We will now go back to John Wesley. We shall hear more of Lady Huntingdon and her friends later on.
It was during this summer and autumn of 1739 that disputes arose between the Methodists and the Moravians, who all met together in the room in Fetter Lane. It is difficult to find out exactly how far the Moravians were in fault, as they denied having said some of the things of which they were accused. It seems likely that both the Methodists and the Moravians were wrong on some points, and also that they misunderstood one another, as people often do in such disputes. This might the more easily happen, as many of the Moravians were Germans, who neither spoke nor understood English perfectly. I would remind you, that by “Moravians,” it is not simply natives of Moravia who are meant, but those belonging to the sect founded by Count Zinzendorff, of whatever nation they might be. It seems clear that some of the teaching of the Moravians was not according to the Bible, and this was so mixed up with much that was right and true, that those who were not well taught by the study of the word were easily misled by it. The Moravians said that until a man knew that his sins were forgiven, it was wrong in him to go to the Lord’s Supper, to read the Bible, to hear preaching, or to pray. He should only, as they said, “be still,” and wait for God to save him. It is very true that the Lord’s Supper is only intended for those who are really believers in the Lord Jesus, for we read in Scripture that those who meet at the Lord’s Table to eat together the “one bread,” thus signify that they are all joined together as One Body, the Body of Christ, of which the one bread is the emblem. It is quite clear that none but a real believer has a place in that Body, and therefore none but a real believer ought to have a place given him at the Lord’s Table. But when the Moravians went on to say that an unsaved sinner should not read the Bible, or hear preaching, I need hardly tell you they were going directly in the face of the plain word of God. We read that the “law of the Lord,” by which we may understand the word of God in general, “is perfect, converting the soul”—that the “entrance of God’s word giveth life.” Preaching, too, we are told, is the chief means by which God converts the sinner, as we read in Romans 10, where it is said, “How then shall they call on Him in whom they have not believed? and how shall they believe in Him of whom they have not heard? and how shall they hear without a preacher?”
Again, the Moravians must often have done harm by telling those who were still unsaved that they were wrong if they attempted to pray. It is possible that they may have merely meant that the habit of “saying prayers,” which is not really praying, and which is very commonly done by those who are entirely without faith or life, is a habit displeasing to God. We read in the Bible (Prov. 28:99He that turneth away his ear from hearing the law, even his prayer shall be abomination. (Proverbs 28:9)), “He that turneth away his ear from hearing the law, even his prayer shall be abomination.”
And again, of such God has said, “When ye spread forth your hands, I will hide Mine eyes from you; when ye make many prayers, I will not hear.”
So far, it is true, that there are millions of prayers repeated daily, which are simply an offense to God; and I would warn you of this most strongly, lest any of you who have not really known the love of Christ, should think that the mere habit of “saying your prayers,” whilst your hearts are far from God, is a habit which God can approve. It is also true that with regard to unsaved sinners, God does not tell them to ask Him for pardon and life. On the contrary, He asks them, prays them, beseeches them, to take these gifts, as we find in 2 Corinthians 5:20-2120Now then we are ambassadors for Christ, as though God did beseech you by us: we pray you in Christ's stead, be ye reconciled to God. 21For he hath made him to be sin for us, who knew no sin; that we might be made the righteousness of God in him. (2 Corinthians 5:20‑21). If you went on asking me for something which I was all the while beseeching you to take, I should think you were deaf. But then we must remember that the unsaved soul really is deaf to the voice of God, and therefore if we meet with any such, who feel themselves lost and miserable, and who, not knowing that God is calling them, begin to call upon Him for mercy, we can gladly believe that this is the beginning of their awakening from the death-sleep of sin. It is a very, very different thing from “saying prayers,” and certainly we ought to rejoice to find in any sinner this first sign of a desire for God’s great salvation, deaf and ignorant as it proves him to be. I cannot tell you whether this is what the Moravians meant. It is easy to mistake the meaning of what is said, just as you might, if after reading this you were to say, “Then you mean to tell me that if I want to be saved I must leave off saying my prayers.” What I do mean is, that when you do want to be saved, you will not “say prayers” any more. When once you know what God is, and have been awakened by Him, you will be only too glad to hear His voice speaking to you, and to pray to Him with your whole heart, as you never did in your life before. Most likely the Moravians did not all think alike. In fact, we know that Peter Böhler had advised John Wesley to read the Bible, and even to preach, before he knew his sins were forgiven. Wesley and the Methodists were certainly wrong in some of their answers to the Moravians; for instance, they said that unsaved persons ought to come to the Lord’s Table, in the hope of being converted there. You see Satan was very busy in trying to sow tares among the wheat, as is always the case where the wheat is sown, and a great deal of trouble and sorrow and evil arose from these ignorant disputes. At last, the Moravians said they would keep the chapel in Fetter Lane entirely for themselves, and let the Methodists meet elsewhere. Wesley then bought a large old building in Moorfields, which had formerly been used as a foundry for casting cannon, but was now deserted. This building contained not only a large room suitable for a chapel, but other rooms, to be used for a school, a dispensary, and for prayer-meetings. There was also a somewhat tumble-down house attached to the building, in which John Wesley took up his abode, with his mother and Kezzy. This happened in November, 1739. Just whilst the foundry was being prepared for these purposes, John was at Bristol, where he spent October, making from thence a little journey into Wales. He spent five days in Wales, and preached fifteen times to crowds of people.
