1743 AD – James Davenports Fire – When Zeal Outran Wisdom

Website: https://ThatsJesus.org

Metadata Package: A revivalist preacher sets New England ablaze—literally. In 1743, James Davenport's unchecked zeal led to bonfires of books, clothing, and chaos. His story reveals how spiritual passion, untethered from humility and discernment, can fracture churches and wound communities. This episode traces Davenport's rise, collapse, and repentance, challenging believers to consider how fervor can turn dangerous when certainty overshadows love. Make sure you Like, Share, Subscribe, Follow, Comment, and Review this episode and the entire COACH series.

Keywords: James Davenport, Great Awakening, New England revival, 1743 revival controversy, New London bonfires, colonial church history, spiritual zeal, revival excess, church unity, Jonathan Edwards, Thomas Prince, itinerant preaching, colonial Connecticut, Separatist movement

Hashtags: #ChurchHistory #GreatAwakening #JamesDavenport #RevivalHistory #NewLondon #ColonialAmerica #COACHPodcast #ThatsJesus #ChristianHistory #FaithAndWisdom #HistoricalFaith

Episode Summary: In 1743, a young revivalist minister named James Davenport ignited one of the most unforgettable controversies in colonial American religious history. Once a respected pastor, Davenport became a fiery itinerant preacher whose intensity outran his discernment. His emotionally charged ministry drew crowds—and chaos. As his certainty grew, he publicly denounced long-established ministers, insisting that many were "unconverted." Churches split. Communities fractured. And tension mounted across New England.

The breaking point came in New London, Connecticut, when Davenport organized public bonfires to destroy books, clothing, and goods he believed were spiritually corrupt. Eyewitnesses watched in shock as he threw even his own trousers into the flames—an act so bizarre that members of his own following began to question him. Soon after, colonial authorities intervened, courts acted, and Davenport's reputation collapsed under the weight of his excess.

Yet his story did not end in ruin. In 1744, Davenport publicly repented, acknowledging the harm caused by his unchecked zeal. His apology circulated widely, prompting deep reflection across New England about the nature of true revival, the danger of spiritual pride, and the essential role of humility in Christian life.

This episode explores Davenport's rise, fall, and restoration—offering both a gripping historical narrative and a needed reminder for the modern church: passion must be guided by wisdom, and renewal without humility can become destruction.

CHUNK 1 — COLD HOOK (120–300 words)

(NOT counted in episode runtime)

It's June 1743 in New London, Connecticut. Smoke drifts above the rooftops, the kind that doesn't come from chimneys or cooking fires. A crowd gathers in uneasy silence as books—thick volumes bound in leather and inked with sermons from beloved ministers—curl and blacken in a rising flame. The air smells like scorched paper and something harder to name. Shirts, coats, and shoes are being thrown in now, landing with soft thumps before catching fire.

Near the heat, a preacher stands trembling. His voice—shaking, urgent—names objects as "worldly," commanding followers to cast them into the blaze. Someone hesitates. Another steps forward. A third breaks down crying. And then, in a moment that ripples through the crowd like a shockwave, the preacher reaches for his own trousers and hurls them into the fire.

Gasps. Confusion. A woman rushes forward—retrieves the garment—rebukes him.

The flames roar anyway.

Across the square, ministers watch with faces set in disbelief. Town officials whisper to one another. Children cling to their parents. And everyone feels it—this is no ordinary revival. Something once bright has twisted into something unpredictable. Something dangerous.

How did New England come to this moment? And how did a pastor once known for sincerity become the center of a firestorm that would shake churches for years?

[AD BREAK]

CHUNK 2 — INTRO (70–90 words, fixed template)

(NOT counted in episode runtime)

From the That's Jesus Channel, welcome to COACH — where Church origins and church history actually coach us how to walk boldly with Jesus today. I'm Bob Baulch. On Friday, we stay between 1500 and 2000 AD. In this episode we are in the year 1743, and we're exploring how a revival movement brimming with hope veered into chaos. It's the story of James Davenport—his passion, his missteps, and the fire that forced New England to wrestle with the difference between zeal and wisdom.

