As hard as Charles tried to be holy he always felt like he was falling short of the standard God set. He believed he was intermittently falling out of God’s favor and losing his salvation. It wasn’t until after he was ordained as a preacher and was commissioned as a missionary to the American colony of Georgia, that he began to understand grace by faith alone.

Born prematurely in 1707, Charles was the 18^th child of Samuel and Susannah Wesley. For weeks they were not sure if he would live or die, as eight of his siblings had done. As his mother prayed for him Charles grew healthy and strong. Early in life, it became evident that he had a gift for languages. His mother taught him Latin, Greek, and French, for six hours a day, until he was old enough to go to school. He attended a school where only Latin was allowed to be spoken in public.

At Oxford University, where he studied for nine years, he was so appalled by the spiritual torpor of the school, that he and his brother John founded a club of earnest students who would pray for Oxford and who would endeavor to live fastidiously holy lives. The club was dubbed the Holy Club, and helped rope in a young, poor, squint but zealous student by the name of George Whitefield.

John and Charles both felt their sin keenly. As hard as Charles tried to be holy he always felt like he was falling short of the standard God set. He believed he was intermittently falling out of God’s favor and losing his salvation. It wasn’t until after he was ordained as a preacher and was commissioned as a missionary to the American colony of Georgia, that he began to understand grace by faith alone.

For Charles the conversion came in May 1738 while listening to a psalm being sung. He was deeply stirred. Then later, while reading Martin Luther’s commentary on Galatians, Charles wrote in his journal of that experience:

“I labored, waited, and prayed to feel ‘who loved me, and gave himself for me.’ …I now found myself at peace with God, and rejoice in hope of loving Christ.”

The psalm he heard was Psalm 130.

The Psalmist Cries Out to God in 4 Sincere Stages That We Can Mimic

Cry of Consternation

Psalm 130:1-2 Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord!  O Lord, hear my voice! Let your ears be attentive to the voice of my pleas for mercy! 

Do you ever feel like you are in a pit?

Most Christians can testify to moments in their Christian walk when they feel pitiful… like they are in a pit. But this particular pit is not the cave of betrayal, nor the vale of grief, nor the pothole of disappointment. No, this is the abyss of the Psalmist’s debauchery—the swampy mire of his own sin.

We know this because in verse 2 he cries out for mercy and in verse 3 he confesses his iniquity.

There are many pitfalls on our way that leave our mood sprained and rob us of joy. Sometimes health trials, relationship struggles, anxieties about the future, or concerns about our children can waylay our joy and drag us into the valleys of sadness. But there is no deeper, darker dungeon than the pit into which our own sin pulls us.

When we are suffering a trial that fell our way, we turn reflexively to God. But when the trial is of our own doing, a self-inflicted consequence brought on by our sinful folly and rebellion, then matters are made worse because we feel like we can’t turn to God. You may flagellate yourself with thoughts of… “If I had obeyed God I wouldn’t be in this trouble; I can’t ask God for help because I am getting what I deserve!”

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