City Road Baptist Church, Bristol |
In 1850, when the President of the Cambridgeshire Village Preachers Association was James Vintner, known locally as the "Bishop", he had invited a newcomer to St. Andrews Street Baptist Church, Cambridge to go out to the village of Teversham to accompany the visiting preacher. The young man, as they walked out to the village, turned the conversation to the service which they were going to share, expressing the hope that his companion James Vintner would be mightily sustained in his preaching. Vintner expressed his surprise since he was not going to preach. He was accompanying his young friend who was going to take the service, and if he did not intend to do so, they had better turn back. The young man turned over in his mind just exactly what the "Bishop" had said to him. "He just asked me to go over to Teversham for a young man was to preach there who was not much used to services and very likely would be glad of company," Spurgeon recalled. He decided to do his best; chose as his text a Sunday-School address based on "Unto you therefore which believe He is precious"; and offered a silent prayer that God would give him words to speak.
Spurgeon later described his experience. "How long or short it was I cannot now remember. It was not half such a task as I had feared it would be, but I was glad to see my way to a fair conclusion and to give out the last hymn. To my own delight I had not broken down, nor stopped in the middle, nor been destitute of ideas ... I made a finish and took up the hymnbook, when to my astonishment a woman's voice exclaimed, 'Bless your dear heart, how old are you?' I solemnly replied, 'You must wait till the service is over before making any such inquiries. Let us now sing.’ “ The lad standing by the fireplace in the cottage, in a short jacket with a full turned down collar, was not quite sixteen, but destined to become the pulpit orator of the century - though at that moment neither he nor they could know that.
Preaching was his whole life - and he wished for nothing else. Within weeks of the Teversham visit, Spurgeon could be found regularly preaching the Gospel in fields or cottages around Cambridge. "I must have been a singular looking youth on wet evenings. During the last year of my stay in Cambridge, when I had given up my office as usher [in a school], I was wont to sally forth every night in the week except Saturday, and to walk three, five, or perhaps eight miles out and back on my preaching excursions, and when it rained I dressed myself in waterproof, leggings and a mackintosh coat and a hat with a waterproof covering, and carried a dark lantern to show me the way across the fields. I had many adventures." Spurgeon never tired of open air preaching, and thought it would be a good antidote to sleepy chapel congregations.
Spurgeon was born into the family of Pastor John Spurgeon, a Congregational minister, on June 19th, 1834, in Kelvedon Essex, the first of ten children. His mother was a woman of extraordinary piety and prayer, and Spurgeon always acknowledged just how much he owed to her. He grew up in the atmosphere of the Evangelical faith. He was largely brought up by his grandparents, his grandfather also being a Congregational Pastor.
He describes his own conversion in classical puritan terms; it was the language of his home and the literature he read as a child. But he was still in confusion when faced by his own sinfulness. One Sunday snow prevented him accompanying his father from Colchester to Tollesbury, so he went to the local Primitive Methodist chapel, searching for the way of salvation.
"I had heard of the Primitive Methodists how they sang so loudly that they made peoples’ heads ache," he wrote, "but that did not matter to me. I wanted to know how I might be saved and if they could tell me that I did not care how much they made my head ache. 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. The preaching was crude enough, but it had power in it. The text was 'Look unto me and be ye saved, all the ends of the earth'." Spurgeon recalls the sermon went something like this:
"My dear friends, this is a very simple text indeed. It says 'Look'. Now lookin' don't take a deal of pains. It ain't liftin your foot or your finger; it is just 'Look'. 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 be able to look. Anyone can look, even a child can look. But then the text says 'Look unto me'.
"Ay," he said in a broad Essex dialect, "many on ye are lookin' to yourselves, but its no use lookin' there. Some 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 Spirit's working. You have no business with that just now. Look to CHRIST. The text says, Look unto Me ..."
Then, very much to the young Spurgeon’s surprise the thin preacher looked straight at him and said: "Young man, you look very miserable, 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. Young man, look to Jesus Christ, look. You have nothing to do but to look and live."
