George Whitefield: The Man Who Moved The Hearts Of Millions
James Joseph Ellis
Table of Contents
Chapter 1: From the Tavern to College
“For ye were sometimes darkness, but now are ye light in the Lord” (Ephesians 5:8).
“Why George! What a surprise to see you! We never expected to see you here in Bristol. Have you given up the tavern business? Did you get tired of clearing tables and running errands at the Bell Inn?”
“No, that’s not exactly why I left the inn and came here,” George Whitefield replied to his brother. “But I’ve been very uncomfortable working there ever since mother retired from the tavern. As long as our brother who carried on the business remained single it was fine, but ever since he got married the place has become a lot more difficult for me to put up with.”
“You didn’t have a big argument with them, I hope. Of course disagreements will come up even in the best of homes, but there should be no hard feelings by the end of the day. It’s difficult to imagine that some otherwise very good people are hard to get along with in the home or at work. If two people must have different opinions, they should be able to politely discuss their differences, but shouldn’t hold grudges or hate the other person because of their different ideas.”
“I don’t feel like I meant to cause any trouble, but for almost a month now my sister-in-law and I haven’t spoken to each other. I’ve been feeling bad about the barrier between us, and I’ve often gone up to my room and cried for hours before the Lord, but I couldn’t make the first move toward reconciliation. I think it will be much better for us to be apart, so I’ve come to stay with you for a while in Bristol.”
“Well, we’re sure glad to see you,” replied his brother. “Bristol’s a great place for a vacation, and you may be able to find something to do here for work if you plan to stay longer.”
“I actually want to be a clergyman. I really believe that I’ll be one someday.”
“Well George, if it’s to be it’ll be, but I can’t quite see how you will be able to do that. Our family doesn’t exactly have the money to send you to college.”
After two months’ stay in Bristol, George Whitefield went back to Gloucester where he had been working before at the Bell Inn. He lived at home with his mother for quite a while after returning, and he seemed to forget his desire to become a clergyman. But one day a young man who had been one of George’s friends from high school visited him in Gloucester and his dreams revived.
“I wish that George could go to college,” said Mrs. Whitefield to George’s friend. “We might’ve had the money if his father was still alive, but now it’s out of the question. His great-grandfather was a clergyman, and I often think that my dear husband would’ve preferred being one to selling wine for a business. He meant George to be one, but he died in 1716 when George was only two years old, and now college is beyond our means.”
“I work in a servitor’s position at Pembroke College, Oxford, and you know, Mrs. Whitefield, that I paid all my expenses last quarter, and even saved a penny out of my earnings!” said the young visitor. “Servitors are poor students who do chores for the rich students in order to earn enough money for college. I wouldn’t be able to go to college either if it wasn’t for this opportunity of working as a servitor at the same time to pay my way.”
“That kind of thing would work fine for my George!” exclaimed Mrs. Whitefield, and turning to her son she asked him, “Would you go to Oxford as a servitor, George?”
“In a heartbeat, mother!” he answered, his eyes large with excitement. “I already have three sermons ready and I really want to go to college.”
Mrs. Whitefield succeeded in borrowing ten pounds from a friend, and, as she was also able to find an open servitorship for George in Oxford, he left at once for that city in order to study for life as a clergyman. But up to this point he hadn’t believed the gospel of the grace of God for himself – he wasn’t yet a true child of God.
Religion to him was at that time only a complicated list of rules and regulations, and he hoped to get to heaven by doing everything on that list as best he could. One night when he was younger, however, he had had a nightmare in which he saw the burning and smoking Mount Sinai, and God there on a throne as his judge, and he was terrified at the awful doom he was nearing as an unpardoned sinner. God is speaking to me, he had thought, but he hadn’t taken the time to listen to God’s voice then.
Later, when he entered the University of Oxford at eighteen years old, those who said they were the ministers of Christ were teaching that the gospel had been proved to be only a fable. The unbelief of the gospel that was then growing and being taught at the University gave many of George Whitefield’s peers an excuse to make fun of him when he wouldn’t join in their wild parties. He continued to work diligently, however, as a servitor, and was hired by many of the wealthy students. He earned enough money as a servitor that during the three years he went to college he didn’t have to borrow more than twenty pounds.
But as God never leaves Himself without witnesses even in the worst times and places, there were then in Oxford a number of godly young men who met together in a group that their mockers labeled the “Holy Club.” Mr. John Wesley, the leader of this new student society, had noticed George Whitefield, and, although George did everything he could to remain undetected, John Wesley personally invited him to his room for breakfast. These two earnest seekers after truth talked together mainly about the serious matters of the soul, and Mr. Wesley tried to figure out what was bothering his younger friend.
“I’ve laid awake whole nights groaning under the weight of the regret that I feel for my sin. I’ve spent whole days, even weeks, lying on the ground begging for deliverance from the evil thoughts that fill my mind,” explained Whitefield, shuddering at the thought of his hopelessness.
“But you still haven’t found deliverance?” asked Wesley, his brow furrowed.
“Not even a little! So, thinking that I must not have been sorry enough about my sin, I began to fast twice a week, and I wore dirty shoes, a patched gown, and woolen gloves, thinking that a repenting sinner shouldn’t wear nice clothes. In spite of all this I haven’t yet been able to find the peace that I so much need! Oh, Mr. Wesley, I really want security and to know that all my sins are forgiven, but I don’t yet feel like this is the case.”
“I heard that you were sick due to all the grief and stress that has overwhelmed you,” observed Wesley.
“Yes, I was,” replied Whitefield, “but by God’s mercy my health has improved. But I wish to be useful to God. How can I do anything that is worth doing in life unless God saves my soul?”
“That is a good question,” said Mr. Wesley thoughtfully, and with that they closed their meeting together.
After nearly twelve months of darkness, Whitefield, advised by his friends, left Oxford for a time, and went to visit his relatives in Gloucester. It must have been around this time that he came to trust completely in Jesus for salvation, because from then on he was able to rejoice in the Lord and His deliverance from sin. His family members were surprised to find him so cheerful and happy, thinking that, because he was studying to be a clergyman, he would be characterized by the sad, stern attitude that usually goes with the profession.
The society he first met with when back at home did not suit him, being so different from that of those dear friends he had left behind at the university. But he found it impossible to live without spiritual companions. “I decided that I would try either to find or make a friend,” he determined. “So one day I went to Mrs. W., to whom I used to read plays, hoping the change she would see in me might, under God, touch her soul. God was pleased to bless the visit.” Soon after, he was again used of God to awaken several young people, and a little society was formed after the model of the one in Oxford, “where,” he said, “we soon had the honor of being as despised at Gloucester as we had been before at Oxford.”
During his break from Oxford, George began a diligent study of the Scriptures, pouring all his energy into the effort. He put away all his other books and devoted himself to a close and careful study of the Bible. Only by systematic study of the Word of God, together with depending on the Spirit of God, can the hidden beauties of the sacred page be found: persistent reading of the Scriptures will lead the believer to find peace and satisfaction in Christ.
