Let's begin with a preface to this book.
Why would you write another biography of Spurgeon?
Hasn't everything about him already been said and
said a hundred times?
These questions and others like them have been
asked as I wrote about Spurgeon's life.
Although Spurgeon is often discussed among evangelicals today,
few people fully understand his person and his
character.
The lack of a suitable biography has been
recognized by many.
Dr. Wilbur Smith, writing in 1955, said, The
reasons for this situation are evident.
Following Spurgeon's death in 1892, for two years
or more, new biographies appeared at the rate
of about one a month.
At that time, there was, of course, deep
sorrow over his passing, and his memory was
held in the highest admiration.
The early accounts did little but emphasize that
admiration.
Certain areas that should have been presented, for
instance, his ability as a theologian and the
methods he used in leading souls to Christ,
were almost entirely overlooked.
Likewise, the rugged, unbending strength of his character
was not sufficiently depicted, and the concept of
a personality somewhat weaker than the real Spurgeon
was passed along to mankind.
The situation was remedied to some extent when,
in 1894, the six-volume Life and Work
of Charles Haddon Spurgeon by G.
Holden Pike appeared, and in 1897, when the
four-volume work of Spurgeon's wife and secretary,
entitled C.
H.
Spurgeon's Autobiography, began to be published.
But both of these works were too large
to receive wide circulation, and although they provided
a wealth of information, they did not present
a vital story that made Spurgeon alive to
their readers.
Moreover, like the lesser biographies, the large accounts
did not peer beneath the surface to reveal
the heart and soul of the man, the
essential Spurgeon.
Accordingly, many today think of him as merely
a highly gifted orator who made his hearers
laugh and cry, and to whom the hour
in the pulpit was a very pleasant activity.
Because his burning earnestness and unyielding theological convictions
are so little known, it is assumed that
he was much like the average evangelical of
today.
And someone has said that Spurgeon is regarded
as a kind of grandfather of 20th century
evangelism.
I trust that, at least to some extent,
this book provides a more satisfactory account of
the great Spurgeon.
I have dealt with several matters on which
the concept has long been inadequate, and the
reader will find here a more definitive treatment
given to his theology and preaching methods.
I have endeavored to understand and present something
of the inner man, Spurgeon in his praying,
his sufferings and depressions, his weaknesses and strengths,
in his triumphs, his humor, his joys, and
his incredible accomplishments.
Here, indeed, was a mighty man of God,
one of the greatest preachers of all Christian
history.
I confess the difficulty I have experienced in
portraying so tremendous a personality.
Nevertheless, I will have succeeded if many come
to know him better and are both instructed
and inspired by his powerful example.
And now we begin the book, Spurgeon, A
New Biography.
And we begin with a chapter entitled, Conditions
in England During Spurgeon's Time.
Spurgeon was born in 1834 and died in
1892.
Conditions during that period were different in several
regards from those of today, and a brief
look at them will help us toward understanding
his life.
Throughout those years, Queen Victoria was on the
throne.
She exercised a strong influence for morality in
government and in daily life.
During her reign, Britain greatly extended its empire,
and the economy of the nation prospered markedly.
In London, horses, carriages, and carts were so
many that traffic, which was governed by no
rules of the road, was often brought to
a standstill.
The railroads were being steadily enlarged, but although
England led the world in this regard, trains
were slow and passenger travel was uncomfortable and
often grimy.
Bathrooms with running water were gradually being installed
in the homes of the wealthy and a
few of the middle class.
Among the poor, they were entirely unknown.
Heating was done largely through burning coal, and
lighting was provided by oil and gas lamps,
although the poorest still used candles.
During the years in which Spurgeon lived, great
strides were made in medical knowledge.
The existence of bacteria was discovered, a knowledge
was acquired of antisepsis, and scientists realized that
the drinking water supply could be contaminated if
located too near a sewage disposal, thus spreading
cholera and other diseases.
Surgery was performed without anesthetic until 1847, when
chloroform was discovered.
And in 1860, under the influence of Florence
Nightingale, the first standards for nursing practice were
set.
The class system generally prevailed.
The upper class not only had wealth, but
also had privileges denied to all others.
But the middle class was growing, and opportunities
for men to acquire considerable possessions were steadily
increasing.
Still, there were many poor, and among them
much ignorance, sickness, and need.
The utterly destitute could apply for refuge at
a workhouse, but conditions in those places were
designed to be so bad that the inmates
would make every effort to obtain some kind
of employment and thus escape so terrible an
existence.
A large number of homeless children roamed the
streets, and petty crime proved to be the
only way they could keep themselves alive.
We shall need to bear those circumstances in
mind when we see Spurgeon creating an almshouse
and an orphanage, and providing education without charge
for needy children and young men.
The Church of England was the state religion.
It was supported by the government, and was
granted privileges that were denied to all who
were not of its membership.
The nonconformist bodies, the Methodists, the Congregationalists, Baptists,
and Presbyterians, had made much growth as a
result of the revival under Whitefield and the
Wesleys during the preceding century, but by Spurgeon's
time, much of the fervor had died down,
and a rather dreary formalism characterized a great
deal of church life.
The chief figures among the Congregationalists were Thomas
Binney and Joseph Parker, and among the Baptists,
John Clifford and Alexander McLaren.
The Brethren movement under John Darby began in
the 1830s, and the Salvation Army under William
Booth came into being during the 1870s.
One of the most important religious activities of
the century was the Oxford Movement.
Under the leadership of John Henry, later Cardinal
Newman, a large number of people left the
Church of England to join the Roman Catholic
Church, and that influence remained a strong factor
in everyday English life.
Throughout this book, the costs of buildings and
other items are presented in the English money
of those times.
In order to translate the values into those
of any other nation and any other age,
the reader may use as a norm the
wages paid to a working man.
A good wage for a skilled laborer was
then about 100 pounds a year.
Spurgeon was, in many senses, a typical Victorian
Englishman.
There was so much that was good in
society around him, but also much that was
evil.
He devoted himself to one overwhelming task, the
declaration of the life-transforming message of the
gospel of Jesus Christ, and he saw its
power displayed in the conversion of thousands.
Now we begin part one of the book,
The Preparation of the Man.
This concerns years 1834 through 1854, and it
begins with a quote, The precocity of young
Charles drew the attention of all around.
He would astonish the grave deacons and matrons
who met at his grandfather's house on Sunday
evenings by proposing subjects for conversation and offering
pertinent remarks upon them.
And there were at that early period in
his life palpable indications of that decision of
character and boldness of address for which he
became so remarkable.
Robert Schindler was responsible for this quote, from
the usher's desk to the tabernacle pulpit, 1892.