Spurgeon comments "I looked until I could have almost 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." He returned home, and at the close of the day told his father what had happened. It was the beginning of a new life which God would bless mightily.
It is commonly believed that Spurgeon was an uneducated boy from East Anglia, who all his life had no interest in things academic. Certainly Spurgeon believed learning was best accomplished by doing: a principle he never tired of elaborating at the Pastor's college in later years. Spurgeon went to Cambridge to join Edward Leeding, who had been his classical tutor at his Colchester school, to be an Usher in Leeding’s school in Upper Park Street. We are not surprised then, to find a few years later, Spurgeon established an evening school in the rooms under the Metropolitan Tabernacle. The classes were open to all. Tutors engaged for the Pastor's College during the day, gladly stayed on to teach in this school. The courses included reading and writing, literature, mathematics and the various sciences, as well as Pitman's shorthand. The lessons were free, and paid for by Spurgeon himself.
Spurgeon was the 'boy preacher' who transformed the old Waterbeach Baptist church, a few miles from Cambridge.
Appointed pastor, aged 17, he was paid a salary of £45 per yearA deacon said of the boy preacher, 'He talked amazingly, like a man a hundred years old in experience'. The congregations were soon bursting at the seams of the thatched chapel, hundreds coming to hear the boy preacher, with many being soundly converted. Inevitably his fame began to spread, even to the metropolis. On the last Sunday in November, 1853, the lad with the turn-down collar and short jacket made his way in to the chapel to begin the morning service. He turned to select the hymn in the pulpit hymn book. On the hymnbook there was a letter bearing a London postmark. It was unusual and he opened it with curiosity. It contained a formal invitation to occupy the pulpit at New Park Street, London. Spurgeon thought the letter was a mistake and passed it to one of his friends. His elderly deacon read it, not surprised but sad. "Had it been Cottenham or St. Ives or Huntingdon I should not have wondered at all," he said, "but going to London is rather a great step from this little place."
Though not yet twenty, Spurgeon was soon pulling Londoners in. The big, gloomy old chapel, home of tradition and cobwebs, pitched between a brewery on one side and a vinegar distillery on the other, in a back street of the city, was soon thronged with eager worshippers and often by pressmen eager for copy about the new London sensation, the 'boy preacher'. Men and women of all types from the highest to the lowest came to hear him, many having had no connection with the Christian church before. Unlike other popular preachers of the day he did not steal other preachers' congregations, he appealed direct to the person in the street.
Spurgeon was an orator and an elocutionist. He was dramatic to his finger-tips. He not only uttered words, he acted them. He made simple things live; every movement contributed, so that when he preached the whole of his personality was engaged in conveying the message. He was an innovator in the pulpit and in ministerial practice. The Church proposed an induction and ordination for him, but he objected to ordination, claiming that his ministry had been recognized by God and required no further authorization. If the church insisted, he told them he would submit, but
"it will be a submission. I shall endure it as a self-mortification ... but still I would have it understood by all the Church that I endure it as a penance for your sake." Needless to say, there was no further talk of ordination!
His pulpit attire was quite outrageous by the standards of the day. Not for him the long frock coat of black cloth, high stock with a white cravat, completed by a silk top-hat. He wore a short frock coat, almost a jacket, an open vest, turned down collar and small black bow - and his hat was soft felt, almost a Trilby. And of course, his blue, white spotted handkerchief! No need for him to worry, within a decade most of the Free Church ministers dressed as Spurgeon!
