The Gate of Heaven
The Gate of Heaven
It was August of 1744 when George and Elizabeth set sail for America, along with two naval convoy vessels. The war between England and France made crossing the Atlantic a dangerous journey. The uncertain weather on the Atlantic added to the danger. When a sudden storm struck and one of the convoy vessels was badly damaged, George’s ship became separated from the convoy for the rest of the voyage. A few weeks later an enemy ship came into sight, and the Captain called the men to battle stations. George stood on deck out of the way and prayed for God’s safe keeping. Elizabeth, dressed in a plain brown dress and apron, rolled up her sleeves to help the crew make ammunition. She was hard at work, when the cry came, “They’re leaving!”
Elizabeth had held up well, but now she sat down on the nearest overturned barrel. George came to help her up. “Sorry, my dear, that your first sea voyage is proving to be such an adventure, but at least we did not need all that ammunition you made.” George grinned as he took her arm. Elizabeth’s hands were black with powder.
Though enemy vessels were still a threat when the sky began to darken and the wind blew hard, George knew they were in for a storm, and it was coming fast. By the time they made their way to the cabin Elizabeth found it nearly impossible to stand. George assured her, “Storms like this can do much damage to a ship, but God is with us as he was in the last storm. We will pray for safe keeping of the ship and all aboard.” Elizabeth nodded, and after they prayed together George left to help the crew.
The storm did no serious damage to the ship, but by the time it was over George was soaked to the skin and shivering from cold. Soon he became feverish and ill. For days Elizabeth nursed him and gave him the medicines the ship’s doctor ordered. When the fever finally broke, George saw Elizabeth half-asleep sitting at his bedside. She couldn’t speak for the relief of seeing him better.
When they finally landed in the colony of New Hampshire it was October. Already invitations to preach waited for George. They were welcomed to the home of an old friend, and when they at last retired to their room George lay down immediately. “My dear,” Elizabeth said, “you look so pale and tired, I hardly think you will be able to preach tomorrow.”
“I must try, Elizabeth. Preaching often has been a good medicine for me.” For a week he did feel strengthened when he preached, but the fever on board the ship had left him weakened. All at once he collapsed.
Every part of him felt shot through with pain. From somewhere above him he could hear a man’s voice say, “I fear he may not recover from this deadly illness.” George’s only thought was how good it would be to leave his body behind and be with the Lord.
He thought it was Elizabeth’s voice that said, “So many are praying for him, doctor. Some have been praying day and night.”
The fever left, but the pain did not, and George continued quite sick. Visitors came and went. George had closed his eyes but was not asleep when he heard voices from the hall talking about the “foolish mistake” that was bringing crowds of people to hear Mr. Whitefield. “He can’t preach now” one said. “Yes, and some have come a long way to hear him.” George’s eyes flew open. In a weak voice he called the men to his bedside and asked them when he was supposed to preach.
“Why tomorrow” one of the men said. “It was a sad mistake, sir that the notice went out. You must not give it any more thought.” The men left but George could only think of one thing: he ought to go, but how? He was sure he was dying, and could see that Elizabeth and those caring for him thought the same.
Elizabeth and the colonel were standing by his bedside when George suddenly cried out to the doctor preparing to give him medicine. “My pains are gone! By the help of God I will go and preach and then come home and die.” To the utter amazement of them all, George sat up and soon left his bed. He felt strengthened enough to go and preach! He preached, but on the way home again collapsed. George heard someone say, “He is gone. He is so young, only twenty-nine, yet God used him to awaken thousands here and in England. It is a great loss.” Tears trickled down George’s face as he lay too weak to speak, and his heart full of love for God. To everyone’s astonishment, including George’s, he slowly began to recover. God had plans for him yet.
As George lay on his bed regaining his strength, an old Negro woman came to see him. She sat by the fire and after a while said softly, “Master you gone to the gate of heaven but Jesus say you got to go back down, ‘cause you got to call some more poor Negroes.” George smiled and then he prayed, “Lord, if I am to live, let it be my joy to call them.” George thought about the old woman’s words. He would reach out to them at every opportunity. He would write a sermon just for the slaves to explain in simple clear words the basic Bible truths beginning with the story of the Garden of Eden in Genesis. He would teach them with words they could understand. Soon many slaves did turn to the Lord Jesus in faith. Some began to sing about their faith, the songs that would one day be called “Negro Spirituals.”
