t the age of seventeen Spurgeon became Pastor of a handful of
believers at Waterbeach, in Cambridgeshire, meeting in what had been a
dovecote. Within five years he had become the best. . known minister
in the Metropolis, judged competent before another two years had
passed to conduct a service of National Humiliation (on account of the
Indian Mutiny) in the Crystal Palace, when almost 24,000 persons were
assembled. His pulpit ministry extended to all lands through the
printed sermons which came weekly from the press, and such was the
place that he had come to occupy in men's hearts that in his last
illness, "for twelve days the attention of the Civilised world
was centred in the testimony borne, not only to the servant of God,
but to the Gospel he preached, in column after column of almost every
newspaper."
 Both his father and
grandfather were believing ministers of the Gospel. Even as a young
lad in Essex he had been an avid reader and had read many of the
Puritan works long before he was converted at the age of fifteen.
Conversion
Spurgeon describes his
conversion as follows: "Through the Lord's restraining grace, and
the holy influence of my early home life, both at my father's and my
grandfather's, I was kept from certain outward forms of sin in which
others indulged; and, sometimes, when I began to take stock of myself,
I really thought I was quite a respectable lad, and might have been
half inclined to boast that I was not like other boys, untruthful,
dishonest, disobedient, swearing. Sabbath breaking, and so on. But,
all of a sudden, I met Moses, carrying in his hand the law of God; and
as he looked at me, he seemed to search me through and through with
his eyes of fire. He bade me read 'God's Ten Words',—the ten
commandments—and as I read them, and remembered what I had been
taught about their spiritual meaning as interpreted by the Lord Jesus
Christ, they all seemed to join in accusing and condemning me in the
sight of the thrice-holy Jehovah. Then, like Daniel, "my
comeliness was turned in me into corruption, and I retained no
strength;" and I understood what Paul meant when he wrote,
"Now we know that what things soever the law saith, it saith to
them who are under the law, that every mouth may be stopped, and all
the world may become guilty before God."
For years he remained
under deep conviction of sin until one Sunday morning in January 1850
a snow storm forced him to cut short his intended journey and turn in
to a Primitive Methodist chapel in Colchester. "The minister did
not come that morning; he was snowed up, I suppose. At last, a very
thin looking man, a shoemaker, or tailor, or something of that sort,
went up into the pulpit to preach. . . . He was obliged to stick to
his text, for the simple reason that he had little else to say. The
text was, "Look unto me, and be ye saved, all the ends of the
earth."
When he had managed to
spin out ten minutes or so, he was at the end of his tether. Then he
looked at me under the gallery, and I daresay, with so few present, he
knew me to be a stranger. Just fixing his eyes on me, as if he knew
all my heart, he said, "Young man, you look very miserable."
Well, I did, but I had not been accustomed to have remarks made from
the pulpit on my personal appearance before. However, it was a good
blow, struck right home. He continued, "and you always will be
miserable—miserable in life, and miserable in death—if you don't
obey my text; but if you obey now, this moment, you will be
saved." Then, lifting up his hands, he shouted, as only a
Primitive Methodist could do, "Young man, look to Jesus Christ.
Look! Look! Look! You have nothin' to do but to look and live." I
saw at once the way of salvation . . . I had been waiting to do fifty
things, but when I heard that word, "Look!" What a charming
word it seemed to me! Oh! I looked until l could almost have looked my
eyes away. There and then the cloud was gone, the darkness had rolled
away, and that moment I saw the sun; and I could have risen that
instant, and sung with the most enthusiastic of them, of the precious
blood of Christ, and the simple faith which looks alone to HIM . . .
E'er since by faith I saw the stream
Thy flowing wounds supply
Redeeming love has been my theme
And shall be till I die
Beginning to Serve the Lord
In that day when I surrendered myself to my Saviour, I gave Him my
body, my soul, my spirit; I gave him all I had, and all I shall have
for time and eternity. I gave him all my talents, my powers, my
faculties, my eyes, my ears, my limbs, my emotions, my judgement, my
whole manhood, and all that came of it, whatever fresh capacity or new
capability I might be endowed with.
