public-house training at the Bell Inn—he was hardworking and knew how to

public-house training at the Bell Inn—he was hardworking and knew how to

way seems to be barred up, so that I think God will provide for me some way or other that we cannot comprehend.98

His mother soon learned from a visiting friend that a student could work for his expenses at Oxford as a "servitor"—basically an errand boy for wealthy students. She appealed to Whitefield and asked if he would be willing to go. "With all my heart," he replied. While Whitefield returned to his old schoolmaster to complete his academic requirements, his mother finished setting up a servitor's position at Pembroke College, Oxford.

The Dawn of Destiny Breaks Forth

George Whitefield was eighteen when he entered Pembroke in November 1732. His abilities as a servitor soon came to be in high demand because of his public-house training at the Bell Inn—he was hardworking and knew how to cater to and charm his customers. He developed a reputation for diligence, friendliness, and, above all, humility. His first year was lonely, however, as he struggled to uphold both his duties and studies. Meanwhile, he also struggled in his search for God and his own destiny. At times, he felt called to preach; at other times, he felt unworthy of that call.

He tried to make peace with God by eating and dressing poorly. He prayed and fasted, attended public worship regularly, and abstained stubbornly from worldly pleasures. Young George was a member in the making for the Holy Club, and although the demands of his clients and classes did not give him time to pursue fellowship with the growing band of Methodists, by year's end he at last made himself known to one of the club's leaders, Charles Wesley.

Sometime in 1735, George had learned that a woman in one of the workhouses had attempted to cut her own throat. Knowing that John and Charles Wesley would be willing to counsel her, he sent them word via an apple seller whom he charged not to give away his identity. She did not obey his orders, however, and divulged to Charles that Whitefield had sent her with the message. Upon learning his identity, Charles sought him out to invite him to breakfast. According to George,

I thankfully embraced the opportunity. My soul at that time was athirst for some spiritual friends to lift up my hands when hung down, and to strengthen my feeble knees.99

Charles, a college tutor and six years George's senior, was impressed by the young George and invited him to join the Holy Club. Their friendship flourished rapidly. Charles lent him several life-transforming books, of which the most profound, according to George, was the Life of God in the Soul of Man by Henry Scougal, a young Scottish professor of divinity who had died in 1657 at the age of twenty-seven. After reading this book, George would never be the same.

I wondered what the author meant by saying, "That some falsely placed religion in going to church, doing hurt to no one, being constant in the duties of the closet, and now and then reaching out their hands to give alms to their poor neighbours." Alas! thought I, if this be not religion, what is? God soon showed me; for in reading a few lines further, "that true religion was a union of the soul with God, and Christ formed within us," a ray of divine light was instantaneously darted in upon my soul, and from that moment, but not till then, did I know that I must be a new creature.100

Through these words, as George himself put it,

Jesus Christ first revealed Himself to me, and gave me the new birth. I learned that a man may go to church, say his prayers, receive the Sacrament, and yet not be a Christian. How did my heart rise and shudder like a poor man that is afraid to look into his ledger lest he should find himself bankrupt.101

He wasted no time delving deeper into the Gospel of Christ while the Wesleys were still "stumbling in the mazes of salvation by conduct."102 It would take the Wesley brothers three more years to experience the magnitude of God's saving grace by receiving the new birth themselves. "The pupil was the first to become a safe teacher; he knew the 'liberty of the sons of God' while the Wesleys were struggling in chains he had broken."103

But George returned to bondage when he struggled to abide by the strict legalism of the Methodists—they misunderstood grace and were still trying to work their way to heaven. John and Charles had to be born again before Methodism became a means of growing closer to God rather than a means of attempting to earn salvation through good works. George fell into this trap, for although he had been born again, he didn't understand that he had received salvation through his faith, not his works. Ambitious and competitive, he also refused to be outdone by anyone around him. He fasted regularly, depriving

himself to the point of compromising his health.

George Whitefield lived by strict asceticism—he subsisted on bread and water, slept scarcely, and pushed the limits of his strength by visiting the sick and imprisoned during every spare moment. He also wore drab clothes and looked the part of a pauper—a misguided sign of devotion. Because of his newfound piety, students taunted him, refused to pay him his servitor's wages, and even threw dirt as he walked by, but he did not waver in his determination. The master of the college threatened to expel him, yet he was firm in his commitment to buffet the flesh. Sheer exhaustion took its toll, however—his body began to fail him. He finally collapsed and was bedridden for seven weeks.

George was sent home to Gloucester to recover. What he had seen in Scougal's teaching was, for the time being, smothered, and likewise all inward joy and hope. George described how he felt at this time:

My whole soul was barren and dry, and I could fancy myself to be like nothing so much as a man locked up in armour. Whenever I kneeled down I felt great heavings in my body, and have often prayed under the weight of them till the sweat came through me. At this time Satan used to terrify me much, and threatened to punish me if I forgot his wiles.104

During the course of his recovery, he continued to seek the Lord, minister to the needy, and practice a life of methodical devotion. He read the works of William Law and others, but he also rested. After a reprieve from his duties as a servitor and a student, as well as from the demands of the Holy Club and the constant persecutions that resulted from being associated with it, he experienced for a time the transcendent peace of God. He wrote in his journal,

After having undergone innumerable buffetings of Satan and many months' inexpressible trials by night and day under the spirit of bondage, God was pleased at length to remove my heavy load, to enable me to lay hold of His dear Son by a living faith, and by giving me the spirit of adoption, to seal me, and I humbly hope, even to the day of everlasting redemption. But O! with what joy, joy unspeakable, even joy that was full of, and big with glory, was my soul filled, when the weight of sin went off, and an abiding sense of the pardoning love of God, and a full assurance of faith broke in upon my disobedient soul! Surely, it was the day of my espousal—a day to be had in everlasting

remembrance. At first my joys were like a spring tide, and, as it were, overflowed the banks. Go where I would, I could not avoid singing of psalms almost aloud; afterward they became more settled, and, blessed be God, saving a few casual intervals, have abode and increased in my soul ever since.105

As he rediscovered the joy of his salvation, his strength returned and he dedicated himself to sharing the gospel message with all who would listen. He began leading Bible studies in private homes, teaching in the local parish, ministering with greater enthusiasm to the poor, visiting prisoners, and calling on the sick. He formed the first Methodist Society in Gloucester, teaching and discipling the small group of newly converted locals. Already he was emphasizing "justification by faith," which Paul wrote about in Romans: "Therefore being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ" (Romans 5:1). George's conversion experience—being "born again"—governed everything he taught and did; without it, there was no meaning to existence.

He returned to Oxford to finish his course work and oversee the Holy Club in the absence of John and Charles Wesley, who had both gone to the missionary field in Savannah, Georgia. They had departed the same year George had found the new birth, leaving the Holy Club in his care. He led the group and continued to teach and minister in local parishes and prisons. Those to whom he ministered were increasingly convinced of his special call and urged him to consider taking holy orders. Only twenty-one at the time, George was hesitant to enter the priesthood prematurely. One day as George was returning from prayer at the cathedral, the bishop summoned him to his chambers and said, "Notwithstanding I have declared I would not ordain any one under three and twenty, yet I shall think it my duty to ordain you whenever you come; for Holy Orders."106

After a great deal of prayer and fasting, George felt he could resist the call no longer. The ordination ceremony took place on June 20, 1736. During the following week, the degree of Bachelor of Arts was conferred upon him at Oxford. Thus began a new era in the history of the church—a new way in which the message of Christ would be made known and experienced in both England and America.

The Boy Preacher

George delivered his first sermon as deacon from the pulpit of St. Mary de Crypt in Gloucester. Not far from this church where he had been baptized stood the tavern where he had served as a common tapster not five years earlier. Probably out of curiosity more than anything else, a surprisingly large crowd gathered to hear him preach a message entitled "The Necessity and Benefit of Religious Society." He spoke boldly about the need for religious accountability, support, and edification only found in this type of regular gathering. He also spoke about the destructiveness of nonreligious gatherings that had recently gained popularity. As a result of this message, fifteen people were reported to have "gone mad" from an overwhelming conviction of their sins. No doubt a strong sense of the Holy Spirit's presence made people appear to be "losing their minds." The bishop responded that he hoped "the madness might not be forgotten before next Sunday."107

From the beginning, George's preaching reflected years of theatrical performances and a heart filled with intense devotion. The pulpit was his stage, and he would use every ounce of intellect and talent to convey his sermon points. A famous actor of the time, David Garrick, exclaimed, "I would give a hundred guineas if I could say 'Oh' like Mr. Whitefield."108 It was George Whitefield who would set the mark for passionate speaking among American preachers and politicians on the eve of the American Revolution. They learned from his example how to move a crowd to action.

