He was born in September of 1759 in the heart of England.

Raised in privilege, schooled at the finest institutions, but he was no stranger to personal struggle.

In fact, in his early years, he had little regard for the things of God.  Until one moment, one encounter, changed the course of his entire life.

It was during his time at Cambridge that he was told he must prepare to take Holy Communion.

Reluctantly, he did.
But in the preparation for that sacred act, he found something unexpected.
A Savior who was not merely a figure of history, but a living Lord.

Later, he would reflect, “As I approached the table, my burden was gone; my conscience was relieved; the Spirit of God came upon me… and I was filled with joy unspeakable.”

From that moment, he never looked back.

Soon after, he was appointed pastor of a prominent church — Holy Trinity Church — in Cambridge.

But the people were not pleased.

They wanted a different preacher, someone more fashionable, more accommodating to their tastes; not this young man who preached of repentance and grace with piercing clarity.

They revolted.

They locked their pews.

Yes — in those days, pews were privately owned and rented.  The wealthy congregation would arrive on Sunday morning, and deliberately leave their seats empty, forcing visitors to stand in the aisles or sit on the floor, all to humiliate the preacher.

For five years, he preached to locked pews and hostile faces.

For twelve more years, they refused to accept him fully as their pastor.

Yet, he stayed.

When asked how he endured such treatment, he said, “My dear brother, we must not mind a little suffering for Christ’s sake.”

Slowly, ever so slowly, hearts began to change.

Students at Cambridge came first—drawn not by popularity, but by the weight of truth.  Young men who would themselves become mighty preachers, missionaries, and reformers.  Among them, names that would echo through history.

He developed a method for preaching that emphasized what the text of Scripture actually said, rather than weaving it to fit human ideas.  It became known as Expository Preaching, a method that today shapes thousands of pulpits across the world.

His influence spread.

He established societies to send missionaries abroad—long before such things were fashionable.  He championed the work of the Church Missionary Society source, encouraging the spread of the Gospel to the corners of the earth.

And still, he remained at his little church in Cambridge.

For over fifty-four years, he labored.

Through sickness.
Through slander.
Through seasons of joy and seasons of grief.

He once said, “There are but two lessons for the Christian to learn: the one is to enjoy God in everything; the other is to enjoy everything in God.”

And he lived it.

In his final years, his once-opposing congregation adored him.  The church that had once locked its pews… now hung on his every word.

When he was too feeble to stand, he would still preach — propped up on a specially designed platform.

Until the very end, his voice rang out: hope, humility, and Christ.

When he died, he left no great estate, only a greater legacy.

Generations of preachers, missionaries, and believers who learned, not just how to preach… but how to endure.

His name?

Charles Simeon.

And now you know the rest of the story.

Article posted with permission from Sons of Liberty Media