And now chapter one, The Boy and the
Books.
I would rather be descended from one who
suffered for the faith than bear the blood
of all the emperors in my veins.
Spurgeon was referring to the fact that although
there was a lineage from the valiant Norsemen
in his blood, the chief factor in his
inheritance was that some of the early Spurgeons
had been among the seventeenth-century Protestants who
fled from Catholic persecutions in Europe to find
refuge in England.
One ancestor, a Job Spurgeon, had to suffer
both in purse and in person for the
testimony of a good conscience.
Job, with three other men, was imprisoned for
attending a nonconformist meeting, a meeting of persons
who refused to conform to the doctrines and
practices of the Church of England.
They suffered in jail throughout a winter that
was remarkable for the extremity of cold.
The three lay upon straw.
Job Spurgeon was so weak he could not
lie down and remained all the time in
an upright position.
Charles stated, The
background from which Charles Spurgeon came was therefore
one in which standing for principle, whatever the
cost, was prominent.
He was born June 19, 1834, in the
Essex county town of Calvedon.
But at the age of fourteen months he
was taken to the home of his father's
parents in an out-of-the-way village
of Stambourne, and there he spent the following
five years.
His mother was only nineteen when he was
born, and the arrival of another baby within
the next year was probably the reason for
the change.
The grandfather, the Reverend James Spurgeon, was the
minister of Stambourne's Congregational or Independent Church, a
position he had filled for the preceding twenty
-five years.
He was a graduate of Hoxton College, London,
and he possessed a deep knowledge of the
Scriptures and of Puritan writings.
His voice was strong, but exceptionally pleasant and
widely expressive, and his preaching was both earnest
and powerful.
Into his work in the pulpit, as into
his private conversation, there often crept a note
of humor.
His congregation was numerous for a village church,
and the statement of one hearer, I could
mount on wings as eagles after being fed
with such heavenly food, was undoubtedly the feeling
of many at the close of the sermon.
He was loved by his people and also
by those of Stambourne's Church of England, and
he had not the slightest desire to move
to a larger place.
The grandmother, Sarah, was a worthy partner to
her husband.
The home was happy and free from strife.
The one statement about her that has come
down to us is, She was a dear,
good, kind soul.
James and Sarah's youngest daughter, eighteen-year-old
Anne, still lived with her parents.
She was delighted to have little Charles in
the home, and he became the special object
of her love and care.
She attended him in his baby needs, helped
him as he learned to walk and to
talk, and since she was full of fun,
she enjoyed many a romp with her young
charge as he grew.
She was also an earnest Christian and sought
to promote his spiritual welfare by her devout
life and her daily example.
The house in which the Spurgeons lived was
a church manse that had originally been built
as a gentleman's mansion.
It was nearly two hundred years old, and
although its slanting walls and tilting floors revealed
its age, it was still a comfortable home.
The front door opened into a wide hall,
one wall of which held a huge fireplace
with a large picture of David and Goliath.
It also had a toy rocking horse, the
only horse, said Charles in adult life, that
I ever enjoyed riding.
A winding stair led up two bedrooms above.
The boy had a pleasant room with an
old four-poster with chintz upholstery.
He could lie and listen to the birds
in the nearby eves.
A well-kept garden lay at the rear
and side of the house.
It had an abundance of flowers and fruits
and was bordered by a shaded, grassy walkway.
And here, Charles' grandfather often came to meditate
as he prepared for the labors of the
Lord's Day.
In later times, Charles proved very fond of
a garden and freely used illustrations from plant
life.
Immediately adjacent to the manse stood the chapel.
In true Puritan fashion, it was entirely unadorned,
but it had a high box pulpit over
which there hung a massive sounding board.
It reminded young Charles, as he sat in
church, of his toy jack-in-the-box,
and he imagined the sounding board coming loose
and falling upon his grandfather's head.
The chapel had also a unique feature, two
large exterior doors and a side wall near
the pulpit.
If a carriage arrived carrying a sick person,
those doors could be opened, and the carriage,
with the horses removed, could be pushed through,
thus allowing the invalid a comfortable place to
hear.
Today there are drive-in and wheelchair services,
but here was a combination of the two
a century and a half ago.
Little Charles had the privilege of spending much
time with his grandfather.
James Spurgeon was an entirely unpretentious person, and
though he was nearly sixty years of age,
there was still much about him that was
young.
It may have been for this reason that
he was so attached to the boy, or
it may have been that he already recognized
his unusual qualities and wanted to guide them.
Even when his parishioners called to have their
pastor advise and pray with them in their
problems, he often kept the lad at his
side, and when he gathered with a company
of ministers to discuss theological questions, the boy
remained, listening intently and doing his best to
understand.
Charles's introduction to the consideration of theological questions
thus began very early.
Life in the Spurgeon home was built around
the scriptures.
The Bible was not only read, but it
was also believed with unquestioning assurance of its
inerrancy.
Likewise, prayer was made in the full realization
that God heard and would answer according to
his sovereign will.
The standards of the Bible were joyfully accepted,
and dishonesty or malice of any kind was
entirely unknown.
Life was serious, but it was also marked
by humor and happiness, and godliness with contentment,
which is great gain.
It characterized both work and pleasure for the
Spurgeons, old and young.
Charles was still a child when he first
became aware of books.
One of the bedrooms in the manse led
off into a small dark chamber, dark because
the window had been plastered over to avoid
the infamous window tax.
But this chamber held an old Puritan library,
and Charles was probably no more than three
when he began pulling volumes out into the
light and looking at the illustrations.
We are told, even when a mere child
before his lips had uttered an articulate word,
he would sit patiently for hours amusing himself
with a book of pictures.
It was during those very early days that
he came upon the illustrations in Bunyan's Pilgrim's
Progress.
When I first saw in it the woodcut
of Christian carrying the burden on his back,
I felt so interested in the poor fellow
that I thought I should jump for joy
when after he had carried it for so
long he at last got rid of it.
He also became acquainted with other Bunyan personalities,
pliable, faithful, and talkative, for example, and learned
their chief characteristics.
He made much of Fox's Book of Martyrs.
He sat gazing at its pictures of the
burning of the several Protestants during the reign
of bloody Queen Mary, and the sufferings those
men endured made a lasting impression on him.
But Charles did more than merely look at
pictures.
He was still young when he learned to
read.
Aunt Anne taught him at home, and he
also attended, he says, a school for very
juveniles conducted by Old Mrs. Burleigh.
In turn, we find him, when only five
or six, reading privately and also reading publicly
during the time of family worship.
One who terms himself a contemporary, in quotes,
writes, During
those early days, Charles also learned much about
life in general.
In later years, he created a character he
called John Plowman.
