy that fueled the Evangelical Revival. Using her wealth and influence, she founded Trevecca College, built chapels for her Connexion, and supported preachers like Whitefield and Wesley. Facing relentless slander as a woman in leadership, she persevered, modeling stewardship and courage. Her work birthed churches and missions, shaping Protestant evangelicalism. Her endurance under ridicule mirrors modern challenges to live boldly for Christ. Rooted in Hebrews 12:14, this episode asks if we’d press on despite scorn, inspiring steadfast faith. Keywords (≤500 characters) Selina Hastings, Countess of Huntingdon, Evangelical Revival, Trevecca College, Countess of Huntingdon’s Connexion, George Whitefield, John Wesley, Augustus Toplady, Henry Venn, William Romaine, Methodist movement, 18th century evangelicalism, church history, patron of revival, women in ministry history, Methodist chapels, Wesley journals, Whitefield letters, slander in church history. Hashtags #ChurchHistory #EvangelicalRevival #SelinaHastings #Wesley #Whitefield Transcript The year was 1791. England was alive with spiritual fire—yet just as often, with suspicion. John Wesley had only months to live. George Whitefield was long in the grave. But one figure still stood at the center of the Evangelical Revival: a widowed noblewoman whose name carried weight in courts and chapels alike—Selina Hastings. Her money built chapels. Her vision sent preachers across Britain. Her determination opened the doors of Trevecca College to train the next generation of ministers. Yet for all her generosity, she was mocked relentlessly. Pamphlets ridiculed her faith. Satirists painted her as a meddling fanatic. Rumors whispered that her zeal was nothing but vanity in disguise. A woman in 18th-century England who dared to lead was already a target. A woman who dared to lead in the name of Christ became a lightning rod. Still, Selina pressed forward. She believed the gospel was worth her reputation. Which leaves us with a haunting question: If you were slandered for your faith, would you retreat into silence… or keep pressing on, even when...
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    18 mins
  • 1054 AD The Great Schism Divides the Roman Catholic Church and the Eastern Orthodox Church
    Aug 20 2025
    1054 AD The Great Schism Divides the Roman Catholic Church and the Eastern Orthodox Church Published 8/20/2025 50-Word Description In 1054, the Christian church split into Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox branches over authority, worship, and pride. Pope Leo IX’s legate excommunicated Patriarch Michael Cerularius in Constantinople, formalizing centuries of tension. This episode explores the Great Schism’s causes, consequences, and lessons for unity today. 150-Word Description In 1054, the Great Schism divided Christianity into Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox churches. Pope Leo IX’s legate, Humbert, excommunicated Patriarch Michael Cerularius in Constantinople’s Hagia Sophia, citing disputes over papal authority, communion bread, and creed wording. Rooted in centuries of cultural and political drift, the split deepened with the 1204 Crusade’s sacking of Constantinople. Despite 1965 reconciliation attempts, the divide persists. The Schism warns of pride and division, urging believers to guard unity, as Jesus prayed in John 17. This episode traces the fracture and challenges modern Christians to pursue oneness. Keywords (500 characters) Great Schism, 1054, Roman Catholic, Eastern Orthodox, Constantinople, Rome, Pope Leo IX, Michael Cerularius, Hagia Sophia, excommunication, Fourth Crusade, papal authority, Filioque, church unity, Byzantine Empire, medieval Christianity, ecclesiastical history, Christian division, reconciliation, John 17, church councils Hashtags (five words) #GreatSchism #ChurchUnity #1054 #Orthodox #Catholic Transcript The year was 1054, and the Christian world was about to split apart. For centuries, Christians in the East and West had worshiped the same Christ, confessed the same creed, and shared the same Scriptures. But under the surface, tension had been building like cracks in glass—small disagreements about language, worship, and leadership that stretched across continents. In the West, believers looked to Rome—the Roman Catholic Church—where the Pope claimed to sit in the seat of Peter. In the East, they looked to Constantinople—the capital of the Eastern Orthodox Church—with its grand tradition of worship and the Emperor’s