Historically literate Christians are, of course, no strangers to the awkward, embarrassing, and diabolical examples of the church’s failings. Whether it’s the church’s role in promoting anti-Judaism, covering up sexual abuse, or endorsing violence in the name of God, there is no shortage of history to be ashamed of. American evangelicalism is no exception, where discussions about racism and the legacy of slavery have become particularly heated in recent years.
Not only do Christians debate how to correctly tell this dark history, but interwoven in these discussions are theological issues concerning the place of redemption, the need to forgive, and the place of justice. Numerous universities with religious affiliations, including Georgetown, Baylor, Wake Forest, and the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary have undergone introspection for their historical connections with the transatlantic slave trade. Similarly, the Church of England is reviewing thousands of monuments with connections to slavery and has established a £100 million investment fund to help address the damage caused by its historic ties to the slave trade. Not to be outdone, a cursory glance at the ESV Bible Translation Committee’s debates over the word “slave” highlights the depths of these disagreements.
While these controversies have often unfolded within denominations, on a more personal level, many once-revered heroes of American Christianity are now undergoing a critical reexamination.
For example, during the Black Lives Matter protests of 2020, statues linked to slavery were removed by various local governments while others were vandalized or pulled down. While statues of the Founding Fathers and Confederates garnered the most attention, the University of Pennsylvania also removed a statue of evangelist George Whitefield due to his ties to slavery. Penn President Amy Gutmann stated at the time, “Honoring him with a statue on our campus is inconsistent with our university’s core values, which guide us in becoming an ever more welcoming community that celebrates inclusion and diversity.”
The decision elicited mixed reactions. Anthea Butler, a UPenn professor and then incoming President of the American Society of Church History, welcomed the decision. In contrast, popular YouTuber and Presbyterian pastor Matthew Everhard criticized the move, viewing it as further evidence of a moralistic slippery slope. Hillsdale College historian Richard Gamble pointed out that, unlike many statues erected during the Jim Crow era, this statue was not intended to celebrate racism and expressed concern about the disconnect between the original motives behind erecting the statue and present-day racial politics. Meanwhile, Peter Y. Choi, author of George Whitefield: Evangelist for God and Empire (2018), penned an op-ed claiming that “the removal of Whitefield’s statue might actually be good for evangelicals,” helping them reevaluate the heroes they admire and why.
Sean McGeve’s Ownership: The Evangelical Legacy of Slavery in Edwards, Wesley, and Whitefield seeks to shed light on this complex subject, focusing on three of American evangelicalism’s three most influential figures: Jonathan Edwards (1703–1758), John Wesley (1703–1791), and George Whitefield (1714–1770).
From the start, McGever provides readers with a succinct overview of the historical interplay between slavery and Christianity, tracing its trajectory from the New Testament to influential figures such as Augustine and John Chrysostom, as well as the decrees of various ecumenical councils and popes across centuries. Notably, Gregory of Nyssa (c. 335–c. 394 AD) emerges as a singular ancient voice explicitly opposing slavery, whereas other theologians saw slavery as a sad but inescapable consequence of fallen world, advocating that “the best course of action was to work within that system [slavery].” McGever quickly guides readers through the development of New World slavery, emphasizing the rivalries between various colonial European superpowers, the experience of enslaved Christians under Ottoman rule, the impact of indentured servitude and serfdom, and the emergence of racial thinking buttressed by the Enlightenment. Although the pace is somewhat rushed, this background provides sufficient information to understand the deeper Christian context regarding slavery which shaped the minds of figures like Edwards, Wesley, and Whitefield.
Another important, and more detailed account given by McGever is the deeply hierarchical view of the world held by Edwards, Wesley, and Whitefield and their evangelical contemporaries. From their perspective, just as God ordains some to be princes and governors, so too are others destined to inhabit the lower rungs of society as servants, laborers, and even slaves. Slavery, therefore, was believed to be ordained by God and, in the words of Puritan clergyman William Gouge, such an understanding was “clearly and plentifully noted in the Scripture, that any one who is any whit acquainted therewith may know them to be so.” While such views seem counterintuitive to our modern-day egalitarian norms, McGever adeptly explains why 18th-century evangelicals would have perceived our anti-hierarchical tendencies as nothing but a “hellish confusion” to borrow a description from the Puritan theologian John Owen.
