2. Preaching That Startled the Nation 21
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Preaching That Startled the NationWhitefield's conversion had taken place a few weeks after Easter, 1735. He was twenty years old.
His joy was such that he could not contain it. "I fell a writing," he says, "to all my brethren and to my sister, and talked to the students as they came into my room." The gloom was entirely gone from his life. He saw before him the boundless possibilities of growth in Christ, and with glad enthusiasm he leaped to enter into them.
But the months of strain had so undermined his health that it was necessary for him to return to Gloucester to recuperate. He arrived there unwell and penniless, but Gabriel Harris, the mayor of the city, with his wife and son, welcomed him into their home and showed him constant kindness during the months he was with them.
Despite the weakness in his health, he was full of vigor in his spirit. Everything about him seemed new. He found, for instance, a new delight in reading the Bible.
My mind being now more open and enlarged, I began to read the Holy Scriptures upon my knees.... This proved meat indeed and drink indeed to my soul. I daily received fresh life, light and power from above.1
Prayer now became a rich joy. He states:
Oh, what sweet communion had I daily vouchsafed to me with God in prayer. How often have I been carried out beyond myself when sweetly meditating in the fields! How assuredly have I felt that Christ dwelt in me and I in him. And how did I daily walk in the comforts of the Holy Ghost and was edified and refreshed in the multitude of peace.2
Whitefield also sought to "grow in grace and in knowledge" through his reading. He made use of several works of the Reformers and the Puritans, and these books served towards giving him a solid doctrinal understanding. He especially wanted to own Matthew Henry's Commentary, but since he was too poor to purchase it, Gabriel Harris, a book dealer, let him take it and pay for it later. This set became his beloved companion, and he used it constantly.
We can visualize him at 5 in the morning in his room over Harris's bookstore. He is on his knees with his Bible, his Greek Testament, and a volume of Matthew Henry spread out before him. With intense concentration he reads a portion in English, studies its words and tenses in the Greek, and then considers Matthew Henry's exposition of the whole. Finally comes his unique practice of "praying over every line and every word" in both the English and the Greek, feasting his mind and his heart upon it till its essential meaning has become a part of his very person. When we shortly see him preaching forty and more hours per week with virtually no time whatsoever for preparation, we may look back upon these days and recognize that he was then laying up a store of knowledge on which he was able to draw amidst the tumult and haste of that later ministry.
Moreover, moved by an increasing zeal, Whitefield witnessed to men and women around him. He says, "God made me instrumental to awaken several young people who soon formed themselves into a little Society and had quickly the honour of being despised at Gloucester as we had been at Oxford." This was an historically important event, for this group at Gloucester was the first Methodist Society in the permanent sense of the word, and it remained a unit of Whitefield's work throughout his life. Numerous further Societies, raised by Whitefield, John and Charles Wesley, and several other workers, were to follow, but this was the first.
Charles Wesley described Whitefield's zeal, saying,
He now begins from every weight set free
To make full trial of his ministry;
Breaks forth on every side and runs and flies,
Like kindling flames that from the stubble rise;
Where 'er the ministerial Spirit leads,
From house to house the heavenly fire he spreads;
Ranges through all the city-lanes and streets,
And seizes every prodigal he meets.3
Of course such zeal aroused bitter opposition on the part of some persons, but it caused excessive admiration in numerous others. People began to assert that so fervent a youth must enter the ministry, and they urged that he apply for ordination right away.
Although since boyhood Whitefield had entertained the idea that he would one day become a minister, now that he truly knew God, he was filled with a sense of dread concerning the spiritual responsibility that office entailed. He stated,
God alone knows how deep a concern entering the ministry and preaching was to me. I have prayed a thousand times, till the sweat has dropped from my face like rain, that God . .. would not let me enter the Church till he called me and thrust me into his work. I remember once in Gloucester, I know the room, I look up at the window when I am there; I know the bedside and the floor upon which I have lain prostrate. I have said, Lord, I cannot go; I shall be puffed up with pride and fall into the snare of the devil.4
He prayed that if he was to enter the ministry, God would further indicate it by supplying the financial means for him to return to Oxford. And from one source after another money came, insomuch that when he had been in Gloucester nine months he went back to the University. His health much improved, he soon completed his course and graduated with the Bachelor's degree.