CHUNK 3 — FOUNDATION

(≈520 words; immersive, full depth)

Long before flames lit the night sky in New London, the story had been building quietly across New England. In the early 1700s, churches were full but hearts often were not. Meetinghouses gathered people by habit, not hunger. Ministers wrote to one another about a spiritual heaviness they could not shake, a kind of settled complacency that left sermons drifting past ears that no longer expected Jesus to speak. Jonathan Edwards and other ministers observed that faith in many congregations had become routine rather than vibrant. Something had cooled, and ministers felt it like a draft under the door.

Then came a stirring no one could ignore. George Whitefield thundered through the colonies, preaching outdoors to thousands who stood weeping in open fields. Reports spread like sparks carried on wind: families restored, prodigals returning, prayer meetings swelling late into the night. In Northampton, Edwards watched ordinary people crumble in repentance and rise with new resolve. Revival was no longer an idea — it was an event, a phenomenon shaping towns as surely as winter storms or harvest seasons.

Into this charged atmosphere stepped James Davenport. Born in 1716 in Stamford, Connecticut, he belonged to a well-respected family. After graduating from Yale in 1732, he stepped into ministry with the confidence expected from a young man shaped by good breeding, good training, and a clear calling. In 1738 he accepted the pastorate in Southold, Long Island — a community with familiar rhythms and predictable Sundays. His early ministry went well. People found him earnest, warm, sincere.

But revival stories coming from the mainland stirred something more intense inside him. The emotional power of the movement didn't merely encourage Davenport — it ignited him. He wanted more than steady preaching and measured transformation. He wanted fire. And he believed that fire could fall anywhere, anytime, if someone bold enough would simply call it down.

Something shifted. The lines between spiritual conviction and spiritual compulsion began to blur. He prayed longer, preached harder, and spoke with a rising urgency that left little room for restraint. Soon he felt called — compelled — to travel far beyond his parish.

By 1740 he was on the road, moving through Connecticut and Long Island with a momentum that startled even those sympathetic to the revival. Davenport didn't carry the collected calm of a traditional pastor. He carried intensity. He wept openly in sermons. He trembled. He warned. He pleaded. People said he preached "as if witnessing the edge of heaven and the brink of hell at the same time." Crowds pressed in to hear him, drawn by the strange gravity of a man who seemed aflame on the inside.

But alongside this passion came something more troubling — a growing certainty that he could see into hearts. He began speaking of "unconverted ministers," warning that some pastors were leading their flocks spiritually blind. And once that idea took hold in him, it began to shape everything that followed.

New England had prayed for awakening. What was arriving now was a force far more unpredictable — and far more disruptive — than anyone could have anticipated.

CHUNK 4 — DEVELOPMENT

(≈530 words; rising conflict)

When James Davenport stepped fully into itinerant ministry, the intensity that marked his early preaching did not level out — it accelerated. Between 1740 and 1742, he moved through Connecticut and Long Island with a force that left communities breathless. Wherever he preached, meetinghouses overflowed. People squeezed into aisles, leaned through open windows, or stood outside in clusters, hoping to catch even a faint echo of his voice.

But it wasn't the size of the crowds that unsettled observers. It was what unfolded inside them.

Under Davenport's preaching, emotions surged like a rising tide. He wept uncontrollably. He dropped to his knees without warning. His voice cracked, then soared, then fell to a whisper. Thomas Prince later described scenes of "enthusiasm and disorder" (Generalized; Q2) — moments where devotion shifted away from the normal, and pastors struggled to discern whether what they saw was genuine awakening or something slipping out of control.

For a time, many tolerated the chaos, believing it a necessary discomfort of revival. But Davenport carried something more volatile than emotion: a growing certainty that he alone could discern who truly knew Jesus.