“I get more true knowledge and solid satisfaction from reading the Word of God,” he said to his mother, “than I ever got from all the other books that I ever read. Oh, mother, this book is well worth your study. You need to read it for yourself.”
“I can’t find time for everything I have to do as it is, and I still have a while before I die,” replied Mrs. Whitefield, slightly indignant but slightly amused. “Bless you George, but we can’t be reading the Bible and saying prayers all day long!”
“But, mother, think about it: you are not too busy to die, and I’m sure you’d like to be saved.”
“Of course, son, of course, we all hope to get to heaven in the end. You have your way, and I have my way, but we will all get to the same place at last.”
“But, dear mother, suppose that we don’t all get to the same place at last? What if some of us find out that we were wrong and are then shut out of heaven? There’s only one way to enter heaven, and that is through faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, the only Saviour and Redeemer.”
“Ah, child, the way you talk makes it sound like I’m a sinner. Our family has always been a decent, law-abiding family who contributed to society. No, I’m not a sinner. Why, when I managed the Bell Inn in Gloucester, I never allowed a drunken man to have more wine than was good for him, and I’m sure I’ve done my duty to my husband and children as well as I could.”
“All that is true, mother, but even in spite of all those good works, God regards you as a sinner. Even those of us who have never done big crimes are sinners in His sight. When I was a boy . . .”
“Don’t talk like that,” scolded his mother, cutting him off in mid-sentence. “You were no worse than any other boy your age.”
“. . . I lied and cursed and swore, and many other foolish and filthy things came out of my mouth,” continued George earnestly. “And I didn’t love God or try to serve Him, which was also sin in His sight. All sin deserves the just punishment of God.”
“But all these things are just small faults that we all have when we’re young. God isn’t hard or stern.”
“No, but He is just,” countered George, “and He will not pass over iniquity as if it didn’t happen. Mother, we’ll be lost forever unless we’re pardoned by God’s free mercy. ‘These shall go away into everlasting punishment,’ the Bible says.”
“Well, I can’t understand all these things in the Bible. I only hope God will be kind to me.”
“He’s indeed kind to us, dear mother, and so He has provided Jesus as a Saviour for us. Jesus died for our sins, and if we accept Him for our Saviour, trusting only in Him, we shall be saved.”
Even though we, like George’s mother, might think we are good people who haven’t done really bad things, God tells us that “there is none righteous, no, not one: there is none that understandeth, there is none that seeketh after God. They are all gone out of the way, they are together become unprofitable; there is none that doeth good, no, not one . . . there is no difference: for all have sinned and come short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:10-12, 22-23). What are we to do? Can we change our life and make it good enough for God to accept us into heaven when we die? No. “Neither is there salvation in any other: for there is none other name under heaven given among men, whereby we must be saved” (Acts 4:12). What name is this? “Whosoever shall call on the name of the Lord shall be saved” (Acts 2:21).
Chapter 2: White Lines on Black Faces
“Therefore, my beloved brethren, be ye steadfast, unmovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, forasmuch as ye know that your labor is not in vain in the Lord”
(1 Corinthians 15:58).
In the year 1734, Whitefield, only 20 years old, was appointed as an official clergyman of the Church of England by Bishop Benson. “I have thrown myself blindfolded and, I trust without reserve, into God’s almighty hands,” said Whitefield to the congregation attending his ordination. “Until you hear that I have died for doing my work, or while doing my work, you will not have heard what I expect to be my privileged end. For I would willingly go to prison or to death so that I could bring but one soul from the devil’s stronghold unto the salvation which is in Christ Jesus.”
In this spirit he left England on December 28, 1737, at 23 years old, in order to visit the English colony of Georgia in North America (the sovereign nation of the United States of America was not yet formed at that time). He took money with him in the amount of three hundred pounds that he had collected in England for the poor of that colony. The captain and crew of the ship in which he sailed were at first very hostile to his preaching, but Whitefield wisely worked to gain their respect.
I won’t force them to listen to teaching that they strongly dislike, he thought to himself. Let me first win their love, and then they will want to hear my message.
He therefore went around from prow to stern, looking after the sick in their cabins and showing simple kindnesses to all who crossed his path. Many quickly became strongly attracted to him due to his kindheartedness. Soon the captain said to Whitefield, “Well you’re a unique clergyman! I never saw one before who would go among the sailors and get close to them, helping the sick ones and being kind to all like you’ve done. You’re not getting paid to do this kind of work are you?”
“No,” George replied, “but God has called me to do anything and everything that lies within my power in order to make men happier.”
Obviously impressed, the captain made a suggestion that George had been waiting to hear. “I’m not usually the kind of man who changes his mind, but if you want, I’ll allow you to preach to the sailors. It might do the poor guys some good, and I think they’d like to hear what you have to say.”
“I’d be honored to take advantage of your kind offer. But, captain, if I preach to the servants in the forecastle, why shouldn’t I preach also to their masters, like yourself, in the main cabin?”
“I wish you hadn’t asked me that, but if it makes you happy to do so, then by all means preach in the cabin too.”
Thus for the rest of the long journey (it took weeks to cross the Atlantic ocean in a sailing ship in those days), George Whitefield worked to win the love of the sailors and his fellow-passengers and thereby to guide them to Christ. When he landed in Georgia, he continued to use the same methods of kindness and generosity, although some of his friends disapproved of him when he went so far as to go into the houses of the poor and preach to them there. Thinking that all preaching should be reserved for the pulpit in religious buildings, they criticized him.
“It’s not dignified,” they said, “the way that he goes from house to house expounding the Scriptures. It’s unusual and strange. Either he’s a fanatic or maybe he’s crazy.”
“If he’s crazy, I wish that he’d bite some of the other ministers around here and infect them with his craziness,” said another. “In my view, I think the man is truly in earnest, and even though I don’t always agree with him, he fills my soul with fervent love to Christ.”
But his critics would not be easily persuaded. “Now he is thinking of founding an orphanage. I want to know what right he has to interfere with other people’s business. He’s paid to preach, not to bother us about a lot of children who don’t have any claim on us whatsoever.”
“Except the claim that George Whitefield can’t resist, the claim of want and helplessness, I think that his care for the orphans is a very noble thing.”
“Well, when he goes home to England, he might be sorry for making himself so obnoxious by preaching the way he has here. We can reach him across the ocean, and we’ll make him feel pain there for what he has done here.”
The man who said all this was as good as his word, for when Whitefield returned home to England, he found that not one clergyman would allow him to preach from his pulpit. Even in Bristol, where he had been extremely popular before leaving for Georgia, the clergymen preached against Whitefield, and some of the other preachers threatened to take their people to court if they allowed the new preacher to pray and explain the Scriptures in their homes. Even the chancellor of the diocese, a man of high authority in the Church of England, approved of this unjust persecution.
“How dare you preach here?” he demanded of Whitefield one day, as he found him leaving a private home where he had been explaining the Bible. “You don’t have a license to do this.”
“I didn’t know that I needed one,” George replied calmly.
