Perhaps the work requires...

Below is a behooving excerpt of notes taken from the class History of Baptist Missions at Maranatha Baptist University, compiled by Dr. David Saxon and Mr. Brian Trainer. 

Are we so cumbered by time and effort that we ignore this Great Commission to which we are so clearly commanded?

That I may continue to win disciples as I am going, no matter the time or the cost...

Life is ministry. Ministry is global.

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In February 1789 Carey received a call from Harvey Lane Chapel, Leicester. Many trials awaited him there, but “firmness and tact, patience and faith, triumphed.”[1] Radical surgery was employed and blessing followed. If anything, his workload increased. An idea of Carey’s regular activity is inadvertently recorded for us in a letter written by him to his father and dated 12th November, 1790:

On Monday I confine myself to the study of the learned languages, and oblige myself to translate something. On Tuesday to the study of science, history, composition, etc. On Wednesday I preach a lecture, and have been for more than twelve months on the Book of Revelation. On Thursday I visit my friends. Friday and Saturday are spent in preparing for the Lord’s Day, and the Lord’s Day in preaching the Word of God. Once a fortnight I preach three times at home; and once a fortnight 1 go to a neighbouring village in the evening. Once a month I go to another village on the Tuesday evening. My school begins at nine o’clock in the morning, and continues till four o’clock in winter and five in summer I have acted for this twelve month as secretary to the committee of dissenters; and am now to be regularly appointed to that office, with a salary. Add to this occasional journeys, ministers’ meetings, etc., and you will rather wonder that I have any time, than that I have so little.

Then, this most telling comment which explains so much of Carey’s outlook:

I am not my own, nor would I choose for myself. Let God employ me where He thinks fit.[2]

Yet, despite pastoral problems, domestic difficulties and a telling workload, his burden for the evangelization of the world was not lessened. Fuller writes:

The other ministers … had been compelled to think of the subject by his repeatedly advancing it, and they became desirous of it, if it could be accomplished; but feeling the difficulty of setting out in an unbeaten path, their minds revolted at the idea of attempting it. 

It seemed to them something too great, and too much like grasping at an object utterly beyond their reach.[3]

But this actually represented a considerable advance on the prejudice that had first greeted his concern in 1786. Now, at least, there was a company of men no longer opposed in principle to the notion. They just thought it impossible for the time being.

It was, in fact, Andrew Fuller who gave the decisive answer to this objection and fresh impetus to Carey’s vision. On 27th April, 1791 there was a meeting of the Northamptonshire and Leicestershire ministers at Clipstone at which Sutcliff and Fuller were preachers. No doubt both sermons were intended to bring the issue to a head. Sutcliff spoke of the “Zeal for the Lord of Hosts” and Fuller’s text was Haggai 1:2. “Thus speaketh the Lord of Hosts, saying, This people say, The time is not come, the time that the Lord’s house should be built.” The title of his sermon was, “The Instances, Evil Nature, and the Dangerous Tendency of Delay in the Concerns of Religion.” In his introduction he points out that:

There is something of this procrastinating spirit running through a great part of life, and it is of great detriment to the work of God. We know of many things that should be done, and cannot in conscience directly oppose them; but still we find excuses for our inactivity. … We quiet ourselves with the thought that they need not be done just now.

This plea … prevents us from undertaking any great or good work for the cause of Christ or the good of mankind. … There are difficulties in the way, and we wait for their removal. We are very apt to indulge in a kind of prudent caution (as we call it) which foresees and magnifies difficulties beyond what they really are … It becomes us to beware lest we account that impossible which only requires such a degree of exertion as we are not inclined to give it. … Perhaps the work requires expense. … Perhaps it requires concurrence, and we wait for everybody to be of one mind, which is never to be expected. … Instead of waiting for the removal of difficulties, we ought, in many cases to consider them as purposely laid in our way in order to try the sincerity of our religion.[4]

Later he goes on:

Let it be considered whether it is not owing to this principle that so few, and so feeble efforts have been made for the propagation of the Gospel in the world. … Are the souls of men of less value than heretofore? No. Is Christianity less true or less important than in former ages? This will not be pretended. Are there no opportunities … to convey the Gospel to the heathen? This cannot be pleaded so long as opportunities are found to trade with them, yea, and (what is a disgrace to the name of Christianity!) to buy them and sell them, and treat them with worse than savage barbarity. We have opportunities in abundance: the improvement of navigation and the maritime and commercial turn of this country furnish us with these; and it deserves to be considered whether this is not a circumstance that renders it a duty particularly binding on us.

