George Whitefield (1714 – 1770), “The Grand Itinerant,” is the preacher most associated with 18th century Great Awakening in America, Scotland, and England. There has been no one, before or since, who was quite like him. His influence on Christian preaching and revival movements was massive. Perhaps more than any other in Christian history, he was singularly devoted to preaching to as many people as possible as often as possible. It’s only a slight exaggeration to say that preaching was his life. His character was largely considered above reproach, for example in that he lived simply and kept little money for himself while collecting massive funds for his charitable work. Such qualities earned the respect of unlikely friends like Ben Franklin. And yet, like most of us, he had his glaring blind spots.
In The Divine Dramatist — George Whitefield and the Rise of Modern Evangelicalism (1991, Eerdmans Publishing), Harry S. Stout explains the qualities and conditions that resulted in Whitefield becoming a powerful force for the Christian movement. Whitefield was the first 18th century colonial American celebrity. It’s hard to overstate the impact of his open-air revivals on New England communities. His preaching, typically on the New Birth, seemed to enrapture his huge audiences. And “huge” is an understatement. He routinely preached to crowds of 10,000, 20,000, even 25,000 from makeshift outdoor stages. And what a voice he was gifted with. His voice was of course not amplified, but that didn’t matter. His dramatic words rang out loud and clear, so everyone heard clearly.
The frequency of his preaching in his American tours combined with the size of his audience meant that a large percentage of 17th century colonial America heard him at one point or another. For example, on his two-month tour of New England in 1740, Whitefield preached an astonishing 175 times, typically to vast outdoor audiences.
The enraptured effect he typically had on his hearers is perhaps best described by accounts from his listeners. Here’s a representative example: “It gave me a heart wound…I saw that my righteousness would not save me.”
And another: “I felt love to Christ in my Soul, and so much joy that the sweet offers of Christ as a husband to my Soul that the joy of my heart had almost made me to cry out among the people, that I was ready to strike hands on the Bargain.”
No less figure than Jonathan Edwards credited Whitefield’s New England rallies as a crucial factor in the Great Awakening in his Northampton, Connecticut, region, saying, “…in about a month there was a great alteration in the town.”
Another contemporary, James Robe, wrote that “an entire town had been transformed almost overnight.”
His style was uniquely (for the time) dramatic. He would play the part of biblical characters so effectively that his audience, no matter their views on Christianity, could not help but listen eagerly. Whitefield had grown up as a stage actor. He had loved being on stage and had mastered his craft. Ironically, he came to believe the stage was a work of Satan and began to preach against it. But in truth he owed part of his success as an orator to the skills he’d mastered in the theater.
Whitefield showed no interest in amassing personal wealth. He was seemingly not tempted to greed, which is especially noteworthy given the massive donations that his rallies collected. Whitefield events routinely brought in more money than the nearby churches collected in a year.
Perhaps there is no single better descriptor of Whitefield than “single-minded.” His intense focus from the beginning of his public ministry to his death was preaching the New Birth. Indeed, his extreme tenacity toward this end undoubtedly compromised his health and led to his death.
Whitefield was capable of humbling himself and learning from mistakes. The prime example of this was his early pattern of denouncing the local clergy where he happened to be preaching, claiming that many of them had not been born again, that they weren’t even Christians.
Whitefield brought many innovations to preaching. The open-air gatherings of many thousands were of course new. Few, if any, other preachers had a voice like the ‘roar of a lion’ that could practically make such an event possible. But there was much more. His impassioned messages invited hearers to fully engage their imaginations, especially regarding the joy of salvation. For example, in a sermon on the new heaven and new earth, he directed hearers to
“…lift up your hearts frequently toward the Mansions of eternal Bliss, and with an Eye of Faith, like the great St. Stephen, see the heavens opened, and the Son of Man with his glorious retinue of departed saints sitting and solacing themselves in eternal Joys, and with unspeakable comfort looking back on their past sufferings and self-denials, as so many glorious Means which exalted them to such a Crown.”
Whitefield could not stay still for a moment when preaching. He often brought himself to tears, as he poured himself out for his listeners, preaching on grace, salvation, eternity, and the New Birth.
If John Wesley had invented the art of improvisational preaching some years earlier, Whitefield perfected it. His persona and style were a perfect fit for extemporaneous preaching. There was nothing standing between Whitefield and his audience. Where others felt insecure, Whitefield was released. He could instantly portray biblical characters and dialogue in a way that created a sense of sacred theater for his audience. Once you had heard a Whitefield sermon, you wouldn’t forget it.
A letter from Jonathan Edwards’ sister, Sarah, to her brother gives insight to what Whitefield’s audiences experienced. She wrote that, “he makes less of the doctrines than our American preachers generally do and aims at affecting the heart. He is a born orator.” She described the effects on his hearers: “It is wonderful to see what a spell he casts over an audience by proclaiming the simplest truths of the Bible. I have seen upwards of a thousand people hang on his words with breathless silence, broken only by an occasional half-suppressed sob…A prejudiced person, I know, might say that this is all theatrical artifice and display; but not so will anyone think who has seen and known him.”
When contemplating Whitefield, a Christian is forced to come to grips with the reality that even great Christian leaders are susceptible to great error. I’d argue that Whitefield had two egregious blind spots that complicate his legacy: his marriage and his support of the institution of slavery.
His marriage to Elizabeth James seemed to be arranged rather hastily and mostly for presumed practical benefits for his ministry. His written marriage proposal reads like a business contract. Once secured, the marriage itself seemed of little importance to him. He would leave his wife at home for long months as he conducted his campaigns, communicating sparingly. His surviving letters to her seem to show little love and devotion. Her eventual death did not obviously bother him much. He returned to his normal preaching schedule within a few days. There is little evidence of the sacrificial love husbands are called to in the New Testament.
Whitefield’s actions regarding slavery were somewhat mystifying and contradictory. On the one hand, he did much to help slaves, including evangelizing them (there was no consensus at the time within Christendom that slaves were worthy of evangelizing). He was quite charitable with his ministry’s funds toward American slaves’ education and betterment. And yet, he had no qualms about his organization in Georgia owning slaves, or in using slave labor for the building of his college. Worse, he advocated to the Georgia legislature for the continuation of slavery as an institution. It is impossible to reconcile his contradictions regarding slavery.
Regardless of these seeming inconsistencies, Whitefield’s legacy is one of massive impact on Christianity in the 18th century and beyond. His boldness, endurance, passion, and innovative preaching brought Christ and the New Birth to incredible numbers in New England, Scotland, and England. His revivals were integral to the Great Awakening. Nearly everyone who heard him preach was deeply affected in some way, including skeptics like Ben Franklin. His was a life of absolute focus on the Cross of Christ. He died, as he seemed to know he would, exhorting Christ with his last breaths.