Policy-making may be useful for cleaning the outside of the cup, but the problem is the inside, the spiritual. We need godly politicians, but we need real preachers far more.

Our world is prone to spiritual slumber. It always has been, and until that trumpet blast at Christ’s return, it sadly shall be. But God does not leave himself without witnesses. In each generation, God raises up loud voices to awaken souls. One of the loudest to ever quake a generation was that of the Reverend George Whitefield (1714–1770).

A Great Awakening, the new film by Sight and Sound Theatres, follows the friendship between one of America’s founding fathers, Benjamin Franklin, and “America’s spiritual founding father,” George Whitefield. Their friendship (and partnership) lasted over three decades and proved beneficial to both. Franklin used his printing press to print Whitefield’s whereabouts, sermons, and journals—bringing financial prosperity to Franklin and gospel spread through Whitefield. “Ours was a mere civil friendship, sincere on both sides, and lasted to his death,” Franklin wrote decades later (America’s Spiritual Founding Father, 112).

The story of the man whom God used to spark revival on two continents cannot be fully told in a running time of just over two hours. Whitefield was a force, a hurricane that swept through Britain and the colonies with Christian zeal, resistless spirituality, and renowned oratory. The facts are almost unbelievable. On many weeks, he preached nearly as much, if not more, than he slept. When not preaching, he rode on horseback miles upon miles to his next speaking engagement. He preached and taught one thousand times every year for thirty years, most of the time to thousands of people, all without microphones and notes, and often outside. John Piper notes in his excellent sermon, “Estimates are that eighty percent of the entire population of the American colonies (this is before TV or radio) heard Whitefield at least once.”

It must have been intimidating to take on the wig and clerical garb of such a man, but Jonathan Blair has my respect for his admirable performance of the mighty preacher. Well-matched with Blair’s performance is John Paul Sneed’s representation of Benjamin Franklin. The movie is set to the gorgeous and original hymn “Awaken Us Today,” which summarizes my purpose for this article, as it too pleads for revival to visit our shores again.

Voice of Revival

Before Whitefield spoke, he saw. At last, after nearly killing himself through asceticism and personal effort, he saw the glory of Christ through new birth. He saw the doctrines of grace all throughout the Scriptures. And he saw a sleeping world—and, what’s more, a sleeping church—unawake to the great realities of this life and the life to come.

We need voices like his to rouse us—voices not merely advocating for basic morality or natural law or political uprightness but crying out God’s demands, his grace in Christ, and the basics of true religion as found in Jesus. What kind of voices might God use today? Voices, if not as gifted and grand as Whitefield’s, at least sharing a few similarities.

1. Consecrated Voice

If Whitefield was anything, he was consecrated to God. He achieved wondrous feats only because he was wonderfully devoted to Christ. Of his ordination, he reports, “When the Bishop laid his hand upon me, I gave up to be a martyr for him, who hung upon the cross for me” (America’s Spiritual Founding Father, 37). Whitefield kept the spirit of this vow, serving his Lord and exposing himself to persecution (including several assassination attempts), near-death oceanic perils, and, likely, the shortening of his life from tireless preaching.

“He was eminently a man of one thing, and always about his Master’s business,” writes J.C. Ryle. “From Sunday mornings to Saturday nights, from 1 January to 31 December, excepting when laid aside by illness, he was almost incessantly preaching Christ and going about the world entreating men to repent and come to Christ and be saved” (Select Sermons of George Whitefield, 22). Often preaching forty to sixty hours a week, his life, as one biographer noted, was lived in giving one long sermon (George Whitefield, 2:522).

After truly converted while reading Henry Scougal’s The Life of God in the Soul of Man, he soon became a Samuel, dedicated to God—or a Paul Revere, galloping about the colonies declaring repentance and faith, for he knew Jesus was surely coming as a thief in the night. His sermons, his feats, his journals all betray a man utterly devoted to God and his work. He was not a civilian, nor should we say that he was simply a soldier; he was a general who ate, slept, and suffered in one cause, one mission.

The voices to shake our nation will not be given to speaking often of the newest shows and most recent sporting events, part-time preachers with their best energies invested elsewhere. They will not be enslaved to triviality but employed with a singular aim: the glory of God in the good of souls. Whitefield deplored a single hour wasted and lived under strict discipline that yielded labors beyond that of a legion of scrolling men.

2. Capable Voice

To what did Whitefield owe his undeniable power?

Christians answer, “God’s Spirit, God’s gospel, and God’s working in the hearers.” Answering of his own ministry, he said, “All the good which is done upon earth, God doeth himself” (George Whitefield, 1:33). Yet the Lord gave Whitefield a vocal ability that was increased by study and practice.

Natural men saw only the art of his speech. Skeptics, unable to deny his wondrous sway, groped for natural explanations: “He was a consummate performer, a Shakesperean preacher born for any stage he would have chosen.” David Garrick, the Denzel Washington of eighteenth-century England, confessed, envying Whitefield’s ability, “I’d give a hundred guineas to be able to say, ‘Oh!’ like Whitefield.”

Thus, Benjamin Franklin, though not believing Whitefield’s message and even resolving beforehand not to give a single coin to his cause (an American orphanage), by the end of a sermon emptied his pockets. Franklin reported of Whitefield that “every accent, every emphasis, every modulation of voice, was so perfectly well turned and well placed, that, without being interested in the subject, one could not help being pleased with the discourse; a pleasure of much the same with that received from an excellent piece of music” (George Whitefield, 1:116).

Read More