By Darrell Brooker
I had first posted this story about 10 months ago and feel the anecdote worthy of a second posting for those who may have never heard it told. It is also one of my favourites. I apologize to those who remember it, but think the example of Samuel Pearce should be one for us all to heed; the lesson is applicable to all of us and not just ministers of the gospel. There are times when personal pride and convenience must be set aside for the sake of those who may be strangers to grace. I need this type of courage every day.
In May 1794, Samuel Pearce, John Sutcliff, and Thomas Blundel were asked to preach at a new Baptist meeting-house to celebrate its opening. Pearce told his good friend William Carey that the following texts were preached that day: Pearce - Psalm 76:10, Sutcliff - Psalm 118:25, Blundel - Judges 5:31. Pearce also preached the following morning at 5am. It was a service held for the many labourers before their work started and more than 200 people attended. The following is an account of what happened that day taken from One Heart and One Soul: John Sutcliff of Olney, his friends and his times by Michael Haykin, pp. 237-238.
Pearce and Sutcliff had preached during the morning, and at the midday meal a good number of the persons present were discussing Pearce’s sermon as they ate. Although Sutcliff was by this time a good preacher, Pearce excelled in the pulpit. “At times,” F. A. Cox wrote, “he would rise into raptures, and glow like a seraph; and notwithstanding the disadvantage of a voice which failed him in his most animated moments, his oratory was irresistible.” As the discussion went back and forth that day at Guilsborough regarding Pearce’s sermon, a certain individual decided to ask Pearce if he would preach early the following morning. “If you will find a congregation,” Pearce replied, “I will find a sermon.” The hour was set for 5 o’clock in order to accommodate the farm labourers who would have to be at their tasks early in the day.
After the sermon, as Pearce, Sutcliff, Fuller and a few others were having breakfast, [Andrew] Fuller told Pearce how much he was pleased with what he had heard that morning. Then, with the freedom that friends can employ, he mentioned that in his opinion Pearce’s sermon had been oddly structured. “I thought,” he told Pearce, “you did not seem to close when you had really finished. I wondered that contrary to what is usual with you, you seemed, as it were, to begin again at the end — how was it?” Pearce said tersely, “It was so; but I had my reason.” “Well then, come, let us have it,” Fuller jocularly replied. Pearce was reluctant to give his reason, but after Fuller had once again entreated him to share it, he said, “Well, my brother, you shall have the secret, if it must be so. Just at the moment I was about to resume my seat, thinking I had finished, the door opened, and I saw a poor man enter, of the working class; and from the sweat on his brow, and the symptoms of his fatigue, I conjectured that he had walked some miles to this early service, but that he had been unable to reach the place till the close. A momentary thought glanced through my mind–here may be a man who never heard the gospel, or it may be he is one that regards it as a feast of fat things; in either case, the effort on his part demands one on mine. So with the hope of doing him good, I resolved at once to forget all else, and, in despite of criticism, and the apprehension of being thought tedious, to give him a quarter of an hour.”
As Fuller, Sutcliff and the others present heard this simple explanation, they were profoundly impressed by Pearce’s love for souls and his self-sacrificing spirit. Pearce, by his own admission, was a man naturally prone to pride. But his ardour for the spiritual welfare of others compelled his pride to give way as he ministered to this ‘poor man’ and to put aside the thought of what others, especially his fellow ministers, would think of his homiletical skills.
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