By the end of the summer he was invited to step in as curate at the famed Tower of London while the regular curate was away. He preached for the first time after arriving in London at the large Bishopsgatestreet Church. At first, the congregation mistrusted him on account of his youth. As soon as he started to deliver his message, however, the congregation was spellbound. George recorded their reaction in his journal:

As I went up the stairs 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, blessed me as I passed along, and made great enquiry who I was.109

It wasn't long before all of London knew the name of George Whitefield, whom they fondly called the "boy preacher." The crowds who came to hear about the "new birth" far exceeded the Tower's accommodations. From the

beginning, George preached to packed houses; the common people seemed to flock to him. He was invited next to stand in as vicar in the small village of Dummer, Hampshire, where his popularity continued to grow. He was soon offered a lucrative position as curate110 in a prominent London church.

America Calling

During his stint in Dummer, George received a letter from John Wesley, imploring him to come to America "where the harvest is so great and the labourers so few. What if thou art the man, Mr. Whitefield?" "Upon hearing this," wrote George, "my heart leaped within me, and, as it were, echoed to the call!"111

Within the same year that George answered the call to join the clergy, he sensed a call to become a missionary. Though he spent only two months in quiet Dummer, they were productive months in his preparation for the coming tide of evangelistic success he would experience before leaving England. He studied, prayed, read, meditated—and journaled. He wrote, "I always observed, as my inward strength increased, so my outward sphere of action increased proportionately."112

George would not be able to set sail for Georgia for another twelve months, but in preparation for leaving, he had already resolved himself of his position in Dummer and his duties at Oxford. He found himself free to go wherever an opportunity arose to preach, and such opportunities multiplied. His growing popularity left him little time to spend in any one place, and he soon began to refer to himself as a "Gospel rover"—never again being bound to any parish, town, or even continent. He took every congregation by storm and quickly became a household name throughout England. His Methodist affiliation made him yet more of a curiosity, and as a result, he seemed to both impress and dismay the Church of England.

One individual who heard George preach said that he "preached like a lion." George combined dramatic flare with a passionate conviction that left no hearer unmoved. His preaching was not only persuasive, but also persistent. His bellowing voice carried the weight of authority—it prevailed over the drums and trumpet blasts that threatened on occasion to drown it out. George would not be deterred; he "preached through and over" every noisy obstacle that presented itself. His voice could be soft and tender with a similar effect,

wooing his audience into utter silence and moving them to quiet tears as he himself wept in the pulpit while meticulously describing Christ's sufferings or the depth of God's sorrow for the lost. While Wesley was meeting with disappointment as a missionary in Georgia, young George Whitefield, "with the golden voice," was "laying the foundation of that Methodist popularity and preaching repute which was to become the outstanding feature of the century."113

Upon his last visit to Bristol, where the Wesleys would first experience the thrill of open-air preaching, George recorded that "multitudes came on foot, and many in coaches, a mile outside the city to meet me, and almost all saluted and blessed me as I went along the street." In his 1876 biography of Whitefield, the Reverend Luke Tyerman wrote that it was "the melting charity, the earnestness of persuasion, the outpouring of redundant love"114 that characterized the preaching of the young evangelist. Tyerman went on to say, "It may be fairly doubted whether Wesley's preaching in 1739 would have attracted the attention which it did if Whitefield had not preceded him in 1737."115 When George told those in Bristol about his imminent departure for Georgia, he recorded in his journal, "Multitudes, after the sermon, followed me home, weeping, and the next day I was employed from seven in the morning till midnight, in talking and giving spiritual advice to awakened souls."116

In August 1737, he returned to London with expectations of sailing to Georgia. One year had passed since he first landed in London and began his whirlwind preaching tour as a newly ordained deacon, and his notoriety was on the rise even as he prepared to leave the country. George's flair for publicity managed to equal his flair for showmanship, and he published his sermons in newspapers in both Britain and America. No church was large enough to contain the crowds of people who wanted to hear the "boy preacher." At a time when London's population was less than 700,000, George was able to hold captive crowds of 20,000. Listeners swooned as his voice boomed exhortations such as this:

Lift up your hearts towards the mansions of eternal bliss, and with an eye of faith, like the great St. Stephen, see the heavens opened, and the Son of Man with his glorious retinue of departed saints sitting and solacing themselves in eternal joys.…Hark! Methinks I hear them chanting their everlasting hallelujahs, and spending an eternal day in echoing forth triumphant songs of

joy. And do you not long, my brethren, to join this heavenly choir?117

Distraught at his impending departure, many offered him large sums of money to remain in London, or, if he preferred, to return to other cities he had visited during the year. It was undoubtedly divine intervention that George was drawn away from so early a rise to fame.

As George's ship, the Whitaker, was heading for America, John Wesley was just setting foot back on English shores. Unbeknownst to George, he had seeded the English soil for the Wesley brothers much better than they had seeded the Georgian soil for him. Thanks to George's preaching, the Wesleys would soon reap the fruitful harvest of the Great Awakening.

Aboard the Whitaker, George immediately began ministering to sailors, soldiers, and fellow passengers. At first he was despised because of his youthfulness, but he proved his worth and sincerity by caring continually for the sick, singing psalms during rough seas, and preaching his usual stirring messages. Once his shipmates heard him preach and witnessed his manner of discipline and service, their hearts softened toward him and they listened with interest to his daily exhortations.

Two smaller vessels had sailed with the Whitaker. The three ships had not been long at sea when the smaller ships pulled in closer to the larger one so that their passengers could hear George preach. Just imagine—even out on the high seas, in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, there was George, preaching over the waves and wind to captive audiences across the decks of three ships. When the ships docked in Georgia, George gave a moving farewell sermon even though he was ill with fever. Sorrow spread as the passengers parted from George and went their separate ways.

The Next Morning in the New World

The Whitaker arrived in America on May 7, 1738. At five o'clock the very next morning, George began his ministry in the New World. He spoke to a congregation of seventeen adults and twenty-five children. Unlike the Wesleys, George came to the colony bearing gifts and much-needed supplies. He came with a heart ready to meet spiritual and material needs alike. Rather than the burden of rules and rituals commonly associated with spiritual overseers, he brought a message of freedom in Christ. The liberty he had found in his own

new birth affected his listeners, and while the congregation had dwindled under John Wesley's oversight, George soon saw its numbers grow. By June, attendance had outgrown the capacity of the Savannah church and news of the engaging young preacher had spread to the surrounding towns.

From the outset, George was moved by the living conditions of the poor, and especially by the growing number of orphans. One month after his arrival, he began to teach the children in the surrounding villages and made arrangements to establish a school in Savannah. He also felt compelled to begin plans for a home for orphans. Although he had not planned to stay long in Georgia for this first visit, it was now clear that he would have to return to England to secure funds for the care of widows and orphans in the colonies and to complete his ordination as a priest.

"What I have most at heart," he wrote, "is the building of an orphan-house, which I trust will be effected at my return to England. In the meanwhile, I am settling little schools in and about Savannah; that the rising generation may be bred up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord."118 George left Georgia with the desire to return as soon as possible. With the great sorrow among the people that typified his departures, he left for England with the promise to return as quickly as the Lord would permit him.

All the Trees of the Field Shall Clap Their Hands

When George returned to London in December 1738, he found much had changed. Foremost, Charles and John Wesley had experienced their own personal conversions through the work of the Moravians and were preaching at Oxford and elsewhere on the "new birth" and "salvation by faith." Their message, combined with the strictness of their moral code, had incurred waves of opposition in the city. Church pulpits were increasingly closed to them, and due to George's association with the Methodists, these pulpits had become less welcoming to him as well.

Not only was his affiliation with the Wesleys controversial, but the personal journals he wrote while journeying to America had been widely circulated. He had intended for them to be shared among a close circle of friends and colleagues, but somehow they had been made public. The clergy members who read them were insulted by George's theological presumptions and felt he had become inflated with pride. They were also certain he had exaggerated his

success in America and the extent of his philanthropic contributions there.

In spite of their objections, George was ordained to the Anglican priesthood on January 14, 1739. He managed to preach to large crowds at the few remaining churches that would admit him, collecting significant financial contributions to defray construction costs for the orphan house he proposed to build in Savannah. His celebrity, as well as his charity, caught the interest of the Countess of Huntingdon, who invited him to deliver a presentation to a gathering of her aristocratic friends. She and several of her peers were soon counted among his most faithful supporters and patrons.

It was not long before George made his way back to Bristol. Upon his arrival there, he found the clergy cold; the pulpits that had been promised him were firmly closed. But he knew from his prior experience there that the common people would not be so judgmental. Being censored by the established churches of the city, he went to the mining district of Kingswood— where there was no church at all—to preach to the coal miners "without a shepherd." He recorded his first experience preaching out in the open, of which an excerpt follows:

I went upon a mount, and spake to as many people as came unto me. They were upwards of two hundred. Blessed be to God, I have now broken the ice; I believe I never was more acceptable to my Master than when I was standing to teach those hearers in the open fields.119

George went on to write that he could see the "white gutters made by their tears, which plentifully fell down their black cheeks."120 The more he took to field preaching, the more he received hostility from the churches.