Soon New Park Street was not big enough; while extra seating was put in, Sunday services were held in the Exeter Hall. That was only available for a short period. Where to go? Ever the innovator, Spurgeon decided to take each Sunday night the Royal Surrey Gardens - the music-hall which seated ten or twelve thousand people. “The services of religion are becoming mere entertainment" said the critics, and nobody expected he would fill the building - least of all Spurgeon. But he did! And then there was a human tragedy. The New Park Street church book records it thus:
"Just after our pastor had commenced his prayer a disturbance was caused, as it is supposed, by some evil-disposed persons acting in concert, and the whole congregation was seized with a sudden panic. [The cry went up 'Fire!' and another voice cried 'The gallery is giving way'] This caused a fearful rush to the doors particularly from the galleries. Several persons, either in consequence of their heedless haste, or from extreme pressure of the crowd behind, were thrown down on the steps of the northwest staircase, and were trampled on by the crowd pressing upon them. The lamentable result was that seven persons lost their lives, and twenty-eight were removed to the hospitals, seriously bruised and injured. Our pastor, not being aware that any loss of life had occurred, continued in the pulpit, endeavoring by every means within his power to alleviate the fear of the people, and was successful to a very considerable extent ... This lamentable circumstance produced very serious effects on the nervous system of our pastor. He was entirely prostrated for some days, and compelled to relinquish his preaching engagements. Through the great mercy of our Heavenly Father he was restored so as to be able to occupy the pulpit in our own chapel on Sunday October 31st."
Special funds were raised by the church for the bereaved and injured families, and everything possible was done to comfort the mourners, and after the initial shock was over for Spurgeon, he decided that he would return to the Surrey Gardens, but in the mornings, not the evenings. Again, he broke new ground - successfully. The Hall was too small for the congregations that came from all over London and indeed the country, to hear his message. The services continued till 1859 when its owners decided to have morning concerts which they thought would bring in more money - but in fact led to the bankruptcy of those who organized it. The congregation returned to the Exeter Hall, in the Strand, until a new chapel was built at Newington Butts, on the south [and wrong side] of the River Thames. Spurgeon was touching all classes in London as an Evangelist. His great mission was to bring people into allegiance to Christ. He was a life-changer: and he stood largely alone in this, in the early years of his London ministry.
Spurgeon venerated the Puritans, and almost worshipped John Calvin. When Spurgeon visited Switzerland, and was invited to preach in the pulpit of John Calvin, he records, "I am not superstitious, but the first time I saw the medal of John Calvin I kissed it, and when the pastors saw my reverence for him they presented me with a magnificent medal." He even submitted to "full canonicals" when he took the service, though to walk in them, he said, would feel like "running in a sack".
"It was John Calvin's cloak," he continues, "and that reconciled me to it very much. I do love that man of God, suffering all his life long, not only enduring persecution from without but a complication of disorders from within, and yet serving his Master with all his heart."
Yet, for all his love of Calvin and the Puritans, Spurgeon's theology was deeply based in Christian experience and upon the Word of God which shapes that experience. When the boy preacher first preached at New Park Street, he went on record with this bold statement of his position.
‘I am not ashamed to avow myself a Calvinist, although I claim to be a Calvinist according to Calvin than after the modern debased fashion. I do not hesitate to take the name of Baptist. You have here" pointing to the open Baptistery "substantial evidence that I am not ashamed of that ordinance of our Lord Jesus Christ, but if I am asked to say in a word what is my creed, I think I must reply, 'It is Jesus Christ'. My venerated predecessor, Dr. Gill, has left a body of divinity[3 volumes of theology!] admirable and excellent in its way, but the body of divinity to which I would pin and bind myself for ever God helping me, is not his system of divinity or any other human treatise, but Jesus Christ, who is the sum and substance of the Gospel, who is in Himself all theology, the Incarnation of every precious truth, the all-glorious embodiment of the way, the truth and the life."
Spurgeon told his own preachers in training: "Our sermons should be our mental life-blood - the outflow of our intellectual and spiritual vigour; or, to change the figure, they should be diamonds well cut and well set, precious intrinsically and bearing the marks of labour. God forbid that we should offer to the Lord that which cost us nothing." A colleague once put it thus: Spurgeon was 'a true doctor of souls, not a general practitioner, but a specialist in the holy art of representing Christ to his people.'
ROGER HAYDEN