| John Livingston was born in the manse of Kilsyth in 1603. He was one
of those happy souls who can never date their second birth. Claimed for
God in his infancy by the mighty faith of his parents, reared in a home
that shone with the beauty of holiness, he could never remember a time when
he did not love God, and yearn to please Him. In his schooldays he was a
member of the Church at Stirling, and never did a communicant approach the
table in a more fitting frame. A holy awe came upon him that made his very
body tremble, but soon sweet comfort and assurance came to this lamb of
the Good Shepherd. He ardently desired to serve Christ, and at first he
thought he could best do so as a physician. But one day, as he meditated
in a cave by the Mouse Water, God spoke and called the lad. He left the
cave with the conviction that one path alone lay open to him. He must serve
in the ministry of the Gospel.
He prepared himself at Glasgow College, and in 1625, when the holy fire
fell at Stewarton, he began to preach Christ. The True Church was quick
to perceive the grace of God in him, and in many places his pastoral services
were eagerly sought. But everywhere the Bishop forbade his settlement. His
warm evangelism was highly oftensive to the "moderate" palate,
and so young Livingston entered the furnace. For five long years he remained
there. It was a heavy trial. With a heart hungering to preach Christ, with
fields of service invitingly opened before him, he was held back by the
grim hand of the royal episcopate. But, though he knew it not, God' s hand
was quietly overruling the enemy' s purpose, and refining him for a glorious
task.
And now we have to note, as so often before in the story of Revival, how
God made use of a seemingly fortuitous circumstance to further His great
purpose of grace.
It happened that some ladies of high rank, who mourned in secret the decline
of the Reformed Faith, were travelling in the neighbourhood of Shotts when
their carriage broke, down. The accident took place beside the manse. The
minister, Mr. Hance, hastened out and invited them to shelter under his
roof until repairs were completed. They gladly did so, and finding the minister'
s house was sadly dilapidated, and indeed in a still more parlous state
than their carriage, they returned his kindness soon afterward by building
a new manse in a better situation. Kindness begets kindness. When Mr. Hance
waited upon the ladies to thank them, he asked if there was anything he
could do to express his gratitude. Then they ventured to make a bold request,
a request that was the real outcome of their secret prayers. Would he open
his church at the coming sacrament to some of the persecuted ministers,
whom they named? Mr. Hance at once consented, and amongst those named was
the young man, John Livingston.
The communion was fixed for June 20th, 1630. Great interest was aroused,
and from all parts a vast assembly was gathered together. Rich blessing
followed the Word at the Sabbath services, so rich indeed that it was felt
they could not part without an added day of thanksgiving. And it was on
this added day that God outpoured the superabundant blessing. After much
persuasion Livingston consented to preach on the morrow. Finding their hearts
too full of joy for sleep, many formed themselves into little companies,
and spent the whole night in fervent devotion, in praise and supplication.
The young preacher was one of these praying bands, and when the morning
came a sore trial beset him. As he thought of the great, expectant multitude,
he was overwhelmed by a sense of utter unworthiness, incompetence, and insufficiency.
All strength seemed to leave him, and he was brought down to the dust of
death. So real and painful was the abasement that he gave up all thought
of preaching, and was preparing to steal away through the fields when his
friends gathered about him, and constrained him to remain. And so, on June
21st, in the Churchyard of Shotts, John Livingston stood up amongst the
people, feeling himself the weakest and least of God' s creatures. Then
was fulfilled the saying of the prophet Hosea, "When Ephraim spake
trembling, he exalted himself in Israel." God uplifted him and perfected
His strength in the young man's weakness. His text was Ezekiel 36. 25, 26:
"Then will I sprinkle clean water upon you and ye shall be clean. A
new heart also will I give you, and a new spirit will I put within you."
As he expounded it, burning thoughts and burning words filled his heart
and lips. For an hour and a hal.f he preached to a people Who seemed rooted
to the ground in a great stillness, Then when he thought he must close,
again the Spirit filled him with a fulness that must be outpoured, and for
another hour he continued with a melting of heart and liberty of utterance
he never experienced before and never after. Five hundred men and women,
some from the high ranks of society, some poor wastrels and beggars, were
converted where they stood, and lived from that day as those who had indeed
received a new heart and a new spirit. The memory of that day has never
died, and the very telling of its story, as at Kilsyth, has proved a fount
of revival. |