Chapter Two, ‘Constrained by the Love of Jesus’
Chapter Two, ‘Constrained by the Love of Jesus’
One Saturday afternoon, about the middle of November 1825, Muller and Beta were out for a stroll in Halle. As they talked, Beta grew serious.
‘For some weeks I have been attending a meeting on Saturday evenings at the home of a Christian.’
He paused, wondering what George’s reaction would be.
‘And what happens at this meeting?’
‘They read the Bible, they sing, they pray, and someone normally reads a sermon’.
‘I should like to go with you, this evening.’
‘I am not sure you will enjoy it’.
George had made up his mind: ‘I am most anxious to go.’
‘Then I will call for you this evening.’
Muller felt that at the meeting he might find something for which he had been searching all his life. But he felt sure that Herr Wagner, at whose home the meeting was held, would not welcome him. On arrival, he apologised for coming. Herr Wagner smiled, saying: ‘Come as often as you please; house and heart are open to you!’
He ushered George and Beta in to join the rest of the gathering and they sat down. They sang a hymn and then Herr Kayser—later to become a missionary in Africa with the London Missionary Society, but who was then living at Halle—knelt down and asked God to bless the meeting. Muller had never before seen anyone on his knees; he had never himself knelt to pray.
Herr Kayser read a chapter from the Bible and then a printed sermon. Prussian law, at that time, made the extempore exposition of Scripture an offence unless an ordained clergyman were present. At the end of the sermon, they sang another hymn and Herr Wagner closed the meeting with prayer. While he prayed, Muller thought, ‘I could not pray as well, though I am much more learned than this illiterate man’.
The meeting made a deep impression on Muller. He felt strangely happy. As they walked home, he said to Beta: ‘All we have seen on our journey to Switzerland, and all our former pleasures, are as nothing in comparison with this evening.’
It was the turning point of his life; and that night he lay peaceful and happy in his bed.
The next day and on several days during the following week, Muller returned to Herr Wagner’s house to study the Bible with him and another Christian. Writing about this time later, he wrote:
It pleased God to teach me something of the meaning of that precious truth: ‘God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life’. I understood something of the reason why the Lord Jesus died on the cross, and suffered such agonies in the Garden of Gethsemane: even that thus, bearing the punishment due to us, we might not have to bear it ourselves. And, therefore, apprehending in some measure the love of Jesus for my soul, I was constrained to love Him in return. What all the exhortations and precepts of my father and others could not effect; what all my own resolutions could not bring about, even to renounce a life of sin and profligacy: I was enabled to do, constrained by the love of Jesus. The individual who desires to have his sins forgiven, must seek it through the blood of Jesus. The individual who desires to get power over sin, must likewise seek it through the blood of Jesus.
Following his conversion, Muller began to live a different life. He never again drank in a tavern; he stopped telling lies regularly ‘but still a few times after this I spoke an untruth ... I was still often overcome, and sometimes even by open sins, though far less frequently than before, and not without sorrow of heart’. He now spent a great deal of time in reading the Bible and in prayer, ‘went to church from right motives, and stood on the side of Christ, though laughed at by my fellow-students’.
In January 1826, six or seven weeks after becoming a Christian, Muller decided that he ought to become a missionary. The more he prayed about it, the more it seemed to be the right decision. But there was a distraction! Every Saturday evening a young Christian girl came to the meetings at Herr Wagner’s house. She was the only Christian girl of about his age whom Muller knew, and he soon found that he was growing fond of her. They began to meet regularly.
Muller discovered that her parents would never allow her to become the wife of a missionary. His enthusiasm for missionary work left him; his prayers became cold and formal and after a time he stopped praying altogether. He lost the joy of following Christ.
For about six weeks he continued in this state, until the Easter of 1826 when he met a young man named Hermann Ball. Ball was well educated and had wealthy parents, but preferred work in Poland among the Jews to the comforts of home life. His example made a great impression on Muller, who realised that he had given up God’s work and, indeed, his love for Christ, for the sake of a girl. He remembered that he had entered into the friendship without prayer, and decided that the relationship ought not to continue. The minor romance lasted for no more than two or three months.