The truth is, we wait for we know not what: we seem to think “the time is not come, the time for the spirit to be poured down from on high.” … We pray for the conversion of the world and yet we neglect the ordinary means by which it can be brought about... how shall they hear without a preacher? And how shall they preach except they be sent?[5]

At the sermon’s close, Carey at once urged that the ministers present resolve to form a missionary society. But they still hesitated. Several adjourned to the manse to discuss Carey’s proposal. They sat up late into the night; so late as to require a second supper! Eventually, and partly to humor their enthusiastic brother, they recommended a revision of his book and its printing “for the consideration of the religious public.” He revised the manuscript.

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[1] F. Deaville Walker, William Carey: Missionary Pioneer and Statesman (London: SCM, 1926), 73.

[2] Ibid. 72,73.

[3] Ibid. 74.

[4] Andrew Fuller, The Complete Works (London: Henry G. Bohn), 550, 55l.

[5] Ibid, 551.

God in the Dock

I am finding more and more that this blog is becoming my personal archive of beloved quotes... please forgive me!

I am taking a writing hiatus at the moment (and for the past 18 months or so of moments, really...!), and I'm trying to decide whether to keep the blog and really write regularly, or not to keep it. We shall see in due time.

For now, another quote, from beloved C.S. himself.

"Every age has its own outlook. It is specially good at seeing certain truths and specially liable to make certain mistakes. […] None of us can escape this blindness, but we shall certainly increase it, and weaken our guard against it if we read only modern books. Where they are true, they will give us truths which we half knew already. Where they are false, they will aggravate the error with which we are already dangerously ill. The only palliative is to keep the clean sea breeze of the centuries blowing through our minds, and this can be done only by reading old books. […] To be sure, the books of the future would be just as good a corrective as the books of the past, but unfortunately we cannot get at them." 

-C.S. Lewis 

"On the Reading of Old Books" —God in the Dock

Morning Thought

What a challenge to examine our hearts. On what or who am I depending for my stability, my sanctification, and my happiness?

"Is your knowledge of God a transforming knowledge? Have you so become acquainted with God as to receive the impress (as it were) of what God is?—for a true knowledge of God is a transforming knowledge. As I look upon the glory of God I am changed into that glory; and as my acquaintance with God deepens, I become more like God. There is a transfer of God's moral image to my soul. Is your knowledge then transforming? Does your acquaintance with God make you more like God—more holy, more divine, more heavenly, more spiritual? Does it prompt you to pant after conformity to God's mind, desiring in all things to walk so as to please God, and to have, as it were, a transfer of the nature of God to your soul? Examine, therefore, your professed acquaintance with God, and see whether it is that acquaintance which will bring you to heaven, and will go on increasing through the countless ages of eternity. 

And I would say to God's saints—trace the cause of much of our uneven walking, of our little holiness, and, consequently, of our little happiness, to our imperfect acquaintance with what God is. Did I know more of what God is to me in Christ—how He loves me, what a deep interest He takes in all my concerns—did I know that He never withdraws His eye from me for one moment, that His heart of love never grows cold—oh! did I but know this, would I not walk more as one acquainted with God? Would I not desire to consult Him in all that interests me, to acknowledge Him in all my ways, to look up to Him in all things, and to deal with Him in all matters? Would I not desire to be more like Him, more holy, more divine, more Christ-like? Yes, beloved; it is because we know Him so little, that we walk so much in uneven ways. We consult man rather than God; we flee to the asylum of a creature-bosom, rather than to the bosom of the Father; we go to the sympathy of man, rather than to the sympathy of God in Christ, because we are so imperfectly acquainted with God. 

But did I know more clearly what God is to me in the Son of His love, I should say—I have not a trial but I may take that trial to my Father; I am not in a perplexity but I may go to God for counsel; I am in no difficulty, I have no want, but it is my privilege to spread it before my Father—to unveil my heart of sin, my heart of wretchedness, my heart of poverty, to Him who has unveiled His heart of love, His heart of grace, His heart of tenderness to me in Christ. As I become more acquainted with God, my character and my Christian walk will be more even, more circumspect, more holy, and consequently more happy."

[taken from Octavius Winslow's Morning Thought]

Engaged Affections

The true cure for a dull memory in religion, is to get deeper love toward Christ, and affections more thoroughly set on things above. We do not readily forget the things we love, and the objects which we keep continually under our eyes. The names of our parents and children are always remembered. The face of the husband or wife we love is engraved on the tablets of our hearts. The more our affections are engaged in Christ’s service, the more easy shall we find it to remember Christ’s words. The words of the apostle ought to be carefully pondered: “We ought to give the more earnest heed to the things which we have heard, lest at any time we should let them slip.” (Heb. 2:1.) | J.C. Ryle

Waiting for the Big Moment

As I finish up Ann Voskamp's One Thousand Gifts,  I've been sifting through my own lack of gratitude and establishing intentional ways to build gratitude and a lifestyle of miracles and thanks (eucharisteo).