He began naming ministers — respected pastors, some of whom had served their communities faithfully for decades — as "unconverted men." He accused them of preaching without the Spirit. In some towns, he warned congregations not to listen to their own pastors, insisting they were leading people toward spiritual death. These allegations were not whispered in private rooms. He spoke them publicly, urgently, sometimes standing just outside the very churches whose ministers he condemned.

The effect was immediate and devastating. Towns split along lines of loyalty. Some parishioners refused communion from their pastors. Others walked out of services in protest. Families found themselves torn between affection for their ministers and fear that Davenport might be right. Revival, once a source of hope, was becoming a battleground.

Civil authorities soon stepped in. In 1742, the Connecticut General Assembly passed a law aimed at containing the outbreak of disorder — a law clearly meant to curtail Davenport's influence. But he ignored it. When arrested and brought to trial, Davenport did not respond with calm defense. Accounts describe him shouting denunciations at the court, invoking divine judgment on the magistrates themselves. His agitation was so pronounced that officials declared him mentally unstable and sent him back to Long Island.

But he did not stay there.

He appeared next in New Haven, where minister Joseph Noyes barred him from the pulpit. Then in Lyme. Then in Wethersfield. Then in Saybrook. Every stop left tension behind. Church minutes recorded votes of censure. Town magistrates filed complaints. Jonathan Edwards, watching the movement with growing concern, warned that even genuine revival could be corrupted by "spiritual pride" (Generalized; Q3) — zeal convinced of its own infallibility.

The revival now carried two currents: a sincere hunger for Jesus, and a rising storm of unchecked certainty. Davenport seemed to embody both, and the collision was coming.

In the first half of 1743, it would erupt with flames that New England would never forget.

CHUNK 5 — CLIMAX & IMPACT

(≈560 words; story ends; no modern comparison; hinge-line at end)

New London did not know what waited for it when James Davenport arrived in the first half of 1743. Revival was stirring across Connecticut, but nothing prepared the town for the collision of intensity, confusion, and spiritual certainty that moved with him. Davenport believed the Spirit now demanded a cleansing far more dramatic than preaching or public warnings. He was convinced it was time to burn what hindered holiness.

He gathered a crowd in the center of New London and announced that Jesus wanted them to purge the town of spiritually dangerous influences. Books were the first to go — not scandalous literature, but works by respected Puritan ministers. Leather bindings, sermon collections, devotional writings: all condemned as "unregenerate" and thrown into a growing pile. Some stepped forward eagerly. Others trembled. Many hesitated, torn between reverence for their books and fear that refusing might reveal a lack of devotion.

The flames caught quickly. Paper curled. Smoke thickened. The air filled with the smell of scorched ink.

The next day, the bonfire returned — and deepened. Clothing began to fall into the flames. Shoes. Shawls. Coats. Small household items Davenport called "worldly." Some people came forward with tears of relief, believing they were casting off burdens. Others watched in stunned silence as neighbors threw in garments they depended on for daily life.

And then the moment came that would echo through countless accounts of the Great Awakening.

James Davenport stepped forward, pulled off his own trousers, and threw them into the fire.

For a heartbeat, the crowd froze.

Eyewitness sources describe a sharp gasp rolling through the people. Then a woman — quick, practical, horrified — stepped forward, retrieved the smoldering garment with a stick, and rebuked him. The scene bordered on the absurd. A preacher half-dressed beside a bonfire of "vanities" was a sight that some supporters could no longer explain or defend.

Authorities moved swiftly. Formal complaints were filed. Ministers who had hesitated to act now spoke openly about the chaos Davenport unleashed. Civil officials convened special sessions. When he later reached Boston and disrupted services there, Massachusetts authorities confined him for "mental derangement," submitting him to examination — an extraordinary humiliation for a minister in colonial New England.

The damage spread farther than Davenport himself. Churches divided. Families ruptured. Congregations that had worshiped side by side for decades argued, fractured, or dissolved. Separatist groups emerged in town after town. What revival had begun, Davenport's certainty often tore apart.

