May we look to the Lord in prayer.
Holy Father, we do want to praise and thank Thee that through the blood of Thy beloved Son, and through the new and living way that He has opened for us, we can come to Thy very presence with holy boldness.
We can behold the glory of the Lord and be transformed by Thy Spirit from glory to glory. So, Lord, this is exactly what we wait for Thee to do at this moment. And to Thee be the glory, in the name of our Lord Jesus. Amen.
As we mentioned at the very beginning, we want to illustrate the unfolding of God’s recovery work in the church through the lives of certain men. We believe that God does use earthen vessels and blesses them to manifest His power and His glory. In these lives, we can see how God does His work of recovery.
In the past, we have shared together on the life of Martin Luther, which demonstrates the truth of justification by faith. Then we also shared on the life of Count Zinzendorf, and in him we see the passion for Christ.
Now, this morning, we would like to share on the third person, probably familiar to some of you: John Wesley.
In the year 1739, George Whitefield, the burning evangelist, found that the pulpits of Bristol were all closed to him. He declared that he would make his own pulpit, and that declaration was the beginning of the Wesleyan revival.
He began to preach in the open air, defying church rules and fashions. He said:
I thought it might be doing the service of my Creator,
Who had a mountain for His pulpit,
And the heavens for a sounding board;
And Who, when His gospel was refused by the Jews,
Sent His servants into the highways and hedges.
Thousands flocked to hear him. But then he was faced with a dilemma: What should he do with all these people who came to hear him? He could not leave them as shepherdless sheep.
So finally, he decided to call on his friend John Wesley. He asked young Wesley to come to Bristol, to Kingswood, to help.
When John Wesley received such a call, of course, he consulted with his friends. But they were all very reluctant about it. And John Wesley especially was not ready for such an attempt.
Finally, after much prayer, they tried to open the Bible and find some Scriptures to support them. But all the Scriptures seemed very bad, indicating perhaps that he would die, and so forth. Yet finally Wesley felt that he would go. So he went.
But it was very difficult for him because he was bound by Anglicanism. You were not supposed to speak anywhere except in the pulpit of a church. And, of course, at that time, anyone who was to preach had to be licensed and ordained. If you were not ordained, you were not allowed to preach; it was against the law.
Wesley was an ordained minister. He had a right to preach. But he felt bound to preach only in the pulpits of churches.
On that Sunday morning, when he stood beside Whitefield and saw Whitefield preaching to thousands of people in the open air, he looked over that sea of faces, and a conviction came to him. He said, “Probably the Lord has prepared an audience for me to deliver His message.”
So, the next day, on April 2, at four o’clock in the afternoon, John Wesley stood on a small eminence outside the city and preached to three thousand people.
His text was from Isaiah 61:
The Spirit of the Lord is upon Me,
Because He hath anointed Me to preach good tidings to the poor;
He hath sent Me to bind up the broken-hearted,
To proclaim liberty to the captives,
And the opening of the prison to them that are bound;
To proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.
Wesley reflected that he had found a precedent in Scripture, because our Lord Jesus delivered His Sermon on the Mount in the open air.
He was challenged regarding his new way of preaching in the open air. Here was his formal reply:
Permit me to speak plainly. If by Catholic principles you mean any other than Scripture, they weigh nothing with me. I allow no other rule, whether of faith or practice, than the Holy Scriptures.
But on scriptural principles, I do not think it hard to justify whatever I do. God in Scripture commands me, according to my power, to instruct the ignorant, to reform the wicked, and to confirm the virtuous. Man forbids me to do this in another’s parish—that is, in effect, to do it at all, seeing that I have no parish of my own, nor probably ever shall.
Whom then shall I hear, God or man?
I look upon the whole world as my parish. That is what I mean: that in whatever part of it I am, I judge it meet, right, and my bounden duty to declare unto all that are willing to hear the glad tidings of salvation.
This is the work which I know God has called me to, and sure I am that His blessing attends it. Great encouragement have I, therefore, to be faithful in fulfilling the work He has given me to do. His servant I am, and as such am employed according to the plain direction of His Word, as I have opportunity, doing good unto all men.
And His providence clearly concurs with His Word, which has disengaged me from all things else that I might singly attend on this very thing and go about doing good.
Now, this is Wesley’s Magna Carta.