“The canons say that you must not pray in a private house.” These canons to which the chancellor referred are the lists of rules that human organizations, such as the Church of England, wrote to govern their actions. These organizations that are guided by their own canons do not recognize that all the directions for the operation of the Church of God are to be found in the Holy Bible alone, and that the entire Word of God is the only adequate statement of faith.
Whitefield was quick to reply. “The same canons also say that a clergyman shouldn’t play cards or go to taverns, and yet both evils are allowed in your territory. If you tolerate these, why not allow the other? Surely I can’t cause any harm by exhorting a few poor people to believe in Jesus Christ and have a change in their behavior.”
“I’m resolved, sir,” said the chancellor angrily, “that if you dare to preach or teach anywhere within my territory, I’ll first suspend you, and then I’ll excommunicate you.”
Whitefield left the meeting with the chancellor and went to his brother, who also resided in Bristol, and told him what the chancellor had said.
“Why pay any attention to him?” asked his brother. “If you aren’t allowed to preach in the churches, the fields are open to you. They can’t keep you from preaching in the open air. As to a congregation, you won’t need to look very far for them. See how great their needs are! Talk about heathen! The poor coal miners in Kingswood are as bad as any people elsewhere in the world. George, go and preach to them.”
George Whitefield acted on this wise advice from his brother, and went and preached to about two hundred of the neglected miners. He was so happy with the Lord’s blessing on his first visit, that he went again, this time accompanied by his brother. The trees and bushes were soon crowded with the poor men, many of them of the most lawless and evil kind of people. Soon there were nearly ten thousand gathered together, their clothes and skin black with the coal dust, having come just as they were when they threw down their picks and left the coal heaps.
“Oh! Dear brother,” said Whitefield afterward, “my heart just melted with tenderness when I saw those poor outcasts. I felt that we Christian people had been largely responsible for the horrible lives these men live, and I pitied them so much that the tears ran down my cheeks. There was a great silence as I felt the power of God wash over my soul. I spoke for about an hour and was able to raise my voice so that all of them could hear me. They didn’t have any self-righteousness to leave behind, and the poor people melted at the good news that Jesus is a friend of publicans and sinners. Then it was wonderful to see how the tears ran down their faces and made white streams down their black cheeks. Hundreds and hundreds of them were melted down by the love of God and came under deep conviction of sin. Thank God for such a sight! Oh, what a Saviour He is, to be willing and able to redeem even Kingswood coal miners!”
The success of this (until then) unheard-of experiment encouraged Whitefield to try the method of outdoor preaching in London. The news of his plan to preach at Moorfields in London made the city buzz as much as if he had announced that he was going to fly through the air. Many tried to discourage him from doing it, due to the danger it would place him in. Many of his friends were sure he would be killed by the mob that would gather. But although some rowdy members of the crowd shattered the table on which he was standing, they allowed him to preach from the top of a nearby wall that ran through Moorfields.
He wrote to his brother the following summary of the surprising day: “I suppose many consider me to be now a more evil clergyman than I ever was before for going out last Sunday to preach in the open air to the large crowds gathered in Moorfields. They shouted and screamed and some of them threw stones and other things at me, but I stayed calm since I felt that I was where the Lord would have me to be and that therefore I could not be harmed unless it was His will. The crowd calmed down a little after a while, and then they listened to me with some serious attention.
“That evening I went over to Kennington Common and preached to nearly twenty thousand people. I never saw such a sight in all my life. There was a powerful silence in the crowd and for an hour and a half I spoke the counsel of God. Oh! Brother, but it was good to see how the people hung onto the words of life! Pray God that some of them may be saved. Oh! Brother, a true faith in Christ Jesus will never allow us to be lazy while souls are perishing. Faith is an active, working principle. It fills the heart so that it can’t rest until it is doing something for Jesus Christ. I feel sorry for those who complain about boredom! Let them only love Christ and spend their whole time in His service, and they will find comparatively few dull hours. I am myself only beginning to be a Christian in this respect. Oh, to be found faithful!”
“I’m still just a little child and a blind one too; I know nothing and I can do nothing except by the help of God my Saviour. Lord, prepare me for the work that I am to do and allow me to resemble Thee in Thy life and service here on Earth.”
In this spirit Whitefield lived and preached, and although many mocked and many opposed him, God blessed his faithful preaching of the gospel. Hundreds were saved, and many who were professing Christians were restored in their love to Christ. A full account of the success of his work will only be known in the future day of results, when the Master will reward His servants, every one according to how they lived their life on earth, “and then shall every man have praise of God” (1 Corinthians 4:5).
What will be your reward then? Will you be able to give a good account of your life, or will you be one who will be saved yet so as by fire? “Every man’s work shall be made manifest: for the day shall declare it, because it shall be revealed by fire; and the fire shall try every man’s work of what sort it is. If any man’s work abide which he hath built thereupon, he shall receive a reward. If any man’s work shall be burned, he shall suffer loss: but he himself shall be saved; yet so as by fire” (1 Corinthians 3:13-16). God deliver us from living a life of lost rewards! Rather, may the following verses guide us, who believe in Jesus, from now on: “Wherefore the rather, brethren, give diligence to make your calling and election sure: for if ye do these things, ye shall never fall: for so an entrance shall be ministered unto you abundantly into the everlasting kingdom of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ” (2 Peter 1:10-11).
Chapter 3: Old Light in New Lanterns
“Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature” (Mark 16:15).
On August 14, 1739, George Whitefield started again for America. In the course of his life, he visited the American continent seven times, and had just as great a work for Christ there as he did in his English homeland. On this second trip, he took a few people with him who were to form the core operating team of his planned orphanage. During the journey, Whitefield occupied himself with diligent study of several books that he hoped would be useful to him. He reached land in October, and then he began, as he said, “to hunt the woods of America for Christ.”
He wasn’t comfortable always staying in his home and doing the work of a chaplain because a strong impulse urged him on to wider fields of labor. He therefore began a tour through the American provinces, in time arriving at the town of Brunswick. There he met Gilbert Tennent, who became one of his best friends.
“He is a son of thunder, whose preaching either converts or enrages the crowds,” said Whitefield of his friend. “I never heard preaching like his before. He went to the very bottom of the matter, and he cleared away the rubbish without mercy and convinced me more and more that we can’t preach the gospel of Christ any further than we have experienced the power of it in our own hearts. I find now what a babe and a novice I am in the things of Christ.”
“Gilbert!” he said to his friend one evening as they sat in front of the fire after an evening service, “it is indeed a happy thing to be a true Christian, and the first step to it is to have a broken heart, a heart that’s melted down with the love of Christ toward us. Gilbert, if I had a hundred tongues and lives, they should all be used for my dear Lord Jesus! I haven’t yet forgotten the reproof that your father gave me one day.”
“What did he say to you? I’m sure it wasn’t anything unkind,” said Mr. Tennent.
