A few weeks ago, I introduced you to John J. Triggs, one of the earliest Methodist missionaries assigned to the Florida frontier. Triggs helped open the door for Methodism in a land of swamps, forests, scattered settlements, and endless miles of wilderness. But God was preparing another man who would ride alongside him and eventually become one of the most influential figures in the history of Florida Methodism.

His name was John Slade.

I have found that one of the great joys of studying Methodist history is discovering the men and women whose names have largely been forgotten, yet whose faithfulness shaped generations to come.

John Slade is one of those people.

Most Christians have never heard his name. Yet, long before Florida had established Methodist churches, seminaries, or conferences, God used an unlikely man to carry the gospel into one of America’s newest and most challenging frontiers.

What makes his story even more remarkable is that Slade was not converted until he was about thirty years old. He later credited the influence of his godly grandmother, who faithfully prayed for him and planted seeds of faith long before he surrendered his life to Christ. Her prayers remind us that we often never know how God will answer years of quiet faithfulness.

Once John Slade came to Christ, his life changed dramatically. His gifts for ministry were quickly recognized. He was first licensed as an exhorter, then as a local preacher. In 1823, he entered the South Carolina Conference of the Methodist Episcopal Church and was assigned to assist John J. Triggs on the Alapaha Mission. The Alapaha Mission served southern Georgia, and then later expanded into the Florida territory.

Before he ever preached his first sermon on the Florida frontier, Slade and Triggs rode nearly four hundred miles through sparsely settled country to reach their appointment.

Imagine beginning your ministry that way.

No interstate highways.
No churches waiting to welcome you.
No comfortable parsonage.
No guarantee of safety.

Only a horse, a Bible, a saddlebag, and an unshakable conviction that Christ was worthy to be proclaimed.

Once there, Slade spent his days riding from settlement to settlement, preaching wherever people could gather. A family cabin might become a sanctuary. A clearing in the woods could become a revival meeting. Many of the people he served had little or no regular access to biblical preaching, yet Slade believed every soul was worth the journey.

The hardships were real. Florida’s frontier was marked by swamps, rivers without bridges, dense forests, oppressive heat, disease, and long stretches of isolation. Years of this demanding work eventually damaged Slade’s health, but they never diminished his calling.

As I read his story, I am reminded that Wesleyan theology has never been merely an academic system of doctrine. It has always been a faith that moves. It compels believers to go, to serve, to endure hardship, and to place the gospel ahead of personal comfort. John Slade did exactly that.

Next Wednesday, we’ll look at why later generations remembered this humble circuit rider as the “Father of Methodism in Florida” and how the societies he helped establish became the foundation upon which Florida Methodism would grow.

Photo credit – Osmany Mederos at Pexels