After bringing this friendship to an end, Muller wrote, ‘It was at this time that I began truly to enjoy the peace of God, which passeth all understanding.’ He wrote to his father and brother telling them how happy he was and begging them to seek the same way to happiness, but was surprised to receive an angry reply. His desire to become a missionary returned, and he decided to go home to seek his father’s permission which would be required by the German missionary societies. His father was angry. He told his son that he had spent large sums of money on his education in order that he could spent his last days with him in a parsonage. And now this prospect had come to nothing! He told Muller that he would no longer consider him as his son; and then, suddenly Herr Muller began to weep. It was this that George found hardest to bear. His father begged him to reconsider. But his mind was made up, and he felt that God gave him the strength to remain steadfast to His call.
Muller returned to Halle, and although he still had two years of study ahead at the university, he made up his mind never to take any more money from his father. It seemed wrong to do this, now that his father had no prospect of seeing him become what he had wished—a clergyman with a good living.
Muller was now faced with the problem of how to live without his father’s support. Would he be able to honour his resolution? It soon became clear that he would. For a number of events followed— the first of many of a similar character during his remarkable life— which demonstrated to Muller, and later to the world, that ‘there is no want to them that fear Him’ (Psalm 34:9).
It came about in this way. Shortly after he returned from visiting his father, several Americans arrived in Halle to study, three of whom were professors in American colleges. Their problem was that they did not understand German. However, Halle now had a new Professor of Divinity, a Dr Tholuck, who was a devoted Christian, and he recommended to his new colleagues that one of his students should teach them the language. The Americans were delighted at the suggestion, and Dr Tholuck told them that George Muller would be the best man for the task. ‘These gentlemen, some of whom were believers, paid so handsomely for the instruction which I gave them, and for the lectures of certain professors which I wrote out for them, that I had enough and to spare. Thus did the Lord richly make up to me the little which I had relinquished for His sake.’
Muller now embarked upon the task of sharing his new-found faith with the energetic dedication which was to become such a characteristic of his life. At Whitsun, 1826, he and Beta spent an enjoyable few days in the country at the home of a saintly clergyman. When they returned to Halle they described to two of their former friends how happy they had been on their visit.
‘How I wish that you were as happy as we are,’ Muller said.
‘But we do not feel that we are sinners,’ came the reply.
Muller promptly knelt down and asked God to show them that they were sinners. He then went to his bedroom and continued to pray for them. ‘After a little while I returned to my sitting-room, and found them both in tears, and both told me that they now felt themselves to be sinners. From that time a work of grace commenced in their hearts... Though very weak and ignorant, yet I had now, by the grace of God, some desire to benefit others, and he who so faithfully had once served Satan, sought now to win souls for Christ.’
From now on, he circulated monthly about two hundred missionary papers in different parts of the country. He often stuffed his pockets full of tracts so that he could give them to people whom he met on his walks, and perhaps get into conversation with them. He wrote letters to his former friends pleading with them to turn to Christ. For thirteen weeks he visited a sick man and had the joy of seeing him become a Christian.
Not all his early efforts at personal evangelism were entirely successful. ‘Once I met a beggar in the fields, and spoke to him about his soul. But when I perceived it made no impression upon him, I spoke more loudly; and when he still remained unmoved, I quite bawled in talking to him; till at last I went away, seeing it was of no use.’ He came later to recognise the place of God’s sovereignty in evangelism but ‘yet so ignorant was I of the work of the Spirit, that I thought my speaking very loudly would force into him repentance towards God, and faith in the Lord Jesus’.
In August 1826 a schoolmaster who lived in a village about six miles from Halle asked Muller whether he would be prepared to preach in his parish where the elderly clergyman would be glad of assistance. Muller had never yet preached a sermon but decided that if he could commit a sermon to memory he might be able to help. It took him nearly a week to memorise the sermon and on August 27th 1826, in a chapel of ease at eight in the morning, he ‘got through it, but had no enjoyment in the work’. At eleven he repeated the same sermon word for word in the parish church. Another service was planned for the afternoon at which it was arranged that the schoolmaster should read a printed sermon, as he often did. However, suspecting that during the forty-eight years the elderly clergyman had held his living the gospel had never been preached in the church, Muller decided to preach himself in the afternoon using the same memorised sermon he had recited in the morning. But when he stood in the pulpit to face his congregation, something seemed to tell him to read from the 5th chapter of Matthew’s gospel and to make such comments as came into his mind.