There now came upon him increasingly the conviction that God was indeed calling him to the ministry. If he had once thought of this undertaking as a mere profession, that concept was now entirely gone. He knew the ministry was a holy labor that a man might truly enter only at the clear call of God. Nevertheless, he was ready to yield all, to give himself completely to God, and he stated:
It is true I have a difficult task, but God is all-sufficient, to whose almighty protection I humbly commit myself. I give to Him my soul and body to be disposed and worn out in His labours as He shall think meet. I do hence resolve, by His assistance ... to lead a stricter life than ever, to give myself to prayer and the study of the Scriptures. . . . God give me my health, if it be His blessed will.... I give myself wholly to Him!5
Willing now to seek ordination, he returned to Gloucester and applied to the bishop, Dr. Benson. Dr. Benson was one of England's better prelates, and recognizing both Whitefield's ability and his extraordinary earnestness despite his being but twenty-one, he agreed to ordain him.
Although Whitefield still greatly feared the spiritual responsibility of the ministry, he was ordained. The event took place on June 20, 1736 in the magnificent Gloucester Cathedral. He stated: "I attempted to behave myself with unaffected devotion, suitable to the greatness of the office I was to undertake."
He had addressed various small groups, but in keeping with Church of England custom Whitefield had not yet preached. Now that he was in "Holy Orders" he was free to do so, and in a letter to a friend he reported:
Last Sunday .. . I preached my first sermon, in the church of St Mary de Crypt, where I was baptized. . . . Curiosity drew a large congregation. The sight at first a little awed me, but I was comforted with a heartfelt sense of the divine presence and soon found the unspeakable advantage of having been accustomed to speaking when a boy at school, and of exhorting and teaching the prisoners and poor people whilst at the University. By these means I was kept from being daunted over-much.
As I proceeded I perceived the fire kindled, till at last, though so young and amidst a crowd of those who knew me in my infant childish days, I trust I was enabled to speak with some degree of Gospel authority. Some few mocked, but most for the present seemed struck, and I have since heard that a complaint has been made to the Bishop that I drove fifteen mad the first sermon. The worthy Prelate . . . wished that the madness might not be forgotten before next Sunday.6
Such was the effect of Whitefield's first sermon on his hearers, but what, we must ask, was the effect on the young preacher himself? We may be sure it made him conscious he possessed marvelous powers of public address, and he would hardly have been human had he not realized that such abilities could lift him to great prominence and could provide him with the multiple profits arising from success.
But he had not the slightest desire to gain human fame or material wealth. His aims are manifest in several statements he made during those days. For example, his comment, "All I can say is I look for perpetual conflicts and struggles in this life, and I hope for no other peace, only a cross, while on this side of eternity"7 demonstrates his attitude.
A host of people, however, were continually expressing their admiration. "The people grow," he stated, "too, too fond of me. It is time to be going." Accordingly, on the third day after the triumph of his first sermon he turned from the adulation of Gloucester and set out for the University, determined "to be first a saint and then a scholar at Oxford."
He immediately became the leader of the Holy Club, giving guidance to their program of assisting one another in their studies and to their charitable activities. A wealthy baronet, Sir John Philips, recognizing the work Whitefield was doing, offered to provide him with £30 a year as long as he remained at the University. Whitefield proceeded with studies towards his Master's degree, and declared, "I began to be more than content in my present life and had thoughts of staying at the University for some years."
Whitefield was at Oxford merely a few weeks, however, before he was asked to supply the place of a friend who was the minister at the Chapel of the Tower of London. Although he felt himself unworthy to preach and had never before been in London, he accepted the invitation. Of his first service in the city he wrote, "Almost all seemed to sneer at me on account of my youth. But they soon grew serious and exceedingly attentive, and after I came down showed me great tokens of respect." His ministry at the Tower lasted for two months, and among his hearers there were several young apprentices and certain of the titled persons of London, drawn, he says, by his preaching of "the new birth."
He returned to Oxford, but in no time was invited to supply at the village of Dummer. While he was there, he made a decision which greatly affected the rest of his life: he decided to become a missionary to Georgia.