Let us go back to the very beginning of his life. John Wesley was born to Samuel Wesley and Susanna Wesley on June 17, 1703. He was the fifteenth of nineteen children and the second son of the family.
His father was the rector of Epworth in Lincolnshire. Both his father and mother were highly educated and had very strong Puritan roots. Each of them was endowed with inflexible resolution and a strong will. There is a very interesting story about that, but I am not going to tell you.
The training of the children was left to the mother. The family lived in constant poverty, even though the children never went hungry.
When a child turned one year old, he was taught to fear the rod and to cry softly. Susanna Wesley said:
I insist on conquering the will of children betimes, because this is the only strong and rational foundation of a religious education, without which both precept and example would be ineffectual.
But when this is thoroughly done, then is a child capable of being governed by the reason and piety of its parents, till its own understanding comes to maturity and the principles of religion have taken root in the mind.
Little John, together with the other children, as soon as they were able to talk, was taught to recite the Lord’s Prayer at rising and at retiring. As their understanding grew, other short forms of prayer, a short catechism, and passages of Scripture for memory were added.
It was the custom that every child spent half an hour each week alone with the mother. John’s turn was Thursday evening.
Exactly at the appointed time, little John would knock at his mother’s door. He would be let in and would sit in a chair by his mother. They would talk over what had happened during the past week. There were harsh words about his failures and a little praise for what had been good.
John could talk frankly about his problems and his dreams. They discussed the book he was reading, the part of the Bible he had been studying, and what could be done to help some person in need.
John always felt better after that Thursday half hour. Many years later, he wrote to his mother, wishing that he could turn to her in the same way, at the same time, to discuss bigger problems than he had ever thought he would have to face.
It was when John was six years old that a memorable fire occurred which burned down the rectory. On the night of February 7, 1709, the family was awakened by flames.
The parents gathered all the children. When they came out of the house and reached the garden, they began to count them. In counting the children, they found that one was missing. John was missing.
Why? Because he slept in the back room at the top of the house. He slept through all the panic without knowing anything.
The father rushed into the burning house, thinking of rescuing John, but the stairs were already full of smoke and flames. So the father knelt down at the burning hall and committed his son to the Lord.
Finally, John was awakened by the noise. He ran to the front of the house and looked down at the crowd gathering below. He stood at the window, waiting for rescue.
A man rushed to the wall, and another man scrambled onto his shoulders. That man stretched out his arms, and little John jumped into them. When they came down to the ground, the roof collapsed.
John Wesley often mentioned that he was “a brand plucked from the burning.” He believed that God must have had a purpose for his life.
When John was ten years old, he was admitted to Charterhouse, a boarding school for boys in London, on a charity scholarship.
Let us hear what he said:
From ten to fourteen, I had little but bread to eat, and not much of that. I believe this was so far from hurting me that it laid the foundation of lasting health.
He received his meals in the dining hall and was small for his age. Remember, John Wesley was small in stature. The bigger boys, the older boys, robbed his plate of the tastier morsels. So he had very little to eat.
But he followed the instruction of his father to the letter. His father told him that every day he had to run around the green three times, about half a mile. So every day he ran about half a mile.
As young Wesley was polishing his mind, he began to be a little less diligent in keeping up his religious practices. He later said:
Our good restraints being removed, I was much more negligent than before, such of outward duties, and almost continually guilty of outward sins, which I knew to be such, though they were not scandalous in the eyes of the world.
However, I still read the Scriptures and said my prayers morning and evening. And what I now hoped to be saved by was:
- Not being so bad as other people.
- Having still a kindness for religion.
- Reading the Bible, joining the church, and saying my prayers.
By the age of seventeen, he entered Christ Church, Oxford. He himself made very little mention of his studies, but he gave us the understanding that his religious life was a little better than it had been at Charterhouse.
He remarked:
I still said my prayers, went to public and private worship, and read the Scriptures and other books of religion, especially comments on the New Testament. Yet I had not at that time so much as a notion of inward holiness.
Nay, when I habitually, and for the most part, lived contentedly in some known sin, though with some intermissions and short struggles, especially before and after Holy Communion, which I was obligated to receive twice a year.
John Wesley was now in Oxford for five years before he became really awakened. To the world, he appeared to be irreproachable, but he himself was aware of his deficiency.