Immediately upon beginning to expound ‘Blessed are the poor in spirit...’ I felt myself greatly assisted; and whereas in the morning my sermon had not been simple enough for the people to understand it, I now was listened to with the greatest attention, and I think I was also understood. My own peace and joy were great. I felt this a blessed work. After the service I left the aged clergyman as soon as possible, lest I should lose my enjoyment.
From then on, he preached frequently in the villages and towns surrounding Halle. In the whole neighbourhood there were very few men who preached what Muller now considered to be a true gospel message, and when the opportunity to hear a godly preacher— like Dr Tholuck—arose, Muller would walk ten or fifteen miles to enjoy the privilege. On Saturday evenings he still visited and much enjoyed the meetings in Herr Wagner’s house. On Sunday evenings a group of Christian students from the university met together, and from the Easter of 1827 these meetings were held in Muller’s room, until he left Halle. On two occasions, when his love for Christ had grown cold and he was miserable, he opened his heart to his friends and they prayed for him and brought him through.
In August 1827 the Continental Missionary Society in England decided to send a minister to Bucharest. They asked Professor Tholuck, at Halle, to keep his eye open for a suitable man. Muller thought and prayed about it, and was surprised to find that his father, formerly antagonistic, did not disapprove of the idea. It seemed that this was the very opportunity for service he longed for and eventually he told Professor Tholuck that he would like to go.
As he waited to hear more details from London, he counted the cost of going to Bucharest and prayed earnestly about his future work. At the same time, oddly enough because it had nothing to do with the planned move to Bucharest, he developed a passionate interest in the Hebrew language and began to study it out of sheer enjoyment.
At the end of October 1827 an unexpected but welcome visitor turned up at one of the Sunday evening meetings in Muller’s room. It was Hermann Ball, whom he had first met in the Easter of 1826. He told Muller that for health reasons he would have to give up his work amongst the Jews. On hearing this Muller ‘felt a peculiar desire to fill up his place’ but did not think seriously about the matter in view of the Bucharest assignment.
In the evening of November 17th Muller called on Professor Tholuck. In the course of conversation, Tholuck said suddenly: ‘Have you ever wanted to be a missionary to the Jews? I am an agent for the London Missionary Society which works amongst them.’
Muller was startled. He told Tholuck about Hermann Ball’s visit, and his own recent passion for Hebrew.
‘But it is surely not proper for me to think any more about the matter as I am going to Bucharest,’ he said, and Professor Tholuck agreed.
Next morning, however, Muller felt that he had lost all his desire to go to Bucharest. This ‘appeared to me very wrong and fleshly, and I therefore entreated the Lord, to restore to me the former desire for labouring on that missionary station. He graciously did so immediately. My earnestness in studying Hebrew, and my peculiar love for it, however, continued.’
Towards the end of November Professor Tholuck received a letter from the Continental Society. It said that owing to the war between the Turks and Russians, the committee had decided for the time being to abandon the idea of sending a minister to Bucharest where the armies were fighting. Tholuck once more asked Muller what he thought about becoming a missionary to the Jews.
‘I cannot give you an answer now,’ said Muller, ‘but I will let you know after I have considered the matter prayerfully.’ It was a response that was to become increasingly typical of the man. He wrote:
After prayer and consideration, and consulting with experienced brethren, in order that they might probe my heart as to my motives, I came to this conclusion, that, though I could not say with certainty it was the will of God that I should be a missionary to the Jews yet, that I ought to offer myself to the committee, leaving it with the Lord to do with me afterwards, as it might seem good in His sight.
About the beginning of December, 1827, Professor Tholuck wrote commending Muller to the committee in London.
Early in 1828 a new workhouse was established in Halle, where men convicted of minor offences and inclined to be lazy were sent and made to work. Muller successfully applied to fill a temporary vacancy as chaplain to the inmates, while he waited to hear from London. This enabled him to preach to them twice on Sundays and once or twice in the week. He also took the men, one by one into a room ‘to converse with them about their souls... I had at least some qualifications for ministering there; for I knew the state of those poor sinners, having been myself formerly, in all probability, a great deal worse than most of them, and my simplicity and plainness of speech they would not have found in every minister.’
