GEORGE WHITEFIELD, one of the most celebrated preachers of the Gospel, and one whom God used for the blessing of souls to a larger extent, perhaps, than any other, is the subject of this narrative. Like other godly and devoted servants of Christ, he had his weaknesses and peculiarities, one of which was his fondness for a diamond ring, which he nearly always wore.
I am going to tell you how, on one occasion, this diamond was used in the service of Christ.
It was George Whitefield's custom, wherever he stayed, to speak to the people in the house, pointedly and definitely, about their souls. He did this earnestly, affectionately, and yet in such a discreet way that it rarely caused offense, and was the means of winning many, who had listened to his preaching unmoved.
At one time he was staying for a few days at the house of a certain general, who was a great admirer of the preacher's eloquence and zeal. He and his family were all so kind and amiable, and so lavish in their hospitality, that Whitefield, though he saw no evidence of their being Christians (that is, converted people, having the forgiveness of their sins, through faith in Christ), felt his lips sealed among them.
He confined his utterances to the genial courtesies of society, and did not speak of that which lay uppermost upon his heart.
The days rolled by, and the last night of his stay in that place arrived. He had said “Good night," and had retired to his room.
Something within him seemed to say, “How will you be clear of the blood of these people, if you do not warn them?”
He said to himself, “They are so good and amiable, how can you speak to them about sin?
Besides, you have preached the Gospel in their hearing, surely that is enough.”
There was a conflict in his mind, and he was unable to sleep that night. Had he been lacking in faithfulness? What should he do?
Early in the morning, before he took his leave of his kind friends, his eye fell upon his diamond ring. He took it from his finger, and wrote with it upon the glass of his bedroom window four words:
“One thing thou lackest”
Then he went down to say farewell, and to start upon his journey.
No sooner had he departed than his host, General E—, said: “I will just run up to Mr. Whitefield's room and look round.”
As he opened the door, and stepped into the room, the first thing that caught his eye was the writing on the window. Its meaning flashed into his mind. With all his natural kindness of heart, his amiability, his religiousness, his admiration of the great preacher, he was lacking in one vital thing, and was, in fact, no Christian at all!
The tears rose to the eyes of the old soldier. He called his wife and showed her the words. She, too, began to weep.
“I thought he was unhappy," she said; "there seemed to be something on his mind. He was in trouble about us, because we are not converted. I was hoping he would speak to us.”
The general said: "By God's grace, then, we will seek the one thing ' that we lack.”
He called the whole family together, three daughters and a son. He pointed out the text upon the window-pane. They all knelt down, confessed their sins, and before long one by one, they found what the Bible calls "joy and peace in believing.”
In the city of New York there lives (or lived until quite recently) a lady, whose mother was one of the three daughters, who knelt with their parents in Whitefield's room, and she retains, as a precious relic, the pane of glass with the four words scratched upon it by the diamond, Are there not many, very many, who resemble the general and his family before their conversion? Amiable people, religiously inclined, and admirers of that which is good, but lacking the one vital, essential thing that would make them Christians.
What is this one thing? It is not belief in the veracity of the Scriptures or in the great historical facts of Christianity. This General E— most certainly had. What was it, then, that he lacked, and that so many professors of religion to-day are without?
It was that personal faith IN the Lord Jesus Christ, without which there is no salvation. Notice that I emphasize the word "in." Faith ABOUT Christ is not sufficient. One needs to have personal confidence in Him, to trust Him as one's Savior, in order to be saved.
He knew our need, and the serious consequences in which our sins had involved us. In order to save us He shed His blood upon the cross, giving Himself a Ransom for us. In virtue of this finished work of His, God receives and blesses any guilty sinner, who puts his trust in the Savior.
There are many clear, unmistakable assurances in the Scriptures as to this. Take, for instance, the passage from Paul's discourse in the synagogue at Antioch: “Through this Man is preached unto you the forgiveness of sins; and by Him all that believe are justified from all things." (Acts 13:38.)
Take another example, a quotation from an address given by Peter in the house of a Roman officer: "To Him give all the prophets witness that, through His name, whosoever believeth in Him shall receive remission of sins." (Acts 10:43.)
Can words be clearer? Can any doubt remain in your mind as to the one thing needful?
God grant that you, my reader, may not be content with being a Christian in name only, but that you may be truly able to say, like the blind beggar to whom the Lord Jesus gave sight, and who became a grateful worshipper:
"ONE THING I KNOW,
that, whereas I was blind, now I see." (John 9:25.)