protection. Most everyday Christians didn’t think about these things. They prayed, sang, took communion, baptized their children, and lived out their faith. But church leaders on both sides grew more suspicious of each other. Then, in 1054, everything snapped. A papal messenger—Cardinal Humbert of Silva Candida—walked into the Hagia [HAH-jee-uh] Sophia in Constantinople. In front of the congregation, he laid down a bull of excommunication—an official letter cutting the Eastern leaders off from the church. The East responded in kind. And the one Body of Christ was torn apart. What caused this Great Schism? Was it theology? Politics? Pride? And more haunting—what does it mean for us today, a thousand years later, when Christians still divide and walk away from each other? From the That’s Jesus Channel, welcome to COACH—where we explore Church Origins and Church History. I’m Bob Baulch. And on Wednesdays, we stay between 500 and 1500 AD. Today, we’re stepping into one of the most painful moments in Christian history: the year 1054—the Great Schism. Up until this point, Christianity in the East and West had its differences, but still considered itself one church. The Roman Catholic Church in the West and the Eastern Orthodox Church in the East shared the same Bible, the same creeds, and the same Lord. But their unity was fragile. They argued about leadership. Should all churches submit to the Pope in Rome? Or should each major city have its own independence, as in the East? They clashed over worship. Should bread for communion be leavened—soft and risen, as in the East—or unleavened, like the West used? They even fought over words. In the West, a phrase was added to the creed about the Holy Spirit proceeding from both the Father and the Son. The East saw that as tampering with the faith. For centuries, these disputes simmered. But in 1054, they boiled over. An exchange of excommunications—letters declaring the other side outside the church—formalized a split that remains to this day. The question is: was this inevitable? Or could it have been avoided? And perhaps most importantly: what does the Great Schism teach us about how fragile unity really is? To understand why the Great Schism happened in 1054, we need to go back much earlier. The Roman Empire had once united the whole Mediterranean world under one ruler. But in 285 AD, Emperor Diocletian split it into East and West. Later emperors kept that pattern. Rome remained the capital in the West, while Constantinople—the city built by Constantine—became the capital of the East. That political split eventually created cultural and spiritual distance. In the West, centered in Rome, Christians used Latin. The Pope in Rome grew in influence as emperors ...
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    18 mins
  • 380 AD - The Edict that Made Jesus Officially God and Made Christianity The State Religion
    Aug 18 2025
    380 AD The Edict that Made Jesus Officially God and Made Christianity The State Religion Published 08/18/2025 50-Word Description In 380 AD, Theodosius I, with Gratian and Valentinian II, issued the Edict of Thessalonica, making Nicene Christianity the empire’s official faith. Recorded in the Codex Theodosianus, it marginalized Arianism and paganism, enforced by bishops like Ambrose, redefining church-state relations and igniting centuries-long debates over religious unity and coercion. 150-Word Description In 380 AD, Emperor Theodosius I, alongside Gratian and Valentinian II, issued the Edict of Thessalonica, declaring Nicene Christianity the Roman Empire’s official religion. Recorded in the Codex Theodosianus, this decree affirmed Jesus as fully God, co-eternal with the Father and Spirit, aligning with the Nicene Creed. It marginalized Arianism and pagan practices, with bishops like Ambrose enforcing orthodoxy. The edict reshaped worship, leadership, and church-state dynamics, but sparked tensions, alienating dissenters and raising questions about faith under coercion. Its legacy challenges us to consider: would we worship boldly without legal protection? This episode explores the edict’s historical context, its immediate impact on congregations, and its enduring influence on Christian unity and freedom. It calls believers to live faithfully, even if faith becomes costly, reminding us that true devotion thrives not by law, but by heart. Keywords (500 characters) Theodosius I, Edict of Thessalonica, 380 AD, Nicene Creed, Codex Theodosianus, Gratian, Valentinian II, Ambrose