The first indication came in 1725. At that time, Wesley was thinking about his future career. What should he do? He felt inclined to go into the ministry, but he was very conscious that he was not fit for it.
One night, as he came home to his dormitory, he met a porter there. The porter was very poor. Wesley learned that this porter had had nothing to eat that day but a drink of water. He had only one suit of clothes, and yet this poor man was so thankful to God.
Wesley asked him, “You thank God when you have nothing to wear, nothing to eat, and no bed to lie upon. What else do you thank God for?”
The poor man said:
I thank Him that He has given me my life and being, and a heart to love Him, and a desire to serve Him.
Returning to his room, John began to feel that there was something in religion—some depth—that he had never touched. So he decided to transform his life.
It is characteristic of this scholar that every time there was a crisis in his life, there was always a book connected with it. During that period he was reading Thomas à Kempis. From his writing, he found that religion was seated in the heart, and that God’s law extended to all our thoughts as well as our words and actions.
He also read Jeremy Taylor’s Holy Living and Holy Dying, and Henry Scougal’s The Life of God in the Soul of Man. He told us:
I watched against all sin, whether in word or deed. I began to aim at and pray for inward holiness. So that now, doing so much and living so good a life, I doubted not that I was a good Christian.
It is evident from this account that although Wesley was earnestly seeking the truth of the gospel, he had not yet entered into the transforming experience.
During that time, he began to write his journals. Wesley’s journals are very famous. The first diary contained stringent rules and resolutions regarding all the actions of life: how to employ his time and how to regulate his intentions. He developed a methodical manner of dealing with his own soul. His life took the form of critical self-analysis, rules, and resolutions.
Wesley was away from Oxford for two years because his father was not well. He went to help his father as a curate in the church. But in 1729 he returned to Oxford and found that his brother Charles had started a small group for mutual protection and encouragement.
This small group of men was ridiculed by people as the “Methodist Holy Club.” Naturally, Wesley, being a little older, stepped in and took over the leadership of that Holy Club. He began to imprint his own character upon it.
He changed that club from a semi-educational pursuit into a concentrated pursuit of spiritual improvement. Searching the Scriptures superseded the study of Greek classics. Prayer, self-examination, and fasting were observed on Wednesdays and Fridays.
Added to their devotions were works of charity. They visited prisons and workhouses. They supplied and supported the sick and the poor.
During that period, Wesley remained in Oxford as a fellow of Lincoln College until 1735. That year, his father passed away.
Wesley was given the opportunity to be a chaplain to the new colony in Georgia, USA. Under the advice of some people, he decided to take up that position.
Why? Because during this period, so far as his own soul was concerned, he was constantly stirred by doubts and longings. He hoped that these might be resolved and fulfilled in the new colony.
Up to this time, his religion was one of rules and struggle, without divine inspiration. It really took that very humiliating experience in the new colony to teach him a valuable lesson.
Before he sailed for America, he analyzed his own motive:
My chief motive is the hope of saving my own soul. I hope to learn the true sense of the gospel of Christ by preaching it to the heathen. I cannot hope to attain the same degree of holiness here which I may attain there.
While crossing the Atlantic, on January 26, 1736, a very memorable experience happened to John. In the midst of a service on board, some Moravians were singing. They were going to Georgia as missionaries.
While they were singing, the sea broke over the ship, split the mainsail in pieces, covered the ship, and poured between the decks, as if the great deep had already swallowed them up.
A terrible screaming began among the English, but the Germans calmly sang on.
Wesley later wrote:
I asked one of them afterwards, “Were you not afraid?”
He answered, “I thank God, no.”
I asked, “But were not your women and children afraid?”
He replied mildly, “No. Our women and children are not afraid to die.”
Soon after arriving in Georgia, John sought out the Moravian leader, August Gottlieb Spangenberg, who had already commenced work in the colony. Wesley asked him for advice with regard to his own situation.
Spangenberg’s first question struck him like a blow:
My brother, I must first ask you one or two questions. Have you the witness within yourself? Does the Spirit of God bear witness with your spirit that you are a child of God?
Wesley was taken aback by such directness and scarcely knew what to say. So again the Moravian continued:
Do you know Jesus Christ?
Wesley paused and said, “I know He is the Savior of the world.”
True. But do you know Him? Has He saved you?
