THE DECISION BERRIDGE’S earnestness and zeal soon became a subject of conversation in the religious circles of the day, and his fame reached the ears of those devoted servants of Christ, John Wesley and George Whitefield. He had heard of them, of course, but malice and envy had not spared them, and the report which Berridge received was not such as induced him to seek their acquaintance. The word of the Lord Jesus has always been fulfilled, “The servant is not greater than his lord; if they have persecuted me, they will also persecute you.” But more truthful reports of one another opened the way for some letters to pass between them, which in June 1758, led to a personal interview with Wesley, a lifelong acquaintance and kindly interest in one another, though much unsoundness in Wesley’s teaching prevented the same depth of attachment between them as existed between Berridge and Whitefield. When, years later, Berridge was told of Lady Huntingdon’s death, he said, “Ah! is she dead? Then another pillar is gone to glory. Mr. Whitefield is gone, Mr. Wesley and his brother are gone, and I shall go soon.” His informant, Mr. Hobbs, said, “Yes, sir, it is not probable you will long survive them, and although some little difference in opinion existed between you here, I have no doubt you will unite in perfect harmony in heaven.” Berridge answered with a quiet smile, “Ay, ay, that we shall; for the Lord washed our hearts here, and He will wash our brains there.” His meaning is plain; he believed that at heart both sought the Lord’s interests and glory, the difference arose from deficient and darkened understandings, but when with Christ in heaven their knowledge would be perfect Whitefield was very hopeful about Berridge when he heard of his conversion; he wrote, “Mr. Berridge, who was lately awakened at Everton, promises to be a burning and a shining light.” And again, “A new instrument is raised up out of Cambridge University. He has been here preaching like an angel of the churches indeed.”
Wesley had been carrying the Word of Life throughout many parts of England and in North America for about twenty years; Whitefield also for about the same length of time, and God had most wonderfully blessed their labors. Without doubt the influence and example of these men greatly helped Berridge to form the decision that he would preach as they did, wherever he could get a hearing. The same spirit which led Whitefield to write, “The whole world is now my parish, wherever my Master calls me I am ready to go and preach His gospel,” was not lacking in Berridge, though his vicarship at Everton effectually prevented such a wide stretch of country being traversed by him.
The whole matter seems to have been carefully weighed. This the following letter shows: “Everton, Bedfordshire, Aug. 8th, 1775.
“DEAR SIR,
“When I began to itinerate, a multitude of dangers surrounded me, and seemed ready to engulf me. My relations and friends were up in arms; my college was provoked; my bishop incensed; the clergy on fire, and the church canons pointing their ghastly mouths at me. As you are now doing, so did I, send letters to my friends, begging advice, but received unsatisfactory or discouraging answers. Then I saw, if I meant to itinerate, I must not confer with flesh and blood, but cast myself wholly on the Lord. By His help, I did so, and made a surrender of myself to Jesus, expecting to be deprived not only of my fellowship and vicarage, but also of my liberty. At various times, complaints or presentments were carried to my college, to successive archdeacons and bishops, and my diocesan frankly told me I should either be in Bedlam or Huntingdon jail by-and-bye. But through the good blessing of my God, I am yet in possession of my senses, my tithes, and my liberty; and He who hitherto delivered, I trust will yet deliver me from the mouth of ecclesiastical lions and the paws of worldly bears... Ask no man’s leave to preach Christ; that is unevangelical and shameful. Seek not much advice about it; that is dangerous. Such advice, I found, generally comes the wrong way, heels uppermost. Most preachers love a snug church, and a whole skin, and what they love they will prescribe... Make the Lord your whole trust, and all will be well... The Lord direct, assist, and prosper you, and your much affectionate friend and servant,
“John Berridge.”
