Among the many instruments which God prepared for the great evangelical awakening of the eighteenth century, George Whitefield first claims our attention. He was the first and, in some respects, the greatest of the great preachers of that remarkable epoch. He began to proclaim the gospel of God’s grace while the Wesleys were still struggling in the bonds of legality. He was the first to preach in the open air.
He has been called the Awakener, and it is interesting to see how God awakened him. Born at Gloucester in 1714, he had no advantage of wealth or birth. His mother owned the Bell Inn at Gloucester. After attending the local grammar school, we find him serving as potboy in his mother’s inn. The business was shortly taken over by his brother, and he went to Bristol and, while there, was affected by a sermon in the parish church. From this time his conscience was awake; he became painfully aware of the sinfulness of his heart. The Spirit of God had begun His work. At eighteen years of age, he went to Oxford as a servitor, where he had to divide his time between work and study. There he came into contact with the “Holy Club” which was being held in John Wesley’s Rooms in Lincoln College. Through reading a devotional book, he learned that Christianity does not consist in going to church and carrying out religious exercises but in a living link with Christ. This was but a foretaste, given to encourage him, for, like Luther and Bunyan and many others, he had to pass through a period of darkness in which he was to learn, as they did, that there was no hope in himself and that, as Paul says, “in me, that is, in my flesh, good does not dwell” (Rom. 7:1818For I know that in me (that is, in my flesh,) dwelleth no good thing: for to will is present with me; but how to perform that which is good I find not. (Romans 7:18) JND). Days and weeks, he says, he spent prostrate on the ground, crying for deliverance from the evil thoughts which welled up in his heart and striving to reach peace and purity by outward austerities. By the severity of his bodily mortifications, he brought on a serious illness. While thus weakened and helpless in body, the Lord poured into his soul-wounds the oil and wine of divine grace. Let us hear his own words:
“About the end of the seventh week, 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 the 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, as I humbly hope, even to the day of everlasting redemption. But oh, with what joy, joy unspeakable, even joy that was full of and big with glory, was my soul filled when this 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 disconsolate soul.”
From then on, save for a few casual moments, he never lost the sense of peace and joy which filled his heart.
Recovering from his illness, he returned to Gloucester to recuperate. Full of his newfound joy, he was disappointed to find how few others shared it. However, he began to witness for Christ, living water began to flow out, and several young people were blessed who soon formed themselves into a society for mutual help.
Shortly after this, he took holy orders, a step which he did not enter upon without the deepest exercise. He was ordained by Bishop Benson on June 20, 1736. It was a very real matter to him, and he surrendered himself wholly to the Lord for His service. Only a week later he preached his first sermon. He was but twenty-one years of age and was called the boy preacher. From the first his preaching attracted crowds; it was as though God drew men to hear him. In Bristol, in London, wherever he went, crowds gathered to listen to him. Moreover, there was evident blessing. He insisted on new birth and faith in the Lord Jesus Christ.
He now went to Georgia, the first of many fruitful visits to America. There were many soldiers on the boat to whom he acted as chaplain. He gradually overcame their prejudice and won their respect so that they readily listened to his preaching. At times, the two other boats in the little convoy would draw alongside, and young Whitefield would preach to the crew and the passengers on board all three. Arrived in Georgia, his preaching quickly proved an attraction, and the places of worship soon became too small for the would-be hearers. His stay in Georgia was brief, and he left America on August 28, 1738, reaching England on November 30. On December 8 he went to London, where he was warmly welcomed. John Wesley hastened from Oxford to greet him. Charles Wesley had already found peace with God and had begun to preach; John had preached his notable sermon on salvation by faith in Oxford and had formulated rules for the Methodist societies in London. Opposition to Methodism was already apparent, and Whitefield found the churches, with a few exceptions, no longer open to him. God turned this to good account. Going from London to Bristol and Bath, he found the church doors closed against him. He now made his memorable stand on Hanham Mount near Bristol and preached in the open air to the poor colliers, a class of men who were practically heathen. Two hundred listened to his first preaching; on the next occasion, two thousand listened; then five thousand came to hear; finally, the numbers swelled to twenty thousand. He then went to Wales, where God had already been working through two devoted preachers, Griffiths Jones and Howell Harris. The former had, like Whitefield, already been forced to preach in the open air by the pulpits being closed against him. Fresh open-air activities followed in Bristol, and thence he proceeded again to London, but ere leaving he introduced Wesley to the people of Bristol, and within a few hours John Wesley had begun his great open-air work which was to continue all over the land for fifty years.