“I hope He has died to save me.”
Do you know yourself?
To this Wesley unconsciously said, “I do.” Then in his journal he honestly added, “But I fear these were vain words.”
For eighteen months, Wesley worked in Georgia with the intensest concentration. He rose at four o’clock, conducted services frequently by five in the morning, meditated, prayed, sang, performed many pastoral duties, visited from house to house, and exhorted the inhabitants to virtue and religion.
His exacting moral demands, high Anglican churchmanship, and some personal matters gave occasion for rebellion and rejection. Disillusionment set in.
Life in the ideal colony was no more conducive to holiness than anywhere else in the world. He began to learn that salvation lies not in the external environment but in inward transformation.
So he bade farewell to America on December 22, 1737.
On board the ship returning to England, he wrote in his journal:
I went to America to convert the Indians; but, oh, who shall convert me? Who, what is he that will deliver me from this evil heart of unbelief?
I have a fair summer religion. I can talk well; nay, and believe myself, while no danger is near. But let death look me in the face, and my spirit is troubled. Nor can I say, “To die is gain.”
Verily, if the gospel be true, I am safe. For I not only have given, and do give, all my goods to feed the poor; I not only give my body to be burned, drowned, or whatever God shall appoint for me; but I follow after charity, though not as I ought, yet as I can, if haply I may attain it.
I now believe the gospel is true. I show my faith by my works, by staking my all upon it. I would do it again, a thousand times again, if the choice were still to make.
Whoever sees me sees that I would be a Christian. But in a storm, I think, “What if the gospel be not true? Then thou art of all men most foolish. For what hast thou given thy goods, thy ease, thy friends, thy reputation, thy country, thy life? For what art thou wandering over the face of the earth? A dream, a cunningly devised fable.”
Oh, who will deliver me from the fear of death? What shall I do? A wise man advised me some time ago, “Be still and go on.” Now perhaps this is best: to look upon it as my cross.
When he arrived in London, he met Peter Böhler, a young Moravian. Peter spoke to him of salvation that came through faith alone. At first Wesley simply could not grasp it.
Peter said, “My brother, my brother, this philosophy of yours must be purged away.” But gradually Wesley began to see.
He became convinced of his unbelief and want of faith, whereby alone we may be saved. He had been wandering for thirteen years already.
Now he began to see that holiness is the fruit of faith, not the cause of faith. For many years, he had taught differently from faith in Jesus Christ. Actually, he had put sanctification before justification.
Immediately when he realized this, he was convinced that he should leave off preaching. How could he teach others when he did not have faith himself?
So he sought the advice of Peter Böhler. Peter said, “By no means.”
“But what can I preach?”
Preach faith till you have it; and then, because you have it, you will preach faith.
So John began to preach faith. From Sunday to Sunday, he preached faith in the churches. The first one to whom he really preached faith was a prisoner condemned to death, and that prisoner was soundly saved.
All the time Wesley was still searching with diligence. Thank God, finally that day came: May 24, 1738.
Wesley wrote in his journal:
I think it was about five in the morning that I opened my Testament on these words: “There are given unto us exceeding great and precious promises, that ye should be partakers of the divine nature.”
—2 Peter 1:4And just as I went out, I opened it again on these words: “Thou art not far from the kingdom of God.”
—Mark 12:34
In the afternoon, I went to St. Paul’s. The anthem was:
Out of the depths have I cried unto Thee, O Lord.
Lord, hear my voice.
Let Thine ears be attentive
To the voice of my supplications.
If Thou, Lord, shouldest mark iniquities,
O Lord, who shall stand?
But there is forgiveness with Thee,
That Thou mayest be feared.
O Israel, hope in the Lord;
For with the Lord there is lovingkindness,
And with Him is plenteous redemption.
And He shall redeem Israel
From all his iniquities.
In the evening, I went very unwillingly to a society in Aldersgate Street, where one was reading Luther’s preface to the Epistle to the Romans.
You must remember that no one was allowed to preach without being ordained. So in that little society, some Moravians were present, but they could not preach. Therefore, they read Luther’s preface to the Epistle to the Romans.
Wesley continued:
About a quarter before nine, while he was describing the change which God works in the heart through faith in Christ, I felt my heart strangely warmed.