of Milan, Arianism, paganism, Sozomen, ecclesiastical history, Roman Empire religion, church-state relations, religious coercion, Nicene Christianity, imperial decree, orthodox theology, Christian unity, state religion, Constantine legacy, late antiquity, Roman emperors Hashtags (five words) #Theodosius #NiceneCreed #ChurchHistory #RomanEmpire #Orthodoxy The winter wind cut through the streets of Thessalonica, carrying the scent of the sea and the hum of voices in the marketplace. Inside the imperial hall, a decision was being made that would change the spiritual life of millions. For decades, followers of Jesus across the Roman Empire had argued over a single, burning question: Who exactly is He? Was He truly equal with God the Father—or something less? The debate had split congregations, strained friendships, and even fueled violence in some cities. On this day in 380 AD, the emperor [thee-oh-DOH-shus] decided the argument had gone on long enough. He would put the weight of the entire empire behind one answer. A short proclamation was prepared, clear and uncompromising: there would be one official faith for all citizens, the faith that confessed Jesus as fully God, united with the Father and the Spirit. Messengers would carry this edict to every province. Those who embraced it would find the law on their side. Those who resisted would find themselves outside its protection. In a single winter’s moment, the empire’s ruler tried to end a generation of disputes. But could an earthly command settle matters of the heart—or would it spark a deeper struggle for the soul of the church? From the That’s Jesus Channel, welcome to COACH—where we trace Church Origins and Church History. I’m Bob Baulch. On Mondays, we stay between 0 and 500 AD. Today, we’re in 380 AD, when the Roman Empire announced—by law—which version of Christianity was the true one. It was called the Edict of Thessalonica. At its core, this decree said there was one right way to believe about Jesus: that He is fully God, united with the Father and the Holy Spirit. It was the belief we now know from the Nicene Creed [NY-seen], and it shut the door on competing ideas that had divided churches for decades. For believers who already held that view, this was a victory. For others, it felt like being pushed out of the family. Either way, the relationship between the church and the state would never be the same. The edict was short, but its effects were long. It shaped preaching, worship, and even who could lead a congregation. It drew a clear line in the sand—but also raised a question we still face today: When faith is backed by the power of law, does it grow stronger… or does it risk losing the very heart that makes it alive? The Roman Empire in 380 AD was a world of contrasts. In some cities, Christian churches were packed with worshipers singing psalms. In others, ancient temples still held the smell of burning incense to gods Rome had honored for centuries. Even among Christians, the message about Jesus wasn’t always the same. For more than fifty years, believers had argued about His nature. Some said He was eternal, equal with God the Father. Others, following Arianism [AIR-ee-uh-niz-um – belief that Jesus is not co-eternal with the Father], claimed He was created—higher than humans but not truly divine. It wasn’t just a private ...
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    16 mins
  • 391 AD – Little Girl and Demonic Deliverance – A Child’s Torment Sparks Fasting, Prayer, and a Church’s Faith in God’s Power
    Aug 17 2025
    391 AD - Little Girl and Demonic Deliverance Published 08/17/2025 50-Word Description In 391 AD, Cappadocian elders fasted and prayed for seven days to deliver a slave girl from demonic oppression, speaking Latin curses she never learned. Recorded by Gregory of Nyssa, this story showcases the early church’s faith, humility, and power through collective prayer, challenging modern believers’ approach to spiritual warfare. 