Steal Away Home: Charles Spurgeon and Thomas Johnson, Unlikely Friends on the Passage to Freedom

by Matt Carter

“Son, the most important thing to understand about God,” continued his grandfather, “is that He is God, and we are not.

“Remember what I said. The most important thing to understand about our mysterious God is that He is God, and we are not. When we are least expecting it, He will put something so deep inside the caverns of our heart. We won’t see it at first, we won’t even know it’s there. But one day we’ll look back and see He was in control of everything, all along the way.”

Children need to be seen by their fathers. When the heart of a son or daughter goes unattended by a father, it becomes a golden lamp without the flame with which it was intended to sparkle. They rust and wither away, while hoping to find something—someone—that will strike a match and set fire to their wick.

“Oh God, may my children have an earthly father who sees them and a heavenly Father who saves them!”

His troubled soul was suddenly overpowered, and he cried out, “God, I have heard of You with my ear. But now, my God, I want to see You with the eye of faith.”

A man once told Mr. Spurgeon, “You are such a natural. You preach effortlessly!” To which Charles brashly responded, “Ah, but sir, you do not see the thousands of hours I have studied and labored, prayed and pleaded, scoured books and commentaries, begging the Lord to equip me to preach His Word with power and simple words. You only see the pulpit, and hear the sermon, yet you miss the candlelit nights of God wrestling my heart to the ground to say, ‘Son, I must preach this through you tomorrow.’”

From her, Charles learned the paramount importance

of the Word of God, as

Charles kept his eyes closed, undeterred by Susannah’s interruption. “Oh, and here, in this corner, behind my desk—this corner shelf is reserved for the Puritans.”

“Other than the Holy Scriptures, this is my favorite

along the gold-embossed letters that read The

Pilgrim’s

Pro...

In the middle of the circle of men and women stood Ezekiel, with both arms rhythmically and slowly moving, pausing briefly at the top and bottom of his motion, leading the circle in whisper-singing. For fear of being heard by the master and the foreman, they sang not with melody or harmony, but whispers. Strangely, the volume of their hearts far outweighed the volume of their whispers. Thomas leaned further towards the window, and heard clearly for the first time:

Charles pressed his entire self into the sacred moment of sermon writing—the intersection of the Spirit’s leading and man’s listening.

It is a rare thing for a human being to press all of their physical energy, all of their intellectual capital, all of their spiritual force into a task, then humbly cast it at the feet of Jesus for Him to use according to His purpose and plan. And, in this rare endeavor, Charles discovered a deep dependency on the Spirit of God to accomplish what his talents never could—the setting on fire of human hearts and the igniting of souls. Because when the light of Christ shines brightly through a humble and surrendered servant, God proves Himself very good.

“You must not take the pain away, even if you could. The pain is the measure of grace by which God is choosing to endure me today.

peace. “Today, the music hall will be holy ground. And God has chosen you to be the herald of Good News. So, speak now. Speak to your Lord. Tell Him of your fears and doubts. Then, wait and watch for Him to fill you with a spirit of freedom and confidence.”

“Yes. And, light will spring up, Charles. Perhaps our God is allowing you to sit with darkness for a moment, so that you may crave the springing of light even more. Light cannot be caged. It cannot be held or imprisoned.”

sometimes the Lord shows us something that seems so wrong so we can change it. Other times, He shows us something that seems so wrong so it can change us.’ I suppose, I desperately want both. I am chilled through my very marrow as I consider the great darkness of sin and evil that invades our world, and I want to break into every single brothel, kick in the doors, and free every soul that is in bondage to darkness.”

To him, the proper imitation of Christ meant having a deep love and empathy towards those in the city, especially those in desperation, poverty, and bondage. If the hands of Christ had the audacity to reach towards the hurting, Charles thought, then surely must I! The Christian must always be a helper, one that reaches his hand out.

“Charles,” whispered Susannah, breaking the silence, “zealous saints are usually the ones who have experienced the greatest darkness before basking in the sweetness of light. They see all that Christ has done for them, so they cling to Him, and they never may have done so if they had not sat in the shadow of death.”

“The heart is made better by sorrow because it becomes more sensitive. In the house of mourning, we can hear every whisper of God.”

“Some of us were brought very low before we found the Savior. We were emptied like a dish that a man wipes and turns upside down. We had not even a drop of hope left in us. But, we rejoice in Christ today. Christ has caused light to shine on those who sat in darkness. He can do the same with you. Be of good courage—there is hope for you.”

“Jesus of Nazareth—He is bone of our bone and flesh of our flesh. He touches you with the hand of His humanity, but He touches the Almighty with the hand of His Deity. He is man, and feels your needs—He is God, and is able to supply them.

“You brought me to a book burning?” Mr. Bennett asked Kuber. “A Charles Spurgeon book burning!” Kuber laughed and smiled with satisfaction. “They are happening all over the South. On plantations, outside of courthouses, in front of schools. Many of us have had enough! His writing is no longer welcome here. And we’re not just burning books. We’re burning anything that he’s ever written.” He pulled a newspaper clipping from the inner

Throughout the years, Charles had grown in his love for discipling young men, and rarely a moment passed when he wasn’t surrounded by two or three, telling them stories of revival and Christ’s atoning work. Every meal was an opportunity to invite a younger fellow into his home, and Susannah never refused the opportunity to host students, as she also loved to mentor and teach younger women.

they understood the secret of his power: he had been with Jesus, and Jesus lived in him.