Despite his many extramural activities, Muller successfully completed his university course at about Easter 1828. And it was a very different George Muller who graduated from Halle from the wayward and unhappy fresher who had arrived in 1825. Now his life had purpose, peace and joy; and if, with the passage of time, memories of Halle became dimmed, he would surely remember vividly that Saturday evening in November 1825 when he had visited Herr Wagner’s home and his life had been transformed.
On the 13th of June 1828 Muller received a letter from the London Society for Promoting Christianity among the Jews (later to become the Church Mission to the Jews) of which Professor Tholuck was an agent. The committee decided to take him as a missionary student for six months on probation, provided that he would come to London. His immediate reaction to this news was bitter disappointment. He had spent most of his years since early childhood in study, and now longed to begin active Christian service.
But, on calmly considering the matter, it appeared to me but right that the committee should know me personally, and that it was also well for me to know them more intimately than merely by correspondence, as this afterwards would make our connexion much more comfortable. I determined therefore after I had seen my father, and found no difficulty on his part, to go to London.
Just one obstacle remained, however, before Muller could obtain a passport for England. Every male Prussian graduate was required to serve one year in the army (rather than the more usual three years for the less educated) provided he was healthy. Muller had been declared fit for service when he was twenty but at his own request had had his service postponed until his course had been completed. However, it was well known that those who intended to become missionaries were often exempted. Some influential friends of Muller in Berlin therefore wrote to the King himself seeking his exemption. King Frederick William III, however, replied that the matter must be referred to the appropriate ministry and to the law, and that no exception was to be made in Muller’s favour.
The solution to this problem was unexpected: Muller became quite seriously ill. An eminent doctor prescribed tonics and wine, and a friend—an American Professor—took Muller to the country near Berlin. ‘As long as I was day after day in the open air, going from place to place, drinking wine and taking tonics I felt well; but as soon as I returned to Halle, the old symptoms returned.’ The main symptoms seem to have been severe giddiness, weakness of the stomach, and a cold which Muller could not throw off.
Muller’s American friend was a believer whose love for Christ had grown cold. They went together to the famous Michaelmas fair at Leipzig, and then on to the opera, but Muller did not enjoy it. After the first act, for refreshment, he took a glass of ice; after the second act he fainted. He recovered sufficiently to return to their hotel where he spent a comfortable night. ‘This circumstance the Lord graciously used as a means of arousing me- and on my way home, I freely opened my mind to my friend about the way in which we had been going on.’ At this the Professor promptly revealed that when Muller had fainted at the opera, it had struck him that it was an awful place to die in! ‘This was the second and last time, since I have believed in the Lord Jesus, that I was in a theatre; and but once, in the year 1827, I went to a concert, when I likewise felt that it was unbecoming for me, as a child of God, to be in such a place.’
On their return to Halle, Muller suffered a haemorrhage in his stomach which he attributed to the glass of ice. For several weeks he remained very weak in body but his spirits revived and his love for Jesus returned.
In January 1829 a Christian major in the Prussian army suggested that Muller should offer himself for army service in the hope that while he was still so weak, he would be rejected, and be able at last to go to London. He was duly examined, and found unfit; it was thought that he had a tendency to tuberculosis. One of the generals of the Prussian army, in the absence of his adjutant wrote out the necessary papers himself which gave Muller a complete dismissal for life from all military engagements. The general, himself a devout Christian, took the opportunity to point out certain parts of the Bible which he particularly advised Muller to bring to the attention of Tews, especially Romans 11.
For some time, Muller’s health continued to be very poor until, acting on the advice of a medical professor, he gave up all medicine and his condition began to improve. It would, perhaps, be idle to speculate on the content of the professor’s lectures!
On February 3rd 1829, Muller left Berlin for London, visiting on the way to Rotterdam his father at the house in Heimersleben where he had spent his boyhood. Muller senior, recently retired, had returned to live at the old home. The last time Muller had been there was when he returned for a short while after his imprisonment at Wolfenbiittel. He spent a week with his father before travelling on to Rotterdam, via Munster. At Rotterdam the ice had just broken up on the river, and no steamers would dare venture out. However, after nearly a month’s delay Muller boarded a ship which was bound for England. On March 19th 1829 he arrived in London.