150-Word Description In 391 AD, a Cappadocian slave girl, shouting Latin curses she never learned, was freed through seven elders’ week-long fasting and prayer. Preserved by Gregory of Nyssa, this story from near Caesarea highlights the early church’s quiet power against demonic oppression. Without spectacle, they relied on faith, not formulas. Sozomen notes similar cases, emphasizing communal holiness over showmanship. Modern believers face the same question: do we take spiritual warfare seriously, or reduce it to entertainment? This episode explores a church that fasted for one soul’s freedom, asking if we’d do the same. Keywords (500 characters) Cappadocia, 391 AD, demonic oppression, Gregory of Nyssa, Basil the Great, fasting, prayer, deliverance, Caesarea, spiritual warfare, early church, Sozomen, Macrina, ecclesiastical history, Christian discipline, humility, faith, Roman Empire, possession, elders, communal prayer, late antiquity, spiritual authority Hashtags (five words) #Cappadocia #Deliverance #EarlyChurch #Fasting #Prayer Transcript The villagers didn’t know what to do with her. One day, the girl was quietly serving bread in her master’s home—barefoot, obedient, silent. The next, she was screaming violent curses… in Latin [LAT-in – classical language]. The words spilled from her with rhythmic fury—phrases no one in her village in Cappadocia [KAP-uh-DOH-shuh] even understood. But one visiting merchant turned white when he heard them. “These are oaths,” he whispered, “and verses—classical, but twisted.” She had never learned Latin. Never seen a Roman scroll. She was a slave girl in a Cappadocian village, barely past childhood. Neighbors locked their doors. Her owner wept. And someone whispered what no one wanted to say: Possessed. That night, she howled and thrashed until she collapsed. Word reached the elders of a nearby church. They didn’t speak. They didn’t speculate. They fasted. Seven of them gathered in an empty house. They refused food for seven days. They prayed in shifts—each hour of the day covered by another voice crying out for mercy. And on the seventh night, during a soft prayer barely louder than a whisper… …the girl let out one final scream. She collapsed, trembling. And when she opened her eyes—she was weeping. Clear-eyed. Calm. Freed. But what exactly happened inside her? And what kind of church would fast and pray for a week just to bring one enslaved girl back to peace? From the That’s Jesus Channel, welcome to COACH—where we trace Church Origins and Church History. I’m Bob Baulch. On Mondays, we stay between 0 and 500 AD. And in this episode, we’re heading to the highlands of Cappadocia [KAP-uh-DOH-shuh], in the year 391. The Roman Empire was officially Christian now—but the spiritual world didn’t quiet down. Demonic oppression didn’t stop. Pagan rituals didn’t vanish. And in one remote village near Caesarea [SEE-zuh-REE-uh], something terrifying broke through the ordinary. A slave girl—unknown to history, unnamed by her family—suddenly began shouting in Latin. Violent, poetic curses. Her voice didn’t sound like her own. And she had never even heard the language. She was restrained. Then isolated. But not abandoned. Word spread to a group of elders—Christian leaders devoted not to status or spectacle, but to prayer. They did not perform a dramatic exorcism. They didn’t chant, shout, or swing incense. They fasted. Seven days. One girl. And what happened next became one of the strangest—and most awe-filled—stories preserved in the writings of Gregory of Nyssa [GREG-uh-ree of NIS-uh – theologian and bishop]. Today, we face a question that haunts both ancient and modern believers: What do we do when evil doesn’t just tempt… but invades? Let’s go back to the edge of Caesarea—where a battle was fought, not with weapons, but with empty stomachs and open hands, led by men like Basil the Great [BAY-zil the Great – Cappadocian bishop]. Cappadocia wasn’t the most famous region of the empire, but by the late 4th century, it had become one of the most spiritually active. The desert terrain produced monks, missionaries, and mystics. And at the center of it all were two names: Basil the Great and his younger brother, Gregory of Nyssa. They were bishops. They were theologians. And they were firsthand witnesses to strange things. In a letter, Basil warned that “the enemy waits not at the gates but within the very air we breathe.” [Paraphrased from Basil’s Letters] To him, ...
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    14 mins
  • 265 AD – Dionysius Defends Unity in Baptism – Holding the Church Together Amid Disputes Over Water, Faith, and Salvation
    Aug 16 2025