Of this imagined person, he told numerous tales,
each with a pointed moral lesson.
John Plowman was patterned after both his grandfather
and Will Richardson, a farmer he came to
know during those days in Stambourne.
While yet a boy, Charles revealed a strong
moral courage.
For instance, learning that his grandfather was grieved
over the behavior of one of his church
members who had begun to frequent the tavern,
he marched boldly into the place and confronted
him.
The man, Thomas Rhodes, said of the event,
To think an old man like me should
be took to task by a bit of
a child like that!
Well, he points his finger at me, with
his finger just so, and says, And
then he walks away.
So I put down my pipe, and did
not touch my beer, but hurried away to
a lonely spot, and cast myself down before
the Lord, confessing my sin and begging for
forgiveness.
The restoration of Thomas Rhodes proved real and
lasting, and he became a zealous helper in
the work of the Lord.
At so early an age, Charles manifested the
sense of righteousness and the strong stand against
something he considered wrong that characterized him throughout
his later life.
After five years at Stambourne, Charles was taken
back to his parents.
He had enjoyed an excellent childhood with his
grandparents and was to visit them again during
several forthcoming summers.
Charles's parents, John and Eliza Spurgeon, had now
moved to Colchester, where John was employed as
a clerk in a coal merchant's office.
He was also the pastor of a congregational
church at Tolisbury, a village some nine miles
away, and he made the journey each Sunday
by horse and carriage.
The two duties kept him much engaged and
robbed him of time he would have liked
to have spent with his wife and children.
He was a good preacher and possessed an
exceptionally strong voice, but did not have the
pulpit power of his father.
There were now three other children in the
home, a boy, James Archer Spurgeon, nearly three
years younger than Charles, and two still younger
sisters, Eliza and Emily.
Charles immediately became their leader.
This was not only because he was oldest,
but also because he possessed strong leadership qualities.
For example, his father found him on one
occasion leading the other children in a game
of church.
He was standing in a hay rack pretending
to preach, and he had the others seated
on bundles of hay in front of him,
listening to his sermon.
Another time the two brothers were playing with
toy ships on a creek.
Charles had named his The Thunderer, a title
he had chosen, he said, because he wanted
one that sounded courageous and victorious.
In those days there was no system of
free education, and large numbers of children remained
illiterate.
Schools were opened as personal businesses, so parents
paid to have their children attend.
John Spurgeon wanted his boys to have the
best education he could afford, and Charles was
put under instruction immediately upon his return to
Colchester.
This was at a small school conducted by
a Mrs. Cook, and he proved an excellent
student.
Moreover, as the months advanced, it was evident
he had a much greater desire for learning
than for play, and his father stated, Charles
was a healthy child and boy, having a
good constitution, and he was of an affectionate
disposition and very studious.
He was always reading books, never digging in
the garden or keeping pigeons like other boys.
It was always books and books.
If his mother wanted to take him for
a ride, she would be sure to find
him in my study pouring over a book.
He was clever, of course, and clever in
most directions of study.
He learned to draw very well.
Despite, however, the parents' interest in their children's
academic progress, they were more concerned about their
spiritual welfare.
Since the father was so busy, the task
of bringing up the family fell largely to
the mother.
She was an exceptionally devout and gracious woman,
and the son, James, stated, She was the
starting point of all the greatness and goodness
any of us, by the grace of God,
have ever enjoyed.
Charles looked back on her with deep affection
and gratitude, and he tells of her reading
the scriptures to her children and pleading with
them to be concerned about their souls.
I cannot tell you how much I owe
of the solemn words of my good mother,
he wrote.
I remember on one occasion her praying thus,
Now, Lord, if my children go on in
their sins, it will not be from ignorance
that they perish, and my soul must bear
a swift witness against them at the day
of judgment if they lay not hold of
Christ.
That thought of my mother's bearing a swift
witness against me pierced my conscience.
How can I ever forget when she bowed
her knee and with her arms, about my
neck, prayed, O, that my son may live
before thee!
He also tells of an occasion on which
his father, while on his way to a
church service, began to charge himself with neglecting
his family, and therefore turned back to his
home.
Finding no one in the lower floor, he
went upstairs, and there he heard the sound
of prayer.
He discovered, says Charles, that it was my
mother pleading most earnestly for the salvation of
all her children and praying especially for Charles,
her firstborn and strong-willed son.
My father felt that he might safely go
about his master's business while his dear wife
was caring so well for the spiritual interests
of the boys and girls at home.
The interest Charles had begun to take in
Fox and Bunyan and other such writers while
at his grandfather's was enlarged during the hours
he now spent in his father's study.
He became acquainted with several of the great
Puritan authors and familiarized himself with their doctrinal
convictions.
Moreover, the opportunity of listening to strong theological
discussions was available also at Colchester, for he
was allowed to be present as his father
and other ministers conferred on various biblical matters.
He later stated, I can bear witness that
children can understand the scriptures, for I am
sure that, when but a child, I could
have discussed many a naughty point of controversial
theology, having heard both sides of the question
freely stated among my father's circle of friends.
Moreover, though his father possessed a number of
theological books, Charles had many more available to
him as summer by summer he returned to
his grandfather's home at Stambourne.
He spoke of that upstairs chamber.
Out of that darkened room I fetched those
old authors, and never was I happier than
when in their company.
There can be no doubt that by the
time he was nine or ten he was
reading and understanding something of such mighty men
as John Owen, Richard Sibbes, John Flavel, and
Matthew Henry.
He was already grasping the meaning of much
of their theological argument and was reasoning out
of the pros and cons within his own
mind.
Charles was still a child when during one
of his summers at Stambourne he became the
subject of a striking prophecy.
His grandfather brought to the church a former
missionary, Richard Nill, for special meetings.
Nill had spent many years in India and
in Russia and was at that time serving
in England.
He became much taken with young Charles, quickly
recognizing his unusual mental ability and his rare
clarity of speech.
For instance, Charles read the scriptures each day
at family worship, and in reporting the experience,
Nill stated, I have heard old ministers and
young ones read well, but never did I
hear a little boy read so correctly before.
Day by day, the missionary spoke to Charles
about his soul and prayed with him most
earnestly.
He believed the boy would assuredly become a
minister, and when he was about to leave
the home with the family standing around, he
set him on his knee and made the
pronouncement, This child will one day preach the
gospel and will preach it to great multitudes,
and I am persuaded he will preach it
in the chapel of Rowland Hill.
Rowland Hill's chapel was one of the largest
in England at the time, and in later
years Charles did preach there.
Yet even on the occasion of hearing the
prophecy, he felt its effect, and said, I
looked forward to the time when I should
preach the word.