“On, no, nothing unkind! But he gave me a much needed reproof,” replied Whitefield. “One evening I lay down on a sofa, worn out with the toil of the day. ‘Mr. Tennent!’ I said to him, ‘I wish my work were done, and that I was at home in heaven. Don’t you get weary for heaven?’ ‘Weary for heaven!’ he exclaimed, ‘of course not! I was born to work and saved in order to work for Jesus. Why should I weary for heaven? Suppose that I sent my workman Tom to plow the field, and instead of working he sat under a tree and complained of the heat! I wouldn’t sympathize with him, but I would call him a lazy, worthless worker! Brother Whitefield, do your work with all your energy, and let God decide when your time of rest will be.’”
“Well, that is very true, and sounds just like my father. And, George, there is much need for earnest service. This is a dark and sinful land. It almost seems like sincere gospel preaching has disappeared from the churches. We need a faithful preaching of the true doctrines of the gospel that are always effective in saving souls: Preach on one hand the total wickedness of man and his complete helplessness without Christ, and on the other hand the all-sufficiency of Christ and the cleansing power of His blood! These are the doctrines that America needs and that God will bless.”
“O that we were all flames of fire in God’s service! How quickly I become indifferent, and how much I need Christ’s constant care!” cried George.
“Suppose you get married, George,” said Tennent after a thoughtful pause. “Make sure you follow my advice. Marry a godly woman, and I’m sure she’ll help you to live closer to God and to work even more and better for Him.”
“Well, I have been thinking of getting married. Ever since you first talked to me about it, I’ve determined to follow your advice, and, to tell the truth, I’ve decided on a young lady to whom I plan to start writing.”
“Great! Great! Of course you’ll wait to hear what her parents have to say first, right? And then if they’re for it, you should speak to her right away.”
“I don’t know if I can speak to her just yet. I’ve written to her parents and gotten their approval, but instead of talking to her in person, I think I’d rather write to her too.”
“I suppose you know best. But have you written to her then?”
“No, and if you don’t laugh at me, I’ll read you the letter that I plan to send to her. If you think I can improve it, please do me a favor and tell me what I should change to make it sound better.”
“Of course, of course!” chuckled Gilbert, amused at the earnest eagerness of his friend and at the opportunity of hearing his first love letter.
“Here it is,” and Whitefield read the following aloud: “Don’t be surprised at the contents of this letter, but I wish to ask you to marry me. Can you bear to leave your father and mother and trust yourself entirely to God for support? Can you accept helping a husband in the care of a family that may be as large as a hundred orphaned children and young people? Can you, when you have a husband, be as though you have none, and willingly part with him even for long periods of time? If, after searching your heart and seeking God for direction, you can boldly answer ‘yes’ to all these questions, what do you say if you and I were to be joined together in the Lord, and you come to me as a helpmeet in the management of my orphanage? I think that I can call God to witness that I desire to take you, my sister in the Lord, to be my wife. But if you think that marrying me will in any way harm your best interests, please be so good as to send me a refusal of this proposal. I wouldn’t be a snare to you for all the world, and you don’t need to be afraid to speak your mind to me. I trust that my love for you is according to God’s will and for Christ’s sake.”
“Hmmm,” shrugged Gilbert, “I hope you succeed. It sounds all right to me.”
“I want a really gracious woman who is dead to everything else but Christ and who won’t mind the worry and labor of the orphanage,” said Whitefield. “If Miss Donald is the right person and worthy of the responsibility, she’ll say yes immediately.”
Miss Donald, however, said “no” to this unique marriage proposal.
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Soon after, Whitefield was again speaking with his friend Tennant. “Whitefield, I hear that they plan to stop you from preaching in all of their churches here.”
“Then the fields are as open in America as they were in England. And, brother, I don’t believe that the gospel will ever win its way among the people until we start preaching outdoors again. We would never have tried it in England if we were not forced to, but as soon as we started preaching in the open air, God poured out His blessing. The command is to ‘go.’ We need to have an outdoor ministry.”
“They bitterly condemn you and say that you are preaching a new gospel and that you therefore must be stopped.”
“Ah! Brother, they do not see that the old truth can withstand being presented by new methods and in new places. It’s just the old light in new lanterns, but the light was lit at the brazen altar. There is no full light but that which comes from the saving sacrifice of Christ.”
“That’s true, but what was it that you said to the children the other day? My friend, Jonathan Edwards, asked me what you really said, for he has heard some strange rumors about you. I wish you knew Jonathan Edwards. I’m sure you’d love him.”
“I’m sure I would too if he loves Jesus Christ and lives to serve Him.”
“Yes, that he does. And although he’s a little reserved at times, he’s really a gracious man. The great revival in America, you know, began under his preaching, and you’d see why if you knew him.”
“Wherever Christ is faithfully preached, saving results must follow. It’s only, Gilbert, that sometimes the effect of the preaching is delayed and the results are not immediately seen. But you should have seen what happened at Boston where I was preaching at Well’s chapel. A dying boy who had heard me preach the day before, said, ‘I want to go to Mr. Whitefield’s God.’ Immediately after saying so he died. When I looked around on the congregation, I noticed how many children were present, and my heart warmed towards them. I felt encouraged to speak to the children, but oh, how the old people were affected when I said, ‘Little children, if your parents won’t come to Christ, you come now, and go to heaven without them!’ The children burst into a great sobbing, and then it seemed as if the whole crowd of people began to sway like wheat in the breeze. Oh, it’s wonderful to think that our children may come to Christ! I don’t think we realize enough what powerful little helpers children can be in Christ’s service.”
And he was right, for He who once took a little child, and set it in the center, that He might use the child’s simple trust to teach His disciples a lesson, still uses devout children and young people to teach other Christians, and to reach those who would otherwise be unreached with the gospel. Win the children for Christ, and they will be used to win others also. Jesus said, “Suffer little children, and forbid them not, to come unto me: for of such is the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 19:14).
Chapter 4: Poor, Yet Making Many Rich
“I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me” (Philippians 4:13).
In March 1741, George Whitefield returned to England. He found that his enemies there were still committed to damaging his reputation, and to add to his troubles he also found that his orphanage was more than a thousand pounds in debt. Still, he did not for a moment hesitate to do his duty. He determined to do all he could to collect the needed money to free his orphanage from debt.
“Troubles never come alone,” he wrote to his friend Mr. Tennent in America, “but in the middle of all my trials I am able to trust myself completely to the hands of God. My troubles drove me to my knees, and God gave me power to wrestle over the matter with strong crying and tears before and also after I went to bed. Feeling that God would provide for me and my orphans, I soon fell asleep. The next morning I knew I might be arrested because of the debt, but I wasn’t afraid. To my surprise a friend of mine came in to see me, and he asked where he could usefully place several hundred pounds. As soon as he heard of my needs, he willingly lent them to me. Thus, although I’m poor, I have a rich God, and all things are mine in Christ Jesus. To me there is no happiness like lying down as a poor sinner at the feet of the Crucified One. How I delight to depend only on Christ!”
Whitefield’s faith was not disappointed, for the money that he needed was in due time provided for him, and he was able to continue his good work for the orphanage. All the gifts of money shared with him by those who had benefitted from his sermons were freely sent on to the orphans, so that beyond the plainest food and clothing Whitefield had no earthly possessions at all.
