A Bold Itinerant Preacher
A Bold Itinerant Preacher
When they reached Philadelphia, George went first to the Church of England church to ask to speak there. He was quickly refused by the commissary in charge who had heard of George’s bold preaching of new birth, and how the people followed him.
“Well, Syms, that did not take long,” George said, as the two of them left the church. “But God will supply us a pulpit.” At the age of twenty-five, he was the best known preacher in England and now in America, thousands came to hear the young Reverend Whitefield. The people of Philadelphia wanted George to preach indoors at least during the winter, and soon built a large wooden building for his use. Converted ministers of any denomination were to use it too.
“Perhaps,” Benjamin Franklin suggested, “we ought to allow Mohammedans or anyone of any religion to use the building.” George gently insisted that only evangelical preachers use it. Franklin finally agreed, and the new building became a public house of worship on Sundays and a charity school for children the rest of the week. Soon the school became an Academy, and then a College, and later the University of Pennsylvania.
William put down the paper he had been reading as George entered their lodging. “You are just in time, George, to see your letter to the slave owners of the South. The newspaper reports that they are furious with you for saying that most of them treat their slaves worse than brutes, work them as hard as the horses they ride on, and take better care of their animals than their slaves. You call them monsters of barbarity, and say, if slaves should ever get the upper hand, the judgment would be just.” William ran his hand down the page. “Ah, here you say I have seen your plantations, your spacious homes, sumptuous fare. And my blood runs cold when I think how many of your slaves have neither good food to eat, nor proper clothing to put on, though most of the comforts you enjoy are from their labors. And here, George, you use the Bible to warn them.” William read aloud, “‘Go to now, ye rich men, weep and howl, for your miseries that shall come upon you. Behold the provision of the poor Negroes, which have reaped down your fields, which is by you denied them. Their cries have come into the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth!”’
George put down the saucer of coffee he had picked up. “I used the word Negroes where the Bible says laborers. I do not know if buying a slave is a sin, but I know the way the slaves here are treated is sin. How often a poor Negro has come to me and asked ‘Do I have a soul?’ My heart breaks as I tell them they have a soul, and it is precious to the Lord Jesus. You know that when I preach, I speak to the black man as well as to the white, and freely offer Jesus to them both.”
William laid aside the paper. “God has gifted you to reach out to black and white, rich and poor with his word in ways that all may understand. I have heard of one Negro who repeats your sermon word for word from memory to others.”
George nodded. “I pray that one day we can build a school for Negroes here in Philadelphia.”
William smiled broadly. “Good, George. Captain Gladman and I will do our part back in England to raise support for such a school. And when we return we hope to bring people and supplies for Bethesda. You have my bill of credit here and may draw upon it for what funds you need.”
Before the week was out William and Gladman sailed for England. George did not know that he would not see William again on earth. When the news came of William’s sudden death, he mourned the loss of his friend and helper. William had given much to the ministry.
“Ah, Syms,” George said, “he was a true servant of the Lord Jesus, and we shall miss that good man.” George covered his face with his hands for a moment. “Sadly, he did not leave a will. We shall have to pay back the bill of credit we drew on, and there will be no more, but God will supply our needs. Our work at the orphanage will go on, but we must leave the school for Negroes to another to build.”
The following day George and his companions rode for seven hours. A gathering of five thousand was waiting for them. As George dismounted he stumbled. Syms and one of the men quickly steadied him. “You are pale and trembling,” Syms said.
George’s body felt heavy and his legs weak. “It’s been a long day.” They had ridden in heat with little rest or food. When they had eaten, George went immediately to the crowds waiting for him. He wanted to preach but could he? He prayed and as he began God strengthened him. He forgot his tiredness, his powerful voice was back, and he was filled with the words of the message. George wrote in his journal that as they traveled on to New York this happened more times. When he had been so weak for want of sleep and the hard journey he thought he might not be able to preach, but God had strengthened him. “With God’s help,” he said as they traveled on, “we will finish this preaching tour.” Thousands gathered to hear him along the return journey to Philadelphia; God was blessing the work. George was surprised when an old enemy appeared.
George was preaching in a small town when a woman in the crowd threw up her hands and began wailing loudly. Soon she fell to the ground rolling and twisting in a fit. Another woman, and then two men did the same. The fits lasted sometimes for more than a day. “The tears that come to a broken heart before God, are not like this, nor the joy of a thankful heart that turns to the Lord Jesus. These wild behaviors come from Satan’s wildfire that he sows among us,” George said. “As long as the work of God is going on, the devil will try to bring an evil report on it.” George gathered those who were with him to pray and ask the Lord to rebuke the devil. “We must teach our people that this behavior is not from God,” he said. When it happened another time George quickly gathered his people to pray. After that the wild fire disappeared and did not come back again to his ministry.