The pulpits of London being no longer available, Whitefield preached in the churchyard of Islington parish church. It was April 1739, and he was still only twenty-five years of age. The following Sunday he spoke at Moorfields, at that time a pleasure spot much frequented by Londoners. His text on that occasion was, “Watch therefore; for ye know neither the day nor the hour wherein the Son of Man cometh” (Matt. 25:1313Watch therefore, for ye know neither the day nor the hour wherein the Son of man cometh. (Matthew 25:13)).
Here are some moving sentences of appeal from that sermon: “Oh, do not turn a deaf ear to me. Do not reject the message on account of the meanness of the messenger! I am a child, a youth of uncircumcised lips, but the Lord has chosen me that the glory might be all His own. Had He sent to invite you by a learned Rabbi, you might have been tempted to think the man had done something. But now God has sent a child that cannot speak, that the power may be seen to be not of men but of God ... and I am persuaded if any of you should be set upon your watch by this preaching, you will have no reason to repent that God sent a child to cry, ‘Behold, the bridegroom cometh’ (Matt. 25:66And at midnight there was a cry made, Behold, the bridegroom cometh; go ye out to meet him. (Matthew 25:6)). ... Let that cry ... be continually sounding in your ears, and begin now to live as though you were assured this was the night in which you were to be summoned to go forth to Him.”
We find him a little later preaching on Kennington Common and Hackney Marshes, upwards of ten thousand gathering to hear. Thousands were congregated to watch the races, yet, it is said, very few left the sermon to watch the races.
Such popularity, however, is but one side of the story. While many listened and many were blessed, others mocked. Opposition and ridicule pursued his steps. His youthfulness and success aroused jealousy. He was bitterly attacked by a London clergyman named Trapp. In a reply defending Whitefield, another clergyman, Robert Seagrave, wrote, “Nothing but obstinacy and envy can deny that a great reformation has arisen upon the manners of the age by the itinerants’ preaching.”
Another visit to America followed. A wonderful wave of revival swept Philadelphia, where thirty-two thousand heard him preach. New York was visited too with similar results, nor were the smaller places en route neglected, and even in the sparsely populated areas people came from far and near to hear him. The theme of his preachings centered around the great vital and foundational doctrines of new birth and justification by faith in the Lord Jesus. Apart from his labors as a preacher, he was in constant demand by hundreds who sought him out at his lodgings for help in all kinds of moral and spiritual difficulties. In Boston, the revival initiated by Whitefield became a flowing tide which continued for months in the hands of others. The interest he had aroused was followed up by local ministers and many little societies were formed.
Jonathan Edwards was preaching at this time, and many consciences were exercised. Souls thus awakened became ready recipients of the healing balm of divine grace which Whitefield poured into their hearts.
From now on, for thirty years, Whitefield’s life was one of incessant gospel labor. Up and down the land he journeyed, now across the Atlantic, now to Scotland, now in Ireland, always with the same effect — listened to everywhere by huge, attentive audiences, appreciated by all, and his labors attended everywhere by abundant fruit. A mighty work was going on; the great revival was in full spate. The Wesleys were now itinerating; others whose hearts had caught fire were joining the growing band of evangelists. The lords of darkness were retreating before the army of light.
This ceaseless labor began to tell on Whitefield’s health. “Had I strength equal to my will,” he wrote in a letter to his flock at Tottenham Court Road Chapel, “I could fly from pole to pole. Though weary and now almost worn out, I am not weary of my blessed Master’s service.”
Yet in July 1770, he could write of preaching every day in a circuit of five hundred miles. At the end of September, he preached his last open-air sermon at Newberry Port, Massachusetts. A friend had warned him he was more fit to go to bed than to preach. Whitefield assented, and then, lifting up his eyes to heaven, he said, “Lord Jesus, I am weary in Thy work but not of it. If I have not yet finished my course, let me go and speak for Thee once more in the fields, seal Thy truth and come home and die.” He then preached to a great multitude for several hours.
For several minutes he was unable to speak. Then he said, “I will wait for the gracious assistance of God, for He will, I am certain, assist me once more to speak in His name.” Then after a powerful preaching, he said, “I go, I go to rest prepared; my sun has arisen and by aid from heaven has given light to many. It is now about to set — no, it is about to rise to the zenith of immortal glory. I have outlived many on earth, but they cannot outlive me in heaven. Oh thought divine! I soon shall be in a world where time, age, pain and sorrow are unknown. My body fails; my spirit expands. How willingly would I live forever to preach Christ. But I die to be with Him.”
At six o’clock the following morning, a Sunday, following a severe attack of asthma, his spirit went to be with the Lord he loved and had so faithfully served.
For an account of his labors in the provinces, in Scotland and in Ireland, of his links with the godly Countess of Huntingdon, of his work in connection with the Savannah orphanage, and of his seven visits to America, we must refer the reader to one of his biographies.