In the course of his constant travels, George Whitefield went on to Scotland, and there the Lord greatly used him in awaking the saints to earnestly serve Christ.
“Ah! They are brave people,” he said, “and noble like the Bereans. It’s great to hear the leaves of their Bibles rustling during the service. They won’t blindly accept what anyone says if it doesn’t come backed by clear proof from Scripture.”
“Yes, that’s so,” said a Quaker who was a guest with him. “And, Friend George, though thou art a minister ordained by man, and one that preaches in church buildings with steeples, I am as thou art in the matters of the gospel of Jesus. I don’t love the showiness of the men who stand in thy pulpits, and I prefer drab or gray clothing, but I am for bringing all men to Christ even as thou art. If thou wilt not disagree with my gray suit and hat, I will not disagree with thee about thy gown.”
“That’s the spirit of Christ truly,” said Mr. Whitefield. “Would that all other Christians were like minded with you! Even when one or both of us may need more spiritual light, we ought to love one another when Christ loves us all so graciously. Oh! I would not change my Master nor my employment for ten thousand worlds if they were to be had.”
“Friend George, dost thou know that they plan to give thee a gift of money? I hear that they are organizing in Edinburgh for this purpose.”
“I won’t accept the money then, sir. ‘Poor, yet making many rich’ is my motto. I never make collections for myself as I have no desire to be rich. What extra I have I give away. But if they want to give money towards the support of my orphans they are welcome to do so.”
After a number of years of hard labor in the gospel, which makes one wonder how his health and wellness could continue under such constant stress, in November 1741, George Whitefield visited Wales. He met a lady there whom he would later marry. She was a thirty-six year old widow, Whitefield himself being twenty-nine years old when they finally got married.
“She is neither rich nor beautiful,” he wrote of her to his friend Gilbert Tennent, “but she is a true child of God, which is far more important to me. She has been a housekeeper for many years and used to be tangled up with the world and its pleasures, but for the past three years she has lived as one of the despised people of God. Jesus was invited to, and present at, our marriage. I married in the Lord, so I trust that our marriage won’t hinder our work for the Lord, but rather make our labor for God more effective. Oh, for that blessed time when we’ll neither marry nor be given in marriage, but be as the angels of God! My soul longs for that happy, eternal day. Maybe, sometimes, I am too impatient, but who doesn’t wish to be with Jesus who has tasted of His love?”
In spite of the style of this letter, which might suggest the opposite to anyone who didn’t know Whitefield’s character, his was a happy marriage. It’s true that he was often away from home, but when he wasn’t out preaching, he was very happy, for he was tenderly attached to his wife. His restless personality, however, didn’t allow him to stay at home for long periods of time; he preferred to travel from place to place, preaching the Word of God everywhere he went.
Soon after his marriage he went to London, and there decided to risk preaching in Moorfields during Whitsuntide, “the season,” he said, “of all others, when, if ever, Satan’s children keep their rendezvous.” As you might guess from Whitefield’s description, Whitsuntide was a carnival of sorts that attracted people from the worst parts of society and offered them some of the world’s more evil entertainments. His friends strongly advised him not to take what they thought was the great risk of preaching at Moorfields during that time.
One of his friends tried to persuade him not to go. “George,” he said, “although there are puppet shows and jugglers there, the place is also full of worldly and sinful attractions which are attended by the kinds of people that hate the gospel. If you start preaching there they might even send some of the wild animals after you, and I don’t think that Christ requires you to throw away your life.”
“I want my life to reflect the Redeemer’s fearless steps in the presence of His enemies. Dear friend, help me by praying to the Saviour, that He would make me a little, a very little, child. When I am weak, then Christ will use His power on my behalf.”
“Still, George, don’t you agree that God knows better than we do? If He really wanted to convert these people, wouldn’t He have done so by now? I don’t want to act like I’m wiser than God.”
“Oh, but if they die like they are, they will be lost forever!” replied Whitefield, tears springing to his eyes. “Didn’t Jesus weep over guilty Jerusalem, and do you really think He wants these poor creatures to perish without getting a final warning? If they die having been warned of their danger, their blood will be on their own heads. God helping me, I will not be responsible for their loss. I must go and preach Christ to them.”
“Well, if you must go, you shall not go alone; I will go with you. But it won’t be any use to preach to such a mob as you’ll find at Moorfields.”
“That’s none of my business,” replied Whitefield. “I can’t keep myself from speaking what I believe to be the whole counsel of God.”
On Whitsunday 1742, therefore, Whitefield went down to the fair at Moorfields. Although it was only six o’clock in the morning, there were already nearly ten thousand people gathered in the fields.
They crowded around the pulpit and listened with respectful wonder while Whitefield preached to them from the text found in John 3, verse 14: “As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of Man be lifted up.”
But when Whitefield once more tried to preach to an even larger crowd in the evening, the stage-actors did all they could to stop him from succeeding. One man climbed up onto the shoulders of another, and the two made their way up to the pulpit. They tried to hit Mr. Whitefield with a heavy whip, but each time they lost their balance and fell to the ground.
“Just wait, I’m not giving up yet,” one of them yelled and then ran away. In a few minutes he returned with a recruiting sergeant from the army who had a drummer boy at his side.
“Play the drum, Mr. Sergeant,” cried the stage-actor, “and march right through the crowd. They’re all traitors at heart. Scatter the mob.”
But Whitefield was not so easily outdone, so he shouted out to the crowd, “Open, good people, open up a pathway, and make way for the king’s officer. March on, my brave soldier! We here are also enlisted men, but we fight for Christ against evil and sin. God bless you, Sergeant, and make you a true soldier of Jesus Christ.”
“Bless you for acting like a gentleman,” said the sergeant. “I won’t disturb the meeting.” But the stage-actor wasn’t going to give up so easily, and he continued to throw stones and dust at the preacher. Nonetheless, Whitefield continued preaching without paying attention to the rocks that were thrown at him. A group of little children sat on the pulpit steps, and every time a stone hit Mr. Whitefield, they burst out into a flood of tears.
Around 350 people got saved while listening to the sermon that night. One of these was the stage-actor who had been persecuting Whitefield.
“O sir, God has found me out,” he said to Mr. Whitefield after the meeting. “I was a child of Christian parents, who trained me in all the right paths when I was young. But I resisted the Spirit of God, and I quenched His workings with my soul. Does God have any mercy for me? I feel like I’m the worst of all sinners, the dirtiest and the most corrupt of all men. Can I be forgiven?”
“Without a doubt God is able to save unto the uttermost. He has already saved the chief of sinners, and He can save the devil’s castaways.”
“That’s all I am, a devil’s castaway! Oh what do I need to do to be saved? I just wish that I had repented and believed while I was still young.”
“Repent now, my dear friend! Don’t add to the guilt of your past by continuing in unbelief. Now, while I’m pleading with you, repent and cast yourself on the mercy of Christ.”
“God forgive me!” moaned the man. “But can I ever forgive myself? To have sinned against such love and such light! What a sinner I’ve been!”