From a broader, less personal perspective, I've also been thinking through our culture and the ways that ingratitude is cultivated all around us each and every day. Simple politeness and manners aren't taught or demanded as they have been in the past, communication is scattered, and verbal and non-verbal ingratitude nearly reigns in the American mindset.
We have an entitlement complex like no other: we deserve extra, free, better, more! Always. It never stops, we are never satisfied... and we are unthankful for what we have because it's not enough. But what is enough? Is there not joy in the everyday, in the simplicities of life, in the common ? We're so busy looking for the extraordinary and the unique in our ideal realities that we miss the extraordinary miracles of our actual realities.

This is highly reflected by our culture's revolution around our ideal [false] realities that we create on Pinterest, Tumblr, facebook, Instagram, and even our blogs, literature, and other media. Isn't it harder to embrace real life when I have such "better" things online? We find ourselves in constant states of discontent, covetousness, and depression. Yet, God has given us every good and perfect gift (James 1:17), has not withheld anything good from us (Psalm 84:11), and is working all things in our lives together for good according to His purpose of making us more like Christ (Romans 8:28-29). The goal, as I've said before, is not happiness, but holiness.

For me, it's time for a reality check. If I'm not living fully in each moment, is my life really full? Our lives are more like leaky buckets, always running out, unable to satisfy and quench, than the overflowing fountains of blessings that God is really giving us. These holes aren't from our circumstances, but from our attitudes.

Marli Tague, a friend of mine, shared this quote over at Cause for Joy:

“I have always, essentially, been waiting. Waiting to become something else, waiting to be that person I always thought I was on the verge of becoming, waiting for that life I thought I would have. In my head, I was always one step away. In high school, I was biding my time until I could become the college version of myself, the one my mind could see so clearly. In college, the post-college “adult” person was always looming in front of me, smarter, stronger, more organized. Then the married person, then the person I’d become when we have kids. For twenty years, literally, I have waited to become the thin version of myself, because that’s when life will really begin.

And through all that waiting, here I am. My life is passing, day by day, and I am waiting for it to start. I am waiting for that time, that person, that event when my life will finally begin.

When Trials Come

Through my human circumstances of severed relationships, an unknown future, a demanding schedule, and raw emotions through it all, it's so easy to let myself be discouraged and frankly ransacked by guilt or anger or fear. Yet, as God reveals my idols one by one and graciously takes them out of my life, He also gives me the grace to remember His regenerating mercy and His finished work atoning for all my guilt. How He pursues my whole being despite my willful disobedience and my simple ignorance of His true glory

What a glorious God I serve who constantly purifies, cleanses, and molds my life to be more and more like my Christ who gave His all to be my all in all! Over the past week or two, God has deeply ministered His grace to my heart through the words of this song:

When Trials Come

Words by Keith 7 Kristyn Getty

When trials come no longer fear,

For in the pain our God draws near,
To fire a faith worth more than gold.
And there His faithfulness is told,
And there His faithfulness is told.

Within the night I know Your peace;
The breath of God brings strength to me,
And new each morning mercy flows,
As treasures of the darkness grow,
As treasures of the darkness grow.

I turn to Wisdom not my own,
For every battle You have known.
My confidence will rest in You;
Your love endures Your ways are good,
Your love endures Your ways are good.

When I am weary with the cost,
I see the triumph of the cross.
So in it's shadow I shall run,
Till You complete the work begun,
Till You complete the work begun.

One day all things will be made new,
I'll see the hope You called me to,
And in your kingdom paved with gold,
I'll praise your faithfulness of old,
I'll praise your faithfulness of old!

Daring Greatly: The Courage of Vulnerability

As some of you know, I'm currently digesting a book called Daring Greatly by Brene Brown. The book, which touches on shame, vulnerability, depression, gratitude, perfectionism, and contentment, offers so much to mull over and absorb. Today, though, I really just want to share the quote, The Man in the Arena, that the book is named after.

The Man in the Arena is an excerpt from Citizenship in a Republic, a 35-page speech Theodore Roosevelt delivered on April 23, 1910, at the Sorbonne in the amphitheater at the University of Paris. He had traveled with his son, Kermit, by way of the Orient Express to Paris to deliver this speech.