I felt I did trust in Christ, Christ alone, for salvation; and an assurance was given me that He had taken away my sins, even mine, and saved me from the law of sin and death.
I began to pray with all my might for those who had in a most especial manner despitefully used me and persecuted me. I then testified openly to all there what I now first felt in my heart.
Later, the portion of Luther’s preface that was being read was traced. It was this:
We conclude that faith alone justifies, and that faith alone fulfills the law. For faith, through the merit of Christ, obtains the Holy Spirit. This Spirit makes us new hearts, exhilarates us, excites and inflames our hearts, that we may do willingly, out of love, those things which the law commands.
And so, at last, good works indeed proceed freely from the faith which works so mightily and which is so lively in our hearts.
Let us continue with his journal:
But it was not long before the enemy suggested, “This cannot be faith, for where is thy joy?”
Then was I taught that peace and victory over sin are essential to faith in the Captain of our salvation; but that, as to the transports of joy that usually attend the beginning of it, especially in those who have mourned deeply, God sometimes gives it and sometimes withholds it, according to the counsels of His will.
After my return home, I was much buffeted with temptations; but I cried, and they fled away. They returned again and again. I as often lifted up my eyes, and He sent me help from His holy place.
And herein I found the difference between this and my former state chiefly consisted: I was striving, yea, fighting with all my might, under the law as well as under grace. But then I was sometimes, if not often, conquered; now, I was always conqueror.
Wesley himself later explained his Aldersgate experience. He said that before Aldersgate he had the faith of a servant, but now he had the faith of a son.
As a servant, I had no assurance. As a son, I had a measure of assurance, so as to testify a childlike confidence and love.
This experience on May 24, 1738, not only became the foundation of his spiritual career, but it was also the beginning of revived power in his ministry.
He said:
Then it pleased God to kindle a fire which, I trust, shall never be extinguished. As soon as I saw clearly the nature of saving grace and made it the understanding topic of my preaching, God then began to work by my ministry as He never had done before.
From 1738 onward, he wrote later, he spoke continually of Jesus Christ, laying Him only as the foundation of the whole building, making Him all in all, the first and the last. He preached only on this plan:
The kingdom of God is at hand; repent ye, and believe the gospel.
The Word of God rang as fire among the stubble. It was glorified more and more. Multitudes cried out, “What shall we do to be saved?” And afterward they witnessed, “By grace we are saved through faith.”
Two things happened to Wesley: great achievements and great opposition. It was not until after 1738 that the authorities began to object to Wesley’s preaching. But it was at the same period that his message was attended by multiplied conversions.
All the church pulpits were closed to him. So he began preaching in the open air and considered the world as his parish. We have already mentioned that at the beginning.
But the climax of his ill treatment at the hands of the clergy was this: he went back to Epworth, but he was not allowed to preach in the church where his father had ministered for so many years, and where Wesley himself had been curate for two years.
So, at six o’clock in the evening, he climbed onto the tombstone of his father’s grave and preached to a multitude that had never been so great in that place.
A living son, preaching on a dead father’s tombstone.
Throughout England, Scotland, Wales, and Ireland, he lifted up his voice in fields, under the oaks, in dales, and from hillsides. His was a long and glorious preaching career.
For more than forty years, he spent time on horseback. He traveled a quarter of a million miles, preached forty-two thousand sermons, and his messages were bound into two hundred books.
The secret of his tremendous accomplishment lay in his time-defying schedule, which charted the course of his life.
If you check his journal, let us use one illustration. On June 23, 1787, he was in his eighty-fourth year. His Saturday schedule included prayer, sermons, tea, conversation, dinner, visits, business, supper, and more prayer. Now, that was his schedule.
In later life, he always said, “When the Methodists give up the five o’clock morning preaching, the Methodists are finished.”
Now, Wesley’s main doctrines, which include all the rest, are three: repentance, faith, and holiness.
The first of these we account, as it were, the porch of religion; the next, the door; the third, religion itself.
It was the doctrine of Christian holiness, or Christian perfection as Wesley termed it, that was the heart of his appeal.
After his experience at Aldersgate, he wrote to his brother Samuel. Samuel could not accept it; he was still bound by Anglicanism and doubted Wesley’s experience. In October 1738, Wesley wrote:
With regard to my own character, and my doctrine likewise, I shall answer you very plainly. By a Christian, I mean one who believes in Christ so that sin hath no more dominion over him.