Thus the love of Christ, when it is accepted, breaks the heart of the recipient. God’s forgiveness and blessings are freely offered to all who repent of their sins and accept the Lord Jesus Christ, including the very worst men and women and boys and girls too. None of us has any right of our own to the salvation that God offers, but if we come to God through His Son, Jesus Christ, we can have full assurance that we will be accepted on His merits. Jesus said, “Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out” (John 6:37). “Wherefore He is able to save them to the uttermost that come unto God by Him [Jesus], seeing He ever liveth to make intercession for them” (Hebrews 7:35).
Chapter 5: Persistent in the Lord's Work
“This one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 3:13-14).
Shortly after his great success at Moorfields, Whitefield again visited Scotland. This time he travelled with his wife. He spent a lot of time on the voyage writing letters to various friends who had helped him in his work. To a friend in Wales he wrote, “To stir up the gift of God within is an apostolic command, and if we don’t keep on our guard we will fall into a false stillness. Our human nature loves the easy life, and we willingly yield to the temptation to do nothing, and our lukewarmness very often keeps us silent when we might profitably speak out.”
This time he began his work in Scotland at Cambuslang, a suburb of Glasgow. The pastor of the church in Cambuslang was Mr. William M’Culloch, a man of fervent piety. For several months before Whitefield’s arrival, both Mr. M’Culloch and his people had been earnestly wrestling for a working of the Holy Spirit in the church and city.
“I’m persuaded that the preaching here will have more power than anywhere I’ve been before,” said George Whitefield to the pastor.
He was not disappointed, as the outburst of hatred which came against Whitefield’s preaching was soon followed by great spiritual interest, and many responded well to the gospel messages that he preached. On the first day, Whitefield preached three times to huge congregations, which grew larger as people came from all the neighboring villages. The last service ended at eleven o’clock at night, but the people wouldn’t leave for their homes, so Mr. M’Culloch continued the service until past one o’clock in the morning.
“Did you ever see such a thing?” asked Whitefield after it was all over. “Thousands and thousands were standing on that bare hillside on a cold February night. For about an hour and a half many were crying, deeply concerned about their deep spiritual needs, and many even fell down to the ground in their grief like wounded soldiers on a battlefield. Everywhere I turned there were people who were either praising God for His mercy and salvation, which they had received, or who were crying out to God to save them in His mercy.”
“I’m sure there will be a lot of negative things said about the excitement and emotion of this revival,” sighed M’Culloch. “I don’t think you know how strongly some truly godly people dislike hearing of any work of God that doesn’t exactly follow the pattern they expect it should.”
“Don’t worry about opposition, as long as we have spoken the Word of God and it has been received by faith,” said Whitefield. “If I keep a humble, tender, truly broken heart, and remain leaning on Christ, I will be able to walk in the comfort of the Holy Ghost and will not be preoccupied with what others think.”
“Even for myself, though I really thank God for this wonderful revival, I must say that I wish that there had been more quiet and less noise,” said M’Culloch. “Their crying and falling to the ground disturbed even me a little, as that’s not exactly my idea of what a work of grace should be. The fruit of the Spirit is peace, and He gently leads the repentant soul to faith in Christ.”
“I understand your feelings, but we can’t limit the Holy Spirit,” replied Whitefield, “nor tell Him how He should work with souls. He who created the soul understands best what it needs and wants, and He’s able to adjust His methods as He pleases depending on each person and situation. The fact that He has used certain methods in the past in the conversion of souls doesn’t mean that He can’t work differently in different times. He leads some by quiet and gentle influences, and others He drives by terror into grace.”
“But wouldn’t you agree that there’s a regular progress by which souls are awakened, led to repentance, and then saved by faith in Christ?”
“I don’t know that there is any set process found in the Scriptures that’s always followed; each soul is unique and God works with each in His own way. All that’s essential is that the soul is convinced of its own sin and led to trust entirely in Christ for salvation. This is the life-giving work of the Holy Spirit alone, and He sovereignly varies His operations according to His pleasure. When He is at work, He will never do anything that disagrees with God’s Word.”
“Of course, you Englishmen don’t understand how we rational Scotch are shocked by excitement like this.”
“But you Scotch don’t mind excitement in politics, and you admire people that are fanatics about business. I don’t see then why the infinitely more important matters of the soul shouldn’t be equally interesting. It seems incredible to me that men can speak calmly about the eternal loss of the immortal soul and act as if nothing were wrong while the wrath of God is hanging over them. I must say I think that complacency requires far more apology than scriptural excitement in matters of eternal importance.”
And so we should think when we realize the great matters that are involved in the salvation of the soul. None of us should be content until we are discontent with ourselves, and as helpless sinners have trusted in Christ Jesus for salvation.
Sometimes Whitefield’s frank comments about sin stirred up such bitter hatred in unbelievers that they tried to kill him. After he left Scotland, for instance, he went on a preaching tour through England, coming after a while to Plymouth. While resting overnight, after a tiring day of preaching, Whitefield was told that a well-dressed gentleman wished to speak to him.
“Maybe he’s someone searching for the truth like Nicodemus,” said Whitefield, who was always ready to think the best of everyone. “I’m really tired, but I’d like to see him if I can do him any good. Please show him upstairs.”
The man came into the room, and walking up to the bedside, he sat down.
“Who are you, dear friend?” asked Whitefield. “I’m happy to see you. Have we ever met before?”
“My name is Cadogan. I’m a lieutenant on board a battleship. Do you know me?”
“I knew a Mr. Cadogan who was an officer in Georgia, and then I met with him again almost two weeks ago at Bristol,” replied Whitefield beginning to recognize his guest through the dim candlelight.
“You must make a lot of money preaching. About how much is your salary?”
“My pay is the reward of having done my duty as a servant of Jesus Christ, and the joy of seeing lost souls brought to trust in Him. Otherwise, other than enough to buy the cheapest food and clothing, I don’t earn anything else.”
“I’m disappointed that I haven’t been able to hear you preach yet. I hope to have the privilege someday.”
“The most important thing, dear friend, isn’t to worry about me, so much as to be earnest in seeking Christ and finding peace through Him. Dear friend, Jesus loves you and died in order that He could save your soul.”
“You dog! You scoundrel! You villain!” yelled Cadogan, rising from his seat, “I’ll kill you! How dare you scare people by calling them sinners and talking about hell? Take that! And that! And that!” he shouted, beating Mr. Whitefield mercilessly with his cane.
“Please don’t kill me. I never harmed you!” pleaded Whitefield, but his entreaties did not stop the beating.
At this time the hostess and her daughter rushed into the room and seized the would-be murderer by the collar. But he soon shook them off and continued beating Whitefield. The women shrieked “Murder!” which somewhat alarmed the attacker, who turned to run out the door. The women pushed him down the stairs, but an accomplice of his hurried up the stairs and they would certainly have soon killed Whitefield if the neighbors hadn’t rushed in. The two attackers managed to escape, and Whitefield refused to have them prosecuted.
“No, I have something else to do,” he explained. “This is my private quarrel that I can leave in God’s hands. My business is to preach the gospel, and if shedding my blood leads to the conversion of any soul, I will happily die for that cause. May God forgive the men as I have.”