The very first service
which my youthful heart rendered to Christ was the placing of tracts
in envelopes, and then sealing them up, that I might send them. . . .
I might have done nothing for Christ if I had not been encouraged by
finding myself able to do a little. Then I sought to do something
more, and from that something more, and I do not doubt that many
servants of God have been led on to higher and nobler labours for
their Lord, because they began to serve Him in the right spirit and
manner. . . . I used to write texts on little scraps of paper, and
drop them anywhere, that some poor creatures might pick them up, and
receive them as messages of mercy to their souls. I could scarcely
content myself even for five minutes without trying to do something
for Christ. If I walked along the street, I must have a few tracts
with me; if I went into a railway carriage, I must drop a tract out of
the window[!]; if I had a moment's leisure, I must be upon my knees or
at my Bible; if I were in company, I must turn the subject of
conversation to Christ, that I might serve my Master. It may be that,
in the young dawn of my Christian life, I did imprudent things in
order to serve the cause of Christ, but I Still say, give me back that
time again, with all its imprudence and with all its hastiness, if I
may but have the same love to my Master, the same overwhelming
influence in my spirit, making me obey my Lord's commands because it
was a pleasure to me to do anything to serve my God.
His First Sermon
Within a year of his
conversion one of the Preacher's Association in Cambridge spoke with
Spurgeon . . . "to ask me to go over to Teversham the next
evening, for a young man was to preach there who was not much used to
services, and very likely would be glad of company . . . I set off . .
. with a gentleman some few years my senior. We talked of good things,
and at last I expressed my hope that he would feel the presence of God
while preaching. He seemed to start, and assured me that he had never
preached in his life, and could not attempt such a thing: he was
looking to his young friend, Mr. Spurgeon, for that . . . I walked
along quietly, lifting up my soul to God, and it seemed to me that I
could surely tell a few poor cottagers of the sweetness and love of
Jesus, for I felt them in my own soul. Praying for Divine help, I
resolved to make the attempt. My text should be, "Unto you
therefore which believe He is precious." (1 Peter 2:7) and I
would trust the Lord to open my mouth in honour of His dear Son. It
seemed a great risk and a serious trial, but depending upon the power
of the Holy Ghost, I would at least tell out the story of the cross,
and not allow the people to go home without a word.
We entered the
low-pitched room of the thatched cottage, where a few simple-minded
farm-labourers and their wives were gathered together; we sang, and
prayed, and read the Scriptures, and then came my first sermon . . .
To my own delight, I had
not broken down, nor stopped short in the middle, nor been destitute
of ideas, and the desired haven was in view. I made a finish, and took
up the hymn book, but to my astonishment, an aged voice cried out,
"Bless you dear heart, how old are you?" My very solemn
reply was, "You must wait till the service is over before making
such enquiries.
The Young Soul-Winner at Waterbeach
Spurgeon was only 17
years old when he became pastor of a small chapel in Waterbeach near
Cambridge.
"There went Into that village a lad, who had no great
scholarship, but who was earnest in seeking the souls of men. He
began to preach there, and It pleased God to turn the whole place
upside down. In a short time, the little thatched chapel was
crammed, the biggest vagabonds of the village were weeping floods of
tears, and those who had been the curse of the parish became its
blessing. Where there had been robberies and villainies of every
kind, all round the neighbourhood, there were none, because the men
who used to do mischief were themselves in the house of God,
rejoicing to hear of Jesus crucified."
By a strange providence his plan to undertake formal Bible-school
training never saw fruition. He continued in his rural situation, his
salary was £45 a year and he was thrown upon the generosity of the
people because it was not enough to keep him. One reminiscence of
those early days has a peculiarly. . modern ring about It. "In my
first pastorate, I had often to battle with Antinomians—that is
people who held that because they believed themselves to be elect,
they might live as they liked . . . I knew one man, who stood on the
table of a public-house, and held a glass of gin in his hand,
declaring all the while that he is one of the Lord's chosen people.
