This further extract from John Warburton’s Autobiography concerns his first invitation to preach and a precious deliverance afforded him in providence.—Editor.
HIS FIRST INVITATION TO PREACH: SORE EXERCISES OF SOUL.
It was either the close of 1843 or the beginning of 1844, one, Jonathan Reeves, of Rochester, in Kent, wrote to me that there were a few people met together in a room in Rochester for worship, and that they would be glad, if I felt so inclined, for me to speak to them. They had been informed of my attempting, now and then, to speak from a chapter, at a prayer meeting, in Eden Street Chapel. I think, but am not certain, it was in 1842 that I, with six others, commenced that cause in Gadsby’s Yard, Tottenham Court Road. From there we went to Eden Street. There it was that five out of the seven formed ourselves into a church. But to return. The note received from Jonathan Reeves exercised my mind not a little. I did not reply at once, my mind was so agitated. Though I had prayed for the thing, believed it would be, and that it was the will of the Lord it should be, yet now I was asked I could not say yes or no. As I delayed to answer the letter, I had another note urging me to come, as, from some impressions, they felt it was the will of God. That night I went into Regent’s Park to consider the matter. My soul’s cry was “Lord, direct me”; “O, Lord, go before me”; “Lord, send me.” While thus walking and praying I felt such a love spring up in my heart towards poor sinners, the saints, and Jesus Christ, as I cannot describe. Off I ran, the nearest way home, my soul flowing with love, and wrote to say that, God willing, I would be with them on Lord’s Day, January 28th, 1844.
A day or two after I had sent to say I would go, my mind sunk at the very thought. I even wished I might be taken ill. “O,” I said. “What shall I do! Fool that I am, and fool I have always been. Whatever will people say? I shall be a gazing-stock and a laughing-stock, looked upon as not having common sense.” The exercises of my mind and all that I had passed through now appeared to me as nothing more than the delusion of Satan. I mustered all the arguments against the insinuation that were possible for me to think of, but my arguments against the power of Satan were like straw or rotten wood to the leviathan (Job xli, 27). Down went all my strength with one blast of the enemy. Some tell us to resist the devil, and so does the Word of God, “Resist the devil and he will flee from you” (James iv, 7). But it tells us also how that is to be done—not by human strength but by faith. “Your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour: whom resist steadfast in the faith” (I Peter, v. 8-9). And again, “Put on the whole armour of God that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil (Eph. vi, 11). Joshua, the high priest, standing before the Lord, and Satan standing at his right hand to resist him, was no match for him. The Lord rebuked him, and so set the trembling one free” (Zech. iii, 1-6).
The time fixed for me to go to Rochester was now drawing near. I had but little work, very little; we were getting behind, and I could not help contracting debts. My mind now became absorbed about the things of this world, which proved a snare to me: poverty stared me in the face; come it must, do what I will. The old serpent wriggled in unperceived, and set before me the prosperity of thee wicked—how they prospered, yet had no fear of God before their eyes. As I pondered upon this, my mind was so bewildered as not to be able to form a judgment upon so puzzling a matter. Such was the infidelity of my mind as almost to make me question the being of God, or, if there was a God, to have such thoughts of His wisdom, love, and mercy, as to make me tremble. I dare not hint at the awful things that bubbled up in my mind; stay with me such things would, I could not get rid of them. Thus I went on for days, envying the wicked whom I saw prospering in the world. Folly in the extreme! So foolish and ignorant was I. I went on in this way until Wednesday, the 24th January, the Wednesday before I went to Rochester. I had no work, we had only a few pence, and were in debt. Oh, I thought, to preach in such a state as this is impossible! I went down to the shop to see if there was any work; but came back without any. Wednesday was our week-night service at Eden Street Chapel. On my way to the chapel, I saw carriages waiting at some doors, and footmen standing at them. “See,” whispered a voice within me, “these people are going to the theatre or ballroom. They must have a carriage to ride in, they are serving the devil; you, who are going to chapel to worship God, must go on foot, in poverty and misery. Where is the goodness, mercy, and justice of God in thus feeding His enemies and starving His friends?” I felt upon the borders of desperation, and in that state entered the chapel. Mr. Sears, of Clifton, was preaching that evening, but what his text was, or what he said, I know not. My mind was in such an excited state as not to be able to listen to anything. Upon the conclusion of the service, the turmoil of my mind was something fearful, like the restless ocean, agitated by fierce winds casting up filth.
HE PROVES GOD TO BE JEHOVAH JIREH.
