An Eye Toward Canaan…

My Heart in His Hands, by Sharon James, was one of the first full-length biographies I’ve read in a long time, and how glad I am to be re-introduced to this genre by such a remarkable and engaging account of the life of Ann Judson. It is hard for me to distinguish how much of my enjoyment came from the life well-lived, and how much from the evocative manner in which the narrative is presented. It is certainly a moving account of a short but powerful (powder-keg) existence.

Part of the wealth of the book lies in the heavy reliance of James upon Ann’s letters and journals. In this was, the author lets Judson speak for herself (and Judson’s thorough and eloquent prose paints vivid pictures for the reader of things that would be challenging to portray secondhand). One caution to the reader would be to recall the older usages of some of Judson’s vocabulary – words like “pagan” that have certain connotations today had less weighted (or differently weighted) meanings then. The letters and journal entries illustrate some of the inner thoughts and struggles of the author who penned them, and the sincerity of Ann’s faith and her devotion to the many tasks to which she was caled, shine through these portions to inspire readers. For example, after severe illnesses, no converts in Burma, and a 7 month separation from her husband without word as to whether he still lived:

“…my dear sister Mary, a little sacrifice for the cause of Christ is not worth naming; and I feel it a privilege, of which I am entirely undeserving, to have had it in my power to sacrifice my all for hims who hesitated not to lay down his life for sinners. I rejoice that I had a pleasant home, dear friends, and flattering prospects to relinquish, and that once in my life I had an opportunity of manifesting my little attachment to the cause of Christ. I know you often wish to know certainly, whether I still approve of the first step I took in the missionary cause; and whether, if I had the choice again to make, with my present knowledge and views of the subject, I should make the same. Well, I frankly acknowledge that I should do just the same, with this exception; that I should commence such a life, with much more fear and trembling upon account of my unfitness; and should almost hesitate whether one so vile, so poorly qualified, ought to occupy a sphere of so much usefulness. I do, at times, feel almost ready to sink down in despair, when I realize the responsibility of my situation, and witness my short-comings in duty. If I have grown any in grace since I left America, it has consisted entirely in an increasing knowledge of my unspeakably wicked heart. As to my real religious enjoyment, I think, generally speaking, I have not experienced more than when in America. I do hope, however, vile as I am, to obtain an inheritance in that far better world, where Jesus has prepared mansions for this followers, and will introduce them there himself, sprinkled with his blood, and clothed in his righteousness…” (p. 102-103).

Ann was given grace for the many ministries she carried out during the time in Burma. Among her major accomplishments are: (along with Adoniram) founding the church in Burma; preserving Adoniram’s life and that of other missionaries (during his imprisonment when he was mistaken as an English spy during Burma’s war with the British — Ann built him a dwelling in the prison, fed him daily, and pled for his release daily with the local governor, and even followed him to a more torturous prison in which she camped in a shed nearby for several months with their infant daughter, contracting the illness which weakened her siginifcantly thereby leading to a premature death later); (along with Adoniram) became the first American Baptist missionary sent overseas; made strides in advocating and funding the education of women in Burma; was a more than sufficient partner in marriage and ministry to her husband; used her acute language skills to begin conversational discussions with the Burman people, and to help translate the Bible into Burman and Thai; her letters and journal, when published, inspired a movement of missionaries in America; she provided an excellent example of God-centered theology and spirituality in her personal devotional life.

All of this, through a remarkable amount of suffering — she lost all her children to death (except one, who later died six months after she did). She endured long and treacherous illnesses, and at times unthinkable living conditions. She had to leave Burma for a couple of years at one point to regain her health. She endured long separations from Adoniram, who was both husband and closest companion. She left for Burma expecting never to see her family again. Throughout these sufferings, she managed to open her heart and home to others, particularly the Burmans she desired to see converted to Christ. She adopted a couple of orphans, took good care of the staff who helped her manage their home and ministry area, and made every effort to educate the Burman women who were generally treated like imbiciles in their own homes – and she often befriended the local governing authorities, who seemed charmed by her personailty. Her intelligence was also remarkable, as she had adept skills with both written and conversational language in Burman and Thai. Her quick wittedness saved her husband’s life and the lives on others on more than one account. During Adoniram’s initial arrest, she locked herself and her house staff in a back bedroom despite the angry locals screaming threats at her in their front yard, and would not be persuaded to come out of the room until she had burned all of the Judsons’ journals and letters (anything that contained what might potentially look incriminating concerning their connections in England), sparing only the translated Burman New Testament, which she entrusted to a house servant for safe keeping.

One last excerpt from Ann (taken from the back of the book):
“I am a creature of God, and he has an undoubted right to do with me, as seems good in his sight…He has my heart in his hands, and when I am called to face danger, to pass through scenes of terror and distress, he can inspire me with fortitude, and enable me to trust in him. Jesus in faithful; his promises are precious. Were it not for these considerations, I would sink down with despair…”

Definitely worth a read.

