p. 11 | The True Missionary

Seventh-day Adventist Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Jan 3, 1884

The True Missionary.

FEW people of this century have come as near to answering to the title of a true missionary as Dr. Judson. The following extract from "Anecdotes and Sketches" in Wayland's Life of Judson is well worth a careful reading:—

Dr. Judson was not at all given to admonishing people not connected with him, or, indeed, those that were, much; but there were some things that he seldom allowed to pass without attention. If I said I disliked a person, he would inquire, "Is she a Christian?" If he got one answer, the conclusion would be, "Poor creature! you ought to pity her too much for dislike;" and if the other, he would say, "Then Christ loves her dearly—cannot you?"

I recollect one day showing my husband two different newspaper articles, in one of which he was compared to the apostle Paul, and in the other spoken of as the "beloved John." Instead of being amused, as I had expected, at the contradiction, he exclaimed, with a sorrowfulness which made me regret having called his attention to the subject, "O, how little—how little do they know me! 'Who shall deliver me from the body of this death?'" I believe he was not in the least aware of whose words he had used; and I had ample reason for wishing to divert his thoughts, for he was not strong enough to indulge in deep emotions. "It is very evident," I said, carelessly, "that they do not know you. One day you are Peter, or Paul, or Luther, and the next, gentle John, or mild Melancthon."

"And I do not want to be like any of them," he said, energetically—"Paul, nor Apollos, nor Cephas, nor any other mere man. I want to be like Christ. We have a great many aids and encouragers along the Christian path; but only one perfectly safe Exemplar—only One who, tempted like as we are in every point, is still without sin. I want to follow him only—copy his teachings, drink in his spirit, place my feet in his foot-prints, and measure their shortcomings by these, and these alone. It is not safe to take any man, not even an inspired apostle, for a pattern. O, to be more like Christ!"

A short time before Dr. Judson left this country, he took considerable pains to visit my native village, and the church with which I first united, though I had long since removed my membership. As the house was small, he had consented to address the congregation; and this, although the day was rainy, brought together quite a crowd. After the usual sermon was over, he spoke for about fifteen minutes, with singular simplicity, and, as I thought, with touching pathos, of the "precious Saviour," of what he has done for us, and what we owe to him. As he sat down, however, it was evident, even to the most unobservant eye, that most of the listeners were disappointed. After the exercises were over, several persons inquired of me, frankly, why Dr. Judson had not talked of something else; why he had not told a story, &c.; while others signified their disappointment by not alluding to his having spoken at all. On the way home, I mentioned the subject to him.

"Why, what did they want?" he inquired; "I presented the most interesting subject in the world, to the best of my ability."

"But they wanted something different—a story."

"Well, I am sure I gave them a story—the most thrilling one that can be conceived of."

"But they had heard it before. They wanted something new of a man who had just come from the antipodes."

"Then I am glad they have it to say, that a man coming from the antipodes had nothing better to tell than the wondrous story of Jesus' dying love. My business is to preach the gospel of Christ, and when I can speak at all, I dare not trifle with my commission. When I looked upon those people to-day, and remembered where I should next meet them, how could I stand up and furnish food to vain curiosity—tickle their fancies with amusing stories, however decently strung together on a thread of religion? That is not what Christ meant by preaching the gospel. And then, how could I hereafter meet the fearful charge, 'I gave you one opportunity to tell them of me—you spent it in describing your own adventures!'"

He acknowledged that the diffusion of missionary information was a thing of great importance, but said that the good of the cause of missions did not require a lowering of the standard of gospel preaching; and that whatever was done for missions at the expense of spirituality in the American churches, was lost on the world.