“That’s the Word of the Lord,” Thomas said, closing his Bible and placing his hand on the shoulder of his friend. “Our God has been faithful to us all these years, so let’s just wait and see if the Lord shines bright for us tomorrow morning.” With that, the two men closed their tent and crawled onto their cots, unaware that this was the very last night that either of them would ever spend as a slave.

Added to that, Charles continued to war with the hidden struggle with depression and unworthiness.

school, I saw a beautiful painting. It was the queen. And she was giving a Bible to an African prince who was on his knees with his hands open to receive it. So, there I was, staring at this painting, when one of the professors saw me staring. And, do you know what he told me?” The listeners shook their heads and leaned in, listening intently. “The African prince had come to England to ask the queen a question. ‘What’s the secret of England’s greatness?’ the prince asked. The queen, without hesitation, handed the prince a Bible. And as she put it in his hands, she said, ‘This is the secret of England’s greatness.’”

It has been confirmed again and again—the secret of anyone’s greatness is the Bible.”

the bandages or the sores, but think about the brokenness underneath. It’s a burden, yes. But a gentle burden. And it’s meant to stir up more faithfulness in you.

friend, Thomas Johnson. “Your depressive thoughts aren’t meant to press you down. No! They are meant to fly your soul up. Up to the arms of the Good Master. Charles, you count up your crosses, as bitter as they might seem. You count up your diseases, pains, and sorrows, as many as they might be. Then, you see that Jesus put ’em all there. He put them there so you’d run to Him faster than you’ve ever run.

“The only part I play is to remain faithful. Just like a lamplighter within the city streets,” Charles continued, looking over the fogged-city past Joseph’s shoulders.

Then, I saw a single gaslight turn on, just up the road. And beyond that light . . . a few moments later . . . another light just up the hill. A few minutes later . . . beyond that light . . . another . . . higher up the hill. Suddenly with my eyes, I could see a line of gaslights, gradually ascending all the way from the foot of the hill to its top. And, do you know what thought ran through my mind?” he asked rhetorically. “I never saw the lamplighter. I do not know his name, or how old he is, or where he is from. But—I saw the lights that he had kindled, and these remained long after he was gone. How

“God tied them up.” Thomas interrupted the silence. “He chose to put them in that furnace. And, it’s never a mean thing to be chosen by God. Just like Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, you were chosen for the furnace. ’Cause, in the furnace . . . when the coals burn the hottest . . . that’s when all your human strength is melted. All your human pride is burned up. When the furnace of affliction burns hot—” he paused, thinking.

Thomas took a deep breath, then steadied his eyes once again on Charles’s sunken and purpled eyes. “The best blessing God could give any of us is health,” he swallowed and nodded his head. “—Except for sickness.”

“A sick wife . . . a freshly dug grave . . . a lonely and terrified slave . . . poverty . . . gout, depression, and fear . . . they all teach us lessons we can’t learn nowhere else.

Trials drive us to Jesus. Sickness has been more useful to the saints of God than health ever has. The furnace is a blessing, Charles. Embrace it.”

Trials make the promise sweet,Trials give new life to prayer,Trials bring me to His feet,Lay me low, and keep me there.

“God does what we can’t. So, we wait.” He remembered his grandfather said as he pushed the apple seedling into the sparkling wine bottle and released it into the air.

“God often sends us trials that our graces may be discovered.” Charles spoke with precision. “God often takes away our comforts and our privileges in order to make us better Christians. He trains His soldiers, not in tents of easy and luxury, but by turning them out and using them to forced marches and hard service. He makes them forge through streams, and swim through rivers, and climb mountains, and walk many a long mile with heavy knapsacks of sorrow on their back.”

As the years continued to climb forward, so did Charles’s ability to embrace suffering. He no longer resisted, but saw suffering as a comfortable companion that only nudged him towards His sweet Savior. As the crushing of a flower causes it to yield its aroma, so Charles—having endured in the long-continued illness of Susannah and his own constant pains—was able to sympathize most tenderly with all sufferers.

Perhaps Charles’s most prevailing sensitivity to others was found in his ability to resonate with anyone who was in bondage—bound by either physical or spiritual chains. He detested darkness with all his heart, and when he stumbled across news of women and children enslaved by evil men, or foreign tribes bound and bruised by oppressors, or men and women enchained to depression or

addiction of any kind, his heart sank, as he knew all too well the darkness that came with being enslaved.

If only the wooden floors in my study were that worn and smooth from my knees bent in prayer—how might the Lord have used me in this life?

princes. He is always to be found in the thickest part of the battle. When the wind blows cold, He always takes the bleak side of the hill. The heaviest end of the cross lies on His shoulders. If He bids us carry a burden, He carries it also. If there is anything that is gracious, generous, kind, and tender, lavish and superabundant in love—you always find it in Him.”