Georgia had been founded by a philanthropical Englishman, Colonel Oglethorpe. He intended it especially as a place where persons released from debtors' prisons could be resettled and also in which Europeans who had suffered Romanist persecutions might find refuge. Among the party that had sailed for the Colony in 1735 were John and Charles Wesley. The lives of these brothers were remarkable for their firm discipline, and they felt that by enduring the privations to be met in foreign missionary labors they would add to the possibility of saving their own souls.
But Charles, since he possessed a sensitive, poetic nature, could not long bear the trials of the new land, and before seven months had passed he left for home. John, feeling his need of assistance, wrote to Whitefield and urged him to come and help.
Although Whitefield was so happy in his life at Oxford, he carefully considered John's request. He felt he was not yet ready to bear the responsibility of ministering in England and that a period in the Colony would provide him with valuable experience. He also assumed that the ocean voyage, supposedly so harmful to one's health, might actually prove beneficial to his not-too-robust condition. Finally, his stay there would not need to be permanent; since ordination in the Church of England is in two stages—first that of a deacon and then that of a priest—it would be necessary for him to return to England to undergo the second rite.
His decision was in no sense an impulsive one. "When these things were thoroughly weighed," said Whitefield, "I at length resolved to embark for Georgia."
Having made this decision, Whitefield intended to leave for America without delay. But he would find himself detained in England for almost a year, and during that time he would be thrust into a ministry of such a nature that it virtually startled the nation.
He went to Bristol to say farewell, but after preaching on a Sunday people clamored for him to preach every day in the week. Churches immediately became crowded, with many turned away for lack of room. People seeking spiritual advice sought him out constantly at his lodgings, and large offers were made in the hope of enticing him to remain in Bristol.
After four weeks of this ministry, he hastened up to London. But there he learned that he was not to sail until Colonel Oglethorpe himself was also ready to depart.
While waiting for the Colonel, he accepted an invitation to preach at Stonehouse in Gloucestershire. He was there when the Spring in all its glory was coming to the Cotswold countryside, and the heart of Whitefield, alive with a perennial springtime, was moved to spiritual ecstasy.
"Sometimes as I was walking," he wrote, "my soul would make such sallies as though it would go out of my body. At other times I would be so overpowered with a sense of God's Infinite Majesty that I would be compelled to throw myself on the ground and offer my soul as a blank in his hands, to write on it what he pleased."8
Whitefield left at Stonehouse the manuscript of his farewell sermon. This sermon, based on Romans 8:30, reveals that a theological system was already forming in his mind. It was the system long referred to as "Calvinism," but which he preferred to term "the doctrines of grace."
While still waiting for Oglethorpe, Whitefield paid a return visit to Bristol. People heard that he was coming, and "multitudes came on foot and many in coaches a mile without the city to greet him." He was invited to preach in church after church, and he wrote:
I preached as usual about five times a week .. . it was wonderful to see how the people hung upon the rails of the organ loft, climbed upon the leads of the church, and made the church itself so hot with their breath that steam would fall from the pillars like drops of rain. Sometimes almost as many would go away for want of room as came in, and it was with great difficulty that I got into the desk. .. . Persons of all denominations flocked to hear.9
Assuming after four weeks that Oglethorpe must now be ready to sail, he again went up to London. Of course, he was requested to preach, and concerning his waiting period he reported:
On a Lord's Day I used to preach four times to very large and affected audiences, besides reading prayers twice or thrice, and walking perhaps twelve miles in going backwards and forwards from one church to the other. The sight of the congregations was awful. One might, as it were, walk upon the people's heads.... They were all attention and heard like people hearing for eternity.
I now preached generally nine times a week. The early sacraments were exceeding awful . . . how often have we seen Jesus Christ, evidently set forth before us, crucified! On Sunday mornings, long before day, you might see streets filled with people going to church, with their lanthorns in their hands, and hear them conversing about the things of God. Other ... Churches near at hand would be filled with persons who could not come where I was preaching, and those who did come were so deeply affected that they were like persons .. . mourning for a firstborn child.10
Nine of the sermons Whitefield preached during these months were published. They combined solid Biblical substance with plain persona] application. They show that he attempted first to reach the mind of the hearer, then to awaken his emotion, and finally to move his will. Here was remarkable preaching, especially from one so young.