Whitefield showed this forgiving spirit on many other similar occasions. For, while “all that will live godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution” (2 Timothy 3:12), all who live boldly for Christ must expect special hatred from those who are opposed to the gospel. “The servant is not greater than his lord” (John 13:16). The Lord Jesus, “when He was reviled, reviled not again; when He suffered, He threatened not; but committed Himself to Him that judgeth righteously” (1 Peter 2:23). But if there is suffering now, there is also glory coming in the future. “Rejoice, inasmuch as ye are partakers of Christ’s sufferings; that, when His glory shall be revealed, ye may be glad also with exceeding joy” (1 Peter 4:13). “Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life” (Revelation 2:10).
Chapter 6: Other Notable Stories From Whitefield's Preaching Days
“That ye may be blameless and harmless, the sons of God, without rebuke, in the midst of a crooked and perverse nation, among whom ye shine as lights in the world; holding forth the word of life” (Philippians 2:15-16).
“IN A MINISTRY OF THIRTY-FOUR YEARS, HE CROSSED THE ATLANTIC THIRTEEN TIMES, AND PREACHED MORE THAN EIGHTEEN THOUSAND SERMONS. AS A SOLDIER OF THE CROSS, HUMBLE, DEVOUT, ARDENT, HE PUT ON THE WHOLE ARMOR OF GOD.” – Inscription on Whitefield’s Monument.
In the year 1749, George Whitefield met Selina, the Countess of Huntingdon, who from then on persuaded many of the nobility to attend his preaching.
“I would often have settled down,” said Whitefield, “but God wouldn’t let me. He has always put a thorn in my nest. Travelling seems to be my calling, and I am prepared to hunt for souls until all England is converted.”
So Whitefield once again went out into the open fields to preach, and there he experienced many unique instances of gracious success.
“Oh that I may drop and die in my Master’s work,” said Whitefield. “I think it’s worth dying for. If I had a thousand bodies, they would all be travelling and preaching for Jesus.”
We can, like Whitefield, welcome shame and weariness for Jesus’ sake when we are “looking for that blessed hope, and the glorious appearing of the great God and our Saviour Jesus Christ” (Titus 2:13).
One time Whitefield noticed a young man who had climbed up into a tree to see and mock the preacher. Whitefield looked straight at him and said, “Ah, poor Zaccheus, are you there? Christ can see you! The leaves of the tree can’t hide you from His view. Don’t be afraid, don’t worry! Come down, Zaccheus, come down from the tree, and receive the Lord Jesus Christ as the Saviour of your soul.”
The young man came down from the tree, believed, and became a follower of Jesus.
Another time Whitefield observed Shuter, a well-known stage-actor, among the congregation. The great preacher fixed his eyes on him and said, “And you too, poor Shuter, you who have long strayed from Christ, come also, and Jesus will welcome you and be your Saviour. What have you gained for all your wandering but wounds and sorrows, grief and disappointment? Come, and end all your drifting now. Yes, come at once to Jesus!”
Shuter was deeply moved by the appeal, and he came afterward to see Mr. Whitefield.
“Oh sir, I feel like I’ve been called tonight,” he said. “I felt like I was going to faint when you put me on the spot, but it was the voice of God speaking to my soul.”
“Then don’t disobey the invitation from heaven. Come now to Jesus!”
“I’ve been trapped by the rich and famous! Poor things, they are unhappy with all their influence and wealth, and they need to have Shuter in order to make them laugh. Oh, it’s a hard life to serve the devil. If I died now, what would I be able to show for all my work and suffering through life?”
“Then give it up, Shuter! Leave the theater behind and give yourself to Christ!” pleaded Whitefield, sensing the precarious moment of decision facing the man before him.
“I feel like I need to choose either one or the other, but it’s hard to give up the theater! It demoralizes, and it prepares the soul for worse evils, but I can’t break away from it now. Mr. Whitefield, beg your young listeners never to step inside a theater! Tell them to avoid it like the plague. Would to God that I had never seen it. But now I can’t begin life again!” sobbed Shuter.
“Why not? It’s never too late to call on Jesus! He can save unto the uttermost.”
“You don’t know, Mr. Whitefield, how addicted I am to the applause of my fans. I can’t live without it. It’s part of my life.”
“But are you really going to give up Christ for the empty applause of a crowd of sinners who are just like yourself? I thank God that He has delivered me from feeling like I need to hear human praises. When I die, the only epitaph that I want to be engraved on my tombstone is: ‘Here lies George Whitefield; what sort of man he was the great day will discover.’”
“You’re different from me because you’ve been a Christian for a long time. If a man refuses to yield to the Spirit’s pleading, after a while he becomes less sensitive to the sin in his life.”
All Whitefield’s pleading was for nothing, as he couldn’t convince Shuter to come to Christ and abandon his profession. He preferred to remain in the far country to which he had strayed.
Satan has many ways of deceiving and distracting sinners to the point that they forget that they need to be saved. Even true believers in Jesus can be put to sleep by all the distracting noise and activity that Satan’s world has to offer. Be careful what you watch and listen to! “While we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal” (2 Corinthians 4:18). “Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world. If any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is not of the Father, but is of the world. And the world passeth away, and the lust thereof: but he that doeth the will of God abideth forever” (1 John 2:15-17).
As Whitefield’s popularity grew, so did the congregations that came to listen to him preach. These larger numbers led him to build the Tabernacle, a large meeting hall, on Tottenham Court Road, along with other associated buildings. Some of Whitefield’s critics called the Tabernacle his “soul trap.” In it the great preacher delivered some of his most famous sermons.
One of Whitefield’s listeners told of a specific sermon like this: “Whitefield,” he said, “described the Sadducean character, but that didn’t touch me. The Pharisees, now that shook me a little. But then he abruptly broke off and burst into a flood of tears, and lifting up his hands he cried with a loud voice: ‘Oh, my hearers! The wrath is to come! The wrath is to come!’ These words sunk into my heart like lead in water. I wept; I went out alone. These words followed me wherever I went. For days and weeks I could think of but little else than the awful words: ‘The wrath is to come — is to come!’”
“And I remember another passage,” he continued. “I’ll never forget when Mr. Whitefield preached about Peter.
“‘Spiritual slothfulness,’ he said, ‘as well as spiritual pride helped to stumble this apostle. The Sun — that glorious Sun of Righteousness — was anticipating His entrance into the three hours of darkness. Satan, who had left Him for a season, until the time of His passion, returns with all the powers of darkness. From the table where they ate the Passover and the Lord’s Supper together, the Saviour moves on to the garden. See His agony! See how He falls to His knees in prayer under the amazing pressure! See, see, oh my soul, how He sweats! But what is that which I see? BLOOD — drops of blood — great drops of blood falling down to the ground! Oh! Was there ever any sorrow like unto His sorrow? LISTEN! What do I hear? Oh what strong crying! Father, if it be possible let this cup pass from Me. LISTEN, He speaks again! Amazing! Behold how His agony increases! Hear how He prays! And where is Peter all this time? Surely he won’t leave his Lord in such deep distress! What is he doing? I blush to answer. He is sleeping. Even when awakened once by His agonizing Lord with a “Simon, sleepest thou?” yet his eyes, in spite of his profession of faithfulness unto death, are heavy with sleep. O Lord, what is man?’”
