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My Debt to Dr. Lloyd-Jones
ELUNED HARRISON

The influence of the Doctor's ministry at Westminster Chapel was truly world-wide. But many men and women from Wales whose work or studies took them to London will ever thank God that their steps were led to Westminster Chapel. Here, two of them share their experiences.

I WENT to University College, London, in 1953, a Christian with a clear grasp of the gospel even if tinged with Arminianism. My heart had already been stirred by the few brief references I had heard of God manifesting His glory in the '04 Revival. I made Christian friends at College, but the current catch phrase 'When you're converted, don't expect to feel any different!' had a moderating influence on all Christian experience. I attended a denominational church and met for the first time men who were thought of as great preachers. They showed themselves-but the sheep looked up and were not fed. One day a friend suggested we went together to hear 'a famous Scottish preacher'. I protested that he did not have a Scottish name, nor when I heard him did he sound the least bit like a Scot - he had what for me was an unmistakable accent!

My first reaction to Westminster Chapel was that it was a very homely place. The preacher hid himself behind the glory of God. I had no need to take notes-the manner of preaching was so clear that I could have gone away afterwards and written much of it out. Here was a ministry where not only my mind was informed, but my soul was nourished-a place where I could take an unbelieving friend to bear the gospel. Here was strength to face the other 35 physics students I shared lectures and practicals with. And here too was the ammunition to use as I witnessed to them. I never remember one 'learned' or complicated sermon. He was not a shepherd to lead the sheep to a pasture where they could only eat with difficulty! I left Westminster Chapel in 1956 not only well nourished, but with an appetite for the things of God. I could now see clearly the framework of the doctrines.

The summer of 1957 was a high-water mark for me. 1 attended the first annual English conference of the Evangelical Movement of Wales at Port Talbot. Dr. Lloyd-Jones was the preacher-and the addresses he gave then have left an indelible mark on my soul. Those sermons on Ephesians 3 caused my soul to soar above the framework of the doctrines to where the Lord, Himself, was seated in the glory.

Dr. Lloyd-Jones seemed to me to have two passions-one for the glory of God and the other for the souls of men. Both of these merged in his preaching as he sought not only to bring us out of the kingdom of darkness but, washed and sanctified, into the immediate presence of God to behold the glory of God. He aimed not just at mere conversion, but that, like Howel Harris of old, we might be unable to shout anything but 'Glory'- into the presence of which he now has come.

The Dawn Of Eternal Day
J. HEFIN EELIAS

ONE Sunday after dinner a friend who had been at school with me called at the hostel at which I was staying during my time at the London School of Economics. I suggested that we went to chapel that evening. The place we were to go to was Westminster Chapel. On a previous occasion 1 had been the unwilling party when attending a Gymanfa Ganu (singing festival) there. Invited by an aunt of mine who had been particularly kind to me since my arrival in London, I had found it impossible to refuse to go to the festival with her.

Upon entering the building I had been amazed at the size of the auditorium. There was extensive seating on the ground floor, but there were also two massive galleries which seemed to rear up towards the heavens. By comparison, the little chapel building we attended as a family in Cardiganshire would probably have fitted into the porch of this place. On the way I recall having looked back at the building and noticing the name of the minister. 'Dr. Martyn Lloyd-Jones' meant nothing to me apart from the fact that his name indicated that he must be a Welshman. I determined that 1 would return some day to hear him preach. By some irresistible constraint I knew that that day had arrived.

There were over 2,000 in the building. I sat on the first gallery to the right of the pulpit. The preacher came into view as if he were appearing from a mine shaft. The level of the pulpit was just below that of the gallery and to reach it he had to climb a steep flight of steps.

After the opening hymn I remember noting the clear deliberate reading of Scripture, and the moving presence of humble confession and repentance in the prayer.

The text for the sermon came from 1 Kings 13. The heart of the message dealt with the confrontation between King Jeroboam and the prophet of the living God. Our attention was called to the details of God's complaint against the king. Unveiling the king's rebellious heart and pinpointing his public apostasy, he made us understand why it was that the prophet had been sent to declare the judgement of God to him. As the preacher applied these principles to his congregation I began to feel that the message had been specially prepared for me. The presence of God seemed to surround me and I knew He was awakening my soul. With the gracious help of God the Holy Spirit I immediately welcomed Christ into my life as Lord and Saviour. In an evening service, eternal day had dawned upon my soul.

Shaken to the depths of my being, but with irrepressible joy reverberating through my person I made my way back to the hostel. To my sorrow and dismay my friend was critical both of the preacher and of his sermon. He had not felt one drop of the balm from the divine fountain which seemed to have covered me with its soothing powers.

Henceforth, Sunday was to me the Lord's Day, and every sign of grace a foretaste of heaven. 1 have heard many other preachers whose ministries were blessed with the convincing power of logical clarity, and have seen countless examples of an innate dramatic ability portraying biblical characters. But, to me, no sermon or preacher can be compared with the servant of the Lord who faithfully expounded God's Word that evening in Westminster Chapel. 1 remember the occasion, preacher and sermon as if 1 had just come out of the service. I cannot cease to marvel at the love which guided my steps to the Chapel and secured my salvation on that memorable evening.

To me, the most powerful and sweet of twentieth century preachers went home to glory when Dr. Martyn Lloyd-Jones fell asleep on the morning of St. David's Day, 1981.