My posts have been few and far between for the past few months. The blog was the first thing to go when I started working full time. Posting will be sparse for the next several months, but I’ll do my best to keep this alive somehow. (And by the way, I am still trying to figure out the right size to post pictures at, mac users out there, so if you have any tips, do let me know). Thanks.

I’ve been meaning to write the book reviews I’m about to post for several months now…of course, now I can no longer remember with any sense of immediacy what I found so engaging about these particular books. Ah well. Such is life.

Confessions of a Reformissionary Reverend: Hard Lessons from an Emerging, Missional Church (Mark Driscoll)

It wasn’t really my intention to buy Driscoll’s book at the last national conference. But after volunteering at the bookstore and stacking Confessions into three foot swirls for a few hours, I broke down and bought a copy…and read it in about a week. It’s not a hard read, but it is certainly a fascinating look at the city that Driscoll describes as a pagan wasteland. I admit, I was not a huge fan of Driscoll before reading this book (and still don’t know that I’d call myself anything but a sympathetic outside observer now), and the only thing I’d ever written by him was a blog entry in which he was bashing another Christian leader (whom, to Driscoll’s credit, he apologized to later). Thankfully, Driscoll is painfully honest about his own mistakes in his work, while still managing to articulate clearly the things he did well, or biblically, and God’s blessing of those things.

What I was expecting when I picked up the book was a fresh, frank, and humorous, if somewhat crass, account of this history of Driscoll’s church plant, Mars Hill church — and the book certainly delivered that, managing to be both provocative and convicting at once. For example, Driscoll’s account of an outdoor Bible study:

“A few weeks later, I again noticed that no one was looking at me while I preached and turned around to see a few well-endowed young women lifting up their shirts like Mardi Gras princesses as they flashed our Bible study. I used the moment to say something about choosing the location because of its natural beauty but not anticipating that much natural beauty and went on to say something about total depravity and how only in our city would we be flashed at a Bible study.

Not surprisingly, the Bible study did grow for two main reasons. First, our people and their friends liked the fact that they could smoke during the Bible study since it was outdoors. Some people got saved at the study, including three people who later became deacons and one person who became an elder, all because they could smoke at church. Two of the people who got saved were a stripper and her live-in boyfriend, whom I later married on teh same dock. Second, the word got out that there were naked women at our Bible study, which seemed to be a plus when inviting lost friends.”

The above captures quite well both the provocative aspect as well as the convicting aspects of the book (how many people do you know who are bending over backwards to get social misfits and pagans into the kingdom of God as in the Luke 14 parable)? My West Coast upbringing helped me to appreciate Driscoll’s rough sense of humor, but I wouldn’t see that being the case for several of my midwestern friends (people are abundantly nicer and less crude in the midwest).

At any rate, I was expecting the above. I was not expecting to enjoy Driscoll’s unaffected explanations of why, as a pastor and a new Christian, he chose certain theological leanings and not others, and why he made certain strategy and church growth/spreading decisions. I found that aspect of the book most engaging as I was challenged to reconsider why I’ve chosen certain views myself. I had certainly not thought of church vision, strategy, and planning in the manner that Driscoll described before. (I am still not sure how I feel about the “corporate” feel that it has at times, but reading Driscoll’s book helped me to understand at a deeper level the challenges faced by leaders of a megachurch or almost-megachurch.

Perhaps the thing I was least expecting, however, was the depth of Mark’s passion for Christ (and, a Christ-centered church), the depth of his passion for people (and therefore evangelism and discipleship). His heart for pagans is clearly a gift of grace from God, as he has, at great cost to himself, loved people that most would turn away from in disgust. The last paragraph of the last chapter expresses this heart well:

“I wish I did not have to suffer demonic attacks that include seeing raw and real footage of the times my people were raped and molested that plays in my mind like a film even though I was not present [he is referring to recurring dreams that he has about incidents that have happened to people in his church that he would otherwise be unaware of]. I wish I did not have to sometimes struggle so mightily to be intimate with my wife. I wish I did not feel so completely alone, especially when I am in a crowd. I wish I was not a target for critics who seem to put me ona pedestal only to get a better aim. I wish I did not have the responsibility of standing before God to give an account for the church that I lead. I wish I did not have to continually weep while watching people I love dearly shipwreck their faith and lives through folly, rebellion, sin, and hard-heartedness, and deception. I wish I never had to climb on another airpoane to preach the gospel, because the picture of my children crying as I drive away haunts me while I am away from them. I wish I knew the future and how Jesus will prune me next so that I could wince to lessen its sting before the blow lands. But Jesus has called me to trust him by faith and to endure more pruning so that more fruit can be harvested for his kingdom. And for this reason, it is my deepest wish that Jesus keep pruning me, because I love him, want to be with him, want to be like him, and enjoy being on mission with him more than anything.”

Well, my review of Sharon James’ My Heart in His Hands (a biography of the life of Ann Judson) will have to wait until tomorrow, since I’ll need to spend a little more time on it while I’m awake in order to do it justice.

Ta-ta for now!