With hundreds of visitors that attended each week, there was no way that Spurgeon could meet with every single one of them. This is why he taught his congregation not merely to visit with one another after the service but to be ready to engage those around them.

When Charles Spurgeon first arrived in London in the winter of 1853, the New Park Street Chapel had severely dwindled from its historic past. This congregation had once been pastored by men like Benjamin Keach, John Gill, and John Rippon, and had played a leading role among Baptists in Britain. But by 1853, they had seen several pastoral transitions in quick succession. Not only that, but the church had relocated to a problematic place that was hard to access. So, on that cold morning, when Spurgeon mounted the pulpit, there were barely a hundred in that cavernous room which seated twelve hundred.

Yet, that morning, the congregation heard a kind of preaching that they had never heard before:

But reminding you that there is no change in His power, justice, knowledge, oath, threatening, or decree, I will confine myself to the fact that His love to us knows no variation. How often it is called unchangeable, everlasting love! He loves me now as much as He did when first: He inscribed my name in His eternal book of election. He has not repented of His choice. He has not blotted out one of His chosen; there are no erasures in that book; all whose names are written in it are safe for ever. Nor does God love me less now than when He gave that grand proof of love, His Son, Jesus Christ, to die for me. Even now, He loves me with the same intensity as when He poured out the vials of justice on His darling to save rebel worms. [1]

Here was preaching that exalted the majesty of God, and yet was understandable; preaching that proclaimed the reality of sin, and yet held forth the beauty of the gospel. The members were thrilled with what they had heard. When the service ended, they hurriedly pressed the deacons to invite this young man back to preach. One of the deacons remarked that if they wanted this young man to return, they should go home and invite their neighbors to come, lest he be discouraged at their small size! And so, they did. By that evening, the attendance had doubled.

Commenting on this occasion many years later, Spurgeon remarked,

Somebody asked me how I got my congregation. I never got it at all. I did not think it my business to do so, but only to preach the gospel. Why, my congregation got my congregation. I had eighty, or scarcely a hundred, when I preached first. The next time I had two hundred — every one who had heard me was saying to his neighbor, “You must go and hear this young man.” Next meeting we had four hundred, and in six weeks eight hundred. That was the way in which my people got my congregation.[2]

And this would be true not only in those early days but throughout the rest of Spurgeon’s ministry. There is no doubt that Spurgeon was a gifted and faithful preacher. But this is only half of the story. His congregation was also faithful in reaching out to those around them. And this was particularly true when it came to visitors in attendance.

Sometimes, Spurgeon’s preaching would result in a radical conversion where the individual would be ready to meet with the pastor and join the church. But more often, visitors would be intrigued by the preaching and experience a measure of conviction, but have further questions, or doubts, or fears, or all kinds of other concerns that would keep them from meeting with the pastor or an elder. With hundreds of visitors that attended each week, there was no way that Spurgeon could meet with every single one of them. This is why he taught his congregation not merely to visit with one another after the service but to be ready to engage those around them.

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