Hardly a month had passed since his ordination, and he was being threatened with suspension and excommunication. He was not deterred in the slightest, however, but continued to preach openly wherever he could attract a crowd. "I now preach to ten times more people than I should if I had been confined to the Churches….Every day I am invited to fresh places. I will go to as many as I can,"121 he wrote.

It was near the end of March when George again sought to return to Bristol to touch the hearts of the people who had been so moved by his captivating messages only one year earlier. This time, he brought Charles and John Wesley

with him. There, in the town center, he stepped up on a low wall and began to exhort the townspeople as they passed by. People stopped to listen with such rapture that John witnessed firsthand how "the harvest truly is plenteous, but the labourers are few" (Matthew 9:37).

From that day on, the Wesley brothers took to open-air preaching with equal fervor. Within the next several weeks, the field preachers were commanding crowds of thousands, then tens of thousands. When George preached again in Kingswood, two thousand people turned out to hear him; the following time, five thousand came. At Rose Green Common later that month, there was "so great a multitude of coaches, foot and horsemen, that they covered three acres, and were computed at 20,000 people."122

The open firmament above me, the prospect of the adjacent fields, with the sight of thousands and thousands, some in coaches, some on horseback, and some in the trees, and at times all affected and drenched in tears together, to which sometimes was added the solemnity of the approaching evening, was almost too much for, and quite overcame, me.123

The tide of revival had begun and would continue to swell as the Wesleys took over where Whitefield left off. He left them preaching to crowds of thousands in Bristol, Bath, and beyond, while he returned to London to prepare for his journey back to America. He continued to collect offerings at every opportunity for the orphan house in Savannah. Although he met with violent opposition, he was able to collect significant sums as he preached to crowds of twenty and thirty thousand at Moorefield and Kensington Common in London. "Now I know," wrote George, "that the Lord calls me to the fields, for no house or street is large enough to contain the people who come to hear the Word."124

While the Wesley brothers were occupied in the provinces, George brought revival to London. And while George so captured the attention of his audiences that they seemed mesmerized, it was more common among those who heard the Wesley brothers to cry out, shout, or fall to the ground. Though George Whitefield and the Wesleys' ministry styles were strikingly different, they complemented one another nonetheless. The unemotional John Wesley would produce the most dramatic emotional effects in his hearers, while the passionate George would leave his audiences speechless. George had the gift

of opening new territory; Wesley, of taming it. One tilled the field and scattered the seed; the other painstakingly gleaned the harvest—filling the barns and keeping careful watch over the precious yield. The Reverend Albert Belden, author of George Whitefield—The Awakener, made this profound statement:

There are few instances in history of personal influence so perfectly mutual, so profound and far-reaching in their effects on the world at large as the shuttle-like impacts of these three men on one another. They form a triangle of constantly interchanging forces. John captures Charles, Charles lays hold of Whitefield, Whitefield bursts into flame, and in turn, pioneers John and Charles into the greatest religious achievement of the century, and John, through a long and laborious life, carries on and consolidates the pioneer's work. If ever three men were brought together by God for His purpose it was these three.125

Awakening America

On October 30, 1739, George's ship landed in Lewis Town, one hundred and fifty miles north of Philadelphia. He traveled directly to Philadelphia, a city where every church immediately welcomed the famous young preacher from England. It was not long before even the largest of churches proved too limited a venue to hold the throngs of people pushing their way in to hear George Whitefield deliver his epic sermons. Unlike in England, he took to the open streets not because he wasn't welcome in the churches but because the church buildings were too confining. He needed all the space the out of doors could provide, at last taking leave of the city to preach in the open fields.

From Philadelphia to New York, he spoke to record-sized audiences— those who gathered to hear him often outnumbered the local population! From all over, masses of people would descend on a village or field once they learned that Whitefield was to speak there. People came rushing on horseback, in carriages, on barges and ferries, and on foot to witness Whitefield's dramatic interpretations of the Bible. Whether motivated by mere curiosity, the prospect of being entertained, or the earnest desire to hear an inspired word from the Lord, the colonists turned out in greater numbers than even the British people had in London. George Whitefield was a phenomenon.

At the same time that Whitefield was taking America by storm, the Wesley brothers were riding their own wave of revival wherever they preached in

England. The Spirit was at work on both sides of the ocean at the dawn of the Great Awakening; nothing could hold back the tide of evangelism from the lost and hungry populace. The light of Christ pierced the darkness that had pervaded the land as a result of the "Gin Age," in which England had nearly drowned. The colonies were entrenched in a darkness of their own as New World hardships, including disease and the threat of starvation, pressed them on all sides.

The colonists were pioneering individualists who would not be ruled by any force other than the inner witness of the Holy Spirit. They were open to exploring new frontiers, both geographical and spiritual, and they valued freedom and truth. Thirsty for knowledge, they hung on George's every word. Determination characterized those who came from all directions and distances to hear him preach. Nothing could stop the multitudes from coming or prevent George from preaching at every opportunity. He would push himself to his physical limits to deliver the Bread of Life to the hungry masses who, with equal determination, had made a long and dusty trek on horseback to hear him preach.

George was surprised how crowds "so scattered abroad can be gathered at so short a warning." He was also surprised at how such enormous crowds could listen so attentively that, as he wrote, "even in London, I never observed so profound a silence."126 Benjamin Franklin heard Whitefield preach when he first arrived in Philadelphia, and wrote in response, "He had a loud and clear voice, and articulated his words and sentences so perfectly, that he might be heard and understood at a great distance, especially as his auditories, however numerous, observed the most exact silence." Franklin calculated that Whitefield's voice could be heard by more than thirty thousand listeners: "This reconciled me to the newspaper accounts of his having preached to twenty-five thousand people in the fields, and to the ancient histories of generals haranguing whole armies, of which I had sometimes doubted."127

Franklin and Whitefield would share a lifelong friendship. From the outset, Franklin offered to publish Whitefield's sermons in his newspaper, the Pennsylvania Gazette, and continued to follow Whitefield's ministry with great interest. He published several volumes of George's journals, which sold in record numbers. Both men profited from the arrangement: George, from the publicity; Franklin, from additional newspaper subscriptions. Franklin would

even help George raise money for the orphan house. He was so taken with George's fund-raising ability that he wrote the following famous account:

I happened soon after to attend one of his sermons, in the course of which I perceived he intended to finish with a collection, and I silently resolved he should get nothing from me. I had in my pocket a handful of copper money, three or four silver dollars, and five pistols in gold. As he proceeded I began to soften, and concluded to give the coppers. Another stroke of his oratory made me ashamed of that, and determined me to give the silver, and he finished so admirably, that I emptied my pocket wholly into the collector's dish, gold and all.128

George preached throughout the region to such great multitudes that he left in his wake the rumblings of revival. So many thronged to hear him day after day that when he finally left Philadelphia, a company of more than two hundred horsemen escorted him out of town and to his destination, where the crowds continued to pursue him. On through Maryland, Virginia, and the Carolinas, George preached to massive audiences, even in the most sparsely populated areas.

During the next five months, George worked his way back to Georgia, preaching several times a day and raising money for the orphan house. He arrived in Savannah in January 1740 and immediately set to work choosing a site for the orphanage on the five hundred-acre plot of land donated by the city's trustees. He chose a tract of land ten miles north of Savannah and called it the "Bethesda Home for Boys." In 1773, three years after George's death, Bethesda burned to the ground; however, it was rebuilt and still operates today. In fact, it is the oldest operating children's home in America. According to author Edward J. Cashin, the story of Bethesda is the story of Savannah.129

A road had to be created to make the site accessible before construction could begin, and acquiring adequate labor and supplies proved a challenge. There were hardly enough workers available for the enormous undertaking— George had to recruit carpenters, bricklayers, masons, and road workers from distant settlements. Construction finally began, and by March, George noted in his journal that "nearly forty children are under my care, and nearly a hundred mouths are daily supplied with food from our store….The expense is great, but our great and good God will, I am persuaded, enable me to defray it."130

George also expected wealthy friends in Britain and America to provide support, and local merchants and tradesman to donate supplies and services. This did not come about exactly as he had planned, however, and he was compelled to embark on another preaching campaign to raise the necessary funds. Some believed the undertaking was ill-conceived, but George maintained confidence in God's guidance and trust in His divine provision. The financial burden of Bethesda would remain with George for the rest of his life. He was in constant debt and collected an offering for the cause each time he preached.

With unflagging energy and zeal, George began another campaign and headed for Pennsylvania, where his popularity and the demand for his preaching only grew. While George had been overseeing the construction of Bethesda in Georgia, Franklin and other supporters had been busy overseeing the construction of a meeting hall large enough to contain the crowds who came to hear George speak. The hall would later become the site of the University of Pennsylvania. When George returned to Philadelphia, he stayed with Franklin, and although the two did not share identical faith, they held one another in the highest esteem and mutual respect. Franklin continued to publish George's sermons and preaching itineraries, and George continued to ensure the printer's publications were best sellers.