They kicked him out of the public house, and when I heard of it, I
felt that It served him right. Even those ungodly men said that they
did not want any such 'elect' people there. There is no one who can
live in sin—drinking, swearing, lying, and so on—who can truly
declare that he is one of the Lord's chosen people"
The Call to London
Church officers of the
well known New Park Street Chapel, London heard about the "'boy
preacher from the Fens." Spurgeon's father recalled a
conversation soon after his son had accepted the call. "Your son
will never last in London six months; he has no education." His
own reply was, "You are terribly mistaken, he has the best
education that can possibly be had; God has been his teacher, and he
has had earthly teachers too." He was twenty years old. Two weeks
after his London ministry commenced one man made a remarkable
prophecy: "That young man will live to be the greatest preacher
of this or any other age. He will bring more souls to Christ than any
man who ever proclaimed the gospel, not excepting the apostle Paul.
His name will be known everywhere, and his sermons will be translated
into many of the languages of the world"
The Long Pastorate (1854-92)
The church later changed
its name and venue, but Spurgeon remained its pastor for 38 years,
until his death. His phenomenal success, as the prophecy proved so
accurately, saw delight displayed by many, but cruel criticism and
bitter by others. A humble faith sustained him in the face of fulsome
praise, glaring publicity and also wicked slanders. His wife,
Susannah, whom he married in 1856, was to prove an ideal, loving and
spiritual partner through his most demanding of ministries.
Conversions
"I could tell many
stories of the remarkable conversions that were wrought in those early
days. Once, when I was in the vestry, an Irishman came to see me. Pat
began by making a low bow, and saying, "Now your Reverence, I
have come to ax you a question." "Oh!" said I,
"Pat, I am not a Reverence; it is not a title I care for; but
what is your question, and how is it you have not been to your priest
about it?" He said, "I have been to him, but I don't like
his answer." "Well, what is your question?" Said he,
"God is just; and if God be just, He must punish my sins. I
deserve to be punished. If he is a just God, He ought to punish me;
yet you say God is merciful, and will forgive sins. I cannot see how
that is right; He has no right to do that. He ought to be just, and
punish those who deserve it. Tell me how God can be just and yet be
merciful." I replied, "That is through the blood of
Christ." "'yes," said he, "That is what. my priest
said, you are very much alike there, but he said a good deal besides,
that I did not understand; and that short answer does not satisfy me.
I want to know how It is that the blood of Jesus Christ enables God to
be just, and yet to be merciful." Then I saw what he wanted to
know, and explained the plan of salvation thus: "Now, Pat,
suppose you had been killing a man, and the judge had said, "That
Irishman must be hanged.'" He said quickly, "'And I should
have richly deserved to be hanged." "'But Pat, suppose I was
very fond of you, can you see any way by which l could save you from
being hanged?" "No, sir, I cannot." "'Then,
suppose I went to the queen, and said,."Please your Majesty, I am
very fond of this Irishman; I think the judge was quite right in
saying that he must be hanged, but let me be hanged Instead, and you
will then carry out the law." Now the Queen could not agree to my
proposal; but, suppose she could—and God can, for he has power
greater than all kings and queens—and suppose the Queen should have
me hanged instead of you, do you think the policeman would take you up
afterwards?" He at once said. "No, I should think not; they
would not meddle with me; but if they did I should say, "What are
you doing? Did not that gentleman condescend to be hung for me? Let me
alone; sure you don't want to hang two people for the same thing, do
ye?" I replied to the irishman, "Ah, my friend, you have hit
It; that is the way whereby we are saved! God must punish sin. Christ
said, "My Father, punish Me Instead of the sinner;" and His
Father did; God laid on His beloved Son, Jesus Christ, the whole
burden of our sins, and all their punishment and chastisement; and now
that Christ is punished instead of us, God would not be just if He
were to punish any sinner who believes on the Lord Jesus Christ. If
thou believest in Jesus Christ, the well-beloved and only begotten Son
of God, thou art saved, and thou mayest go on thy way rejoicing."
