"When I was sixteen years of age," said Whitefield, a few months before he died, "I began to fast twice a week for thirty-six hours together, prayed many times a day, received the sacrament every Sabbath, fasted myself almost to death all the forty days of Lent, during which I made it a point of duty never to go less than three times a day to public worship, besides seven times a day to my private prayers; yet I knew no more that I was to be born a new creature in Christ Jesus, than if I had never been born at all. I had a mind to be upon the stage, but then I had a qualm of conscience. I used to ask people, 'Pray can I be a player, and yet go to sacrament, and be a Christian?' 'O,' said they, 'such a one, who is a player, goes to sacrament; though, according to the law of the land, no player should receive the sacrament unless he gives proof that he repents; that was Archbishop Tillotson's doctrine.' 'Well then,' said I, 'if that be the case, I will be a player;' and I thought to act my part for the devil as well as anybody. But, blessed be God, He stopped me in my career. I must bear testimony to my old friend, Mr. Charles Wesley. He put a book into my hands, called 'The Life of God in the Soul of Man,' whereby God showed me that I must be born again or be damned. I know the place; it may perhaps be superstitious, but, whenever I go to Oxford, I cannot help running to the spot where Jesus Christ first revealed Himself to me, and gave me the new birth. I learned that a man may go to church, say his prayers, receive the sacrament, and yet not be a Christian. How did my heart rise and shudder like a poor man that is afraid to look into his ledger, lest he should find himself a bankrupt. 'Shall I burn this book? Shall I throw it down? Or shall I search it?' I did search it; and, holding the book in my hand, thus addressed the God of heaven and earth: 'Lord, if I am not a Christian, for Jesus Christ's sake show me what Christianity is, that I may not be damned at last.' I read a little further, and discovered that they who know anything of religion know it is a vital union with the Son of God—Christ formed in the heart. O what a ray of Divine life did then break in upon my soul! I fell a writing to all my brethren and to my sisters. I talked to the students as they came into my room. I laid aside all trifling conversation. I put all trifling books away, and was determined to study to be a saint, and then to be a scholar. From that moment God has been carrying on His blessed work in my soul. I am now fifty-five years of age, and shall leave you in a few days; but I tell you, my brethren, I am more and more convinced that this is the truth of God, and that without it you can never be saved by Jesus Christ."[28]
Nothing more need be said on the subject of Whitefield's conversion. The reader now has Whitefield's own testimonies at three different periods of his life. The accounts might have been clearer, more precise, and perhaps more scripturally expressed; but the fact is patent: Whitefield was converted—regenerated—born again—in the year 1735. Or, perhaps, to speak more correctly, it was in 1735, that, through a penitent, heartfelt trust in Christ, he received "the Spirit of adoption," God sending "forth the Spirit of His Son into his heart, crying, Abba, Father."
For five years, Whitefield had been a sincere and earnest penitent. Like all the other Oxford Methodists, he sought salvation, not by simple, heartfelt faith in Christ, but by self-denial, ardent piety, and the practice of good works. No wonder that he was destitute of the joy arising from a firm and full assurance of acceptance with God. The man relying on his own piety and beneficence must necessarily live a joyless, anxious, and almost miserable life; because he knows and feels that much in his past career has been absolutely wicked; and because, however sincere his present piety, and however commendable his good works, he knows that, at the best, they are exceedingly imperfect, and, so far from meriting the Divine favour, and atoning for the iniquities of other days, actually need the forgiveness of a long-suffering God. No man of this description can be happy. But it is far otherwise with the penitent, who, while diligently using all the means of grace, and to the utmost of his power endeavouring to serve both God and man, obeys Scripture teaching by firmly believing that the death of Christ was a full atonement for his sins, even his, and by trusting solely and exclusively in that astounding but scripturally revealed fact for acceptance with God, both in this world and in that which is to come. Let a man attain to such a faith as this, or rather let him be blessed with such a blessing (for faith is a Divine gift as well as a human act), and he cannot fail to be filled, as Whitefield was, with "joy unspeakable and full of glory." Even his love to God, also, becomes what it had never been before, inasmuch as he now, in the death of Christ, sees God's love manifested to himself as it is manifested nowhere else. Love kindles love, and the man serves his Maker, not merely because it is his duty, but because he cannot help it, love making his duty his delight. With such a belief concerning the death of Christ, and such a trust in it, his faith in God, in Providence, in the blessed Bible as a whole, is of necessity higher, holier, stronger, broader, firmer than it ever could be without such a belief and trust; and the same may also be said respecting hope, and all the other Divine gifts and Christian virtues possessed and exercised by the genuinely converted man.