As Whitefield worked his way through New England and on to Boston, Massachusetts, he preached three times daily—at such great length, and with such great force, that he pushed himself to the point of exhaustion. "After great labours, which reduced him physically to such a condition that thrice a day he was lifted upon his horse, being unable to mount otherwise, he rode and preached and came in and laid himself along two or three chairs."131 Attracted by printed itineraries and press coverage in New England, George's audiences continued to grow. In Boston and other port towns along the eastern seaboard, the enthusiasm George generated bordered on panic as crowds "elbowed, shoved, and trampled over themselves to hear of 'divine things.'"132 On the famous Boston Common, he preached to a crowd of more than fifteen thousand several times a day for several days in a row.

Adding Fuel to the Fire

By mid-October, George found himself in Northampton, Massachusetts, the

guest of Jonathan Edwards, a Puritan preacher who would himself continue the American Great Awakening after George's return to England. Edwards was so moved by George's sermons that he was known to break down in tears as he listened to him preach. Edwards's wife, Sarah, was also taken with George's oratorical abilities, and wrote,

It is wonderful to see what a spell he casts over an audience by proclaiming the simple truths of the Bible. I have seen upwards of a thousand people hung on his words with breathless silence, broken only by an occasional halfsuppressed sob….A prejudiced person, I know, might say that this is all theatrical artifice and display; but not so will anyone think who has seen and known him.133

George was equally impressed with Sarah Edwards, and stated his hope that one day he would find such a wife "adorned with a meek and quiet spirit," who also "talked feelingly and solidly of the things of God."134 During his stay with Jonathan and Sarah Edwards, George spent some time ministering to their children and preached twice at Edwards's church. As expected, he left a remarkable impression on the entire family, congregation, and community.

When Edwards had taken up the pastorate in Northampton, he had recorded that the entire area was in a sorry moral state. Edwards had prayed for revival, and he preached with such passion and persistence that he eventually influenced the social climate of the entire nation. Of the impact George left on Northampton, Edwards wrote,

There was scarcely a single person in the town of Northampton, either old or young, that was left unconcerned about the things of the eternal world. Those who were wont to be the vainest and loosest, were now generally subject to great awakenings. The town seemed to be full of the presence of God. It never was so full of love, nor so full of joy; and yet, so full of distress, as it was then. There were remarkable tokens of God's presence in almost every house. Our public services were beautiful.135

George Whitefield's presence in Northampton had the effect of fresh fuel applied to an already kindled fire. While Edwards preached fear of God's judgment, George preached God's mercy and acceptance. With impressive insight, George sensed what his listeners needed to hear. He recorded, "I found my heart drawn out to talk of scarce anything else besides the consolations and

privileges of the saints and the plentiful effusion of the Spirit upon believers."136 It was the tender message that the congregations needed to hear, and hearts that had already been "scorched and broken with the fires of judgment"137 melted at the sound of George's compassionate words—as the Romans 2:4 says, "the goodness of God leadeth thee to repentance." One of his biographers, the Reverend Albert Belden, wrote,

The movement started so powerfully by Jonathan Edwards would have smoldered and died after all too brief a blaze, if it had not been gathered up into the tenderer atmosphere and more positively healing revivalism of George Whitefield. Indeed, there are few features of this whole story more impressive than the sense of a "brooding spirit of Revival" hovering over the Churches of the time both in Britain and America, and which brought about the most timely human contact in pursuit of the great end….These form a kind of mosaic of inevitable ordained connection over which the electric current of revival ran with all-consuming energy.138

It was not uncommon for shopkeepers to close up their stores and workers to leave their tools and plows to come and hear Whitefield wherever he spoke. One person described the scene of one of the open-air sermons he delivered around this time thusly:

When we came within about half a mile of the road that comes down from Hartford Weathersfield and Stepney to Middletown; on high land I saw before me a Cloud or fogg rising. I first thought it came from the great river [Connecticut River], but as I came nearer the Road, I heard a noise something like a low rumbling thunder and presently found it was the noise of horses feet coming down the road and this Cloud was a Cloud of dust made by the Horses feet. It arose some Rods into the air over the tops of the hills and trees and when I came within about 20 rods of the Road, I could see men and horses Sliping along in the Cloud like shadows, and as I drew nearer it seemed like a steady stream of horses and their riders, scarcely a horse more than his length behind another, all of a lather and foam with sweat, their breath rolling out of their nostrils in the cloud of dust every jump; every horse seemed to go with all his might to carry his rider to hear news from heaven for the saving of Souls. It made me tremble to see the Sight, how the world was in a Struggle, I found a vacance between two horses to Slip in my horse; and my wife said law our cloaths will be all spoiled see how they look, for they were so covered with

dust, that they looked almost all of a colour coats, hats, and shirts and horses.

We went down in the Stream; I heard no man speak a word all the way three miles but every one pressing forward in great haste and when we got to the old meeting house there was a great multitude; it was said to be 3 or 4,000 of people assembled together, we got off from our horses and shook off the dust, and the ministers were then coming to the meeting house. I turned and looked towards the great river and saw the ferry boats running swift forward and forward bringing over loads of people; the oars rowed nimble and quick, every thing men horses and boats seemed to be struggling for life; the land and banks over the river looked black with people and horses all along the twelve miles. I saw no man at work in his field, but all seemed to be gone.

When I saw Mr. Whitefield come upon the Scaffold he looked almost angelical, a young, slim slender youth before some thousands of people with a bold undaunted countenance, and my hearing how God was with him every where as he came along it solumnized my mind, and put me into a trembling fear before he began to preach; for he looked as if he was Cloathed with authority from the Great God, and a sweet solemn solemnity sat upon his brow. And my hearing him preach gave me a heart wound; by Gods blessing my old foundation was broken up, and I saw that my righteousness would not save me; then I was convinced of the doctrine of Electron and went right to quarrelling with God about it, because all that I could do would not save me; and he had decreed from Eternity who should be saved and who not.139

George commented on the reactions of such crowds:

Look where I would, most were drowned in tears. Some were struck pale as death, others wringing their hands, others lying on the ground, others sinking into the arms of their friends, and most lifting up their eyes to heaven and crying out to God.140

From Northampton, George made his way back to New York through New Haven, Milford, Stratford, Fairfield, and Newark, kindling the flame of revival in each place. He found himself again in Philadelphia, where he had arrived from England exactly one year earlier. Although the roof had not been completed on the meeting hall that had been built during his absence, a podium and platform had been constructed, and the new building welcomed him as its first speaker. While in Philadelphia, he felt impressed by the Lord that it was

time for him to return to his native country, and he made plans to check on his affairs in Georgia before setting sail for Britain. Of his whirlwind tour through New England, he wrote,

My Body was weak, but the Lord much renewed its strength. I have been enabled to preach, I think, 175 times in public, besides exhorting very frequently in private. I have traveled upwards of 800 miles, and gotten upwards of 700 sterling141 in goods, provisions and money for my poor orphans. Never did God vouchsafe me such assistance. All things concur to convince me, that America is to be my chief scene for action.142

George returned to Savannah to find that despite his great fund-raising efforts, he was still five hundred pounds short of paying the debt he owed for the orphanage's construction. In the middle of January, he bid farewell to record-sized audiences in Boston, and from Charleston he boarded the Minerva back to Britain in the hopes of securing more funding for the increasingly needy orphan house in Georgia.

Friends, Foes, and Raving Fans

The year 1741 was an eventful one for George Whitefield. He was invited to Scotland, where a revival greater than any he had yet witnessed broke out under his ministry. He married a widow, Elizabeth Burnell James—the marriage provided more convenience than comfort, however, as George entered into it with a sense of duty rather than a sincere romantic interest.

This was also the year of his break with the Wesleys over the doctrine of predestination—a break that would affect him more deeply than any other event. Divisive public debates that lasted nearly a year created two camps among the Methodists: the Wesleys' "free grace" camp and Whitefield's Calvinist camp. Two separate groups of "Societies" were on the rise, and soon both Whitefield and the Wesleys saw the danger of the split—they realized the opposition they felt toward one another was scarcely as strong as the opposition between their followers.