I felt very powerfully that no unconverted person
might dare to enter the ministry.
This made me all the more intent upon
seeking salvation.
When he was ten, Charles was transferred to
another school in Colchester, the Stockwell House School.
Its academic standards were higher than most such
institutions.
A fellow student writing in later years reported,
Mr. Leeding was the classical and mathematical tutor.
His teaching was very thorough, and in Charles
Spurgeon he possessed a pupil of very receptive
mind, especially with Latin and Euclid.
In both of these subjects he was very
advanced.
Charles remained at this school for four years.
They were years of much mental discipline and
of excellent growth in knowledge.
He was always at the head of his
class, except during a week or two one
winter when he learned that by doing poorly
he could be seated nearer to the fireplace.
Upon discovering his scheme, the teacher reversed the
seating order and arranged that the smartest boy
should sit nearest the heat.
Charles quickly improved in his work and retained
the favored spot.
His parents removed him when he was fourteen
to St. Augustine's Agricultural College in the town
of Maidstone, a few miles southeast of London.
The trial of being away from home was
softened by the fact that he was not
alone, for his brother James entered the school
with him.
Moreover, one of their uncles was the school's
principal, and the boys boarded at his house.
During his year there, Charles twice manifested something
of his native audacity.
The first instance was in a conversation he
had with a Church of England clergyman who
came regularly to the school to teach religion.
The man led him into a discussion of
baptism, and Charles replied with strong confidence and
expressed an opinion quite different from that of
the cleric.
The second instance was in his action of
correcting an error in mathematics made by his
uncle, an action for which he was disciplined
by being made to take his books out
of doors —the weather was warm—and study beneath
an oak tree beside the river.
Nevertheless, the uncle recognized his mathematical ability and
allowed him to make a set of calculations
that proved of such benefit that a London
insurance firm used them for half a century
or more.
Thus Charles reached the age of fifteen.
He was a lad of deep sensitivity, but
was by no means reticent, and had never
feared any man.
He was a thoroughly good boy, entirely upright
and honest.
His imagination was lively, and his memory unusually
retentive.
The extent of his reading was utterly amazing
for one so young, and in the works
of his favorite authors, the Puritan theologians, he
was especially versed.
His brother James knew him better, perhaps, than
anyone else.
Charles never did anything else but study.
I kept rabbits, chickens, and pigs, and a
horse.
He kept to books.
While I was busy here and there, to
meddling with anything and everything that a boy
could touch, he kept to books, and could
not be kept away from study.
But though he had nothing to do with
other things, he could have told you all
about them, because he used to read about
everything with a memory as tenacious as a
vice, and as copious as a barn.
And now chapter two.
Chapter two is entitled, Through Terrible Conviction to
Glorious Conversion.
And it begins with a quote from the
autobiography of Charles Spurgeon, dated circa 1890.
Let's read this quote.
A spiritual experience which is thoroughly flavored with
a deep and bitter sense of sin is
of great value to him that hath it.
It is terrible in the drinking, but it
is most wholesome in the bowels, and in
the whole of the afterlife.
Possibly much of the flimsy piety of the
present day arises from the ease with which
men attain to peace and joy in these
evangelistic days.
We would not judge modern converts, but we
certainly prefer that form of spiritual exercise which
leads the soul by the way of weeping
cross, and makes it see its blackness before
assuring it that it is clean every whit.
Too many think lightly of sin, and therefore
think lightly of the Savior.
He who has stood before his God, convicted
and condemned, with the rope about his neck,
is the man to weep for joy when
he is pardoned, to hate the evil which
has been forgiven him, and to live to
the honor of the Redeemer by whose blood
he has been cleansed.
And again, as taken from Spurgeon's autobiography, dated
circa 1890.
Chapter 2 now, again through terrible conviction to
glorious conversion.
In the summer of 1849, Charles entered still
another school, this one in the town of
Newmarket.
Though he had just turned fifteen, he came
not merely as a student, but also as
a part-time teacher, a position known as
an usher.
Not far before him lay the great transforming
experience, his conversion.
That event has long been common knowledge among
evangelical Christians, often told from pulpits and reported
in books and magazines.
But that event was preceded by a long
and bitter conviction of sin, and a longing
for salvation which is not usually mentioned.
Yet Spurgeon considered that experience so important that
not only did he frequently speak of it
in his preaching, but in his autobiography he
devoted an entire chapter to it.
Moreover, in telling of it, this master of
description seems almost at a loss to fix
upon words severe enough to portray the agony
he suffered.
I had rather, he says, pass through seven
years of the most languishing sickness than I
would ever again pass through the terrible discovery
of the evil of sin.
This bitter experience began when he was still
very young.
As we saw, he was only three when
he amused himself with the pictures of Bunyan's
pilgrim with the burden on his back, and
before long he knew its meaning, that this
was a burden of sin.
As he learned to read, his reading material
was largely the Bible and the works of
some of the great Puritan writers.
He listened acutely to theological discussions, and by
the time he was ten or so, he
had acquired a remarkable knowledge of Christian doctrine.
He was an honest and upright boy, yet
he had seen something of what sin is
in the eyes of God.
He knew that, like Pilgrim, he was bearing
the awful burden and that he himself could
not remove it.
During one of his summertime visits to his
grandfather's, the scripture read one day spoke of
a bottomless pit, and Charles had interrupted asking
how there could be a place that was
bottomless.
The grandfather made some reply, but it did
not satisfy the boy, and from that point
onward there was fixed in his mind the
certainty that it was possible for an unjustified
person to move eternally farther and farther away
from God and away from all that was
righteous and good.
Moreover, although he knew as well as anyone
that Christ died for our sins, he saw
no application of this truth to himself.
He tried to pray, but he says, the
only complete sentence was, God be merciful to
me, a sinner.
The overwhelming splendor of his majesty, the greatness
of his power, the severity of his justice,
the immaculate character of his holiness, and all
his dreadful grandeur, these things overpowered my soul,
and I fell down in utter prostration of
spirit.
Despite his many efforts, his conviction increased.
He tells how throughout several boyhood years he
was constantly conscious of the universal requirements of
God's law.
Wherever I went, he says, it had a
demand upon my thoughts, upon my words, upon
my rising, upon my resting.
And amidst his struggles to overcome that dreadful
realization, he came face to face with its
kindred truth, the spirituality of the law.
Although he had never committed the sins of
the flesh, he felt himself guilty of them
in the spirit, and he cried out, What
hope had I of eluding such a law
as this, which every way surrounded me with
an atmosphere from which I could not possibly
escape?
Frequently, upon awaking after a troubled night, he
took up such books as Alien's Admonition to
Unconverted Sinners and Baxter's Call to the Unconverted.
