Whitefield might have had a lifelong allergic reaction to unapplied and abstract theology, decrying “letter-learned” professing Christians who wrote about the new birth but had experienced “no more of it than a blind man does of colours”; and yet, beneath this polemical rhetoric lurked a preacher who, when he arrived at Calvinistic convictions, was willing to expend significant time and energy proclaiming and defending them in the public arena.

Theology in the Pulpit

By his own admission, George Whitefield was not a theologian—at least, not of the conventional sort. Indeed, he never aspired to be one. In much the same way that his Methodist field-preaching compatriot John Wesley has been famously dubbed a “folk-theologian”¹—a practical theologian as opposed to a systematic theologian—Whitefield might aptly be described as an occasional theologian. In other words, he tended to avoid abstract theological discourse in favor of expressing his theology through the medium of letters, treatises, and, above all else, sermons.

Whitefield was convinced that theology belongs in the pulpit. He preferred to communicate theology through sermons he delivered to live gatherings in specific locations and times rather than through attempting to produce timeless systematic theological treatises. His sermons were geared toward the spiritual transformation of his listeners (and readers), not the mere transfer of theologically oriented information, even theologically orthodox information. For example, after spending the bulk of his landmark sermon entitled “The Lord Our Righteousness” carefully defining and defending the doctrines of justification by faith and its corollary, imputation, Whitefield pivoted toward application, thereby illustrating his conviction that an unapplied theology is not merely impoverished but dangerous to the soul: “I have been too long upon the doctrinal part. To preach to your head without preaching to your heart is doing you no good.”²

Taken in isolation, quotes like this could easily be construed as evidence of the way Whitefield prioritized matters of the heart over and against the head. Well-worn pejorative tropes abound regarding his lack of theological acumen (at best) and cavalier disinterest in theology (at worst). Then there is the “old jibe”: “that Whitefield must have been eloquent indeed to make such utterances as his seem eloquent.”³

Some have contended that “almost any single sermon states the whole of [Whitefield’s] formal theology. His ideas are few; they are bluntly put and endlessly repeated.”⁴ Indeed, there is more than a grain of truth to this assessment. But what is no doubt intended here as a critique would almost certainly have been taken by Whitefield as a compliment—an accurate appraisal of his single-minded pursuit of a preaching ministry heavily focused on evangelism. In other words, if it is true that Whitefield’s sermon corpus does not span the whole counsel of God in the manner of a preacher in a settled pastorate with a long tenure, then that was by his itinerant evangelistic design: planting, not watering, the seed of God’s word was his chosen ministry course. He also intentionally utilized “plain language” in a bid to be understood by as many as possible, even if that meant running the risk of being labeled unsophisticated and anti-intellectual. Forewarning his audience, he wrote: “If any here do expect fine preaching from me this day, they will, in all probability, go away disappointed. For I came not here to shoot over people’s heads; but, if the Lord shall be pleased to bless me, to reach their hearts.” He was up-front and unashamed about his tone: “If the poor and the unlearned can comprehend, the learned and rich must.”⁵

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