A man named Mr. Thorpe once went to hear Whitefield preach, and after the sermon was over, he went into a bar with some of his immoral friends. One after another they began to mimic the preacher’s mannerisms, raising a lot of loud laughter from their drunk companions. Soon it was Thorpe’s turn, and he jumped up on the table.
“Give me a Bible!” he shouted. “I’ll beat you all.”
He opened the Bible, and read out loud the first verse he saw: “Except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish” (Luke 13:3).
Immediately his conscience was touched, and he felt very guilty.
“God forgive me, I’ve committed an awful sin,” he cried, and he immediately closed the book and cried out, “Oh, that perishing! That perishing! How can I repent?”
“Come on, don’t be a coward,” yelled one of his friends, “be a man and stop whining. Keep preaching away, Thorpe.”
“I don’t dare. Oh my sins, my awful sins! I’ve grieved the Holy Ghost, and perhaps He has forsaken me. I can’t rest until I’m forgiven. I need to go to Mr. Whitefield.”
Another time, one Sunday evening, the infidel Lord Chesterfield sat in Lady Huntingdon’s pew listening to the great preacher. Then God spoke to the nobleman’s heart, and he was forced to pay attention.
“Oh, poor sinner,” Whitefield was saying, “you are in the earth like a poor blind beggar who is walking along a dangerous road. Look at him! He hears one and then another fall over the cliff! Crash! Oh the wailing of the lost! But the blind man feels like he’s at least not in too much danger while his little dog remains with him. See how he holds onto the leash with white knuckles. Now he must be careful, for he is near the edge of the precipice. Oh look, the dog has escaped, and the blind man has to feel his way with his stick. He holds it out in front and gropes his way cautiously along! There! The stick has slipped out of his fingers! It has fallen off into the abyss! The old man stoops to pick it up. ‘Be careful, old man — be careful — the edge of the cliff is crumbling away beneath your feet!’ He stumbles forward; he can’t save himself.”
“He’s over the edge! Over the edge!” shouted Chesterfield, jumping up from his seat as if he would help the old beggar and reach out to pull him back to safety. He himself, like that blind man, had tried to feel his way through life by the help of wealth, politeness, and reason, which alone can never lead to God.
Friend, you will certainly fall into the bottomless pit of eternal punishment unless Jesus Christ is your Shepherd and unless He heals your blind eyes and gives you sight. He alone can save. And even as one of His sheep, you can’t feel your own way safely through the many dangers of daily life unless you let Him be your Guide. He says, “I am the door: by Me if any man enter in, he shall be saved, and shall go in and out, and find pasture . . . . I am the Good Shepherd: the Good Shepherd giveth His life for the sheep . . . . My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me: and I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of My hand. My Father, which gave them Me, is greater than all; and no man is able to pluck them out of My Father’s hand” (John 10:9, 11, 27-29).
Chapter 7: It's Better to Wear Out Than to Rust Out
“For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain” (Philippians 1:21).
In September 1769, Whitefield visited America for the seventh and last time. “I’m strong as to my bodily health,” he said, just before he started the journey, “and I’m persuaded that this voyage will be for the Redeemer’s Glory and for the blessing of precious and immortal souls. Oh, the joy of being a Christian and a minister of Jesus!”
Immediately after arriving he began a tour through the cities which he had visited on previous trips to America. It was appropriate that his life should almost end in field preaching which had been his most successful style of preaching.
“He got up from his seat and stood up straight,” explained one who was present at his last outdoor service. “His appearance alone was a powerful sermon. The thinness of his face and the paleness of his skin visibly contrasted with the power of the heavenly truth seeking to be made known through the weakness of a decaying body. He remained several minutes unable to speak, and then he said, ‘I will wait for the gracious assistance of God, for He will, I’m certain, help me once more to speak in His name.’
“Then he preached thus: ‘I go, I go to a rest prepared; my sun has arisen, and soon from heaven it will give light to many. Now it’s about to set — no, but rather it’s rising to the heights of immortal glory. I’ve outlived many on earth, but they can’t outlive me in heaven. My body fails but my spirit is still fresh and young. I would willingly live forever in order to continue preaching Christ! But I die to go be with Him! How brief, comparatively brief, has my life been when compared with the great labors that I see before me yet to be accomplished. But if I leave now, while so few care about heavenly things, the God of peace will surely visit you.’”
“Sir, you are more fit to go to bed than to preach,” said one friend to him, his brow wrinkled with concern.
“True,” replied Whitefield, and he clasped his hands and said, “Lord Jesus, I am weary in Thy work, but not of Thy work. If I’ve not yet finished my course, let me go and speak for Thee once more in the fields, bearing one last witness to Thy truth, and then go home to die.”
That night he only ate a little supper, and then went to bed very early.
In the nighttime he woke up his servant and told him, “My asthma is coming on again. I need two or three days’ rest.” Then after a pause, he said, “It’s now Sunday morning. Put the window up a little higher; I can’t breathe. I hope I’m better soon, a good pulpit sweat will give me relief; I’ll be better after preaching.”
“I wish you wouldn’t preach so often,” commented the concerned servant.
“It’s better to wear out than to rust out,” he replied.
Then he dropped off to sleep, and about four o’clock in the morning he awoke again.
“I’m almost suffocated,” he said. “I can hardly breathe! My asthma is choking me.”
Then he got out of bed and went to the open window for air.
“Smith,” he said, “I’m dying! I’m dying!” These were the last words he spoke on earth.
There was no need for such a man to give a dying testimony to the truth which he had preached. He had been a living witness of the truth of the gospel, and nothing more was required to make his testimony complete. Thus on the 30th of September 1770, at the young age of fifty-six, George Whitefield closed one of the most remarkable careers that have ever blessed and benefited the Church and the world.
A funeral procession nearly a mile long followed his body to its last resting place, but no outward expressions of sorrow could gauge the loss that the Church had sustained from his departure. He had distinctly begun a new era in Christian preaching, or rather he had revived the earlier practice of our Lord and His apostles, who were open-air and travelling preachers.
The spirit of Christ in Whitefield was evident in him as an incessant earnestness, and a loving temper which all admired. No adequate memorial or portrait of him exists, but he left the impression of his Redeemer deeply engraved in many immortal souls who are now his crown and rejoicing in the Lord.
Not all preachers will enjoy the response to their preaching that Whitefield did, but all servants of Whitefield’s God should be just as earnest as he was, and no less delighted to live and to die for the love of Christ. There is a lot of work to be done in this day of ruin in the Christian testimony. Accept Christ as your own sufficient, complete Saviour, and then in season and out of season preach the Word to the lost, and exhort and comfort the people of God. “Therefore, my beloved brethren, be ye steadfast, unmovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, forasmuch as ye know that your labor is not in vain in the Lord” (1 Corinthians 15:58).