Furthermore, George never had any interest in the demands that starting his own denomination would entail, while John Wesley was especially gifted in administrative leadership and organization. Neither could bear to be separated "in spirit" from the other for long. Though their friendships would be rejoined,

the two movements of Whitefield's "Calvinistic Methodism" and the Wesleys' "United Societies" would not.143

Having conquered England and North America, George shifted his aim to awaken Scotland. The Scottish Presbyterians were eager for George to visit them. Calvinists all, Americans and Scots were kindred spirits in the eighteenth century. Both territories perceived themselves to be on the periphery of British control and struggled with their own nationalistic identities. George would visit Scotland fourteen times, experiencing a depth of revival he had not witnessed in the rest of Great Britain or the colonies. He reminisced later in life about the joy he always found in speaking to the Scots; he was "impressed by the 'rustling made by opening the Bibles' as soon as he 'named' his text."144

He put on the map a small town named Cambuslang, just southeast of Glasgow, after he preached to twenty thousand twice in one day and to thirty thousand the next. The sheer numbers were not as unusual for George as the effects of this particular preaching event. He had never witnessed such a hunger for the presence of God among those to whom he preached. Enormous tents were set up to accommodate the thousands desiring to partake in Communion, while worship and prayer continued into the early hours of morning. He recorded the following:

You might have seen thousands bathed in tears. Some at the same time wringing their hands, others almost swooning, and others crying out, and mourning over a pierced Saviour….All night in different companies, you might have heard persons praying to and praising God….It was like the Passover in Josiah's time.145

In August, an "open-air" Communion unlike any ever seen in Scotland, much less anywhere else, took place. An observer noted,

Some called it fifty thousand, some forty thousand, and the lowest estimate, with which Mr. Whitefield agrees, makes them to have been upwards of thirty thousand….Of these some were from England and even from Ireland and many were Episcopalians and some even Quakers.146

This scene would repeat itself wherever Whitefield ventured to preach; it is said that the fires kindled during these "Cambuslang Revivals" set all of

England aflame. Of George's impact on his listeners in Scotland, Dr. John Gillies recorded, "The whole multitude stood fixed, and, like one man, hung upon his lips with silent attention, and many under deep impressions of the great objects of religion and the concerns of eternity."147

In addition to the far-reaching impact of the events at Cambuslang, revival was underway in all parts of the British Isles. John Wesley was preaching to a perpetually packed house at the Foundry in London, Charles Wesley was preaching to thousands in Bristol and Gloucester, and Howell Harris, a fellow Calvinist and admirer of Whitefield, had ignited revival in Wales.

George understood that his primary calling was to be a "wayfaring witness," bound by no particular place or church, let alone country—he could never preside as Wesley did over a growing network of Societies. "An itinerant pilgrim life is that which I choose,"148 he wrote. John Wesley, on the other hand, refused to send preachers where he could not direct the formation of Societies and felt the Great Awakening in America and Scotland subsided largely because George's converts lacked effective discipleship. He felt they failed to stay the course without an effective leadership structure. George appreciated John Wesley's talent for guiding and disciplining his growing flock, and Wesley acknowledged that no other person "since the apostles called so many thousands, so many myriads of sinners to repentance!"149

In Wales, George joined his friend Howell Harris, who was singlehandedly establishing dozens of Methodist Societies throughout the region. Harris was a field preacher who endured severe persecution, but his persistence ultimately brought revival to Wales. As was happening elsewhere throughout Britain and America, converts were being added daily. George helped Harris form the "Welsh Calvinistic Methodist Association" not long after Harris introduced George to Elizabeth Burnell James, who would become his wife.

Harris was instrumental in arranging the first meeting of George and Elizabeth—a widow who loved the Lord and was dedicated to the Methodist movement. George had told Harris that he was open to the prospect of marriage; he hoped to find a helpmate for his work in the ministry. Elizabeth agreed to marry George even though he made it clear that preaching the Gospel would always be his first love. Elizabeth was thirty-six and George twenty-six

when they married in November 1741. During their weeklong honeymoon, George preached twice a day. Within the month, he was back on the road; thereafter, he would rarely see, or even speak of, his new wife. Two months after his marriage, he was quoted as saying, "O for that blessed time when we shall neither marry nor be given in marriage, but be as the angels of God."150 Elizabeth set up residence in London; George would stay there for short periods but could not remain in one place for long, as the call of evangelism tugged constantly at his heart.

There were also the increasing demands to raise funds for the orphanage, and thus the pace of Whitefield's itineration increased steadily year after year to the extent that he did not see his wife for a period of twenty-four months. Elizabeth was faithful in keeping George's affairs in order while he traveled abroad—she copied his letters and sermons and oversaw the mass of correspondence her husband's popularity required. Two years into the marriage, Elizabeth gave birth to a son who died in infancy. This loss weighed heavily on George, and from that point he showed special concern for children everywhere. He was known to speak directly to them when he preached, telling them that if their parents would not come to Christ, they were to come anyway and go to heaven without them.

Following the death of their son, Elizabeth suffered four miscarriages. Although observers noted that George was always respectful and courteous toward his wife, Elizabeth wrote of her marriage to him, "I have been nothing but a load and burden to him."151 In August 1768, after twenty-seven years of marriage, she entered heaven's gates two years ahead of her husband. After Elizabeth died, George said, "I feel the loss of my right hand daily."152

The Upward Call

The years before George set sail again for America in 1745 were filled with incredible evangelistic victories—and with the most violent persecution. He was frequently pelted with stones, rotten vegetables, and dead animal parts. On one occasion, a rock struck his head and nearly rendered him unconscious. Another time, he would have been stabbed had the crowd not intervened on his behalf. One man tried to strike him with a whip as he preached; others attempted to drown out his voice with drums or trumpets. In 1744, the same year that George's infant son died, an intruder broke into his home and attacked

him in his bed. His life was preserved thanks to his landlady—when George screamed, "Murder!" she came running and shouting, waking the entire neighborhood and sending the assailant fleeing into the night.

When George made his third trip to America in 1745, he experienced such a tremendous welcome throughout the colonies that it took some months for him to work his way south to Georgia. He stayed at the Bethesda orphanage and observed the condition of the buildings and staff. The orphans appeared to be in good health and were progressing in their spiritual growth and education. He hoped to start a college on the premises that would become a premiere center for religious studies in the South. With a renewed fervor, he headed east to generate support for his expanding vision.

George set out for Philadelphia and Boston, being hailed to preach in every town along the way. People came from forty or fifty miles away when they heard he would be stopping in a certain town. Pushing himself to exhaustion, he preached daily to crowds of tens of thousands, expanding the wave of revival to all corners of the colonies. George was on his way to becoming America's first cultural hero—he unified the young nation as it sought to define its position in the world.

George returned again to England, Scotland, and Wales. He earned the further attention and respect of the wealthy Lady Huntingdon, who had become one of his primary supporters. She appointed him chaplain of a network of chapels she had built, a position that relieved some of his financial burdens. The demand for his preaching did not slacken; persecution did, fortunately. During the 1750s, the Methodists, namely the Wesley brothers and George, had gained popular support as their message became more widely accepted among all ranks of society. As individuals, they had also mellowed in the way they expressed their viewpoints. George learned to use a gentler tone in his letters and public declarations, ruffling far fewer feathers as he grew older.

However, his words still cut to the core. One young man, John Thorpe, and some friends, heard George preach in May of 1750, and they went straight on the tavern. There they began mocking his exuberant style to make one another laugh. When it was Thorpe's turn, he grabbed the Bible, leapt onto a nearby table, and exclaimed, "I shall beat you all!" When his eyes fell to the open page they lighted upon the words, "Except ye repent, ye shall all likewise

perish" (Luke 13:3 and 5). The words struck him to the core, and he stopped mocking and began sincerely preaching. Two short years later, he was an itinerant preacher for John Wesley.153

When George made his fourth trip to the colonies in 1751, he took a group of twenty-two destitute boys with him to Bethesda. Seeing the need for expansion there, he returned to England almost immediately to raise the required capital. On his fifth transatlantic trip in 1754, he received an honorary Master of Arts degree from the College of New Jersey (now Princeton University) and worked closely with Benjamin Franklin as he entered the political arena. By this time, nearly every American had heard George Whitefield speak and esteemed him highly, much as people today esteem Billy Graham. George's endorsement of Franklin must have helped significantly to start Franklin's political career. One year later, in March 1755, George left for England and would not return to his beloved Bethesda for another eight years.

In 1760, George was in London when he heard about the Great Fire of Boston. He collected a large sum of money on behalf of "the sufferers" and sent it immediately to Boston. When he returned to America in 1763 and passed again through Boston, even the coldest Bostonians were melted by George's attention and "voted unanimously that the thanks of the town be given the Rev. George Whitefield for his charitable care and pains in collecting considerable sums of money for the distressed sufferers." 154 George recorded that in New England, "invitations come so thick and fast from every quarter that I know not what to do."155

As tensions mounted between England and the colonies, George sided decisively with the colonists. They considered him their champion and clamored more and more to hear his preaching throughout the colonies. George never refused an opportunity to preach and would stop to give a sermon wherever he was hailed, so it took him more than eighteen months to work his way back to Georgia. The physical demands of traveling worried George's doctors, who exhorted him at least to remain in one location if he insisted on preaching. Nevertheless, when he returned to England in 1765, he continued to itinerate from London to Edinburgh.