Unless we know a little of the state of society in Berridge’s day, we shall think some of the above expressions forced and exaggerated. Now-a-days, a man who desires to make known the Lord’s goodness and compassion is not thought to be more than usually in need either of a strait jacket or of fetters. His friends hardly think of sending him to a lunatic asylum, nor do his enemies expect to imprison him. God be praised, there are now many whose lives are spent in the work of the gospel. But when Berridge lived the state of things was so different that we with our present-day experiences can hardly conceive it. The higher classes as well as the lower were in a most degraded condition. The country was little better than heathen. The poor had hardly any knowledge about God, though they readily listened to the gospel when it was carried to them, and the “white gutters” which the tears washed down the blackened cheeks of the Bristol colliers while they listened to Whitefield showed that, as in the days of the Lord, the common people heard gladly. But the upper classes, though knowing about God, were heathens in another way―they did not like to retain Him in their knowledge. A cold, heartless infidelity blighted the lives of numbers. “Ignorance and brutality reigned in the cottage. Drunkenness reigned in palace and cottage alike. Gambling, cock-fighting, and bull-fighting were the amusements of the people.” Such a condition, as far as the poor were concerned, was hardly to be wondered at; no helping hand from those above them was reached down to lift them up to higher and nobler things. A sharply drawn line kept class from class. The tradesman looked down upon the laborer, the gentleman looked down upon both. The Duchess of Buckingham wrote to Lady Huntingdon, “I thank your ladyship for the information concerning the Methodist preachers; their doctrines are most repulsive, and strongly tinctured with disrespect towards their superiors, in perpetually endeavoring to level all ranks and do away with all distinctions. It is monstrous to be told you have a heart as sinful as the common wretches that crawl on the earth. This is highly offensive and insulting, and I cannot but wonder that your ladyship should relish any sentiments so much at variance with high rank and good breeding.” But in God’s sight the souls of these “common wretches that crawl on the earth” were as precious as Her Grace’s; the work of God’s Spirit and the cleansing value and power of the blood of Christ were as much needed to make her fit for heaven as those she so despised. Her letter, however, is an index to the feelings of those of her rank towards the poor. The harsh and cruel laws of the land point to the absence of all common human sympathies; the sentence for trifling crimes was transportation beyond the seas, or death itself, yet the wholesale slavery or slaughter of those whose only crime was their black skin grieved no one but a few troublesome persons, whose consciences were much too tender, according to the common ideas, for their own comfort. Even a Christian man, as John Newton undoubtedly was, could be the captain of a slave ship, and make several voyages in that wicked trade without being conscious of anything wrong!
Surely a Jonah or a John Baptist was needed to cry in trumpet tones, “Repent!” We should suppose that those who bore the name of Christ were alive to the need and exerted themselves. But they neither knew the need nor cared to know. The Established Church, which, from the position it held, should have been foremost in good works, was slumbering in spiritual sleep. If its ministers preached at all, it was either a kind of heathenish philosophy― “heathen chaff,” as Berridge called it―or salvation through works; the Word of God, or even the Articles of the Church had but little influence upon their sermons. Berridge mournfully tells us that the doctrines of grace were a common offense to the clergy, that powerful efforts had been made to eject the gospel doctrines out of the Church, and there was likelihood from the nation’s infidelity that a future attempt to do so would succeed. He also says, “The principles of the clergy and the leading men of the nation ... are growing continually more unscriptural and licentious.” Whitefield, though a Churchman, exclaims, “Oh pity, pity the Church of England! See how too many of her sons are fallen from her Articles, and preach themselves, not Jesus Christ the Lord.” Nor was Dissent better. The light of Puritan days had become dim, the truths which Bunyan loved and taught were forgotten, and Dissent was simply an opposing force to the politics of the Church.
But though the religious bodies were wrapped in slumber, God had raised up individual witnesses, whose voices broke the stillness of that spiritual night, whose bright light shone through that darkness which could almost be felt. As already mentioned, twenty years before this date (1758) Whitefield and Wesley had been led by God to preach His gospel, the former especially being welcomed in many pulpits, while vast multitudes thronged to hear him. But he committed an unpardonable offense in the eyes of the clergy―he had meetings in private houses and went from house to house reading and expounding the Word of God. No great sin, we should say, but it was sufficient then to shut almost every pulpit in England against him. He was not daunted. “Finding the pulpits are denied me, and the poor colliers are ready to perish for lack of knowledge, I, went to them, and preached on a mount to upwards of two hundred. Blessed be God that the ice is broken, and I have now taken the field. I thought it might be doing the will of my Creator, who had! a mountain for His pulpit, and the heavens for His sounding board, and who, when the gospel was refused by the Jews, sent His servants into the highways and hedges.” So began and so went on that glorious work, beneath no “fretted vault,” but under God’s own heaven. It is matter of history how Whitefield was despised and evil spoken of; how in one place the wardens rang the church bells to drown his voice; how all sorts of means were resorted to to drive him hither and thither, to crush him and the work which God had given him to do. The question for Berridge’s decision was: Should he stay at Everton, comparatively unknown by any but his own parishioners, his days passing in peace and quietness, hiding the truth which God had given him, or should he too go forth, willing to bear shame and contempt for the gospel’s sake and for the name of Christ? There was enough involved in the question to make a strong-minded man hesitate, but after counting the cost, he prepared himself to give up all―his friends, his living, his liberty if the Lord saw fit―to receive the reproach of Christ here, but glory with Christ, and His own blessed approval, by-and-bye. It is impossible. to recall those sad, dark times, and the risks which these men ran―perils by sea and land, perils from their own countrymen; the labors incessant, without feeling drawn to them ―without admiration for their courage and their faithfulness―without praise to God for His grace in raising up the living among the dead! All around was so cold, but the warmth of love led them on; all was so hopeless, but the patience of hope sustained them, and though not a friend might be at hand to help or to comfort them, their hearty faith in Christ carried them over all difficulties. “If you are invited to go out, and feel yourself inclined to do so, take a lover’s leap, neck or nothing, and commit yourself to Jesus.” So Berridge advised another, and the daily committal of all into Christ’s hands, the submitting to His guidance and protection, was the secret of their diligence and success.
W. J.