JOHN’S desire in going to college was that he might so study as to fit himself for a minister. To this end, he tells us, he studied the classics, mathematics, philosophy, logic, metaphysics, and the works of the most eminent divines. He little thought that all this learning would not make him a true minister according to the meaning of the Word of God.
Let us go back to Jerusalem, many years ago. We might have seen one day a strange sight. Thousands of persons were surging round a little company of men. At last one of these, bolder than the rest, stands forward. His dress shows that his position in life is a humble one. His speech betrays that he belongs to a province of Palestine, and not to the city of Jerusalem. It is very doubtful whether he is versed in the philosophy of Socrates or of Plato, or in the logic of Aristotle. Yet a mighty power accompanies his words. He speaks of One who had gone. about Jerusalem and Judea, showing by signs and wonders that God was with Him, yet He had been crucified and slain! But God had raised Him from among the dead, and had exalted Him to His own right hand, making Him Lord and Christ. So great a power was present that about three thousand persons gladly received the words they heard. The speaker was Peter, a Galilean, who had been called from his fishing nets to follow Christ. Twenty years later, in the learned, wealthy, and vicious city of Corinth, we might have seen dwelling in a tent-maker’s house for about eighteen months, a very different person. He had no lack of knowledge or of learning. He had been brought up under the teaching of Gamaliel, whose wisdom was so great that the Jews called him “the glory of the law.” He often spake of Christ, but he had no confidence whatever in his learning to persuade men. Indeed, when writing a letter a few years later to these people, he emphatically asserts that he sought not to win them by excellent words or by show of wisdom, he spake of one thing only, Jesus Christ, and Him crucified, which the polished and enlightened Greeks would consider the greatest foolishness. Yet God saved many among them, both Greeks and Jews. God does not bless the labors of men according to the amount of learning they possess. He blesses where He pleases, and where He finds dependence upon Himself.
Berridge was most diligent in his studies, and made such progress that he was little inferior to any in the university. For twenty years, he tells us, he labored hard in this way, all the while departing from the knowledge of the truth as it is in Jesus, though he vainly hoped to obtain that light and knowledge from human wisdom, which could only be obtained from the Word of God. In after years, when age was creeping upon him, and the “windows” were becoming “darkened,” so that he could read little of the precious Word he loved so well, he wrote regretfully: “I now lament the many years I spent at Cambridge in learning useless lumber, that wisdom of the world which is foolishness with God. I see nothing worth knowing, but Jesus Christ and Him crucified, for Him to know is life eternal.”
Now we have to speak of a period of Berridge’s life, which was, without doubt, the darkest of his days. He had gone, his father said, “to be a light to the Gentiles.” But if “the Gentiles” were the students at Clare Hall, his son’s light to them was a poor one, much like that given out by the crackling thorns under a pot, as Solomon calls the laughter of fools―a sudden glow, followed by sudden darkness. Though John had passed through some sorrow on his soul’s account, he had a very humorous temper, which caught at the odd and funny side of every subject. Witty sayings fell from his lips, without effort, and “odd things as abruptly as croaking from a raven.” He was not aware of the snare this would prove and took some pains by the study of witty books to cultivate his jesting powers. Many a young Christian thinks it clever to be able to say smart things, to give a quick retort, but its influence on the soul is most harmful. God’s grace is needed to keep in check even natural cheerfulness, lest it turn to lightness, and so grieve the Holy Spirit, and bring sorrow to the soul. Berridge became a great favorite, his company was courted even by his superiors in position; if it was known that he would be at any public dinner, the table was crowded to hear his conversation. It was of the kind sometimes called “brilliant.” We shall see presently, whether, in a time of darkness to his spirit, it yielded him any light. All through life this habit, partly his own turn of mind, partly acquired, clung to him, and perhaps at times hindered blessing. When he was an elderly man, a faithful friend wrote to him, asking whether such habits suited a servant of Christ. Berridge replied― “I was born with a fool’s cap. True, you say, but why is it not put off? It suits the first Adam, but not the last. A very proper question; and my answer is this; a fool’s cap is not put off so readily as a night cap; one cleaves to the head and one to the heart. Not many prayers only but many furnaces are needful for this purpose, and after all the same thing happens to a tainted heart as to a tainted cask, which may be sweetened by many washings and firings, yet a scent remains still. Late furnaces have singed the bonnet of my cap, but the crown still abides on my head. And I must confess that the crown so abides in whole or in part, for the want of a closer walk with God, and communion with Him.” These were the sober words of his latter days and show that he then sought to check this foolish vein of humor; in the university he allowed it to flow freely, at the cost of much sorrow to himself.
When Berridge went to college he had still fresh upon him the serious impressions of his early days, and the longings for peace in his soul, but, to all appearance, he laughed them away. As we have seen, his mirth caused him to be courted and favored by others who cared little for his soul or for theirs: he shrank not from them, and as the inevitable result, he was dragged down to their level. For ten years did he go without private prayer, a few intervals excepted. His soul care fled away. He embraced doctrines which, had they been true, would have left him without hope of a Saviour. Could his laughter comfort him here? Indeed no; the “brilliant” wit could give him no light. He had walked in the sparks his own hand had kindled, and darkness followed. In the few moments when his habits of prayer were resumed, the tears would flow as he remembered what was lost to him, and he often exclaimed to a fellow-student, “Oh, that it were with me as in years past!”
It is comforting to turn from the wanderings of poor John, to the faithfulness of God. “God speaketh once, yea, twice,” said Elihu. Oh, the patient grace of God’s dealings with wayward souls! Much as poor John had wandered, much as he had dishonored God, God had not forsaken him, and at last taught him that the doctrines he held were false and soul-destroying. Berridge gave them up, and returned once more to his old habits of devotion, though he was still without any true knowledge of God. Without doubt he was thoroughly in earnest, but he was seeking after God, if haply he might find Him, by another way than that which He has appointed, that is, through His Son Jesus Christ. Berridge was rather like a blind man wearily groping his way along, whose face is turned away from the direction he wishes to go, so that his efforts take him farther away from his goal. But he really sought after God, and He who gave that desire, in time showed Himself, and made His love known. W. J.