His wife passed away in August 1768, and almost exactly one year later, George made plans to return to the colonies. He gave a farewell speech to

crowds of thousands in London, and in November 1769, he made his final transatlantic trip to America. Although he was not in good health when he arrived in Charleston, he preached to large crowds for ten consecutive days. He continued his preaching tour throughout New England as if he were still a youthful man. Although battling asthmatic colds, he insisted to his friends that he "would rather wear out than rust out."156 For the next nine months he did not slow his pace, even though he was often "taken in the night with a violent lax [diarrhea], attended with retching and shivering." 157

On the morning of September 19, 1770, he preached a moving message in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, to the ever-present multitude that had thronged to hear the legendary George Whitefield. He then set out immediately for his next destination: Newburyport, Massachusetts. Friends and admirers observed his weakened condition and begged him to rest, but he pressed on. By midday, George was implored by a gathering crowd to preach, and he complied. He climbed atop a barrel in an open field to preach what would be his last sermon. The text he spoke about was "Examine yourselves whether ye be in faith," which discussed the new birth. Whitefield's last public words were about the uselessness of works to get to heaven: "Works! Works! A man gets to heaven by works! I would as soon think of climbing to the moon on a rope of sand."158

George Whitefield breathed his last in the early hours of September 20, 1770, the day after he preached his last sermon. He was fifty-six years old. Six thousand mourners attended his funeral, at which John Wesley delivered the eulogy. Charles Wesley penned the following lines in remembrance of their providential meeting:

Can I the memorable day forget When first we by Divine appointment met? Where undisturbed the thoughtful student roves In search of truth, through academic groves; A most modest youth, who mused alone, Industrious the frequented path to shun An Israelite, without disguise or art I saw, I loved, and clasped him to my heart, A stranger as my bosom friend caressed And unawares received an angel-guest.159

Someone asked Wesley whether he would see George Whitefield in heaven, and he replied, "George Whitefield was so bright a star in the firmament of God's glory, and will stand so near the throne, that one like me, who am less than the least, will never catch a glimpse of him."160

In his life's ministry, George preached more than eighteen thousand sermons —an average of five hundred a year for a thirty-year period, or ten a week. He had recorded these prophetic words in his journal: "I believe there is such a work begun as neither we nor our fathers have heard of. The beginnings are amazing; how unspeakably glorious will the end be!"161

A Powerful—and Strange—Legacy

After his death, George Whitefield's body was laid to rest beneath the pulpit of the Old South Presbyterian meetinghouse in Newburyport, Massachusetts, an obscure town that became a destination for people on pilgrimages throughout New England. In 1775, a group of colonial soldiers, led in part by Daniel Morgan and Benedict Arnold, asked if they could hold services in the building before a battle. After the meeting, they asked the pastor if they could view George's body. Having obtained permission, they pried open the casket, took his clerical collar and wristbands, and cut them into pieces, which they divided amongst themselves to take into the battle as protective relics.

For the next century and a half, George Whitefield's corpse and bones continued to be objects of great attention. Jesse Lee, the "Methodist Apostle of New England," visited the church in 1790 and noted the body's slow decay— something long believed to signify the saintliness and holiness of the deceased. Lee found "the greater part of it hard and firm; a small part of it only had putrefied."162 He took a small section of George's gown and knelt with it to pray.

Over the years, thousands would come to view the body and take pieces of cloth or bone if they could. Abel Stevens (1815–1897), an American editor, historian, and Methodist Episcopal clergyman, viewed the body some years later and even held George's skull in his hands. In 1829, the bones of George's right arm were taken to England, where they remained for twenty years. They were restored later with a procession of two thousand mourners who came to pay their respects. The tomb was finally covered over with glass, and a gas

light was installed nearby so that people who came to see his bones could enter the chapel at any hour to pray and observe his remains without disturbing them. Despite these measures, a small part of one of his thumbs made its way to Drew University, where it is stored to this day in the Methodist Archives. The tomb was finally sealed over with slate slabs in 1933 and left to rest in peace.

More than any other eighteenth-century preacher, George Whitefield paved the way for the modern evangelistic techniques with which we are familiar today. Without the aid of television or even amplifiers, his voice reached into nearly every home of Great Britain and America. His oratory skills and irresistible charisma, combined with his great love for the lost and depth of character, made him a potent force for God. At a time when people were desperate for the light of truth, George Whitefield stepped on the scene. He brought the innovation of field preaching to the Wesleys and a fresh revelation of God's mercy to Edwards, thus igniting the flames of revival across two continents.

93 Southey, Life of John Wesley, 78.

94 Albert D. Belden, George Whitefield—The Awakener: A Modern Study of the Evangelical Revival (Nashville, TN: Cokesbury Press, 1930), 14.

95 Robert Philip, The Life and Times of the Reverend George Whitefield, MA, (New York: D. Appleton and Company, 1838), 16.

96 Ibid.

97 Ibid., 12.

98 Belden, George Whitefield—The Awakener, 16–17.

99 Philip, Life and Times, 25–26.

100 Philip, Life and Times, 26. The italics are Whitefield's.

101 From a sermon given by Whitefield in 1769, quoted in Henry Scougal, The Life of God in the Soul of Man (London: InterVarsity Fellowship, 1961), 12.

102 Belden, George Whitefield—The Awakener, 19.

103 Ibid., 20.

104 Ibid., 21.

105 J. F. Weishampel Sr., ed., "Rev. George Whitefield's Conviction and Conversion," quoted in The Testimony of a Hundred Witnesses (Baltimore, MD: privately printed by J. F. Weishampel Jr., 1858), 121–123, http://www.mun.ca/rels/restmov/texts/believers/weishampelthw/THW049.HTM

106 Richard Green, John Wesley—Evangelist (London: The Religious Tract Society, 1905), Wesley Center Online, http://wesley.nnu.edu/john_wesley/evangelist/JWE-3.htm.

107 Stuart Clark Henry, George Whitefield: Wayfaring Witness (New York: Abingdon Press, 1957), 28.

108 Harry S. Stout, "Heavenly Comet," Christian History 12, no. 2 [Issue 38] (1993): 10.

109 Henry, George Whitefield: Wayfaring Witness, 29.

110 An assistant to a vicar—in essence, an associate pastor.

111 Belden, George Whitefield—The Awakener, 31.

112 Ibid., 25.

113 Belden, George Whitefield—The Awakener, 33.

114 Luke Tyerman, Life of the Rev. George Whitefield, B.A. of Pembroke College, vol. 1 (London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1876), 51.

115 Ibid.

116 Ibid.

117 Stout, "Heavenly Comet," 10.

118 William Bacon Stevens, A History of Georgia: From Its First Discovery by Europeans to the Adoption of the Present Constitution (New York: D.

Appleton and Co., 1847), 349.

119 Henry, George Whitefield: Wayfaring Witness, 48.

120 John Gillies, Memoirs of Reverend George Whitefield (New Haven, CT: Whitmore and Buckingham, and H. Mansfield, 1834), 39.

121 Henry, George Whitefield: Wayfaring Witness, 48.

122 Gentleman's Magazine (1739), 162, quoted in Green, John Wesley— Evangelist, http://wesley.nnu.edu/john_wesley/evangelist/JWE-6.htm.

123 Henry, George Whitefield: Wayfaring Witness, 49.

124 Belden, George Whitefield—The Awakener, 71.

125 Belden, George Whitefield—The Awakener, 18.

126 Stout, "Heavenly Comet," 11–12.

127 Benjamin Franklin, The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin, http://www.kellscraft.com/FranklinAutobio/FranklinAutobiographyCh11.html.

128 Franklin, Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin, http://www.kellscraft.com/FranklinAutobio/FranklinAutobiographyCh11.html.

129 For more on the story of Bethesda, refer to Cashin's book, Beloved Bethesda: A History of George Whitefield's Home for Boys, 1740–2000 (Macon, GA: Mercer University Press, 2001).

130 Philip, Life and Times, 168.

131 Belden, George Whitefield—The Awakener, 90.

132 Stout, "Heavenly Comet," 12.

133 Ibid., 13.

134 Henry, George Whitefield: Wayfaring Witness, 66.

135 Belden, George Whitefield—The Awakener, 113.

136 Ibid.

137 Ibid.

138 Belden, George Whitefield—The Awakener, 113.

139 George Leon Walker, Some Aspects of the Religious Life of New England (New York: Silver, Burnett, and Company, 1897), 89–92, http://historymatters.gmu.edu/d/5711.

140 George Whitefield, George Whitefield's Journals (London: The Banner of Truth Trust, 1965), 425, quoted in Hyatt, 2000 Years of Charismatic History, 115.

141 This would be about $160,000 in purchasing power in 2006.

142 Henry, George Whitefield: Wayfaring Witness, 68.

143 For more on this dispute, see chapter one, subtitle, "The Move of God Divided."

144 Henry, George Whitefield: Wayfaring Witness, 79.

145 Henry, George Whitefield: Wayfaring Witness, 78.

146 Belden, George Whitefield—The Awakener, 135.

147 Gillies, Memoirs of Reverend George Whitefield, 138.

148 George Whitefield, The Works of the Reverend George Whitefield, M.A., vol. 3 (Poultry, UK: Edward and Charles Dilly, 1771), 48.

