4. Into the Open Air 41
4
Into the Open AirThe news that Whitefield was again in England was greeted with joy by his friends. Charles Wesley was in Oxford at the time, and he quickly made his way to London. John Wesley, who was in the same area, wrote, "Hearing Mr Whitefield was arrived from Georgia I hastened to London. . . . God gave us once more to take sweet counsel together."
During Whitefield's absence the Wesleys had each been converted. They had been in contact with a Moravian minister, Peter Bohler, and he had impressed on them that nothing they could do would save their souls and that salvation came only through faith in Christ. In fear of being eternally lost, the brothers then made the search for faith the burning desire of their lives. But though they yearned to receive faith, they knew not how to do so.
Charles was aided by a book, Martin Luther's Commentary on Galatians, which a layman, William Holland, brought and read with him. As they came upon Luther's statement, "What, have we nothing to do? No! Nothing! but only accept of him 'who of God is made unto us wisdom and righteousness and sanctification and redemption,'" Holland was so overcome with joy that he declared, "I could scarce feel the ground I trod upon."1
As days and nights went by, Charles prayed and longed for faith, and he felt Christ might appear in human form to bring it to him. He soon came to the end of all hope of saving his own soul, and on the morning of Sunday, May 21, 1738 he trusted solely in Christ and entered into the assurance of salvation. Filled with delight, he wrote a hymn to commemorate the occasion, and it may well have been his grand composition that begins,
And can it be that I should gain,
An interest in the Saviour's blood?
Three days later John came into the same experience. As is widely known, he was present at a Society in Aldersgate Street where "one was reading Luther's preface to his commentary on the epistle to the Romans." The reader was undoubtedly William Holland, and Wesley states that as he read,
I felt my heart strangely warmed. I felt I did trust in Christ, Christ alone for salvation; and an assurance was given me that he had taken away my sins, even mine, and saved me from the law of sin and death.2
The experience of the new birth proved a great turning point in the life of each of the brothers. For Charles, conversion especially opened the fountain of poetic composition that was part of his very nature, and a virtual stream of hymns began to flow from his pen—hymns that have strengthened, beautified, and elevated Christian singing from that day till this.
John likewise experienced victory and spiritual joy. But seeking further enlightenment he paid a visit to the Moravian headquarters at Herrnhut in Germany, and upon his return to London he was something of a Moravian himself. In a letter to Herrnhut he stated,
We are endeavouring here also .. . to be followers of you as you are of Christ.... Though my brother and I are not permitted to preach in most of the churches in London, yet, 'thanks be to God' there are others left wherein we have liberty to speak the truth as it is in Jesus. Likewise on every evening .. . we publish the word of reconciliation, sometimes to twenty or thirty, sometimes to fifty or sixty, sometimes to three or four hundred persons, met together to hear it.3
The fact that Whitefield was again in London drew not only the Wesleys to greet him. Four other Holy Club men came also. The seven entered with intense fervor into the already ardent meetings of the Fetter Lane Society, and we feel something of their enthusiasm as we read Whitefield's report:
Sometimes whole nights were spent in prayer. Often have we been filled as with new wine. And often have we seen them overwhelmed with the Divine presence and crying out, "Will God indeed dwell with men upon earth! How dreadful is this place! This is none other than the house of God and the gate of Heaven!"4
But John Wesley had a still more striking account of their fellowship. On New Year's night, as they met with "about sixty brethren" for the Moravian Love Feast,
About three in the morning, as we were continuing instant in prayer, the power of God came mightily upon us, insomuch that many cried out for exceeding joy, and many fell to the ground. As soon as we were recovered a little from that awe and amazement at the presence of His majesty, we broke out with one voice, 'We praise Thee, O God; we acknowledge Thee to be the Lord!'5
Early in January Whitefield went to Oxford to enter the second stage of the Church of England's ordination: that of a priest. The rite was performed by Bishop Benson, the prelate who had ordained him a deacon. Dr. Benson had already spoken of Whitefield as "a well-meaning young man, with good abilities and great zeal," and had prayed that "God would grant him great success in all his undertakings for the . . . revival of true religion in these degenerative days." Whitefield received this second ordination with the same awesome sense of spiritual responsibility as he had the first.
The opposition that had been somewhat evident against Whitefield before he went to Georgia had increased noticeably during his absence. Formerly several of the clergy had merely tolerated him, assuming that as soon as he left England his influence would die away.
But they found the very opposite to be true. During his absence, his hosts of followers in Bristol, in Gloucester, and in London continued to hold him in high admiration and to pray that he would soon return. Nine of the sermons he had preached were published, and one on "The New Birth" received a very large circulation and became something of a manifesto of the Methodist movement. Moreover, a Journal of his voyage to America had also been published—this without his knowledge—three publishers giving it their own edition. By these means, although without the least design on his part, he was kept before the public.