Elizabeth’s eyes seemed to dance with joy in the weeks and months that followed as George recovered his strength. “My dear husband, I think you will soon be off and preaching again. I won’t be able to keep you here,” she teased. She was right! George left her well cared for with their friends and was soon on his way throughout New England preaching. As before, wherever he went God blessed him and people turned to the Lord Jesus. For nine months George preached all over New England, and now he was eager to go on to Bethesda.
George and his traveling companions were to go by horseback so that he could preach on the way to the orphanage. Elizabeth and a lady companion would journey together and join him later at Bethesda.
As they rode they were met by enormous numbers of people waiting to greet George. “This is God’s doing,” he said. In one place hundreds on horseback rode with them to escort them to the next town. In Philadelphia people begged him to stay six months of the year and do itinerant preaching the other six. “It is a kind offer but I must refuse it,” he said. In Virginia George found people had built Reading Houses where they could go to hear his printed sermons read.
At last they arrived at Bethesda. Among the pines three miles of land had been cleared for the orphanage. The orphanage building was a grand sight, large and surrounded with a piazza and gardens. George’s eyes filled with tears. By the time he had left his horse to one of the older boys, the younger children were clustering around him. George knelt and held his arms open wide. Mrs. Henning and the rest of the staff stood by waiting and smiling their own welcome. George finished hugging the little ones and stood just as a young girl ran to him, stopped and curtsied the best she could without quite toppling over. “Martha, come along,” Mrs. Hennings called.
“Martha, why what a fine curtsy,” George said. Leaning close to her ear he whispered, “I trust you have not been riding any pigs lately. It won’t do for a young lady who can curtsy so well.” Martha grinned up at him, and George patted her head. “Run along now all of you. I will see you all again later for evening prayers.”
At a small table in his office George studied the accounts that James, and his friends the Bryans had spread before him. “The debts continue to pile up,” George said. “Though friends send money from abroad the mail is slow and gets lost from time to time. With the death of Mr. Noble and the money we must pay back to his estate we will have to borrow just to make those payments, and find money to pay our other creditors.”
George looked up from the ledgers at the Bryans. “You have kept food coming into the orphanage, dear friends, and I cannot repay your kindness.”
“We love the work here, and we have prayed and studied on ways to bring in the money the orphanage must have to keep going,” they said.
James now looked excited, “We think we have a plan.” The Bryans nodded in agreement. “Friends in South Carolina are offering to help purchase a plantation and slaves there. All the profit will come to the orphanage. Slavery is not allowed here in Georgia, though it will be soon if the colony is to be profitable. We cannot wait for that time. We must do something now to help the orphanage. What do you think, George?
George was silent for a moment. “I once hoped to buy slaves their freedom to be educated at a Christian school just for them. If I am to own a plantation it must be a place where our laborers, though they are purchased as slaves will find freedom for their souls, rewards for their labor, and safety. I have preached that through faith in Jesus Christ, all of us white, black, Indian enter into his family. I have spoken against all the evils of slavery, and this plantation must become known for its goodness to those who work it. We will call it Providence.” The plantation was soon purchased and became a true haven for slaves employed there.
Elizabeth had come to Bethesda, and began at once to help at the orphanage. They shared the work, laughed at the little ones’ play, read together, walked together, and prayed together. “How the Lord smiles on us to give us so much happiness in him and in each other,” George said.
In the months ahead George took the gospel throughout the lower Middle and Southern Colonies. “I am longing,” he said to Syms, “to reach the new areas, the frontiers pushing westward.” They rode for hundreds of miles as George preached and ministered. At last the constant riding, preaching, storms, heat, and hardships left him exhausted and unable to go on.
“You must go to Bermuda where you may rest from all preaching,” the doctor insisted. Dr. Shippen was America’s most famous doctor, and George could only follow his orders. Elizabeth too had suffered from the fierce heat in Georgia and was not at all well. “Mrs. Whitefield,” the doctor said, “will do better to stay in Philadelphia with your friends and rest there.”
“We will follow the good doctor’s advice,” George said. “It will do us both good.”
In Bermuda, George tried to rest but before long he was preaching to the locals. He would have done more if urgent letters from England had not come begging him to return at once to England. George wrote to Elizabeth that day. “My dear, I must leave on the next ship for England for urgent business there. But you must stay in Philadelphia until you are well enough for a sea journey. Come when you can. I will write and tell you more soon. Pray for me, as I for you, always, my love.”
George left from Bermuda on the first ship to England. On board and alone, he breathed in the sea air, and thanked the Lord for the time to rest. He did pray too, “Lord, how I long for all the souls that sail with me.” It might mean a little preaching.