Conversion
Spiritually, at this time Wilson was not in a good state. He was irreverend in church, did not pray, scarcely read the Bible and enjoyed posing as a sceptic. His line was that as God was sovereign there was nothing a mere mortal could do to alter his fate.
Then on evening of March 9, 1796 things began to change. He was warmly advocating his cynical view of God's sovereignty to some friends when he was challenged. Surely the God who chooses the ends also ordains the means it was suggested. When Wilson objected that he did not have the necessary feelings, it was countered that he should pray for them. He tried to laugh it off but the shaft had struck home and a period of protracted conviction followed. He wrote first to his old tutor John Eyre who was a help to him. On April 20 he had an interview with John Newton. Here is Wilson's report of the interview at the time (writing to Eyre).
I this morning breakfasted with Mr. Newton. I hope the conversation I had with him will not soon be effaced from my mind. He inculcated that salutary lesson you mentioned in your letter, of 'waiting patiently upon the Lord'. He told me God could, no doubt, if He pleased, produce a full-grown oak in an instant, on the most barren spot; but that such was not the ordinary working of His Providence. The acorn was first sown in the ground, and there was a secret operation going on for some time; and even when the sprout appeared above ground, if you were continually to be watching it, you would not perceive its growth. And so, he said, it was in spiritual things.
"'When a building is to be erected for eternity, the foundation must be laid deep. If I were going to build a horse-shed, I could put together a few poles, and finish it presently. But if I were to raise a pile like St Paul's, I should lay a strong foundation, and an immense deal of labour must be spent underground, before the walls would begin to peep above its surface.
"'Now,' he continued, 'you want to know whether you are in the right road; that is putting the cart before the horse; that is wanting to gather the fruit before you sow the seed. You want to experience the effects of belief before you do believe'. 'You can believe a man if he promises you anything, but you cannot believe Christ when He says, "Him that cometh unto me I will in no wise cast out." If you are cast out, it must be in some wise, but Christ says, 'in no wise.' If he had said, I will receive all who come except one hundred, then you might certainly think you were of that hundred: but the "In no wise" excludes all such arguing. There are few awakened sinners who doubt Christ's ability to save, but the fear seems to run on His willingness, which, of the two, is certainly the most dishonouring to our blessed Saviour. To illustrate my meaning: Suppose you had promised to pay one hundred pounds for me and had given me the promise in writing. Now, if you should refuse to pay the money when I sent for it, which do you think would involve the greatest impeachment to your character, to say that you were perfectly willing to fulfil your commitment, but really had not the power; or to say that no doubt could be entertained of your ability, but you were unwilling to be bound by your promise
"'Unbelief is a great sin. If the devil were to tempt you to some open, notorious crime, you would be startled at it; but when he tempts you to disbelieve the promises of God, you hug it as your infirmity, whereas you should consider it as a great sin, and must pray against it.
"When Evangelist, in the "Pilgrim's Progress" asked Christian if he saw a wicket-gate at the end of the path, he said No. Could he then see a shining light? He thought he could. That light was the Bible, and it led him to the wicket-gate. But when he had passed that gate, he still retained the burden. It was not till he looked to the Cross that the burden fell from his back and was felt no more. Now,' said Mr Newton, 'the gate through which you have to pass is a strait gate; you can but just squeeze in yourself. There is no room for self-righteousness; that must be left behind.'"
It was probably some time in October 1797 that he eventually came through. As Loane remarks there was 'something quite out of the common in the depth of his penitential sorrow and his self-abasement, as well as in the long lapse of 18 months before he found pardon and peace. But there was a purpose in it all, for his was a life marked out for God.'
Preparation for the ministry
From very early on he felt drawn to the ministry but there was some reluctance on his father's part to allow it, the apprenticeship still being incomplete. When the young man consulted with the well-known preacher Rowland Hill patience was urged. After a year's wait an interview was arranged with the leading evangelical Richard Cecil, who felt sure of the genuineness of the call. Arrangements were made for Wilson first to study under the evangelical minister Josiah Pratt for six months then to enter St Edmund Hall, Oxford in November, 1798.
Oxford at this time was in a low state both academically and spiritually. Charles Simeon's work was just beginning in Cambridge but at Oxford St Edmund's was the only ray of despised evangelical light. Six students had famously been expelled from there in 1768 for Methodism but it soon became a real evangelical centre for years to come. At this point it was better known for its piety than its learning. By means of fellowship with men from several colleges it was a time of spiritual growth for Wilson. He studied hard and even became a byword for it. It is said that he translated Cicero's Epistles into English and then translated them back in again to perfect his Latin style! He gained a first-class degree, graduating BA in March 1802 and MA in 1804. In 1803 he won the chancellor's English prose essay prize for his essay on ‘Common sense’.
Early years of ministry
He went on to be ordained in September 1801, taking up a curacy in Chobham and Bisley in Surrey. This was under Richard Cecil. Cecil was only present in the summer months and so Wilson had plenty of opportunity to preach and to get to know the parish, which he did with great willingness. At the end of the time he writes
They have first seen me as a preacher: they have cherished, comforted, and loved me. All things there have worked for good. Church, rector, and people have alike smiled on me. Nor has the Spirit of God left me without fruit. I know that some have, by the grace of God, and through my instrumentality, been awakened and born from above. I speak, of course, only as a man, for God only can see the heart.
In November 1803, he married his cousin Ann, daughter of William Wilson. She was to be his partner in life for the next 24 years. They had six children, three of whom reached adulthood. The sudden death of Ann in 1818 when she was just seven years old was a hard blow as were the other two deaths. His son John grew to manhood but proved to be a source of great grief because of his spiritual rebellion. He did eventually come to salvation before an early death in 1833 but not without much heart searching on his father's part.