Whitefield had previously used several churches, preaching and receiving offerings for Georgia. As he returned, he assumed the churches would be even more available, for he was now speaking on behalf of orphans. But on his second day in London he stated, "Five churches have already been denied me, and some of the clergy would oblige me to depart out of these coasts."
Nevertheless, he had a tremendous ministry. He preached in a total of fifteen churches, but it was in the Religious Societies that he found his greatest labor. Something of his constant activity is evident in the following report:
Preached nine times this week, and expounded near eighteen times.... I am every moment employed from morning till midnight. There is no end of people coming to me, and they seem more and more desirous, like new-born babes, to be fed with the sincere milk of the Word.6
Whitefield felt, however, that this situation might not long continue. He felt that both he and the Wesleys might soon be denied the use of all the churches, and might even be prevented from ministering in the Societies. Accordingly, after knowing that a host of people had stood outside a church while he had preached within, he said, "This put me first upon thinking of preaching without doors. I mentioned it to some friends who looked upon it as a mad notion. However, we kneeled down and prayed that nothing may be done rashly."7
But the idea of preaching out-of-doors did not originate with Whitefield. It came to him through correspondence with a tireless, fearless, dynamic Welshman, Howell Harris.
Harris, a schoolteacher, had been converted about the same time as Whitefield. Although he was a layman and therefore not allowed to preach, he began to gather people together in private homes and declared to them what God had done for his soul.
Harris soon went further. He attended various outdoor events—such things as fairs and sporting matches—and, using anything as a platform—a horse block, a stone wall, or a table placed on the street—he preached the gospel. His efforts were marked by tremendous zeal, and the blessing of God was abundantly upon him. He was bitterly opposed by magistrates and clergy, but mighty conviction and glorious conversion accompanied his work, and much of South Wales became aware of this fervent man and his message.
Because he was unordained, Harris did not call his work preaching; he referred to it only as "exhorting." But he resigned from teaching school and devoted himself totally to this labor, and we catch something of his spirit from his statement,
A strong necessity was laid upon me that... I must go to the utmost to exhort. I could not meet or travel with anybody ... without speaking to them concerning their souls. I went during the festive season from house to house in our parish. . . .
My food and my drink was praising God. A fire was kindled in my soul and I was clothed with power.... I could have spoken to the King were he within my reach. .. . I lifted up my voice with authority, and fear and terror would be seen on all faces. .. . I thundered greatly, denouncing the gentry, the carnal clergy and everybody.8
Shortly after his return from Georgia, Whitefield heard of Harris and wrote to him. Harris replied, and it was evident that here were two men of kindred spirit and similar work.
Whitefield determined to go to Wales to meet Harris, accompany him as he conducted some of his open-air meetings, and watch him as he performed his tremendous task.
Whitefield took with him on this trip a young gentleman, William Seward, the son of a country squire. Seward had attained financial success in the stock market and had given extensively in the support of Charity Schools. In seeking spiritual help he had met Charles Wesley, and Charles soon reported, "William Seward testified faith." But when Whitefield returned from America, Seward became so devoted to him that he offered to place his fortune at his disposal and to accompany him wherever he might go.
On the way to Wales, Whitefield called at the home of the Rev. and Mrs. Westley Hall. Mrs. Hall was the sister of John and Charles Wesley, and their widowed mother, Susanna, was living with the Halls at the time. In a letter to her other son, Samuel, Susanna told of Whitefield's visit and stated, "He seems to be a very good man, and one who really desires the salvation of mankind. God grant that the wisdom of the serpent may be joined with the innocency of the dove."9
After arriving in Bristol, Whitefield found himself so busied in preaching in the Religious Societies and the jail that he put off, for the time being, going on to Wales.
He decided, however, to attempt open-air ministry. Adjacent to Bristol there lay a large coal mining district, Kingswood. It contained several hundreds of miners—colliers—and they, with their women and children, labored long hours at their grimy work. Neither school nor church had ever been built for them, outsiders seldom entered their district, and there had been occasions on which they had stormed into Bristol in violence.
Although the month was February and that Winter was the coldest in memory, on the first Saturday after reaching Bristol Whitefield and Seward went out to Kingswood. They visited from hovel to hovel, inviting the people to gather, and Whitefield reported, "I went upon a mount and spake to as many as came to me. There were upwards of two hundred."