    265 AD Dionysius Defends Unity in the Waters of Baptism Published 08/16/2025 50-Word Description In 265 AD, Dionysius of Alexandria stepped into a heated church dispute over whether baptisms performed by heretics should count. His letters to Rome advocated for unity, not division—arguing valid form over valid administrators. His thoughtful response shaped East-West relations and stabilized the church’s sacramental practice during persecution. 150-Word Description In 265 AD, Dionysius of Alexandria navigated a heated dispute over whether baptisms by heretics were valid, a debate threatening to fracture the early Church. While Cyprian of Carthage demanded rebaptism and Pope Stephen threatened excommunication, Dionysius wrote letters urging unity without compromising truth. Preserved in Eusebius’ Ecclesiastical History, his diplomatic approach—rooted in the Trinitarian formula—prevented a schism between East and West. Facing persecution, he prioritized fellowship over rigid purity, setting a precedent for resolving disputes through dialogue. His legacy challenges modern believers to balance conviction with charity, asking: How do we handle disagreements without division? Dionysius’ wisdom reminds us that truth doesn’t require hostility, and unity in Christ can endure even when opinions clash. This episode explores his steady leadership, offering practical lessons for navigating today’s church conflicts with grace and fidelity. (134 words) Keywords Dionysius of Alexandria, baptism controversy, rebaptism, Pope Stephen, Eusebius Ecclesiastical History, heretical baptism, 3rd century church unity, sacramental theology, persecution church, East-West church relations Hashtags #BaptismDebate #ChurchUnity #Alexandria #EarlyChurch #Dionysius TRANSCRIPT The bishop read the letter again. Its tone wasn’t just sharp—it was final. A leader in Rome had made his position clear: any baptism performed by heretics didn’t count. Converts needed to be baptized again—properly, within the Church. But Dionysius [dye-uh-NIH-see-us] of Alexandria didn’t agree. It wasn’t because he doubted the importance of baptism. Quite the opposite. He believed it mattered so much that it shouldn’t be used to divide the Body of Christ. And if a believer had been baptized in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—even by someone outside the fold—Dionysius saw no reason to demand they go through it again. To him, the real danger wasn’t impurity—it was disunity. This wasn’t theoretical. Persecution was tightening its grip. Christians were already scattered and frightened. And now, leaders were at odds—not over core doctrine, but over practice. Ritual. Purity codes. And if the Church kept fracturing, who would be left to stand? So Dionysius picked up his pen. Not to attack. Not to accuse. But to reason. To build a bridge. To protect the unity of the Church—not by pretending the debate didn’t matter, but by persuading fellow leaders that they didn’t have to choose between truth and fellowship. But not everyone was ready to listen. Because sometimes the loudest voices in the Church … aren’t the wisest ones. From the That’s Jesus Channel, welcome to COACH—where we trace Church Origins and Church History. I’m Bob Baulch. On Mondays, we stay between 0 and 500 AD. Today, we open a letter. Not one you’ve read. Probably not one you’ve even heard of. But this letter—written in 265 AD—helped shape how Christians think about unity, disagreement, and the meaning of baptism. Our story centers on Dionysius of Alexandria, a bishop known for his calm leadership during times of chaos. His city had already endured riots, invasions, and plague—and now it was facing a different kind of storm: a theological standoff between churches in Rome, North Africa, and the East. At the heart of the controversy? One burning question: If someone had already been baptized outside the Church, did it count? Some said no—only baptism by orthodox hands should be accepted. Others said yes—so long as it was done in the name of the Trinity. Dionysius believed truth mattered—but that the Church’s unity mattered, too. And his letters—preserved in Eusebius’ Ecclesiastical History—offer us a rare glimpse into how leaders in the early Church tried to hold both. This isn’t a story about compromise. It’s a story about courage, conviction … and how to disagree without destroying each other. Dionysius of Alexandria wasn’t the loudest voice in the early Church—but in 265 AD, he may have been the wisest. He had seen turmoil. As bishop of Alexandria during the reign of Decius and Valerian, he’d lived through persecution, exile, and the deadly plague that swept through Egypt. He had watched the Church grow, split, regroup, and stretch to its limits. By the time this new controversy came to his door, Dionysius had little appetite for needless division—but he never confused peacekeeping with silence....