Despite their divinely ordered view of the world, 18th-century evangelicals, following their theological ancestors, acknowledged that slavery was a sinful product of the fall. The question for most Christian thinkers was not whether slavery was biblical, but rather how it could be practiced biblically. McGever explores how these theologians and apologists reconciled slavery with their faith, examining a range of scriptural interpretations they believed justified slavery within a fallen world. His concise yet insightful commentaries provide readers with a framework to understand the perspectives of Edwards, Wesley, Whitefield, and their contemporaries. By offering such rich historical and theological context, McGever enables readers to engage with the complex realities of the past and critically examine how cultural contexts influenced the moral stances of these prominent evangelical figures.
This is not to say that the commonly-cited Christian justifications for early modern slavery went unchallenged, with McGever admirably highlighting the protests mounted by Quakers as well as the Puritan Samuel Sewall’s The Selling of Joseph (1700). Though he expands on them later in the book, he makes it clear that these voices, though well-celebrated today and important for the development of antislavery theology, were unpopular and marginal at the time.
With this background established, McGever then proceeds to introduce, or reintroduce, readers to George Whitefield, John Wesley, and Jonathan Edwards, focusing on their writings on slavery and dealings with the slave trade. Whitefield’s story is perhaps the most damning, and McGever spares no detail in chronicling how instrumental Whitefield was in the legalization of slavery in Georgia. A key part of this story is an orphanage in Savannah managed by Whitefield as part of his ministry. Faced with financial challenges, he saw slavery the solution, believing that Black slaves were better suited for the hot Georgia summers than costly White indentured servants.
Jonathan Edwards’ story may seem comparatively mundane, but McGever skillfully highlights how seamlessly Edwards fits into the slaveholding culture of 18th-century New England as part of a broader, darker narrative. While Edwards preached and wrote very little on slavery, he did own slaves and wrote an unpublished 1741 letter defending the practice. The letter remained largely inaccessible until Kenneth Minkema’s transcription in 1997. Even so, Edwards remains one of America’s most widely cited and beloved theologians to this day, though this aspect has been seldom studied and John T. Lowe’s forthcoming monograph will be the first comprehensive study on the subject.
While John Wesley is not the book’s redeeming hero, he does undergo the most significant transformation, providing McGever with a unique blend of proslavery and antislavery elements. Later in life, Wesley felt compelled to speak out as the abolitionist movement, driven primarily by Quakers in the 1770s, gained momentum. Readers might be surprised at how little Scripture he used in his shift to opposing slavery, favoring instead ideas drawn from natural law and reasoning. McGever’s theorizes that Wesley would never have adopted his abolitionist stance had he been raised in America or even just spent more time there, arguing for the essential contingency of many deeply held beliefs. More inspiring, however, is the early and recurrent work of the Quakers in the fight against slavery and Black Christian leaders like Richard Allen and Absalom Jones. McGever rightly contends that these figures should be just as well-known as Edwards, Wesley, and Whitefield. If there are heroes in Ownership, you’ll find them here.
Given how uncomfortable some people can be with the history of slavery and race in America, Ownership will be a difficult read for many in the evangelical church. But, amidst the glut of books that delight in highlighting the church’s failures and using its history to silence evangelicals, McGever’s work is definitely refreshing. He does not write as an activist hoping to destroy the legacies of figures like Edwards, Wesley, and Whitefield, nor does he seek to minimize their shortcomings. Instead, McGever is committed to telling the whole truth about these so-called heroes of faith and the fallen world they inhabited.
While historian H.W. Brands warns against having heroes due to the inevitable moral failures of all humans, Paul Levy argues that Christians still need heroes even while maintaining a sober view that neither idealizes nor dismisses the great men and women of history. Much like the heroes of the Bible who are both praised and condemned for their virtues and vices, Christian history, evangelical or otherwise, is replete with lessons and examples to guide us and warn us. The goal is not to avoid having heroes, but to choose them wisely.