It was not until the year 1735 that Whitefield attained to such a state as this; and three more years elapsed before his friends and religious preceptors, John and Charles Wesley, were brought to the same self-renunciating crisis, and were enabled by the Holy Spirit to trust simply and solely in the blood of Christ for personal, present, and endless salvation.
From this point in their history, all the three were "new creatures in Christ Jesus." This will be seen hereafter; but, before proceeding further, it may be instructive and profitable to look at them again in their transition period. Pietists more sincere and earnest never lived; and yet none of them were happy. They were ready to do and almost to suffer anything and everything that would be conducive to the Divine honour; and yet they were in doubt and darkness respecting their being blessed with the Divine favour. The reason of this perplexed them. To others it is obvious. The language of St. Paul concerning the Jews may, with perfect propriety, be applied to the Oxford Methodists: "I bear them record that they have a zeal of God, but not according to knowledge. For they being ignorant of God's righteousness, and going about to establish their own righteousness, have not submitted themselves unto the righteousness of God."
The following extracts from letters, written by Whitefield during the twelve months immediately preceding his conversion, will not only help to elucidate his character, but will also confirm what has just been said respecting the principles, and piety, and personal experience of the Oxford Methodists at this important period of their history.
On the death of a young friend, Whitefield wrote:—
"Oxon, July 18, 1734. I envy him his blessed condition. He, unquestionably, is divinely blessed, whilst we are still left behind to wrestle with unruly passions, and, by a continued looking unto Jesus and running in our Christian race, to press forward to that high prize of which he, dear youth, is now in full fruition."
"Bristol, September 10, 1734. You tell me Mr. P. wants to know my quality, state, condition, and circumstances. Alas! that any one should enquire after such a wretch as I am. However, since he has been so kind, pray tell him that, as for my quality, I was a poor, mean drawer, but, by the distinguishing grace of God, am now intended for the ministry; as for my estate, that I am a servitor; and as to my condition and circumstances, that I have not of my own anywhere to lay my head, but my friends, by God's providence, minister daily to me; and, in return for such unmerited, unspeakable blessings, I trust the same good Being will give me grace to dedicate myself without reserve to His service."
"Oxon, September 17, 1734. We must make a great progress in religion, to be inured, by frequent prayer and meditation, to the ecstatic contemplation of heavenly objects, before we can arrive at true heavenly-mindedness; and perhaps, after all our endeavours, whilst our souls are immersed in these fleshly tabernacles, we shall make but very small advances in so delightful and glorious an undertaking. But believe me, sir, you cannot imagine how vastly serviceable the constant use of all the means of religion will be in acquiring this blessed habit of mind: such as an early rising in the morning, public and private prayer, a due temperance in all things, and frequent meditation on the infinite love and purity of that unparalleled pattern of all perfection, our dear Redeemer. As for your mentioning the degeneracy of the age as an objection against our making further advances in any religious improvement, I cannot by any means admit of it. The Scriptures are to be the only rules of action, and the examples of our blessed Lord and His Apostles the grand patterns whereby we are to form the conduct of our lives. It is true, indeed, that instances of exalted piety are rarely to be met with in the present age, and if we were to take an estimate of religion from the lives of most of its professors, one would think that Christianity was nothing but a dead letter. But then it is not our religion, but ourselves that are to be blamed for this. Would we live as the primitive Christians did, we might, no doubt, have the same assistance vouchsafed us as they had. God's grace is never restrained. And though we should not arrive at those heights of heavenly-mindedness, for which some of the primitive Christians were eminent, yet we should imitate them as far as we can, and rely on the Divine goodness for grants of such a supply of grace as He, in His good pleasure, shall judge most convenient for us. Be pleased to send for Mr. Law's 'Christian Perfection' for me against my coming into the country, if printed in a small edition."