149 Stout, "Heavenly Comet," 15.

150 Mark Galli, "Whitefield's Curious Love Life," Christian History 12, no. 2 [Issue 38] (1993): 33.

151 Ibid.

152 Ibid.

153 Stout, "Heavenly Comet," 13.

154 Henry, George Whitefield: Wayfaring Witness, 91–92.

155 Ibid., 91–92.

156 Stout, "Heavenly Comet," 14.

157 Ibid.

158 Stout, "Heavenly Comet," 15.

159 Belden, George Whitefield—The Awakener, 18.

160 Hurst, John Wesley the Methodist, http://wesley.nnu.edu/john_wesley/methodist/ch13.htm.

161 Belden, George Whitefield—The Awakener, 129.

162 Clifton F. Guthrie, "Touching Whitefield's Bones: Relics and Saints among Nineteenth-Century Methodists," paper presented at the Southeast Regional Meeting, American Academy of Religion, March 21, 1998, http://www.bts.edu/Guthrie/GuthrieCV&Pubs/Touching%20Whitefields%20Bo

Chapter Three

Jonathan Edwards

"God's Intellectual"

The sense I had of divine things, would often of a sudden kindle up, as it were,

a sweet burning in my heart, an ardor of soul, that I know not how to express.

—Jonathan Edwards

Jonathan Edwards is the most complex—and therefore the most misunderstood—of all the revivalists. Born the same year as John Wesley, Edwards was the son of a Puritan minister and almost considered nobility in colonial New England—though their accommodations were closer to the forts and garrisons of the Wild West than the Wesleys' peaceful parsonage in Epworth.

While Jonathan Edwards would become a pastor and revivalist at the center of the Great Awakening in America, he was also an intellectual who cut his teeth on Enlightenment thought and the writings of such men as John Locke and Isaac Newton. During his life, Edwards would write some of the most scholarly theological works, edit the popular Life and Diary of David Brainerd, which remains a classic piece of missions literature, breathe life into the hearts of two revivals, be dismissed from the church he pastored, serve as a missionary to the Native Americans, and die as the president of the University of New Jersey at Princeton.

Jonathan was a Puritan, but he was also an evangelical Calvinist—a seeming oxymoron. He believed that only God can elect those who are saved; but almost conversely, he also believed it was the responsibility of every individual to search out his or her own personal destiny with God. Jonathan Edwards was a man of immense integrity who balanced the importance of radical faith with discipline and critical thinking. He was never afraid to ask why or question his own beliefs and then search with all of his heart until he found an answer.

During his short life of fifty-four years, Jonathan Edwards chronicled the incredible signs and wonders of the move of God that he witnessed in the

Great Awakening. Questioning the excesses, he argued the necessity of making religion a thing more of the heart than the head. He preached a great deal on the nature of God being defined by His love, yet his most famous sermon was his fire-and-brimstone call to repentance, "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God." He preached the gravity of the wrath of God out of a heart overflowing with compassion and concern for the lost. He was better acquainted with heaven than with hell but was glad to give his congregation a guided tour of hell in the hopes that they would avoid it at all costs.

Jonathan and his wife, Sarah, are among the most notable parents in American history. By 1900, the descendants of their eleven children included thirteen college presidents, sixty-five professors, one hundred lawyers (including one dean of an outstanding law school), thirty judges, sixty-six physicians (including one dean of a medical school), 135 editors, one publisher, and more than one hundred overseas missionaries. Among these were the writer O. Henry, the publisher Frank Nelson Doubleday, and the writer Robert Lowell. Eighty of their descendants held public office, including three U.S. senators, mayors of three large cities, governors of three states, and one U.S. vice president, Aaron Burr Jr. There was also one U.S. first lady, Edith Roosevelt (the second wife of Theodore Roosevelt), and one controller of the U.S. Treasury, Robert Walker Taylor.163 The generational legacy of Edwards's children reflects how the influence of a sincere follower of Jesus Christ is passed down through history.

To focus exclusively on the legacy Jonathan Edwards left, however, would be to miss his primary importance to Christianity today. He was a man willing to struggle with thoughts, feelings, and the rushing tide of change in order to receive the reward of Abraham—friendship with the great "I Am." First and foremost, Jonathan Edwards was a man in pursuit of knowing God, and that pursuit fulfilled everything he desired.

Colonial Beginnings

On October 5, 1703, Jonathan Edwards was born in East Windsor, Connecticut, to Puritan parents Timothy Edwards and Esther Stoddard Edwards. Of their eleven children, he was the only son; Esther had four daughters before giving birth to Jonathan, and six more followed. Although the Puritans came to the New World with high hopes for a religious nation where

believers could live out their biblical convictions as they judged best, it didn't take long for a focus on the promise of a prosperous life to stagnate the faith of many.

Ever present reminders of mortality tempered the lure of materialism, however. Life-threatening hardships were ubiquitous, and it was not uncommon for loved ones to perish from epidemics, accidents, or brutal attacks by Indians. Nearly 50 percent of the Pilgrims who had first arrived in Plymouth less than a century before Jonathan's birth died during the first winter. Because of the threat of Indian attacks, the settlements between Northampton and Deerfield (located in present-day Massachusetts) looked more like military outposts than the quaint colonial-era town replicas that tourists visit today.

It is important to remember that throughout his life, Jonathan considered himself a British subject. He did not live to see the American Revolution, and his birth was in the midst of Queen Anne's War (called "The War of Spanish Succession" in Europe), which pitted England against France and Spain in a competition for land in America. While the war started in St. Augustine, Florida, French territorial holdings were just to the north of New England in Canada. War with France and Spain didn't just mean a change in British government; it meant the possibility of a takeover by Roman Catholicism, which most Puritans considered to be the religion of the Antichrist.

Not only that, but the French Canadian neighbors had stronger ties to the Indians than the British colonists did, and the European wars would each spill over into fighting between the French and Indians and the English colonists. French Jesuits came to America with Catholicism—a brand of Christianity that demanded fewer cultural changes of Native Americans. It was one thing to take the sacraments regularly, and quite another to be born again. This built another bond of loyalty between the French and the Indians, and it wasn't long before the Indians adopted the French disdain for English settlers and their Protestant religion.

The same week that Jonathan was born, Indians ambushed two men in Deerfield (roughly fifty miles north of East Windsor) and carried them to the north as captives. John Williams, Deerfield's pastor and Jonathan's uncle, only narrowly escaped being taken captive. Then, on February 29, 1704, the entire

town of Deerfield was attacked by roughly two hundred Native American braves and a small contingent of Frenchmen. In what became known as the Deerfield Massacre, fifty-six of its roughly three hundred residents were killed; another one hundred were carried off to Canada. Another of Jonathan's uncles, John Stoddard, barely escaped with his life. Wearing only his sleeping gown and a coat he grabbed in his flight, he wrapped his feet with cloth cut from his coat and somehow managed to walk ten miles in two feet of snow to summon help. Help came too late, however; Jonathan's uncle and aunt, John and Eunice Williams, watched as two of their children—a six-week-old and a six-year-old—were killed before their eyes. The rest of the family members were carried north to Canada along with the others. Eunice, still weak from having given birth recently to her baby, who was murdered, collapsed in a stream and was killed on the spot by a single blow to the head with a tomahawk.

Williams and four of his children made their homecoming one year later, when sixty of the settlers were ransomed. He and his brother-in-law, John Stoddard, acted as envoys to Canada for the return of the rest of all the captives at the end of the war in 1713. One of Williams's daughters, named Eunice after her mother, had not been ransomed with him and his other children. She married a Mohawk man in early 1713 and remained in Canada. Williams later wrote about the ordeal in a book, The Redeemed Captive of Zion, which became a best seller.164

The Puritan mind-set interpreted such calamities simply as signs of the times for God's new covenant people, which they believed themselves to be. Like the nation of Israel, Puritans believed they were blessed or punished according to their obedience or disobedience of God. For them, the Deerfield Massacre and kidnappings were like being carried off into Babylon, while their return was likened to Nehemiah's rebuilding of Jerusalem. With death and hardship always near, the Puritans felt they had to hold God even closer if they were to keep any hope of surviving at all. Jonathan remembered being called to pray several times a day to beg God for the protection of family members when he was young.

An Unusual Heritage

Jonathan's family tree, especially on his father's side, represented the two

extreme identities of the time: the Puritan and the frontiersman. The first fit the Puritan ideal of perfectionism, held up as an example to all. The second would be best described as the uncivilized, sinful life—a life to be avoided at all costs.