Upon returning to Bristol, Whitefield reflected on what he had done. He knew such an action on the part of a clergyman would be considered the height of fanaticism, but he stated,
Blessed be God! I have broken the ice. I believe I was never more acceptable to my Master than when I was standing to teach those hearers in the open fields. Some may censure me, but if I thus pleased men I should not be the servant of Christ.10
On the following Wednesday Whitefield went out again to Kingswood, and this time the crowd was estimated at two thousand. He was there again on Friday, and now his hearers were believed to number four thousand. And on Sunday, after preaching at 6 in the morning, reading prayers in a church at 8, preaching at 10, and preaching again in a churchyard, he reported, "At four I hastened to Kingswood. At a moderate computation there were about ten thousand people. . . . The trees and hedges were full. All was hush when I began; the sun shone bright, and God enabled me to preach for an hour with great power, and so loudly that all, I was told, could hear."11 He concluded the day by preaching at two more Societies. "About nine I came home, rejoicing at the great things God had done for my soul."
During these days in Bristol, Whitefield stayed at the home of his sister, a widow, and their mother frequently visited. Not surprisingly, Mrs. Longden marveled at the great prominence her son had received.
Whitefield also now paid his intended visit to Wales and met Howell Harris. They each leaned toward an acceptance of Calvinistic theology and were alike also in zeal. Whitefield reported that Harris "had established nearly thirty Societies in South Wales"—a work begun a year before Whitefield began to preach and two years before the Wesleys were converted.
Although outsiders had long been afraid to enter the colliers' district, Whitefield never faced a threatening word or gesture among them. On the contrary, they seem to have held him in true affection, and in a description that has become classic he reported the effects of his work among them, saying,
Having no righteousness of their own to renounce, they were glad to hear of a Jesus who was a friend of publicans and sinners, and came not to call the righteous but sinners to repentance. The first discovery of their being affected was to see the white gutters made by the tears which plentifully fell down their black cheeks, as they came out of their coal pits. Hundreds and hundreds of them were soon brought under deep convictions, which, as the event proved, happily ended in a sound and thorough conversion.12
Whitefield was now holding some thirty meetings a week in and around Bristol. Six weeks, however, was all the time he could give to this work, and therefore he looked for a man who could come and conduct it. He thought of two or three, but considered them unsuitable. So he wrote to John Wesley, urging him to come. But though Wesley was intrigued with the possibilities of open-air preaching, he was too strict in the proprieties of the Church of England to go readily. He and the men of the Fetter Lane Society accepted the first verse their eye lighted upon after opening their Bibles as the direction of God to them in the matter. Four times they came upon a verse that spoke of suffering or death, and Wesley believed that were he to go to Bristol he would die. Nevertheless he declared, "I go," and Charles stated, "I desired to die with him."
After reaching Bristol John reported,
Brother Whitefield expounded on Sunday morning to six or seven thousand at the Bowhng Green; at noon to much the same number at Hanham Mount, and at five to, I believe, thirty thousand from a little mount in Rose Green. . . .
I could scarce reconcile myself at first to this strange way of preaching in the fields . . . having been all my life .. . so tenacious of every point relating to decency and order, that I should have thought the saving of souls a sin if it had not been done in a church.13
Whitefield had announced that there would be a service again at a place known as the Brickyard or the Glass Houses. At the given hour people would be there waiting for him, but he planned that instead of going himself he would have Wesley go, thus thrusting him into preaching in the open air. Wesley went, saw the crowd, and reluctantly preached. This was the beginning of activity which consumed much of the rest of his life.
Knowing that Whitefield was about to depart for London, the Kingswood colliers arranged a farewell for him. "They prepared," he says, "a very hospitable entertainment." Since he had suggested building a school for them, "they were now very forward for [him] to lay the first stone." A man had donated a piece of ground, a stone was provided, and, kneeling upon it, Whitefield prayed that "the gates of hell might not prevail against the design." The colliers gave "above twenty pounds in money and forty pounds in subscriptions," and they also promised their labor and such materials as they might possess.
After this farewell in Kingswood, satisfied that the work he had begun in and around Bristol would be ably carried on, Whitefield left for London.
Wesley then took over the leadership of the Bristol work. He did not possess Whitefield's great organ-like voice nor his dramatic oratory, but although his congregations were smaller, his intellectual concentration and strength of will came into play as he preached and gave his ministry unusual force. Now that he had become an open-air preacher, all was changed for him, and he saw before him the possibility of reaching hosts of men and women everywhere with the gospel and of building a widespread movement. He revealed his vision when, as he stood before a Bristol congregation, he declared, "I could have cried out (in another sense than poor vain Archimedes) 'Give me where to stand and I will shake the earth!'"14
Nothing could more forcibly have indicated Wesley's purpose: "Give me where to stand and I will shake the earth."