"Faith," said the man clapping his hands, "That's the
gospel. Pat is safe now; with all his sins about him, he'll trust in
the Man that died for him, and so he shall be saved."
"From the very
early days of my ministry in London, the Lord gave such an abundant
blessing upon the proclamation of His truth that whenever I was able
to appoint a time for seeing converts and enquirers it was seldom, if
ever, that I waited in vain; and usually, so many came, that I was
quite overwhelmed with gratitude and Thanksgiving to God. On one
occasion, I had a very singular experience, which enabled me to
realise the meaning of our Lord's answer to His disciples' question at
the well of Sychar, "Hath any man brought Him aught to eat? Jesus
saith unto them, "My meat is to do the will of Him that sent Me,
and to finish His work."
Leaving home early in
the morning, I went to the chapel, and sat there all day long seeing
those who had been brought to Christ by the preaching of the Word.
Their stories were so interesting to me that the hours flew by without
my noticing how fast they were going. I may have seen some thirty or
more persons during the day, one after the other, and I was so
delighted with the tales of mercy they had to tell me that I did not
know anything about how the time passed. At seven o'clock we had our
prayer meeting; I went in, and prayed with the brethren. After that
came the church meeting. A little before ten o'clock, I felt faint,
and I began to think about what hour I had my dinner, and then for the
first time remembered that I had not had any! I never thought of It, I
never even felt hungry, because God had made me so glad, and so
satisfied with the Divine manna, the heavenly food of success in
winning souls."
Tragedy
The church building was
incapable of holding all the people thronging to hear Mr Spurgeon. As
a consequence, Exeter Hall in the Strand accommodated Spurgeon's
hearers on Sunday evenings for two. periods during 1855 and 1856. The
music Hall in the Royal Surrey Gardens was erected for popular
concerts, but for 3 years (1856-1859) provided a home for the New Park
Street congregation and the ever increasing crowds who wished to hear
the young preacher. The MUSIC Hall had three galleries and was filled
to capacity with some 10,000 present each Sunday.
Satan's kingdom was
being assailed and he struck back by means of the great disaster at
the music Hall in 1856. Evil men shouting "Fire!" created
panic in the auditorium and several people were killed when they were
crushed to death as they ran madly down the stairs. For weeks
afterwards Spurgeon was in such sorrow and distress that he was quite
incapable of preaching and his whole ministry appeared to be finished.
However the Lord graciously sustained him, and though scarred by the
memory of the tragedy for the rest of his life, he resumed preaching
and indeed for several years the services at the Music Hall continued
to be richly blessed by God in the salvation of many souls.
Burden of the Ministry
In one of his sermons at
an annual conference of ministers, Spurgeon speaks about that faith in
God necessary for godly ministers to bear much hardship and to
exercise much self denial and yet to persevere in the Ministry.
"My heart rejoices over the many brethren here whom God has made
to be winners of souls; and I may add that I am firmly persuaded . . .
that the privations they have undergone, and the zeal they have shown
in the service of their Lord, though unrewarded by any outward success
are a sweet savour unto God. True faith makes a man feel that It is
sweet to be a living sacrifice unto God. Only faith could keep us in
the ministry, for ours is not a vocation which brings with It golden
pay; It is not a calling which men would follow who desire honour and
rank . We have all kinds of evils to endure, evils as numerous as
those which Paul included in his famous catalogue of trials; and, I
may add, we have one peril which he does not mention, namely the
perils of church meetings, which are probably worse than perils of
robbers. Underpaid and undervalued, without congenial associates, many
a rural preacher of the gospel would die of a broken heart did not his
faith gird him with strength from on high."
Suffering
As for his views on
suffering, they vary greatly from much in modern Christianity that is
shallow and sensationalistic. "Undergirding all Spurgeon's
experience in suffering was his conviction that his ill-health was
God's gift. He gained from illness a wealth of knowledge and sympathy
which he could not have gained elsewhere. In the realm of sorrow he
was blessed. With his own experience in view he warned his students
near the his life against making a mistake over what is a blessing.