He had been invited into Wales by a devoted servant of God, called Howel Harris. It was this good man who had before invited Whitefield to go there. I must tell you something about him, for God remembers His servants, and likes us to do the same. Wales was, 150 years ago, almost a heathen country. The people lived in ignorance and wickedness, and had no more opportunities, generally speaking, of learning the Gospel, than if they had lived in China. Bibles in their own language were almost unknown amongst them. Saturday night was spent in music and dancing, which lasted till Sunday morning. Sunday afternoon was again spent in dancing and other amusements. They must, therefore, have spent the Sunday mornings in sleep. Where the Lord’s Day is forgotten and overlooked, we may be sure the Lord Himself is not remembered. One good clergyman seems to have been the first in the past century who tried to make God known amongst the Welsh people. He sent a party of teachers from village to village, to teach any, who were willing to learn, to read the Bible (if they could get one), and to sing psalms. He himself went about the country, preaching in the open air, before Whitefield began open-air preaching in England. This good man was called Griffith Jones. About twenty years later Howel Harris, then a young man, began also to preach from village to village. Howel Harris was a gentleman of good family. He was born at a place called Trevecca, in 1714. When he was about twenty he became convinced that he was a lost sinner. This thought came to him when he was repeating the confession in the communion service. It suddenly struck him, when he said the words, “that the remembrance of his sins was grievous to him, and the burden intolerable,” that he was telling a fearful untruth, for he had up to that time considered himself tolerably good. He was led by this to real repentance and faith in Christ. His relations, to cure him of what they called his folly, sent him to study at Oxford, intending him to become a clergyman. He does not seem to have known any of the Methodists there, and he became so miserable at the sight of the wickedness and infidelity around him, that he left Oxford in disgust, and returned to Wales. Things were not much more cheering there; but in Wales he could at least do something to spread the knowledge of God. “There was,” he says, “a general slumber over the land—no one I knew had the true knowledge of God—a deluge of swearing; lying, reveling, drunkenness, fighting, and gaming, had overspread the country like a mighty torrent, and that without any notice taken of it, or any stop attempted to be put to it.” Harris, therefore, began to preach anywhere and everywhere—in rooms, barns, market-places, churchyards, and high roads—generally three, and sometimes five or six times a day. All this was before open-air preaching had ever been attempted in England; nor had Harris, as yet, heard of the Methodists. We often find, that when the Lord is doing a great work, He raises up one here and one there, who are all led by the same Spirit to do the same thing, though they may know nothing at first about each other. Harris was threatened by the magistrates, preached against by the clergymen, pelted and insulted by the mobs to whom he preached; but he went on, from village to village, for three years, and then for the first time met with Whitefield. He had thus been used by God to prepare the way for the preaching of the Methodists, and both Whitefield and Wesley found many souls awakened, and ready to receive the Gospel. Two other Welshmen also began to preach over the country—a young clergyman, Daniel Rowlands, and Howel Davies. They met with every kind of ill-treatment, and seem to have become quite used to the showers of stones, dirt, eggs, dead dogs, and dirty water which were lavished upon them wherever they went. “During it all,” says Howel Harris, “I was happy in my soul, and could cheerfully stand as a mark for them.” I hope you will not forget these faithful servants of God.
During this autumn of 1739 a great sorrow befell the Wesley family. Samuel died suddenly at Tiverton, in Devonshire. Sad to say, he had only about three weeks before written to his mother, to tell her how grieved he was to hear that she now approved of the strange notions of John and Charles, and to entreat her to leave off going to the open-air preaching. There was, however, some reason to hope that a few days before he died he had been led to see that his brothers were right, but we cannot tell certainly whether he ever received the gospel into his heart, so as to be saved. He had, however, been a dutiful son, and a great help in many ways to his family, and his mother felt his loss bitterly.