The summer heat was already fierce. George was weary from the miles of travel, and the heavy load of preaching and ministering day and night. He had preached throughout Charleston though it was the month of July and hot. The Commissary of the Church of England in Charleston had publicly condemned George for preaching the “new birth,” and ordered him not to preach in any public church in the province. He warned George that if he did so, then by his authority as Commissary he would suspend George.
George continued to preach in open fields, in meeting houses, and in Dissenters’ churches where Baptists and others welcomed him. The Commissary was outraged. The Commissary of Charleston now declared George suspended. “We decree and declare that the said George Whitefield, for his excesses and faults ought to be corrected and punished … we do suspend him from his office.” The Church of England ministers who wanted to be rid of George Whitefield, could now say he was defrocked, an outcast from the Church of England. The people should no longer listen to him.
“I am a resident of Georgia and you have no authority to suspend me,” George said. George paid no attention to the decree. On the ride back to Savannah he preached many times. They reached Bethesda in the terrible August heat of a Georgia summer.
“This climate is bad for man and beast,” Syms said. “Every day I see it draining your strength, George. You need to leave here and go north, up to Boston and Northampton.”
George had little appetite or energy, and longed for even a little relief from the heat. “A visit to Reverend Edwards in Northampton might well refresh our spirits too,” he said. They left by boat in mid-August for a fall tour that would take them to New England, then back to New York, Philadelphia, and Charleston. When they landed in the colony of Rhode Island, George said, “I feel relief from the heat already, and my strength is returning, praise the Lord!” That afternoon he preached to three thousand people.
In Boston George preached again and again to great numbers. On the Boston Common 23,000, the largest crowd ever known in America up to this time came to hear George. “We need to pray God will raise faithful laborers to carry on this work,” George said. At Harvard College he spoke before the students. His powerful cry that without new birth in Jesus all were lost struck the hearts of people and turned them to Jesus. Many wept including the students. Harvard’s leaders and professors were angry he had preached about new birth in their school. George wrote a letter gently apologizing for any wrong these men felt he had done them, and encouraged them to see what the Bible said about the things he preached.
In Northampton, Jonathan Edwards was waiting for them. Edwards was a tall man, taller than George who was also above average in height, but to George he seemed a spiritual giant. Edwards wrote later of their visit, “… the congregation was extraordinarily melted by each sermon Whitefield preached.” Edwards too had wept.
Mrs. Edwards wrote to her brother about Mr. Whitefield, and said, “He is a … devout and godly man … he speaks from a heart aglow with love ... a born orator … his deep-toned yet clear and melodious voice … is perfect music.”
George left the Edwards’ home feeling deeply touched by this happy, godly family. Syms had slowed his horse to wait for George, and as George caught up with him, he said, “Syms, I think it is time I had a godly wife.”
“Well, sir, it shall have to wait for now,” Syms said, and grinned.
As they rode towards Savannah it was clear that God was blessing the work George had begun there. Many came to tell him how their lives had changed. One man saw George and ran to embrace him in a bear hug. “Reverend Whitefield,” he said, “I once paid any sailor on an incoming boat if he could tell me a swear word I didn’t already know. Now, Sir, thanks to your coming, I live to tell the good news of Jesus.” His tears of joy were real, and so were George’s.
Letters waited for George in Savannah. One of them caused him to gasp. “Syms,” he said, “I must return to England. John Wesley has published a sermon on Free Grace, saying that God does not elect those he brings to himself, we choose him and become Christians.” George shook his head. “No man could ever choose God if God did not first choose him. John is saying that what I teach is a doctrine of the Devil. He cannot see that faith and repentance are God’s gifts to us.” George handed the letter to Syms. “Marcus writes that many of the people we left in John’s care now follow John’s teaching and others long for me to come and help them.”
Syms shook his head. “What you teach is from the Bible not the Devil. You must go back and show them.” By Christmas, George, Syms and James, a friend and helper, were ready to leave for England. Their ship, The Minerva, sailed on January 24. As the men stood at the rail watching the coast of America grow smaller, George said, “We found so many people in this new world, hungry to hear God’s truth, I long to stay but first I must go back to England and answer John’s accusations.”
George turned away to gaze out to the open sea before them. “While we are in England I must also raise money for the orphanage. I now owe 1,250 pounds for the orphan house, and am threatened with imprisonment for debt.”