"In the matter of faith healing, health is set before us as if it
were the great thing to be desired above all other things. Is it so? I
venture to say that the greatest earthly blessing that God can give to
any of us is health, with the exception of sickness. Sickness has
frequently been of more use to the saints of God than health has. A
sick wife, a newly made grave, poverty, slander, sinking of spirit,
might teach us lessons nowhere else to be learned so well. Trials
drive us to the realities of religion." The benefits which
Spurgeon gained, became, under God's providential hand, the possession
of many others. In this connection Charles Spurgeon, Junior, wrote:
"I know of no one who could, more sweetly than my dear father,
impart comfort to bleeding hearts and sad spirits. As the crushing of
the flower causes It to yield its aroma, so he, having endured in the
long continued illness of my beloved, mother, and also constant pains
in himself, was able to sympathise most tenderly with all
sufferers."
Spurgeon himself once
gave a striking instance of how his experience had prepared him to
help another. in the course of speaking at a Monday evening prayer
meeting at the Tabernacle on the personal preparation which a
soul-winner may have to go through in order to his greater usefulness,
he said, "Some years ago, I was the subject of fearful depression
of spirit. Various troublous events had happened to me; I was also
unwell, and my heart sank within me. Out of the depths I was forced to
cry unto the Lord. Just before I went to Mentone for rest, I suffered
greatly in body, but far more in soul, for my spirit was overwhelmed.
Under this pressure, I preached a sermon from the words, "My God,
my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?" I was as much qualified to
preach from that text as ever I expect to be; indeed I hope that few
of my brethren could have entered so deeply Into those heartbreaking
words. I felt to the full of my measure the horror of a soul forsaken
of God. Now that was not a desirable experience. I tremble at the bare
idea of passing again through that eclipse of soul; I pray that I may
never suffer in that fashion again unless the same result should hang
upon It.
That night, after the
service, there came into my vestry a man who was as nearly Insane as
he could be to be out of an asylum. His eyes seemed ready to start
from his head, and he said that he should utterly have despaired if he
had not heard that discourse, which had made him feel that there was
one man alive who understood his feelings, and could describe his
experience. I talked with him, and tried to encourage him, and asked
him to come again on Monday night, when I should have a little more
time to speak with him. I saw the brother again, and I told him that I
thought he was a hopeful patient, and I was glad that the word had
been so suited to his case. Apparently he put aside the comfort which
I had presented for his acceptance, and yet I had the consciousness
upon me that the precious truth which he had heard was at work upon
his mind, and that the storm of his soul would soon subside into a
deep calm.
Now hear the sequel.
Last night, of all the times in the year, when, strange to say, I was
preaching from the words, "The Almighty hath vexed my soul,"
after the service, in walked this selfsame brother who had called on
me five years before. This time, he looked as different as noonday
from midnight, or as life from death. I said to him, "I am glad
to see you, for I have often thought about you and wondered whether
you were brought Into perfect peace. " To my enquiries, this
brother replied, "Yes, you said I was a hopeful patient, and I am
sure you will be glad to know that I have walked in the sunlight from
that day till now. Everything is changed and altered with me."
Dear friends, as soon as I saw my poor despairing patient the first
time, I blessed God that my fearful I experience had prepared me to
sympathise with him and guide him; but last night, when I saw him
perfectly restored, my heart overflowed with gratitude to God for my
former sorrowful feelings. I would go into the deeps a hundred times
to cheer a downcast spirit: it is good for me to have been afflicted
that I might know how to speak a word in season to one that is weary.