He emphasized to his audience the importance of discipline, work, and character to make a republic succeed. Not the brilliance of the citizens would cause the nation to excel, but the quality of its people. He told the audience: “Self-restraint, self-mastery, common sense, the power of accepting individual responsibility and yet of acting in conjunction with others, courage and resolution—these are the qualities which mark a masterful people.”

Their democracy necessitated high-caliber leaders that would hold civilians to high standards. Words alone could not accomplish this feat; these leaders needed to lead by example. “Indeed, it is a sign of marked political weakness in any commonwealth if the people tend to be carried away by mere oratory, if they tend to value words in and for themselves, as divorced from the deeds for which they are supposed to stand.”
Roosevelt firmly believed that one learned by doing. It is better to stumble than to do nothing or to sit by and criticize those that are “in the arena” he explained. “The poorest way to face life is with a sneer.” It is a sign of weakness. “To judge a man merely by success,” he said, “is an abhorrent wrong.” The famous paragraph from that speech, reproduced below and included in the book Daring Greatly, expressed the standard by which he judged himself and others:

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.

Now, back to the book-- I can't really summarize it any better than Brene herself, so here's an excerpt from her introduction:

Vulnerability is not weakness, and the uncertainty, risk and emotional exposure we face every day are not optional. Our only choice is a question of engagement.
Our willingness to own and engage with our vulnerability determines the depth of our courage and the clarity of our purpose.

When we spend our lives waiting until we’re perfect or bulletproof before we walk into the arena we ultimately sacrifice relationships and opportunities that may not be recoverable, we squander our precious time, and we turn our backs on our gifts, those unique contributions that only we can make.

Perfect and bulletproof are seductive, but they don’t exist in the human experience. We must walk into the arena, whatever it may be – a new relationship, an important meeting, our creative process, or a difficult family conversation – with courage and the willingness to engage. Rather than sitting on the sidelines and hurling judgment and advice, we must dare to show up and let ourselves be seen. This is vulnerability. This is daring greatly.

The book explores and answers the following questions:
1. What drives our fear of being vulnerable?
2. How are we protecting ourselves from vulnerability
3. What price are we paying when we shut down and disengage?
4. How do we own and engage with vulnerability so we can start transforming the way we live, love, parent, and lead?

Check out her blog or read the book, which I highly advise. :)

Troubles: the Heralds of Weighty Mercies

Contemplation and meditation have seemed to envelop me this week. I think I'm just reaching the point of catching up with the happenings of the past several weeks. According to my friends, I've been abnormally quiet. In my opinion, I've simply been overwhelmingly consumed, and quite honestly exhausted, by my own thoughts. Yet in the midst of the busyness and clamor of life, I find refuge and consolation in the One who ordained it all to conform me to Christ. What a comfort to know that nothing I endure is in vain! As I have been sifting through my thoughts this week, this little excerpt of Spurgeon's According to Promise was a great encouragement and challenge to my perspective.

“For as the sufferings of Christ abound in us, so our consolation also aboundeth by Christ.”

2 Corinthians 1:5

"There is a blessed proportion. The Ruler of Providence bears a pair of scales-in this side he puts his people’s trials, and in that he puts their consolations. When the scale of trial is nearly empty, you will always find the scale of consolation in nearly the same condition; and when the scale of trials is full, you will find the scale of consolation just as heavy.

When the black clouds gather most, the light is the more brightly revealed to us. When the night lowers and the tempest is coming on, the Heavenly Captain is always closest to his crew. It is a blessed thing, that when we are most cast down, then it is that we are most lifted up by the consolations of the Spirit. One reason is, because trials make more room for consolation. Great hearts can only be made by great troubles. The spade of trouble digs the reservoir of comfort deeper, and makes more room for consolation. God comes into our heart-he finds it full-he begins to break our comforts and to make it empty; then there is more room for grace. The humbler a man lies, the more comfort he will always have, because he will be more fitted to receive it.

Another reason why we are often most happy in our troubles, is this- then we have the closest dealings with God. When the barn is full, man can live without God: when the purse is bursting with gold, we try to do without so much prayer. But once take our gourds away, and we want our God; once cleanse the idols out of the house, then we are compelled to honour Jehovah. “Out of the depths have I cried unto thee, O Lord.” There is no cry so good as that which comes from the bottom of the mountains; no prayer half so hearty as that which comes up from the depths of the soul, through deep trials and afflictions. Hence they bring us to God, and we are happier; for nearness to God is happiness. Come, troubled believer, fret not over your heavy troubles, for they are the heralds of weighty mercies."

{Charles Haddon Spurgeon, According to Promise }