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    19 mins
  • 1672 AD – Anne Bradstreet: Faith, Poetry, and a Voice That Endures – The First Puritan Poet of America Leaves a Lasting Legacy
    Aug 15 2025
    Short Description Anne Bradstreet, often called America’s first published poet, wrote with honesty, devotion, and courage in a time when women’s voices were seldom heard. Her faith-driven words, penned in the 1600s, still speak today—reminding us that truth is timeless and God’s grace reaches across centuries. Overview Anne Bradstreet, America’s first published female poet, crafted verses of faith, family, and resilience in 17th-century New England. Born in 1612, she faced colonial hardships while raising eight children and writing poetry that blended Puritan devotion with raw honesty. Her 1650 work, The Tenth Muse, marked her as a literary pioneer, capturing spiritual and personal reflections that resonated across oceans. Despite a culture silencing women, her words endured, shaping American literature and inspiring believers. Her poems, like Upon the Burning of Our House, reveal a faith unshaken by loss, pointing to eternal hope. Bradstreet’s legacy as a Puritan voice and trailblazing female writer challenges us to steward our gifts faithfully, trusting God to carry their impact. This episode explores her life, her poetry’s theological depth, and its modern relevance, culminating in a modernized reading of her poem By Night when Others Soundly Slept, connecting her voice to today’s faith. Keywords Anne Bradstreet, Puritan poet, America’s first poet, colonial poetry, women in history, Christian poetry, 17th century faith, Puritan New England, devotional literature, poetry of faith, timeless poetry, Puritan women, colonial America, spiritual reflection, American literature history, early colonial church, biblical inspiration, Christian women writers, faith and art, godly legacy, enduring faith, poetry application Hashtags #AnneBradstreet #FaithInPoetry #TimelessTruth #ChristianWriters #COACHpodcast Transcript In 17th-century New England, life was not for the faint of heart. Winters were brutal, harvests uncertain, and survival required every ounce of determination. But even in a world of toil and scarcity, a woman found time to write. Her name was Anne Bradstreet. She tended to her home, raised children, and lived under the watchful eye of a culture that believed women should be quiet in public life. And yet, in stolen moments between responsibilities, she filled page after page with poetry—verses about faith, family, loss, and the God she loved. Anne never sought fame. In fact, she seemed surprised when her work was published at all. But her words carried something rare: honesty. She didn’t pretend life was easy. She didn’t hide her doubts or her struggles. She brought them to the page, not to gain sympathy, but to give voice to the reality of living with hope in a broken world. In 1672, Anne Bradstreet died. But her words never did. More than three centuries later, her voice still rises from the pages, speaking truth and comfort into hearts she never imagined would hear them. The question is— what happens when faith speaks so clearly it outlives the one who spoke it? From the That’s Jesus Channel, welcome to COACH—where we trace Church Origins and Church History. I’m Bob Baulch. On Fridays, we stay between 1501 and the present. Today we’re stepping into colonial New England in the 1600s. It was a time of harsh winters, small settlements, and deep religious conviction. And in the midst of it all lived a poet whose work would become the first published by a woman in what would one day be the United States. Her name was Anne Bradstreet. She didn’t write for recognition. She wrote to process her faith, her joys, and her sorrows. Her poetry reveals a woman grounded in Scripture, unafraid to express both gratitude and grief. Through her words, we see the daily realities of Puritan life—and the timeless truths of God’s presence. Her voice continues to speak, challenging us to consider how faith and creativity can stand the test of time. In this episode, we’ll explore her life, her poetry, and the faith that gave her words staying power. We’ll see why her work matters not just as literature, but as testimony. And before we close, I’ll share my favorite poem of hers—slightly modernized—and tell you why it’s personal to me. Anne Bradstreet was born Anne Dudley in 1612 in Northampton, England. She grew up in a family that valued learning. Her father, Thomas Dudley, served as a steward for the Earl of Lincoln, giving her access to one of the best libraries in the region. This was unusual for a girl in the early 1600s. Most women received little formal education, but Anne read widely—Scripture, history, and the great poets of her day. In 1628, at sixteen years old, she married Simon Bradstreet. Four years later, Anne, Simon, and her parents boarded the Arbella, part of the fleet carrying Puritan settlers to the Massachusetts Bay Colony. The voyage was long and uncomfortable, and the life that awaited them was even harder. The Bradstreets settled first in ...