And then came a turning.

In 1744, James Davenport published a formal printed apology. Not a rumor. Not a quiet admission. A public confession circulated broadly across New England. In it, he acknowledged he had acted in misguided zeal. He admitted he had slandered faithful ministers. He recognized that his extremism had wounded the church he loved. Thomas Prince documented the apology, noting both its sincerity and the deep questions it stirred about how — or whether — Davenport could be restored.

He lived thirteen more years, preaching quietly after repentance, dying in New Jersey in 1757. But his legacy endured: a cautionary tale cited for decades in councils, sermons, and laws seeking to guide revival without collapsing into disorder.

And through it all, a deeper question simmered beneath the ashes of New London's fires:

When spiritual urgency rises, what guards the difference between holy zeal and harmful certainty?

[AD BREAK]

CHUNK 6 — LEGACY & MODERN RELEVANCE

(≈300 words; group-focused; no story recap; modern church only)

This much is clear. Every generation of the church wrestles with the same tension: how to pursue passionate faith without letting that passion fracture the very community it aims to revive. Today, local churches still feel the pull between longing for renewal and guarding against the excesses that can quietly slip in when emotion outruns wisdom.

Modern congregations have seen it firsthand. A leader grows influential and begins believing their discernment is unquestionable. A small group becomes convinced their spiritual insights outrank the rest of the church. A ministry movement emphasizes urgency over unity, intensity over humility, certainty over shared discernment. And before long, what began as sincere desire for spiritual awakening leaves confusion or division in its wake.

Other churches swing to the opposite extreme, frightened by past excesses. They become cautious, reserved, or suspicious of deep emotional expression, leaving little room for genuine renewal. Instead of zeal without wisdom, they settle into stability without life.

The legacy that reaches us today is not about actions from the eighteenth century. It's about how quickly sincere faith can harden into superiority, how easily passion can become pressure, and how desperately the modern church still needs humility, accountability, and a shared pursuit of Jesus. When churches anchor zeal in community, Scripture, and love, renewal strengthens the body rather than fractures it.

CHUNK 7 — REFLECTION & CALL

(≈300 words; individual-focused; personal reflection; no recap)

When we move from the church as a whole to our own hearts, the challenge becomes sharper. Every believer wrestles with the temptation toward certainty — the quiet assumption that our perceptions are clearer, our convictions stronger, or our spiritual instincts more accurate than the people around us. But discipleship grows best in humility, not superiority.

So here is the question worth sitting with: Where might confidence be drifting into certainty inside us? Where have strong feelings convinced us we're unquestionably right? Where have we dismissed others too quickly? Where have we resisted correction because we didn't want to be wrong?

There is a second question just as important: Where have we grown silent when love required us to speak? Some of us fear disagreement so deeply that we stay quiet even when Scripture calls us to gentle courage. Truth requires boldness. Love requires humility. Mature faith requires both.

This is the invitation today: to stay teachable. To hold convictions deeply yet carry them lightly. To seek renewal with passion, but let that passion be shaped by community, Scripture, and the character of Jesus. To resist suspicion. To refuse spiritual arrogance. To welcome accountability. And to measure every spiritual instinct against the humility of the One who leads us.

If we can walk that path — boldness without pride, discernment without division, passion without presumption — then the faith we carry will strengthen our communities, not strain them; it will soften our hearts rather than harden them; and it will make us more like Jesus.

CHUNK 8 — OUTRO

(120–200 words • fixed template + humor + humanity)

If this story of James Davenport challenged or encouraged you, share it with a friend – they might really need to hear it. Make sure you go to https://ThatsJesus.org for other COACH episodes and resources. Don't forget to follow, like, comment, review, subscribe and TUNE IN for more COACH episodes every week. Every episode dives into a different corner of church history. But on Friday, we stay between 1500 and 2000 AD. Thanks for listening to COACH – where Church origins and church history actually coach us how to walk boldly with Jesus today. I'm Bob Baulch with the That's Jesus Channel. Have a great day — and be blessed.