And in this obvious sense of the word, I was not a Christian till May 24 last past. For till then sin had dominion over me, although I fought with it continually. And surely, from that time to this, it hath not.
Such are the free grace of Christ. What sins they were which then reigned over me, and from which, by the grace of God, I am now free, I am ready to declare on the housetop, if it may be for the glory of God.
If you ask by what means I was made free, though not perfect, neither infallibly sure of my perseverance, I answer: by faith in Christ—by such a sort or degree of faith as I had not till that day.
In other words, Wesley believed not only in justification by faith, but he also believed in sanctification by faith.
He argued time and again that Christians, from the moment of justification, need never lose joy and peace, consistent with the constant awareness of the love of God. God never withdraws the awareness of His present favor. He believed that one should hourly expect to be purified in love.
His doctrine of perfection involved an appeal, an offer, and a gift of God. His concept of perfection was subjective and relative, involving, for the most part, intentions and motives.
He frequently asserted that perfection could be achieved as far as willful sin was concerned, but ignorance would always make one liable to involuntary error. Only omniscience implies infallibility.
He defined perfection as perfect love: loving God with all the heart; receiving Christ as Prophet, Priest, and King, to reign alone over all our thoughts, words, and activities.
More and more, God is transfused into the soul. From that disinterested love, all other divine tempers will, as it were, more naturally spring. When you love God, then the commandments of God will not be grievous.
These characteristics of holiness, along with its ethical, moral, and evangelical virtues, Wesley not only retained after Aldersgate but insisted upon as a legitimate pattern of Christian perfection.
In order to help those who claimed that they had entered into that perfection, Wesley organized societies so that they might grow into love.
He said, “They need not fall. I know they may; but I deny they must.”
Wesley realized the importance of fellowship. Our brother mentioned fellowship last night, and Wesley realized its importance. He said:
Look east, west, north, and south. Name what parish you please. Is there Christian fellowship?
Rather, are not the bulk of the parishes a mere rope of sand? What Christian connection is there between them? What intercourse in spiritual things? What watching over each other’s souls?
In order to foster this fellowship, he formed societies. Because societies were too big, they were broken down into classes. And that was the strength of Methodism.
He entered 1790 with a step of victory. Though he was then eighty-seven years old, on January 1 he wrote in his journal:
I am now an old man, decayed from head to foot. However, blessed be God, I do not lack my labor. I can preach and write still.
He entered 1791 full of confidence, even though his steps were failing. His constant prayer was, “Lord, let me not live to be useless.”
Finally, weakness overtook him on February 28, and he was taken to his City Road house, where he became very feeble. One day he tried to write, but the pen would not go. A friend suggested that he write for him.
His feeble reply was, “Nothing but that God is with us.”
As his departure approached, with all his remaining strength, he cried out:
The best of all is, God is with us.
Again he said:
The best of all is, God is with us.
As if he wanted to assure those around him, and also to exert his faith in the promise of God, he lifted up his feeble arm in a token of victory and cried out once more:
The best of all is, God is with us.
During that night, people heard him saying repeatedly, “I’ll praise, I’ll praise.” He was trying to quote the hymn by Isaac Watts:
I’ll praise my Maker while I’ve breath,
And when my voice is lost in death,
Praise shall employ my nobler powers.
On March 2, in the morning, he whispered, “Farewell,” and passed into glory.
Shall we pray?
Heavenly Father, we do praise and thank Thee that Thou art so patient with us. And Thou didst, with Thy servant, arrange his circumstances, waiting for him until he was ready for Thee, and then Thou didst use him for Thy glory.
Our Father, we do acknowledge that we are so slow. We are also stubborn. We are also set in our ways. But we do praise and thank Thee that Thou dost give us hope, that Thou art working in us, and Thou art working out Thy full purpose in us and among us.
For this we are grateful. Thou dost never forsake us, never give us up, but Thou wilt work until we are transformed and conformed to the image of Thy beloved Son.
Our Father, we just pray that as we hear what Thou didst do with Thy servant Wesley, Lord, that we too may yield ourselves to Thee and allow Thee to perfect the good work which Thou hast already begun in us.
And to Thee be the glory, in the name of our Lord Jesus. Amen.