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"Finding Home" by Jim Daly is a memoir that explores the author's journey to faith and family through a turbulent childhood marked by abandonment and abuse. Daly shares candidly about the struggles he faced and the impact they had on his relationships and beliefs. Ultimately, he finds healing and redemption through his faith and the love of his wife and children, showing that even the most imperfect paths can lead to a sense of belonging and hope.

Hudson Taylor

Hudson Taylor "China is not to be won for Christ by quiet, ease-loving men and women … The stamp of men and women we need is such as will put Jesus, China, [and] souls first and foremost in everything and at every time—even life itself must be secondary." In September 1853, a little three-masted clipper slipped quietly out of Liverpool harbor with Hudson Taylor, a gaunt and wild-eyed 21-year-old missionary, aboard. He was headed for a country that was just coming into the Christian West's consciousness; only a few dozen missionaries were stationed there. By the time Taylor died a half-century later, however, China was viewed as the most fertile and challenging of mission fields as thousands volunteered annually to serve there. Radical missionary Taylor was born to James and Amelia Taylor, a Methodist couple fascinated with the Far East who had prayed for their newborn, "Grant that he may work for you in China." Years later, a teenage Hudson experienced a spiritual birth during an intense time of prayer as he lay stretched, as he later put, "before Him with unspeakable awe and unspeakable joy." He spent the next years in frantic preparation, learning the rudiments of medicine, studying Mandarin, and immersing himself ever deeper into the Bible and prayer. His ship arrived in Shanghai, one of five "treaty ports" China had opened to foreigners following its first Opium War with England. Almost immediately Taylor made a radical decision (as least for Protestant missionaries of the day): he decided to dress in Chinese clothes and grow a pigtail (as Chinese men did). His fellow Protestants were either incredulous or critical. Taylor, for his part, was not happy with most missionaries he saw: he believed they were "worldly" and spent too much time with English businessmen and diplomats who needed their services as translators. Instead, Taylor wanted the Christian faith taken to the interior of China. So within months of arriving, and the native language still a challenge, Taylor, along with Joseph Edkins, set off for the interior, setting sail down the Huangpu River distributing Chinese Bibles and tracts. When the Chinese Evangelization Society, which had sponsored Taylor, proved incapable of paying its missionaries in 1857, Taylor resigned and became an independent missionary; trusting God to meet his needs. The same year, he married Maria Dyer, daughter of missionaries stationed in China. He continued to pour himself into his work, and his small church in Ningpo grew to 21 members. But by 1861, he became seriously ill (probably with hepatitis) and was forced to return to England to recover. In England, the restless Taylor continued translating the Bible into Chinese (a work he'd begun in China), studied to become a midwife, and recruited more missionaries. Troubled that people in England seemed to have little interest in China, he wrote China: Its Spiritual Need and Claims. In one passage, he scolded, "Can all the Christians in England sit still with folded arms while these multitudes [in China] are perishing—perishing for lack of knowledge—for lack of that knowledge which England possesses so richly?" Taylor became convinced that a special organization was needed to evangelize the interior of China. He made plans to recruit 24 missionaries: two for each of the 11 unreached inland provinces and two for Mongolia. It was a visionary plan that would have left veteran recruiters breathless: it would increase the number of China missionaries by 25 percent. Taylor himself was wracked with doubt: he worried about sending men and women unprotected into the interior; at the same time, he despaired for the millions of Chinese who were dying without the hope of the gospel. In 1865 he wrote in his diary, "For two or three months, intense conflict … Thought I should lose my mind." A friend invited him to the south coast of England, to Brighton, for a break. And it was there, while walking along the beach, that Taylor's gloom lifted: "There the Lord conquered my unbelief, and I surrendered myself to God for this service. I told him that all responsibility as to the issues and consequences must rest with him; that as his servant it was mine to obey and to follow him." His new mission, which he called the China Inland Mission (CIM), had a number of distinctive features, including this: its missionaries would have no guaranteed salaries nor could they appeal for funds; they would simply trust God to supply their needs; furthermore, its missionaries would adopt Chinese dress and then press the gospel into the China interior. Within a year of his breakthrough, Taylor, his wife and four children, and 16 young missionaries sailed from London to join five others already in China working under Taylor's direction. Strains in the organization Taylor continued to make enormous demands upon himself (he saw more than 200 patients daily when he first returned) and on CIM missionaries, some of whom balked. Lewis Nicol, who accused Taylor of tyranny, had to be dismissed. Some CIM missionaries, in the wake of this and other controversies, left to join other missions, but in 1876, with 52 missionaries, CIM constituted one-fifth of the missionary force in China. Because there continued to be so many Chinese to reach, Taylor instituted another radical policy: he sent unmarried women into the interior, a move criticized by many veterans. But Taylor's boldness knew no bounds. In 1881, he asked God for another 70 missionaries by the close of 1884: he got 76. In late 1886, Taylor prayed for another 100 within a year: by November 1887, he announced 102 candidates had been accepted for service. His leadership style and high ideals created enormous strains between the London and China councils of the CIM. London thought Taylor autocratic; Taylor said he was only doing what he thought was best for the work, and then demanded more commitment from others: "China is not to be won for Christ by quiet, ease-loving men and women," he wrote. "The stamp of men and women we need is such as will put Jesus, China, [and] souls first and foremost in everything and at every time—even life itself must be secondary." Taylor's grueling work pace, both in China and abroad (to England, the United States, and Canada on speaking engagements and to recruit), was carried on despite Taylor's poor health and bouts with depression. In 1900 it became too much, and he had complete physical and mental breakdown. The personal cost of Taylor's vision was high on his family as well: his wife Maria died at age 33, and four of eight of their children died before they reached the age of 10. (Taylor eventually married Jennie Faulding, a CIM missionary.) Between his work ethic and his absolute trust in God (despite never soliciting funds, his CIM grew and prospered), he inspired thousands to forsake the comforts of the West to bring the Christian message to the vast and unknown interior of China. Though mission work in China was interrupted by the communist takeover in 1949, the CIM continues to this day under the name Overseas Missionary Fellowship (International).