"Oxon, December 4, 1734. I am heartily glad that 'The Country Parson'[29] has had so good an effect upon you. The 'Prayers' I hope to send you next week. Only let me give you this caution, not to depend upon any advice or book that is given you, but solely on the grace of God attending it. The book which I have sent to my brother, and would recommend to you and all my Gloucester friends, will soon convince you how dangerous it is to be a lukewarm Christian, and that there is nothing to be done without breaking from the world, denying ourselves daily, taking up our cross, and following Jesus Christ. These things may seem a little terrible at first; but, believe me, mortification itself, when once practised, is the greatest pleasure in the world."
"Oxon, February 20, 1735. I am surprised that you should have desired that 'Collection of Prayers,'[30] and be wholly unconcerned about them ever after. Indeed, they will be of no service to you, unless you grant me this one postulatum: 'that we must renounce ourselves.' What the meaning of this phrase may be, the preface to the Prayers will best inform you. I did not doubt of its meeting with but a cold reception, it being at first view so very contrary to flesh and blood. For, perhaps, you may think that this renouncing of ourselves must necessarily lead us (as it certainly does) to acts of self-denial and mortification; and that we probably may be saved without them. And lest you should after all imagine that true religion consists in anything besides an entire renewal of our nature into the image of God, I have sent you a book entitled 'The Life of God in the Soul of Man,' which will inform you what true religion is, and by what means you may attain it; as, likewise, how wretchedly most people err in their sentiments about it, who suppose it to be nothing else but a mere model of outward performances, without ever considering that all our corrupt passions must be subdued, and a complex habit of virtues, such as meekness, lowliness, faith, hope, and the love of God and of man, be implanted in their room, before we can have the least title to enter into the kingdom of God; our Divine Master having expressly told us that 'unless we renounce ourselves, and take up our cross daily, we cannot be His disciples.' I shall be glad to hear whether you keep up morning prayers, and how often you receive the Holy Communion, there being nothing which so much be-dwarfs us in religion as starving our souls by keeping away from the heavenly banquet."
"Oxon, March 6, 1735. I find, by what I can gather from your own and my brother's expressions, that my late letters have met with but a cold reception, and that you seem desirous of hearing no more of so seemingly ungrateful a subject as submitting our wills to the will of God, which is all that is implied in the phrase of renouncing ourselves. Alas, sir! what is there that appears so monstrously terrible in a doctrine that is the constant subject of our prayers, whenever we put up the petition, 'Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven;' the import of which seems to be this: 1. That we do everything that God wills, and nothing but what He wills; 2. That we do everything He wills, only in the manner He wills; 3. That we do those things He wills, only because He wills. This is all I have been endeavouring to inculcate in my late letters. Dear sir, be not dismayed. The difficulty lies only in our first setting out. Be but vigorous at the first onset, and never fear a conquest. The renewal of our nature is a work of great importance. It is not to be done in a day; we have not only a new house to build up, but an old one to pull down. The means which are necessary to be used in order to attain this end, our cursed adversary the devil would represent to us in the most hideous forms imaginable; but, believe me, sir, there is really more pleasure in these formidable duties of self-denial and mortification, than in the highest indulgences of the greatest epicure upon earth."
These are fair specimens of Whitefield's letters at this period of his history. He and the other Oxford Methodists were profoundly sincere and earnest; but they were legalists, trying to save themselves, instead of seeking to be saved by Christ. Their aim was to subdue their "corrupt passions," and to produce within themselves the virtues of "meekness, lowliness, faith, hope, and the love of God and man." The means used to accomplish this aim were public and private worship, "acts of self-denial and mortification," and the practice of good works. There is not a word in Whitefield's letters respecting justification by faith in the atoning sacrifice of the Divine Redeemer; and not a word respecting the great fact that it is the sole work of the Holy Spirit to subdue and destroy the "corrupt passions" of the sinner, and to plant within him "the mind which was in Christ Jesus." The men were morose ascetics rather than happy Christians.