But the works that had been so helpful
to others only enforced what he already knew,
that he was lost and needed to be
saved.
They left him with a bitter longing to
know how that great salvation was to be
received, and he remained seeking and suffering.
In the midst of these circumstances, though he
had seldom ever heard a blasphemy, and much
less uttered one, all manner of cursing, God
and man, began to enter his mind.
That was followed by severe temptations to deny
the very existence of God, and those in
turn led to an effort to tell himself
he had become a free thinker, and virtually
an atheist.
He even endeavored to doubt his own existence,
but all such attempts were useless.
Finally, he told himself, I must feel something,
I must do something.
He wished he might give his back to
be scourged, or that he might make some
difficult pilgrimage, if by such efforts he might
be saved.
Yet he admitted, that simplest of all matters,
believing in Christ crucified, accepting his finished salvation,
being nothing, and letting him be everything, doing
nothing, but trusting to what he has done,
I could not get a hold of it.
This painful seeking went on throughout the years
in which he attended school, both in Colchester
and Maidstone, and it became still more fervent
during his days at Newmarket.
As we have seen, his academic work was
always excellent, but he was inwardly in anguish.
In later years, as he looked back upon
this terrible time, he said, I thought I
would rather have been a frog or a
toad, than have been made a man.
I reckoned that the most defiled creature was
a better thing than myself, for I had
sinned against Almighty God.
This painful seeking went on throughout the years
in which he attended school, both in Colchester
and Maidstone, and it became still more fervent
during his days at Newmarket.
As we have seen, his academic work was
always excellent, but he was inwardly in anguish.
In later years, as he looked back upon
this terrible time, he said, I thought I
would rather have been a frog or a
toad, than have been made a man.
I reckoned that the most defiled creature was
a better thing than myself, for I had
sinned against Almighty God.
After going to Newmarket, he attended services at
first one church and then another, hoping he
might hear something that would help remove his
burden.
One man preached divine sovereignty, he says, but
what was that sublime truth to a poor
sinner who wished to know what he must
do to be saved?
There was another admirable man who always preached
about the law, but what was the use
of plowing up ground that needed to be
sown?
Another was a practical preacher, but it was
very much like a commanding officer teaching the
maneuvers of war to a set of men
without feet.
What I wanted to know was, how can
my sins be forgiven?
And they never told me that.
During December of 1849, there was an outbreak
of fever at the Newmarket school.
The school was temporarily closed, and Charles went
home to Colchester to be there during the
Christmas season.
This change in circumstances was used of God
to bring the seeking lad to salvation.
The story of Spurgeon's conversion is widely known,
but it may well be repeated, and it
cannot be better told than in the words
in which he himself presented it.
I sometimes think I might have been in
darkness and despair until now had it not
been for the goodness of God in sending
a snowstorm one Sunday morning while I was
going to a certain place of worship.
I turned down a side street and came
to a little primitive Methodist church.
In that chapel there may have been a
dozen or fifteen people.
I had heard of the primitive Methodists, how
they sang so loudly that they made people's
heads ache, but that did not matter to
me.
I wanted to know how I might be
saved.
The minister did not come that morning.
He was snowed up, I suppose.
At last a very thin-looking man, a
shoemaker or a tailor, or something of that
sort, went up into the pulpit to preach.
Now it is well that preachers be instructed,
but this man was really stupid.
He was obliged to stick to his text
for the simple reason that he had little
else to say.
The text was, He did not even pronounce
the words rightly, but that did not matter.
There was, I thought, a glimmer of hope
for me in that text.
The preacher began thus.
This is a very simple text indeed.
It says, Well, a
man needn't go to college to learn to
look.
You may be the biggest fool, and yet
you can look.
A man needn't be worth a thousand a
year to look.
Anyone can look.
Even a child can look.
But then the text says, He said, in
broad Essex, Many on ye are looking to
yourselves, but it's no use looking there.
You'll never find any comfort in yourselves.
Some say look to God the Father.
No, look to him by and by Jesus
Christ, says.
Look unto me.
Some on ye say, we must wait for
the spirits working.
You have no business with that just now.
Look to Christ.
The text says, look unto me.
Then the good man followed up his text
in this way.
When he had managed to spin out about
ten minutes or so, he was at the
end of his tether.
Then he looked at me under the gallery,
and I dare say 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, 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, 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 nothing to do but look and
live.
I saw at once the way of salvation.
I know not what else he said, and
I did not take much notice of it.
I was so possessed with that one thought.
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 I 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.
Oh, that somebody had told me this before.
Trust Christ and ye shall be saved.
Yet it was, no doubt, all wisely ordered,
and now I can say, 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.
That happy day when I found the Savior
and learned to cling to his dear feet
was a day never to be forgotten by
me.
I listened to the word of God, and
that precious text led me to the cross
of Christ.
I can testify that the joy of that
day was utterly indescribable.
I could have leaped, I could have danced.
There was no expression, however fanatical, which would
have been out of keeping with the joy
of that hour.
Many days of Christian experience have passed since
then, but there has never been one which
has had the full exhilaration, the sparkling delight,
which that first day had.
I thought I could have sprung from the
seat in which I sat and have called
out with the wildest of those Methodist brethren,
I am forgiven, I am forgiven, a monument
of grace, a sinner saved by blood.
My spirit saw its chains broken to pieces,
and I felt that I was an emancipated
soul, an heir of heaven, a forgiven one,
accepted in Jesus Christ, plucked out of the
miry clay and out of the horrible pit,
with my feet set upon a rock and
my goings established.
Between half-past ten o'clock, when I
entered that chapel, and half-past twelve o
'clock, when I was back again at home,
what a change had taken place in me.
Simply by looking to Jesus, I had been
delivered from despair, and I was brought into
such a joyous state of mind that when
they saw me at home they said to
me, Something wonderful has happened to you.
And I was eager to tell them all
about it.
Oh, there was joy in the household that
day when all heard that the eldest son
had found the Savior and knew himself to
be forgiven.
Spurgeon's conversion was the great turning point of
his life.
He was indeed a new creation.
The long-experienced sense of terrible conviction was
gone and all was new before him.
The suffering through which he had passed, however,
had a lasting effect upon him.
A recognition of the awful evil of sin
was deeply ingrained upon his mind and made
him loathe iniquity and love all that was
holy.
The failure of preachers he had heard to
present the gospel and to do so in
a plain, direct manner caused him throughout his
whole ministry to tell sinners in every sermon
and in a most forthright and understandable way
how to be saved.
Moreover, those lessons were not something merely for
the future.