I saw a gentleman from Wolverhampton, Mr. Mander, whom I tried to avoid, but he took me by the hand and very kindly asked after my health. I told him I did not feel well. He said, “I want you to take a walk with me.” “No,” I said, “You must excuse me.” He said, “I say you must take a walk.” Mr. Mander, and I, in spiritual things, had been united previously. What made me so very reluctant to go with him was, I knew his conversation would be upon spiritual things, and just then I felt anything but spiritual. However, my friend, Mr. Mander, would take no denial: go I must. As we got into the street, the first word he said was, “Well, how is it in the spirit?” I remember the thoughts that came in my mind in a moment, “It is all well for you to talk about spiritual things; had I your money I could talk about them as well as you.” My answer to his question was, “Cast down, but not destroyed.” We went on conversing until we came to Euston Square, when he stopped and said, “I will take you no farther,” I have a small parcel in my pocket for you, which I made up on purpose for you at Bath; there is a note inside, explaining the matter, but, if suitable, only let Jonathan and David know the matter. Farewell,” and so left me. I began to feel the parcel, and felt something like money which felt about the size of shillings. No, I thought again, it cannot be money; he knows nothing of my circumstances, he would not think of giving me money, yet I felt persuaded there was money in the parcel, so I quickened my pace from walking to running. My heart began to soften, I cried out, “No, I am so unworthy. O Lord, I am so unworthy!” The more I felt abased, the more my heart softened, and so entered my home, which was a third floor in a house in Wells Street, Oxford Street. I soon took the parcel from my pocket; my wife asked what it was. I told her Mr. Mander gave it to me and we would see what it contained. Having cut the string with which it was tied, and opened it, to my astonishment there were five sovereigns. Immediately a blaze of glory shone into my soul as almost overpowered both body and soul. Oh, the beauty that shone in God’s divine providence cannot be described! I was overcome, burst into a flood of tears, and exclaimed, “Bless the Lord, O my soul; and all that is within me, bless His holy Name.” Beast that I am, I had been envying those that fear not God, that have their portion in this life: little thinking that God had been withholding for a time His purpose, in order to make His love and mercy more glorious in my deliverance. “Oh,” I said, “I cannot wait until Sunday.” I must go this moment into the street to publish what God hath wrought. My wife entreated me to be quiet, saying people would hear me. “That,” I said, “is what I want them to do.” None but such as have been brought low, can tell the blessed sweetness and preciousness that accompanies the delivering hand of God. “What!” I said, “The Infinite God who made the world and upholds it, take notice of such a speck of sand as me?” How soul humbling! I felt this goodness draw my soul towards Him, at the same time my vileness appeared so great. I felt to recoil; words cannot depict the feelings of one in such a case. Oh, the humbleness of mind, the self loathing, the sinking into nothing! Such love to the Lord I had, that I then felt I can never doubt again. I shall always have this to look to and that will be sufficient. No doubting, fearing, when one feels the Lord is with him. What peace my soul felt! God regarded my poor feeble cries, and in answer sent more than I asked for. In my feelings I did indeed sit at His feet, wash them with tears of joy, and wipe them with the hair of my head.
It was a long time before I could read the note, my eyes being filled with tears, which was, as it is well fixed in my memory, as follows:—
My Dear Brother,—This day, while going from street to street, in Bath, on my business, you were brought before me in my mind as being in want, and in trying circumstances. At first I did not take much notice of it, but when, on calling at different shops, at last it came so very powerful as not to be withstood, and a voice within said, “You must help him.” “Lord,” I said, “what must it be?” The voice said, “Five pounds.” I went to my inn and have now done according to the impression of my mind. The Lord bless you. I am, my dear brother, yours in love, CHARLES MANDER.
Upon reading the note my soul broke out afresh into praising the Lord. I was in London, peevish, discontented, and rebellious, against the Lord’s dispensations. Yea, even questioning the wisdom of His works. Everything appeared as crooked as a serpent. Oh, but for everlasting mercy I must have sunk into eternal ruin! At that very time, God, against whom I felt such anger in my carnal heart, was laying my case upon the mind of my friend, more than a hundred miles distant, and putting it into his heart to assist me. This is grace, free grace, sweet in deliverance, sweet in memory, sweet in the promise, sweet in life, sweet in death, and sweet in glory. To me it is at times the sweetest of all sounds. Oh, that I could but feel its power more and more! But alas! I often feel such a poor carnal thing as not to have a thought towards God. My cry is still, “God be merciful to me a sinner.” And it seems it will be so as long as I am in this tabernacle.