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    18 mins
  • 330 AD – Frumentius Lights the Horn of Africa – From Shipwrecked Slave to Apostle of Ethiopia and Father of African Christianity
    Aug 11 2025
    330 AD Frumentius Lights the Horn of Africa Published on: 2025-08-11 04:00 Frumentius’s unexpected mission to Ethiopia and the birth of African Christianity The ship never reached its home. The waves of the Red Sea had calmed—but violence waited on the shore. Bandits stormed the travelers, leaving most of the crew dead on the sand. Two young brothers survived—one of them was named Frumentius —snatched from their Mediterranean world and sold into the unknown. They were slaves now. Strangers in the land of Aksum. Just boys they were dragged deep into the Horn of Africa. But history—church history—was about to pivot. Because these weren’t ordinary captives. Frumentius didn’t just survive. He served. Then he led. And eventually, he taught a royal prince about the God of Abraham… and the crucified Son of Mary. Imagine being torn from everything you’ve known… and instead of asking why me, you ask how can I serve Christ here? That’s exactly what Frumentius did. And from that surrendered heart, a flame ignited—a flame that would spread across the mountains of Ethiopia, down through the centuries, and into the legacy of one of the world’s oldest Christian churches. This isn’t just a story of missions. It’s the story of a God who uses shipwrecks, slavery, and sorrow… to plant something eternal. From the That’s Jesus Channel, welcome to COACH—where we are tracing the story of Church Origins and Church History. I’m Bob Baulch. On Mondays, we stay between 0 and 500 AD. Today… we’re journeying to the African highlands in the early 4th century. A place where the gospel hadn’t yet taken root. A place far from Rome or Antioch. We’re entering the Kingdom of Aksum—modern Ethiopia. It was no backwater. Traders flowed through its cities. Its kings minted coins. Aksum was powerful. But its gods were local. And its worldview, pre-Christian. Then came a boy—dragged there by tragedy. Frumentius didn’t come as a missionary. He came as a slave. But in God’s providence, that slave would become a bishop. He wasn’t trained in seminaries or sent by church councils. He simply lived the gospel in front of kings. And when the moment came, he said yes. This is the story of how Christianity first took root in Sub-Saharan Africa. It’s about the man Ethiopians still call Abba Salama—Father of Peace. And it all began with a shipwreck. Frumentius was just a boy traveling with his uncle through the Red Sea. And he never made it home. Raiders stormed the shore, killed most of the crew, and dragged him and his brother inland—into the court of the king. But captivity turned to calling. The king noticed them. And instead of languishing as servants, they rose: • One as a cupbearer. • And the other, Frumentius as tutor to the heir, young Ezana. Frumentius lived his faith in quiet acts. Eusebius records that he encouraged Christian merchants to gather for worship and found places for prayer (paraphrased).📌 He was preparing the ground—discreetly but deliberately. When the king died, Frumentius became regent. He governed with integrity, and Ezana grew up watching. Eventually, Frumentius left Aksum and traveled to Alexandria. He met Athanasius— who defended Christ’s full divinity at Nicaea. Frumentius requested a missionary be sent to Aksum. But Athanasius looked at him and said: “You go.” And so, Frumentius returned—not as a regent, not as a slave—but as bishop of Aksum.📌 It was a quiet return… but one that would change the spiritual identity of a nation. Frumentius wasn’t planting a Roman outpost. He was building an indigenous faith. He didn’t copy foreign customs or demand conversion. He modeled Christ with patience and integrity. And King Ezana responded. The boy Frumentius had once tutored… now led a Christian empire. Ezana’s conversion was public and profound. Crosses began to appear on his coinage—one of the earliest known uses of Christian symbols in state currency.🅉 Pagan iconography gave way to the marks of the crucified King. This wasn’t an imperial edict. No armies. No threats. Just lived testimony. Frumentius’s appointment also had structural significance. He was ordained by the bishop of Alexandria, not by Rome. That tied the Ethiopian church to the East—not the West—and helped form a Christian identity shaped by African rhythms, not European models.📌 The Ethiopian Orthodox Church still reflects this DNA: • Ancient liturgies • Fasting calendars • Monastic traditions • And a deep memory of Abba Salama Frumentius didn’t just start a church. He helped launch a unique Christian civilization. And he did it not through strength… but through surrender. In the throne room of Aksum stood a former slave. No army at his back. No political leverage. Just trust—and truth. Ezana believed. And under his rule, the land of Aksum embraced Christianity—peacefully and publicly. Temples faded. Crosses rose. Even the royal ...