His love for Christ was such that, although
as yet he was only fifteen, he could
not wait to do something for him but
must find ways in which to serve him
and must do so right away.
And now chapter three, and it begins with
a quote from Spurgeon's autobiography.
When my burden rolled off from off my
back, it was a very real pardon.
And when that day I said, Jesus Christ
is mine, it was a real possession of
Christ to me.
And when I went up to the sanctuary
in that early dawn of youthful piety, every
song was really a psalm.
And when there was a prayer, oh, how
I followed every word.
It was prayer indeed.
And so was it too in silent quietude.
When I drew near to God, it was
no mockery, no routine, no matter of mere
duty.
It was real talking with my Father who
is in heaven.
And oh, how I loved my Savior Christ
then.
I would have given all I had for
him.
How I felt towards sinners that day.
Lad that I was, I wanted to preach
and tell to sinners round what a dear
Savior I had found.
And now chapter three, which is entitled Joyful
First Efforts in Serving the Lord.
A few days after his conversion, Spurgeon returned
to Newmarket and resumed his work in the
school there.
But now everything was different.
His spirit was alive with gladness.
The Bible was ablaze with glory.
And prayer opened for his approaching soul the
very gates of heaven.
He wanted above everything to be totally given
over to God.
And he wrote out and signed a covenant
between himself and his Lord, solemnly declaring his
determination.
Quote, O great and unsearchable God who knowest
my heart and tryest all my ways, with
a humble dependence upon the support of thy
Holy Spirit, I yield myself up to thee
as thy known reasonable sacrifice.
I return to thee thine own.
I would be forever, unreservedly, perpetually thine.
Whilst I am on earth, I would serve
thee.
And may I enjoy thee and praise thee
forever.
Amen.
Dated February 1st, 1850.
Written by Charles Haddon Spurgeon.
Having thus declared his determination, he immediately began
to fulfill it.
A woman who had distributed tracts each week
to 33 homes was giving up the task
and with joy he accepted it.
He also wrote gospel texts on slips of
paper and either gave them to persons he
met or dropped them here and there in
the hope someone would pick them up and
read them.
I cannot be happy, he said, unless I
am doing something for God.
But he had some important lessons to learn
and the first was not long in arriving.
In the days immediately following his conversion he
believed that the devil would never bother him
again.
Then came Satan's onslaught.
The doubts he had experienced before his conversion
came storming into his mind again and with
them came many of the old evil thoughts
and blasphemies against God.
He was sorely troubled and surprised.
But now the fight was different.
He now experienced a power that strengthened him.
Before long the doubts and evil thoughts were
overcome and Christ reigned supremely in his life
again.
The experience was bitter but it was also
highly beneficial for he learned early that the
Christian life is not a flowery bed of
ease but is often a field of battle.
And as he thought upon the temptation and
trial he asserted, this is one way in
which Satan tortures those whom God has delivered
out of his hands.
In later pages we shall see Spurgeon refusing
to have anything to do with the philosophy
of the victorious life that was then coming
into prominence.
Although he constantly experienced a measure of victory
above that known by most men, he also
realized the Christian's daily strife.
Frequently he cried out with Paul, O wretched
man that I am, who shall deliver me
from the body of this death?
Yet he could also assert with the apostle,
I thank God that I am daily delivered
through Jesus Christ our Lord.
In his desire to serve the Lord, Spurgeon
wanted to be publicly associated with the people
of God so he endeavored to join the
Congregational Church at Newmarket.
Most ministers, of course, would have rejoiced to
see such a youth come into their fellowship
but this pastor did not want him.
Spurgeon called at the parsonage but the minister
refused to see him.
He called a second time and the result
was the same.
Twice more he called but on each occasion
there was some obstacle that prevented an interview.
But he refused to be thus repulsed and
wrote the minister a note stating that at
the next midweek meeting he would stand to
his feet and propose himself as a candidate
for membership.
Thereupon the minister gave in and Charles was
received into the church.
There was a reason for the minister's reticence.
Charles was not a Congregationalist at heart.
He had been brought up in that denomination
for as we have seen his grandfather and
father were Congregational ministers.
But although he rejoiced in the gospel they
preached he disagreed on the matter of baptism.
They practiced the christening of infants and he
had been christened by his grandfather as a
babe.
But by now he had come to believe
that biblical baptism was something very different that
it was being buried with Christ the immersion
of one who had believed on Christ unto
salvation.
There had been leanings in this direction in
Charles's mind during childhood but he had come
to a clearer conviction when as a boy
of fourteen he had been led into a
discussion of the subject by the Church of
England clergyman who visited the school at Maidstone.
The clergyman had told him that faith and
repentance are prerequisites for baptism and that because
no infant possesses such qualifications sponsors must supply
them on the child's behalf till he grows
up.
He asserted that since his grandfather did not
use sponsors Charles was not truly baptized and
he went on to declare that all persons
spoken of in the Bible as being baptized
were believers and he gave the youth a
week to search the scriptures and learn this
truth for himself.
At the end of the week Charles fully
agreed that faith and repentance are necessary for
baptism but he also held that they must
be found within the heart of the person
being baptized not in that of a sponsor
and he applied the principle to his own
case saying, I resolved from that moment that
if ever divine grace should work a change
in me I would be baptized.
And now that the change had been wrought
he put the determination into action.
He learned that the nearest Baptist minister was
the Reverend W.
W.
Cantlo of Eileham, a village some eight miles
from Newmarket.
He wrote to Mr. Cantlo and we may
well imagine the earnestness with which Charles would
tell of his conversion and the enthusiasm with
which he would declare his desire to be
baptized.
Mr. Cantlo, overjoyed at hearing from such a
youth gladly agreed to baptize him.
Charles wrote to his parents telling them of
his conviction in this matter and asking their
permission that he be baptized.
His father was slow in replying but finally
wrote and gave his somewhat reluctant consent.
He even added a phrase that rather wounded
the youth a warning that he make sure
he was not trusting in baptism as a
help toward salvation rather than trusting solely in
Christ.
Mrs. Spurgeon also gave permission but it was
not full hearted.
Ah, Charles!
I have often prayed the Lord to make
you a Christian but I never thought that
you might become a Baptist.
He replied not without a note of pleasantry
saying, Ah, mother, the Lord has answered your
prayer with his usual bounty and has given
you exceeding abundantly above what you asked or
thought.
The day appointed by Mr. Cantlo for the
baptizing arrived.
Here is Charles' own account of the solemnly
joyful event.
Quote, I can never forget May 3, 1850.
It was on my mother's birthday and I
myself was within a few weeks of being
sixteen.
I was up early to have a couple
of hours for quiet prayer and dedication to
God.
Then I had some eight miles to walk
to reach the spot where I was to
be immersed.
