God of Ages Past Still Moves Today

Over 38 years of pastoral ministry at the historic Metropolitan Tabernacle in London, Charles Spurgeon welcomed nearly 14,000 people into church membership.

Pause there.

Fourteen thousand.

If you were asked how many of those joined by transfer believers drawn from other congregations to hear the “Prince of Preachers” you might guess the majority. After all, Spurgeon’s name was known across continents.

But the numbers tell a different story.

Of the 13,797 added to membership, 10,063—73 percent came through baptism. They were new converts. Souls brought from the world into communion with Christ.

In one generation, more than ten thousand people were baptized into a single local church.

Can you imagine such a thing?

A Church That Refused Easy Numbers

What makes the story even more striking is that these baptisms were not the result of casual decisionism. Spurgeon detested shallow professions of faith. He would not boast of “unhatched chickens.” His church maintained careful processes for membership, guarding the purity of the body and insisting on credible testimony.

He once said it would be a “burning disgrace” if his church were filled merely by drawing members away from other congregations. He valued, “beyond all price,” the godless and careless brought to Christ.

That perspective alone confronts many of us today.

In our era, it is common for church growth to mean transfer growth. A family moves across town. A young couple searches for better programs. Congregations swell and shrink like tides, yet the community remains largely unchanged.

Spurgeon believed God could build a church primarily through conversion.

Do we?

The Ache for Awakening

Stories of revival stir something deep in the soul.

We read the book of Acts and see the gospel turning cities upside down. Three thousand baptized in a single day (Acts 2:41). Idol-makers burning their craft in Ephesus (Acts 19:18–19). Communities shaken, consciences pierced, households transformed.

Church historians estimate that during the First Great Awakening in the 18th century, as much as 10 to 20 percent of the American colonial population experienced profound spiritual renewal. Entire towns gathered to hear the preaching of men like Jonathan Edwards and George Whitefield. Taverns emptied. Prayer meetings multiplied.

We turn those pages and wonder: Was that another world?

Hebrews 11 recounts saints who conquered kingdoms, enforced justice, and were made strong out of weakness. Their lives feel epic. Urgent. Eternally charged.

Meanwhile, many of us scroll.

We attend services, manage programs, preach sermons, host events and yet baptisms are rare. The baptismal pool sits dry. The harvest fields seem distant.

In North America today, numerous studies indicate declining church attendance and increasing secularization. Surveys suggest that a growing percentage of adults identify with no religious affiliation at all. Cultural Christianity is fading. Biblical literacy is thinning.

It is tempting to sigh and say, “Different times.”

But is that the whole truth?

The Same God Yesterday and Today

Modern life feels insulated. We have smartphones, freeways, antibiotics, streaming entertainment. Death seems more distant, grief more muted. Endless distractions dull eternal questions.

We begin to assume that modern people are too scientific, too enlightened to be stirred by the gospel.

But has God changed?

The God who parted seas for Moses is the God we pray to today.

The God who empowered Peter at Pentecost is the God who indwells believers now.

The God who strengthened Spurgeon in London is the God who reigns over our cities.

Hebrews 13:8 declares that Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.

If revival feels absent, perhaps the issue is not divine reluctance but human drowsiness.

Spurgeon once likened Christians to the disciples sleeping in Gethsemane while Christ interceded. That image stings. Christ pleads; we scroll. Souls drift; we nap.

Jesus told His disciples in John 4:35, “Lift up your eyes, and see that the fields are white for harvest.”

Have we lifted our eyes?

Ye of Little Faith

Perhaps part of the struggle is unbelief.

We preach about the Great Commission, yet how often do we truly expect God to convert our neighbors? We pray for revival, but do we plead with holy desperation? Or do we quietly assume such days belong to history books?

According to global mission statistics, there are still billions of people who have little to no access to the gospel. Yet at the same time, reports from regions in Africa, Asia, and parts of the Middle East speak of extraordinary movements of faith thousands coming to Christ in places once thought unreachable.

Heaven still rejoices over every sinner who repents (Luke 15:7). Not one hour passes without salvation somewhere on earth.

The arm of the Lord is not shortened.

But in our own communities, we may need to repent of small expectations. Of prayerlessness. Of distraction. Of contentment with transfer growth instead of conversion growth.

The difference may not be the times. It may be us.

Filling the Pool Again

One detail from Spurgeon’s ministry lingers powerfully: he kept the baptismal pool filled even when no baptisms were scheduled.

What a statement of expectation.

The visible water declared invisible hope. It said to the congregation, “We believe God will save.”

Perhaps our churches need pools figuratively filled again not merely with water, but with prayer. With tears. With bold proclamation of Christ crucified and risen.

Romans 1:16 still stands: the gospel is the power of God for salvation.

Not marketing. Not novelty. Not cleverness.

The old rugged gospel.

We may not see ten thousand baptized in a generation. We may not witness entire cities trembling in conviction. But what if we simply began by waking up?

Less scrolling. More interceding.

Less cynicism. More expectancy.

Less comfort. More courage.

God has not retired to a distant estate. He has not surrendered the nations. He has not amended His promise to be with us always, even to the end of the age (Matthew 28:20).

The question is not whether He can move.

The question is whether we will believe, pray, and labor as though He will.

May the God of ages past awaken His people again. May our dry pools become places of celebration. And may future generations look back at our day and say, “The Lord did great things among them.”

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