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    12 mins
  • 62 AD – The Echo of the Book of Ephesians – A Letter That Shaped Worship, Marriage, and Spiritual Warfare Across Generations
    Aug 11 2025
    Published on: 2025-08-10 20:14 When Paul penned Ephesians around 62 AD, he likely knew it was more than a pastoral note. He was in Roman custody, yet what flowed from his stylus was not a lament—but a soaring vision. It proclaimed spiritual blessings in Christ “in the heavenly realms,” the unifying mystery of Jew and Gentile, and the cosmic authority [KOZ-mik aw-THOR-ih-tee — Christ’s rule over all powers]. Jesus had authority over “every power and dominion.” The letter’s tone was majestic. Its theology? Monumental. But the real test of a letter’s power isn’t the parchment—it’s the ripple. And Ephesians rippled. Before the New Testament canon was officially recognized, some letters stood out for their clarity, breadth, and doctrinal force. Ephesians was one of them. By the early 100s, copies were already circulating across churches in Asia Minor, and not just as encouragement—but as formation. Not merely for reading—but for structuring thought, prayer, and theology. The evidence of this comes not from a single quote, but from a pattern. Irenaeus [ear-uh-NAY-us] of Lyon leaned heavily on Ephesians in his five-book polemic Against Heresies [AGH-enst HER-uh-seez — a work refuting false teachings], written around 180 AD. QUOTE: “He chose us in him before the creation of the world” [Verbatim, Ephesians 1:4, Bible]. Irenaeus cited Paul’s language of “one faith” and “unity in the body of Christ” to dismantle the fragmented claims of the Gnostics [NAH-stiks — a belief that secret knowledge saves], who taught that salvation came from secret knowledge for a spiritual elite. Irenaeus countered with Paul’s call to the whole church—Jew and Gentile alike—as partakers in one inheritance through Christ. Tertullian [ter-TUHL-yun], writing in Carthage not long after, would do the same. Confronting those who denied Christ’s full humanity, he pointed to Ephesians’ assertion that Jesus “ascended far above all the heavens,” not as a ghostly apparition, but as the incarnate, resurrected Son who fills the cosmos. That idea—Christ as cosmic head of the church—became foundational for battling Christological heresies [krih-STOL-uh-jik-uhl HER-uh-seez — false beliefs about Christ’s nature] in the second and third centuries. Clement [KLEM-ent] of Alexandria and Origen [OR-ih-jen] also engaged deeply with the text. For them, Ephesians wasn’t just full of wonderful arguments—it was mystical. They saw in it layers of allegory and depth that invited believers to grow beyond basic faith and into spiritual maturity, what Paul called “attaining to the whole measure of the fullness of Christ.” But perhaps the most telling sign of Ephesians’ rising stature is this: it began appearing in lectionary cycles [LEK-shun-air-eez — Scripture reading plans] and catechetical instruction [kat-uh-KET-ik-uhl — teaching new believers]. This was long before the councils of the fourth century standardized Christian doctrine. Even in periods of persecution and scattered leadership, the early church preserved and promoted Ephesians because of its theological weight. It wasn’t just doctrine. It was worship. It wasn’t just content. It was identity. So why this letter? Why did early Christians turn to it so consistently? Maybe because in a time of confusion and splintered theology, they needed a voice that was confident, cosmic, and centered in Christ. Chunk 4 – Narrative Development (Heavy, 519 words) To trace the impact of Ephesians in the early church, we have to follow not just the words, but the ways it was used—quoted, preserved, and passed along like a theological lifeline. In the late second century, Irenaeus [ear-uh-NAY-us] was locked in theological battle with Valentinian Gnostics [VAL-en-tin-ee-an NAH-stiks — followers of a sect claiming secret enlightenment], who taught that creation was the work of a lower deity and that Jesus came only to rescue a select few through secret enlightenment. Irenaeus didn’t just refute this—he demolished it using Scripture. QUOTE: “There is one body and one Spirit… one Lord, one faith, one baptism” [Verbatim, Ephesians 4:4–5, Bible]. For Irenaeus, Ephesians wasn’t abstract theology—it was the spine of orthodoxy. In North Africa, Tertullian [ter-TUHL-yun] carried the flame forward. Writing in Latin, he adapted and defended the apostolic faith for a new audience. Ephesians was his trusted resource. He invoked its description of the church as a holy temple, built together as a dwelling place for God. This metaphor became central in the church’s defense of Christ’s physical body and his dwelling in the church—not just spiritually, but incarnationally. It was ammunition against Docetism [DOH-suh-tizm — a belief denying Jesus’ full humanity]. Clement [KLEM-ent] of Alexandria, a thinker who straddled philosophy and faith, mined Ephesians for its language of maturity and growth. For him, the Christian life ...
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    19 mins