What a walk it was!
What thoughts and prayers thronged my soul during
that morning's journey.
It was by no means a warm day.
The sight of Mr. Cantlo's smiling face was
a full reward for that country tramp.
I think I see the good man now
and the white ashes of the peat fire
by which we stood and talked together about
the solemn exercise which lay before us.
We went together to the ferry for the
Eilham friends had not degenerated to poor immersion
in a bath made by the art of
man but used the ampler baptistry of the
flowing river.
Eilham Ferry on the River Lark is a
very quiet spot half a mile from the
village.
To me there seemed a great concourse on
that weekday or Friday.
Dressed, I believe, in a jacket with a
boy's turned-down collar, I attended the service
previous to the ordinance, but all remembrance of
it has gone from me.
My thoughts were in the latter, sometimes with
my Lord in joy and sometimes with myself
in trembling awe at making so public a
confession.
There were first to be baptized two women
and I was asked to conduct them through
the water to the minister, but this I
most timidly declined.
It was a new experience for me, never
having seen a baptism before, and I was
afraid of making some mistake.
The wind blew down the river with a
cutting blast as my turn came to wade
into the flood, but after I had walked
a few steps and noted the people on
the ferryboat and in boats and on shore,
I felt as if heaven and earth and
hell might all gaze upon me, for I
was not ashamed there and then to own
myself a follower of the Lamb.
My timidity was washed away.
I have never felt anything of the kind
since.
Baptism also loosed my tongue.
I lost a thousand fears in that river
lark and found that in keeping his commandments
there is great reward.
Following the baptism service, several people gathered with
Mr. Cantlow in the vestry of his church.
Spurgeon had previously begun the practice of leading
in public prayer, and at a meeting on
the evening before his baptism he was enabled,
he said, more than usual to pour out
his heart in prayer.
Now, in this service in the vestry, experiencing
a still greater measure of holy delight, he
led the company in prayer.
The people, we are told, wondered and wept
for joy as they listened to the lad.
Upon returning to Newmarket, he partook of the
Lord's Supper.
This privilege he had thus far refused, feeling
he could not scripturally accept it until he
had been baptized.
Nearly four months had elapsed since his conversion,
and during that time he had increased his
labors for the Lord.
I have seventy people whom I regularly visit
on Saturday, he wrote.
I do not give a tract and go
away, but I sit down and endeavor to
draw their attention to spiritual realities.
I trust the Lord is working among my
tract people.
Oh, that I could see but one sinner
constrained to come to Jesus.
Following his baptism, Charles was asked to become
a Sunday school teacher.
So capable did he prove that he was
shortly invited to address the whole school, and
this effort was so successful that his task
was enlarged to that of doing so each
Sunday.
His earnestness is manifest in this statement.
I have endeavored to speak as a dying
individual, two dying individuals.
And he did not address only the children,
but several adults also began coming to hear
him, a situation that aroused still further the
dislike of the minister.
During those days Charles began to write a
daily diary recording his spiritual efforts and his
innermost desires.
He continued the diary for three months.
Later, after he was married, he put the
book into the hands of his wife.
She treasured it throughout their married life, and
following his death, she published it as part
of his autobiography.
In speaking of this precious little volume, she
said, How marked is his humility, even though
he must have felt within him the stirrings
and throws of the wonderful powers which were
afterwards developed.
Forgive me, Lord, he says in one place,
if I have ever high thoughts of myself.
Early did the master implant the precious seeds
of that rare grace of meekness which adorned
his afterlife.
After each youthful effort at public exhortation, whether
it be engaging in prayer or addressing Sunday
school children, he seems to be surprised at
his own success and intensely anxious to be
kept from pride and self-glory.
So young in years when he wrote these
thoughts and yet so old in grace and
possessing an experience in spiritual matters richer and
broader than most Christians attain to in an
advanced age.
Perhaps of greatest price among the precious things
which this little book reveals is the beloved
author's personal and intense love to the Lord
Jesus.
He lived in his embrace.
The endearing terms used in the diary and
never discontinued were not empty words.
They were the overflowing of the love of
God shed abroad in his heart by the
Holy Ghost.
During those weeks, Spurgeon saw before him a
life spent in the work of the ministry.
In the diary he made many expressions of
which the following is representative.
Make me thy faithful servant, O my God.
May I honor thee in my day and
generation and be consecrated forever to thy service.
His letters likewise reveal that intention as in
the following excerpts from his writing to his
parents.
How I long for the time when it
may please God to make me like you,
my father, a successful preacher of the gospel.
And I hope you may one day have
cause to rejoice that you see me, the
unworthy instrument of God, preaching to others.
His efforts in addressing the Sunday school revealed
he had marvelous powers of public utterance.
His statements about preaching make it evident he
was experiencing an unmistakable call to the ministry.
With these mighty gifts within him and with
his heart moved with a love for God
and a love for the souls of mankind,
it was inevitable that he should begin to
preach.
And it begins with a quote from his
autobiography.
A man who has really within him the
inspiration of the Holy Ghost calling him to
preach cannot help it.
He must preach.
As fire within his bones, so will that
influence be until it blazes forth.
Friends may check him.
Foes criticize him.
Despisers sneer at him.
The man is indomitable.
He must preach if he has the call
of heaven.
I think it is no more possible to
make a man cease from preaching, if he
is really called, than to stay some mighty
cataract by seeking in an infant's cup to
catch the rushing torrent.
The man has been moved of heaven.
Who shall stop him?
He has been touched of God.
Who shall impede him?
And when a man does speak, as the
Spirit gives him utterance, he will feel a
holy joy akin to that of heaven.
And when it is over, he wishes to
be at his work again.
He longs to be once more preaching.
That's the quote from Spurgeon's autobiography, which begins
chapter four.
Again, the title of chapter four is The
Boy Preacher of Water Beach.
In the summer of 1850, Spurgeon moved to
the city of Cambridge.
Mr. Leading, under whom he had progressed so
well at Colchester, now operated a school there,
and Charles's father, seeking the best possible education
for his son, had arranged for him to
enter as a student teacher.
I will readily engage, wrote Leading, to give
him all the assistance in my power for
the prosecution of his own studies and his
board and washing in return for his teaching
assistance.
Desiring to be associated with the people of
God in Cambridge, Spurgeon joined the St. Andrew's
Street Baptist Church.
The first time he attended a service, no
one spoke to him.
So, as the congregation was leaving the building,
he said to a gentleman who sat near
him, I hope you are well, sir.
This led to the following conversation.
Gentlemen, you have the advantage of me.
Spurgeon, I don't think I have, for you
and I are brothers.
Gentlemen, I don't quite know what you mean.