Jonathan's paternal grandfather, Richard, was a successful merchant who had married his bride, Elizabeth, only to find out three months later that she was pregnant by another man. With divorce virtually unheard of in those days, Richard Edwards arranged for the child to be raised by Elizabeth's parents. More scandal and disgrace followed when Elizabeth was diagnosed with mental illness, an imperfection no one knew how to handle in those days. It seems the illness affected other members of her family as well. One of her sisters murdered her own child; another was killed with an ax by her own brother.

Timothy Edwards was the oldest of Richard and Elizabeth's six children. There is little doubt that he was influenced greatly by his mother's vagaries— on several occasions, she abandoned the family, only to reappear suddenly. After Elizabeth's repeated infidelities, rages, and threats of violence—she once warned Richard that she would cut his throat while he slept—Richard finally appealed to the authorities and sought to divorce Elizabeth. His request was initially rejected, but after several more years of chaos, he appealed again and the divorce was granted.

Although Richard's divorce was legal, his son Timothy paid the price in the community of Puritans, who rejected divorce regardless of its lawfulness. Timothy was mysteriously expelled from Harvard, where he had been preparing for the ministry. "All we know is that an 'ominous' mark was entered next to his name in the 'Severe Punishments' column of the Harvard records. Some believe the timing correlates with his father's divorce petition." 165 With perseverance—a Puritan virtue and an Edwards family trait—Timothy continued his ministerial studies under a private tutor. Harvard later recognized his accomplishments and granted him his degree.

Timothy's wife, Esther Stoddard Edwards, grew up in the home of the great Solomon Stoddard, a famous Puritan minister who was held in such high esteem that many called him the "Pope of the Connecticut River Valley." As the daughter of such a respected minister, Esther was introduced to many of New

England's most influential people and was privileged to receive the finest education available to a woman at that time. Perhaps it was her love of books and learning that helped to whet her young husband's appetite for knowledge, preparing Jonathan Edwards to become one of the greatest intellectuals of his day.

"Swallowed Up in God"

In those days, the local pastor often served as the local schoolmaster, and Timothy Edwards was no exception. Having his father as both his pastor and his teacher played a significant role in stirring young Jonathan's heart toward God. During his early years of education at home, Edwards learned Greek, Hebrew, and Latin. He also described in his journals how, as a young boy, he would often wander through the fields surrounding his home, sensing God's majesty in everything around him. Jonathan was always a man of books, but he would never allow indoor study to monopolize his time.

Even as a child, Jonathan must have sensed God's calling on his life. He recorded in his journals that he spoke often about God to the other boys his age, and together they built a place in the woods where they could pray. He wrote that for a period of months, he and the other boys would go there as often as five times a day to seek God. One can sense the regret expressed in his memoir: "eventually, the nine year old lad 'entirely lost all those affections and delights' and 'returned like a dog to his vomit, and went on in ways of sin.'"166

Jonathan continued his pursuit of knowledge by enrolling at the age of thirteen at the Collegiate School of Connecticut, which would later become Yale University. While studying for the ministry, Jonathan devoured books in the largest library in the area, reading works not only particular to ministry, but also from many different fields. He graduated in 1720 at the head of his class but stayed for two more years to pursue a master's degree.

It seems that Jonathan put aside his previous longing for God until his senior year at Yale, when, at age sixteen, he had a near-death experience, according to what he recorded in his journal. He became very ill with pleurisy167 and was terrified that he would die without being adequately prepared for eternity. He described this dreadful feeling as being "shook over the pit of hell"168— imagery that would reappear in his most famous sermon. Though he recorded

that during this time he committed himself to God in a new way, when he eventually recovered from his illness, he "fell again into his old ways of sin" and continued to have "great and violent [spiritual] struggles."169

This hot and cold experience with God went on throughout Jonathan's formative years. One can understand how doubt might have reigned in his mind, given what his father taught him. According to Timothy Edwards, there were three specific steps to conversion: (1) an initial conviction or awareness of God; (2) a sense of unworthiness and being separated from God; and then (3) repentance and, if God granted it (as a good Calvinist would believe), ultimate salvation.170 Timothy Edwards had to be strongly convinced God had indeed granted one salvation. Jonathan wrote a letter to tell his sister saying that after their father presented these steps to his congregation, hundreds in his church had responded to a stirring of the Holy Spirit in their hearts, seeking a closer relationship with God. Thirty had made appointments with Timothy to have him confirm the validity of their experience, a mere thirteen of whom he accepted as sincere and allowed to join the church.

This process of proving one's conversion was difficult for Jonathan Edwards to accept. His maternal grandfather once told him that, ten to one, those converted would surely know that their experience was real. Since Jonathan's experiences came with struggles of uncertainty, he may have wondered whether God had indeed granted his salvation. Even so, he was determined not only to know with his mind the God of the Bible, but also to experience Him personally to the fullest in his own heart. Nothing short of that would do. As someone once said of him, "He had no middle gears."171

Finally, in 1721, in a regular time of study, the truth of this passage surpassed his rational mind: "Now unto the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only wise God, be honour and glory for ever and ever. Amen" (1 Timothy 1:17). He wrote,

There came into my soul, and was as it were diffused through it, a sense of the glory of the divine being; a new sense, quite different from anything I ever experienced before….I thought with myself, how excellent a Being that was; and how happy I should be, if I might enjoy that God, and be wrapped up to God in heaven, and be as it were swallowed up in him.172

From this point on, Jonathan determined to understand God and His Word

from all points of view, believing that "the more you have of a rational knowledge of divine things, the more opportunity will there be, when the Spirit shall be breathed into your heart, to see the excellency of these things, and to taste the sweetness of them."173 In spite of the darkness around him, Jonathan desired to know the power and wisdom of God, as well as the "sweetness" of God. He was unwaveringly determined to help others to see them as well.

God granted him the abilities required to pursue truth—he looked at the visible things of this world and then used them to understand the truths of the unseen world of God's kingdom. The evidence of this thirst emerged at an early age and continued throughout his life.

The Great Interpreter

Jonathan Edwards was clearly a well-educated man, but much of what he learned about God came from his own process of a disciplined search that included observation, recording his observations and thoughts, making careful interpretation of his recordings, and finally sharing the results and conclusions with others through writing or speaking.

Jonathan would spend his entire life pursuing God's truth with obsessive discipline. He would rise early as a matter of course, a habit he endorsed in his diary by writing, "I think Christ has recommended rising early in the morning, by his rising from the grave very early."174 He resolved "Never to lose one moment of time, but to improve it in the most profitable way I possibly can,"175 and "To live with all my might while I do live."176 For him, this was an ardent intellectual endeavor in which he left no stone unturned in his pursuit of God's glory—and in his pursuit to see God's glory released in the lives of human beings.

Jonathan observed everything he encountered, but he paid especial attention to nature, the Holy Scripture, the writings of scholarly people, and the lives of those around him. His times of tromping through the woods, where he observed the natural world and talked to God, brought many questions to his mind. As a young man, he was captivated by spiders, wondering how their webs were made. He became so fascinated with rainbows that he practiced making them by spurting out a mouthful of water and then watching the sun create small rainbows as the light was diffracted through each water droplet.177

Many have said that if Jonathan had not gone into religious studies, he would have become a scientist like Benjamin Franklin. Instead, he devoured the Word of God, determined to leave no question unexamined. He wrote in one of his journals,

[I] seemed often to see so much light, exhibited by every sentence, and such a refreshing ravishing food communicated, that [I] could not get along in reading…lingering long on one sentence, to see the wonders contained in it; and yet almost every sentence seemed to be full of wonders.178

His quest for truth led him to read books by the likes of Isaac Newton and John Locke. Over the course of his life, he amassed a personal library of more than three hundred books, quite a few in a time when most were blessed just to have a Bible in the house. But it wasn't just reading for reading's sake that Jonathan dedicated himself to devouring books. According to John Piper,

Edwards was not a passive reader. He read with a view to solving problems. Most of us are cursed with a penchant toward passive reading. We don't ask questions as we read….We don't ferret out the order of thought or ponder the meaning of terms. And if we see a problem, we are habituated to leave that for the experts and seldom do we tackle a solution then and there the way Edwards said he was committed to do if time allowed.179

Jonathan's life—and, later on, the life of each of his parishioners—was examined for any gap between the perfection he desired and the results of his personal assessment. He watched carefully for anything that might distract him, especially from spiritual things. Each time he observed a discrepancy in his personal conduct, he drafted a resolution that recorded what he needed to change and how he would accomplish it. He formulated his values intentionally and aligned written goals and plans to ensure that he would live by them.

Framing these types of resolutions was a common Puritan practice that truly seemed to empower Jonathan. By the time his personal list was complete, it comprised seventy resolutions that included never doing anything out of revenge, always maintaining strict eating and drinking habits, and only doing what one would do if it were the last hour of one's life. One of the most revealing commitments he made to himself was Resolution Number 11, which stated, "When I think of any theorem in divinity to be solved, immediately to

↑ Back to top