Humour
It is a sort of
tradition of the fathers that it is wrong to laugh on Sundays. The
eleventh commandment is, that we are to love one another; and then
according to some people, the twelfth is, "Thou shalt pull a long
face on Sunday." I must confess that I would rather hear people
laugh than I would see them asleep in the house of God; and I would
rather get the truth into them through the medium of ridicule than I
would have it neglected, or leave people to perish through the lack of
reception of the message. I do believe, in my heart, that there may be
as much holiness in a laugh as in a cry; and that sometimes, to laugh
is the better of the two, for I may weep, and be murmuring, and
repining, and thinking all sorts of bitter thoughts against God;
while, at another time, I may laugh the laugh of sarcasm against sin,
and so evince a holy earnestness in the defence of the truth. I do not
know why ridicule is to be given up to Satan as a weapon to be used
against us, and not to be employed as a weapon against him. I will
venture to affirm that the Reformation owed almost as much to the
sense of the .ridiculous in human nature as to anything else, and that
those humorous squibs and caricatures, that were Issued by the friends
of Luther, did more to open the eyes of Germany to the abominations of
the priesthood than the more solid and ponderous arguments against
Romanism. I know no reason why we should not on suitable occasions,
try the same style of reasoning. "It is a dangerous weapon,"
it will be said, "and many men will cut their fingers with
it." Well, that is their own lookout; But I do not know why we
should be so particular about their cutting their fingers if they can,
at the same time, cut the throat of sin, and do serious damage to the
great adversary of souls.
His Stand for the Truth
The so-called,
"Downgrade Controversy" was occasioned by articles in the
'Sword and the Trowel' in 1887 (the immensely popular magazine he
edited), which gave warning of the general defection from Biblical
truth which was proceeding in the Nonconformist Churches; the charge
was vigorously repelled in many quarters and ignored by the autumn
meetings of the Baptist Union. Privately Spurgeon placed. evidence of
the unbelief of ministers in the Baptist Union before the Secretary of
the Union, S. H . Booth, and when it became evident to him that no
action would be taken, he withdrew from the Union on October 28, 1887.
"I might not have
had such a loathing of the new theology if I had not seen so much of
its evil effects. I could tell you of a preacher of unbelief whom I
have seen in my own vestry, utterly broken down, driven almost to
despair, and having no rest for the sole of his foot until he came
back to simple trust in the atoning sacrifice. If he were speaking to
you, he would say, "Cling to your faith, brethren; if you once
throw away your shield, you will lay yourself open to imminent dangers
and countless wounds; for nothing can protect you but the shield of
faith . . . "
His Work
For 38 years he was the
pastor of a huge London congregation, he travelled extensively to
preach, he was the author of an immense number of books including
probably the finest ever commentary on the Psalms and other works
covering all aspects of Christian life and service. He established
almshouses and an orphanage. From 1865 he began to publish a monthly
magazine entitled, "The Sword and the Trowel" and his
sermons were published weekly until 1917. He promoted and guided the
work of the Colporteurs' Association and Mrs. Spurgeon was actively
engaged in running the Book Fund which raised money to buy good
Christian literature to supply needy ministers. As a contender for the
faith and preacher of the gospel, C H Spurgeon was a colossus.
His Death
Spurgeon died at Mentone
in the south of France in 1892, where he often wintered because of his
chronic ill-health. His secretary J.W. Harrald immediately sent a
telegraphed message to the Tabernacle in London. It read, "Our
beloved pastor entered heaven, 11:15 Sunday night." The news
became the chief subject of the Monday newspapers in London, and so
heavy was the demand for copies that It was soon difficult to find one
left for sale anywhere.
In a sermon preached at
the Tabernacle, Spurgeon had spoken of his feelings about his funeral;
. . . you see my coffin carried to the silent grave, I should like
every one of you, whether converted or not, to be constrained to say,
"He did earnestly urge us, in plain and simple language, not to
put off the consideration of eternal things. He did entreat us to look
to Christ. Now he is gone, our blood is not at his door if we
perish."
His Message for Us
Here was a man who lived
to the full—he was all out for God. It is unlikely that any of us
can compare remotely with his God-given brilliance, but we can all ask
God for something of his devotion to the Saviour and his love for
souls.
His life can be a great
encouragement to us. His, like ours, was a time of widespread apostasy
and yet he saw revival with thousands being converted while elsewhere
many were turning to Romanism or liberal theology.
It is encouraging to
recognise that the truths he preached are the ones we hear so
faithfully expounded week by week. His God is our God, and his prayer
is our prayer, "Wilt Thou not revive us again: that Thy people
may rejoice in Thee?" |