Spurgeon, Well, when I took the bread and
wine just now, in token of our being
one in Christ, I meant it.
Did not you?
By the time they had reached the street,
and the man placing both hands on the
youth's shoulders, declared, Oh, sweet simplicity, you are
quite right, my dear brother, quite right.
Come to tea with me.
The man soon found he had a most
extraordinary guest, and invited him to return on
the following Sunday.
Thereafter, he wanted him every Lord's Day, and
a lasting friendship grew up between them.
As the weeks came and went, Spurgeon made
rapid advances in the Christian life.
He increased in knowledge, and revealed a spiritual
maturity far beyond his years.
In actions and words, he often seemed more
like a grown-up man than the youth
that he was.
For instance, in a letter to his mother,
who apparently had been experiencing some feelings of
depression, he wrote, The rapturous moments of enjoyment,
the hallowed hours of communion, the blessed days
of sunshine in his presence, are pledges of
sure, certain, infallible glory.
Mark the providences of this year, how clearly
you have seen his hand in things which
others esteem chance.
God, who has moved the world, has exercised
his own vast heart and thought for you.
He who counts the hairs of our heads,
and keeps us as the apple of his
eye, has not forgotten you, but still loves
you with an everlasting love.
The mountains have not departed yet, nor the
hills been removed, and till then we may
have confidence that we his own people are
secure.
Whatever Mrs. Spurgeon's feelings may have been, she
could not have failed to rejoice in receiving
such a letter from her son, and must
have marveled at the maturity he possessed at
so early an age.
One of the activities of St. Andrew's was
a lay preacher's association.
It arranged for men to go out into
various villages in the surrounding area to minister
the word.
This work was under the direction of a
James Venter, and because of the wise manner
in which he exercised his leadership, he was
known as the Bishop.
Upon joining the church at Cambridge, Spurgeon was
asked to address the Sunday school.
Venter immediately recognized his extraordinary powers of public
speech and determined to thrust him out into
the lay preaching.
Feeling that a direct request might be refused,
however, he adopted an adroit expedient.
He asked Spurgeon to go to Teversham the
following Sunday evening, explaining that a young man
was to preach there who was not much
used to services, and very likely would be
glad of company.
Spurgeon agreed to go, and with the young
man, whom he assumed was to do the
preaching, he set out on the Sunday evening
for Teversham.
As they walked, he remarked to the companion
that he hoped his preaching would be blessed
of God.
The companion was startled and cried out, I
have never done such a thing in my
life.
You're the one who is to preach.
I'm here to keep you company.
Spurgeon was equally surprised and stated he was
both inexperienced and unprepared for such a task.
But the other countered that Spurgeon was accustomed
to addressing the Sunday school and could easily
repeat one of the talks he had given
there.
Though amazed by what had happened, but also
richly attracted by the opportunity, Spurgeon says, I
walked along quietly, lifting up my soul to
God, and it seems to me I could
surely tell a few poor cottagers of the
sweetness and love of Jesus, for I felt
them in my own soul.
The place of meeting was a thatched-roof
cottage, and the audience was, in his language,
a few simple-minded farm laborers and their
wives.
Spurgeon took as his text the Scripture, Unto
you, therefore, which believe he is precious.
And he spoke of Christ's glory and grace,
that which he had himself received, and which
Christ offered to all who would come to
him.
The moment he finished preaching, an elderly woman
cried out, Bless your heart, how old are
you?
Spurgeon replied that there should be no interruptions
in the service.
But as soon as the last hymn was
sung, she burst forth again with a question,
and this time he replied, I am under
sixty.
Yes, I am under sixteen, she declared.
Her enthusiasm was felt by the rest of
the congregation, and they virtually demanded that he
return and preach to them again as soon
as possible.
Such was Spurgeon's first effort at preaching.
It was for him a time of great
joy, but it also caused him to feel
he had begun an activity which, under the
power of God, would be his great undertaking
throughout the rest of his life.
During the weeks that followed, Spurgeon was busy
each day with his work at the school.
He tutored several boys, and also prosecuted his
own studies under Mr. Leading's direction.
His brother James said, He made such progress
in his studies that I am sure there
were few young men that were his equals.
Charles soon preached again.
The lay preacher's association regularly ministered at thirteen
villages, and he took his turn with the
other men in this work.
But following his first visit to any place,
he was invariably argued to return as often
as he could.
This pleased Mr. Vinter and the other men
too.
Accordingly, evening after evening, he was busy preaching
the word.
His joy was deep and abiding, and as
he walked out to these preaching points, he
usually sang.
He spoke especially of using on these occasions
the grand hymn Loved with Everlasting Love.
I must have been a singular-looking youth
on wet evenings, for I walked three, five,
and even eight miles out and back again
on my preaching work, and when it rained,
I dressed myself in waterproof leggings and a
Macintosh coat and a hat with a waterproof
covering, and I carried a dark lantern to
show me the way across the fields.
How many times I enjoyed preaching the gospel
in a farmer's kitchen or in a cottage
or in a barn.
Perhaps many people came to hear me because
I was only a boy.
In my young days, I feared that I
said many odd things and made many blunders,
but my audience was not hypercritical, and no
newspaper writers dogged my heels, so I had
a happy training school in which, by continual
practice, I attained such a degree of ready
speech as I now possess."
Some may wonder how he could be so
fully engaged in his work at the school
all day and yet be ready to preach
each evening.
But the reading of theology, now largely constituted
the study of each day.
My quiet meditation during the walk helped me
to digest what I had read.
I thought my reading over again while on
my legs and thus worked it into my
very soul, and I can bear testimony that
I never learned so much or learned it
so thoroughly as when I used to tell
out, simply and earnestly, what I had first
received into my own spirit and heart.
Spurgeon spent one Sunday in October of 1851
at the Baptist Church in the village of
Water Beach.
Here he was not only urged to return,
but after a second Sunday he was asked
to become the regular pastor.
Assured that God had called him into the
ministry and knowing the village stood in great
need of the gospel, despite the fact that
he was only seventeen, he accepted the office.
Within a few weeks he resigned his work
at the school.
Although he continued to live at Cambridge, he
also still spent many an evening ministering in
the villages.
He devoted himself to the pastorate in Water
Beach.
Because of his youth he was known as
the boy preacher, but it must be pointed
out he had in no way referred to
himself under this term or used it as
a kind of gimmick to draw a crowd.
Nevertheless, he soon preached to a crowd and
did so each Sunday.
When he went to Water Beach the congregation
numbered about forty, but it grew with great
rapidity.
People came not only from the village itself,
but also from the surrounding countryside till the
attendance mounted regularly to four hundred.