The young preacher dressed in his Church of England
clerical gown stood before the massive open-air crowd that had gathered to hear
him preach in Philadelphia. As he gazed upon this crowd that numbered in the
thousands, he determined that he was going to tear down the very things in
which they trusted, which also divided them—their deep sectarian and church loyalties.
It was 1739 and 25-year-old George Whitefield had
already made a name for himself in England where massive crowds had filled
Anglican churches to hear him preach about the new birth. The message of the
new birth was not a mere doctrine for him but something that had transformed
his life.
Despite graduating from Oxford with a degree in theology
and being ordained with the Church of England at age 21, he still had no sense
of peace and assurance in his heart before God. He went through an intense spiritual
and mental battle in which he said, “For days and weeks I lay prostrate on the
ground in silent and vocal prayer to God.”
He found peace when he came to the place where he
completely trusted himself to Jesus Christ and Him alone for his salvation. The
mental anguish lifted and peace filled his heart. He found his soul to be at complete
rest. It was so clear to him that it wasn’t the Oxford degree that had brought
him peace nor was it his membership and ordination with the Anglican Church. It
was Christ and Him alone.
As he gazed out over the massive crowd he knew he had to get this point across to them. He decided to act out a conversation between
himself and Father Abraham whom he pictured as looking over the bannister of
heaven at the great multitude made up of all sects and denominations.
Turning his face heavenward, Whitefield shouted, “Father
Abraham, are there any Anglicans in heaven?” The answer came back, “No, there
are no Anglicans in heaven.”
“Father Abraham, are there any Catholics in heaven?” “No, there
are no Catholics in heaven.” “Are there any Presbyterians in heaven?” “No,
there are no Presbyterians here either.”
“Father Abraham, surely there are Methodists in heaven?” “No,
there are no Methodists here either.” “What about Presbyterians, Baptists or
Quakers?” “No, there are none of those here either.”
With a sound of desperation in his voice, Whitefield shouted, “Father
Abraham, what kind of people are in heaven?” The answer came back, “There are
only Christians in heaven; only those who have put their faith in Jesus Christ and
been washed in the blood of the Lamb.”
Whitefield then exclaimed, “Oh, is that the case? Then God, help
me, God help us all, to forget having labels and names and to become Christians
in deed and in truth!”
What was the impact of his Christ-centered message? Benjamin
Franklin, who was one of those in that massive crowd, wrote in his Autobiography,
It was wonderful to see the change soon made in the manners of our inhabitants. From
being thoughtless or indifferent about religion, it seemed as if all the world
were growing religious so that one could not walk through the town in an
evening without hearing psalms sung in different families of every street.
The Christ-centered preaching of Whitefield broke down sectarian
and denominational walls. For the first time the people of colonial America
began to see themselves, not as 13 separate colonies, but as a single people
with one Divine destiny—one nation under God.
This
is a different era and we face different challenges, but the answer is still
the same. The answer is declaring the same message that Whitfield preached,
which is the Christ-centered gospel message of the New Testament church. It is the same message Paul preached to the pagan, idolatrous city of Corinth.
And
I brothers and sisters, when I came to you, did not come with excellence of speech
or of wisdom declaring to you the testimony of God, for I determined to know
nothing among you except Jesus Christ and Him crucified (I Cor. 2:1-2).
There
is a course we often sing that seems appropriate for concluding this essay.
Turn
your eyes upon Jesus,
Look full in His wonderful face.
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,
In the light of His glory and grace.
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