From the very beginning of Whitefield's ministry, several of the aristocracy were present at every service. In reference to this early period of his preaching, one of these titled persons wrote:
The preaching of Mr Whitefield excited an unusual degree of attention among persons of all ranks. In many of the city churches he proclaimed the glad tidings of great joy to listening multitudes, who were powerfully affected by the fire which was displayed in the animated addresses of this man of God. Lord and Lady Huntingdon constantly attended wherever he preached and Lady Anne Frankland became one of the first fruits of his ministry among the nobility.11
The Duchess of Marlborough, wife of England's great warrior, the Duke of Marlborough (a famous forebear of Sir Winston Churchill), was frequently one of Whitefield's hearers. She largely dominated English social life and was altogether a woman of the world, but in a letter to Lady Huntingdon she stated,
My dear Lady Huntingdon is always so very good to me that I must accept your obliging invitation to accompany you to hear Mr Whitefield. . . . God knows we all need mending and none more than myself. I. . . now hope, in my old days, to obtain mercy from God as I never expect any from the hands of my fellow creatures. The Duchess of Ancaster, Lady Townsend and Lady Cobham were exceedingly pleased with many observations in Mr Whitefield's sermon in St Sepulchre's Church, which has made me lament ever since that I did not hear it, as it might have been the means of doing me some good; for good, alas! I do want, but where, among the corrupt sons and daughters of Adam, am I to find it.12
We shall notice later the names and titles of several of the nobility who attended Whitefield's preaching in 1750, some of whom were led to the Savior and became strong witnesses for Christ.
But Whitefield was especially heard by great numbers of the common people. He reported:
The tide of popularity began to run very high. In a short time I could no longer walk on foot, but was constrained to go in a coach from place to place, to avoid the hosannas of the multitude. They grew quite extravagant in their applauses, and had it not been for my compassionate High Priest, popularity would have destroyed me. I used to plead with him to take me by the hand and lead me unhurt through this fiery furnace. He heard my request and gave me to see the vanity of all commendations but his own.13
It is evident that had he so desired, Whitefield could have retained very much of this almost unbounded popularity. He had the goodwill of many of the bishops and similar interest of several of the nobility. Sir John Thorold, a man of large wealth, was steadily friendly and had recently given him a sum of money for his personal use; others of the aristocracy showed him constant favor as well. Moreover, there was the extravagant applause, and it had become the practice of numerous people to term him "the Seraph (the angel)."
In his letters, Journals, sermons, and private speech, Whitefield referred to himself as "a Methodist," and a host of men and women counted themselves his followers. The Methodism of Oxford reached but a handful of students and knew no assurance of salvation, and it had died away with the departure of the Wesleys in 1735. But this Methodism arising from Whitefield's ministry was a Methodism of joy and assurance, and this was the Methodism that was to become permanent.
In his concern for the spiritual welfare of the numerous men and women his work had attracted, Whitefield recommended that they be always present at the services and Sacraments of their parish churches. But he also urged them to attend the Religious Societies. These were organizations associated with the Church of England, and as the people flocked to attend, most existing Societies became overcrowded, and several new ones were formed.
Whitefield's labor in London lasted four months. As 1737 drew toward its close, he felt he could no longer postpone his sailing for Georgia. Unable to wait for Colonel Oglethorpe, he announced his departure.
Oh, what groans and sighs were to be heard when I said, 'Finally, brethren, farewell!' . . . All ranks gave vent to their passions. They would run and stop me in the alleys, hug me in their arms, and follow me with wishful looks. . . . With many others I spent a night in prayer and praise, and in the morning helped to administer the Sacrament. But such a sacrament I never saw. The tears of the communicants mingled with the cup and had not Jesus supported our hearts, our parting would have been almost insupportable.14
On December 30, 1737 he boarded his vessel. "God give me," he prayed, "a deep humility, a well-guided zeal, a burning love and a single eye, and then let men or devils do their worst."