And you know, if podcasts grew based on passion alone, COACH would rank somewhere between "global phenomenon" and "Wendy's favorite morning companion." But alas… apparently you need things like listeners. And subscribers. And maybe even more than the two that I already am. So your click genuinely helps keep this tiny, debt-producing, Jesus-loving operation alive.

And before we close, let me simply say this: episodes like this make me grateful for the people who gently guide me back to balance when I drift. Wendy does that for me every single week, and I hope you have someone like that in your corner too. Someone who loves Jesus, loves you, and helps you keep your zeal grounded in grace.

CHUNK 9 — REFERENCES (NOT SPOKEN)

9a — Q-NOTES (Quotes Used in Script)

Q2 — Generalized – Thomas Prince documenting revival scenes of "enthusiasm and disorder."

Q3 — Generalized – Edwards' warnings about the danger of "spiritual pride."

9b — Z-NOTES (Zero-Dispute Facts)

Z1. Davenport born 1716 in Stamford, Connecticut

9c — POP (Parallel Orthodox Perspectives)

P1. Revival enthusiasm is good but needs pastoral structure

9d — SCOP (Skeptical or Contrary Opinion Points)

S1. Some contemporaries saw Davenport as mentally unstable

9e — SOURCES (APA + ISBN + Q/Z/P/S Associations)

Bonomi, P. V. (1986). Under the Cope of Heaven: Religion, Society, and Politics in Colonial America. Oxford University Press. ISBN: 9780195040114. Supports: Z1–Z3, Z5, Z12, Z14; P1, P3; S1, S4

Edwards, J. (1743). Some Thoughts Concerning the Present Revival of Religion in New England. Yale Edition, Works of Jonathan Edwards, Vol. 4. Supports: Q3; Z15; P1, P4; S3

Kidd, T. S. (2007). The Great Awakening: The Roots of Evangelical Christianity in Colonial America. Yale University Press. ISBN: 9780300129677. Supports: Z4, Z6, Z7, Z10, Z12; S1, S3, S5

Lambert, F. (1999). Inventing the Great Awakening. Princeton University Press. ISBN: 9780691048839. Supports: Z3, Z4, Z5, Z6, Z8, Z9, Z14; P2, P5; S2

Prince, T. (1744). The Christian History (Vol. 2). Supports: Q2; Z8, Z9, Z15; S2, S3

CHUNK 10 — CREDITS (VERBATIM)

Host & Producer: Bob Baulch

Production Notes: All content decisions, theological positions, historical interpretations, and editorial choices are the sole responsibility of Bob Baulch and That's Jesus Channel. AI tools assist with research and drafting only.

Episode Development Assistance: Perplexity.ai assisted with historical fact verification and cross-referencing, using only published books or peer-reviewed periodical articles.

Script Development Assistance: Claude (Anthropic) assisted with initial script drafting, structure, refinement after historical verification, and final quality control. ChatGPT (OpenAI) assisted with emotional enhancement recommendations.

All AI-generated content was reviewed, edited, verified, and approved by Bob Baulch. Final authority for all historical claims, theological statements, and content accuracy rests with human editorial oversight.

Sound: Adobe Podcast

Digital License: Audio 1 – Background Music: "Background Music Soft Calm" by INPLUSMUSIC, Pixabay Content License, Composer: Poradovskyi Andrii (BMI IPI Number: 01055591064), Source: Pixabay, YouTube: INPLUSMUSIC Channel, Instagram: @inplusmusic

Digital License: Audio 2 – Crescendo: "Epic Trailer Short 0022 Sec" by BurtySounds, Pixabay Content License, Source: Pixabay

Production Note: Audio and video elements integrated in post-production. AI tools provide research and drafting assistance; human expertise provides final verification, theological authority, and editorial decisions. Bob Baulch assumes full responsibility for all content.