how to find joy in your work

“In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth” (Genesis 1:1). One of the sadder experiences in our fallen states is so easily losing our sense of wonder in the most familiar things — like the first verse in the Bible, as laden with glory as it is. We easily stop pondering it because we think we understand it, even though we may have only scratched the surface of its meaning. Has it ever hit you that the first verse in the Bible is about  work  — what God calls his creative activity (Genesis 2:2)? Or that the very first work undertaken is described as  creative  — not drudgery to avoid? Or that God really  enjoyed  his work? The more we think about the whole first chapter of Genesis, the more glorious things we see regarding how God views  his  work, and the wonderful, liberating implications it has on how we are to view  our  work. God Works for Joy So where do we get the idea that God enjoys his work? From the last verse of the first chapter in the Bible: And God saw everything that he had made, and behold, it was very good. (Genesis 1:31) No, the word “joy” isn’t explicitly there, but it’s there. God doesn’t have sin-disordered affections and emotions like we do. God always experiences the appropriate joy from good work (Philippians 2:13) — even his brutal work on the cross (Hebrews 12:2). And being made in his image, we also receive joy from his work (Psalm 92:4). It’s amazing to think about: the very first thing the Bible teaches us about God is that he engaged in incredibly vigorous, prolonged, creative work, and he  enjoyed  it— both the work itself and the fruit of his work. God never works just to get a paycheck. God never works to prove himself out of some kind of internal insecurity. He never works to get something he needs, for he provides everything for his creation out of his abundance (Acts 17:25). God’s work is always the overflow of his joy in being the triune God. And as Jonathan Edwards said, “It is no argument of the emptiness or deficiency of a fountain that it is inclined to overflow” (God’s Passion for His Glory, 165). God works for the immediate and ultimate joy of it! We’re Designed to Work for Joy And here’s where the wonderful, liberating implications for us come in. God made us in his image and gives us work to do — work that’s like his: So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them. And God blessed them. And God said to them, “Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth and subdue it, and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the heavens and over every living thing that moves on the earth.” (Genesis 1:27–28) God created us to do work similar to his work and to experience from work similar benefits, appropriate to our capacities. Our work is to be  creative  (“be fruitful and multiply”),  vigorous  (“have dominion . . . subdue”), and give us  joy  (God “blessed” us with his mandate). God always meant for our work to be sharing with him in his work, and sharing his joy. We aren’t meant to work just to get a paycheck, or to prove our worth, or to gain our identity because we’re insecure or prideful. God didn’t design work to be a drudgery, or a necessary evil. That disease infected our work when we fell from grace. What Destroys Our Joy in Work A curse infected our work the day our original forebears trusted the viper’s promise over God’s: “Because you have . . . eaten of the tree of which I commanded you, ‘You shall not eat of it,’ cursed is the ground because of you; in pain you shall eat of it all the days of your life; thorns and thistles it shall bring forth for you; and you shall eat the plants of the field. By the sweat of your face you shall eat bread, till you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken; for you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” (Genesis 3:17–19) This is work as we experience it in this age: lots of sweat-producing effort yielding lots of thorns and thistles. The ground (or its equivalent for us) fights us, our tools fail us, our indwelling, prideful or slothful sin inhibits us, our frail bodies weaken us, other sinners impede us, demons assail us. Like all of creation, our work is subjected to futility by God (Romans 8:20). This is why we often resent or even hate work: our sin and the curse make it so hard. So we avoid work, or we turn it into a pragmatic, mercenary enterprise to buy something or to give us an identity we believe will bring us joy. But that’s not what work is for. We are not meant to prostitute our work to get money or status. God meant our work to creatively and vigorously steward some part of his creation, to be a means of providing for our needs and serve others, and to bring us joy. And God has made that possible, even in this futile age, no matter our circumstances. What Restores Our Joy in Work Here is stunning good news, which brings unconquerable hope, for every worker who will believe it: Therefore, my beloved brothers, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labor is not in vain. (1 Corinthians 15:58) Wait, our labor is  not  in vain? Isn’t that what futility is? Yes! And part of the gospel is that labor done “in the Lord” is not in vain because it cannot ultimately be derailed by the curse of sin. What is labor done “in the Lord”? Does that only apply to “kingdom work”? Yes. But “kingdom work” encompasses  everything  Christians do: Whatever you do , work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men, knowing that from the Lord you will receive the inheritance as your reward. You are serving the Lord Christ. (Colossians 3:23–24) This means God wants  every  work we undertake, no matter who we are or what we do, to be a “work of faith” (2 Thessalonians 1:11), done in the strength he supplies (1 Peter 4:11). We give ourselves wholly to God, knowing he bought us with a price (1 Corinthians 6:20), and we do the work he gives our hands to do for his sake. For we serve the Lord Christ, not men and not money. Wherever You Work Even though we still suffer the effects of the curse, the death and resurrection of Jesus, which redeems all things for Christians, liberates our faith-fueled labors from being in vain, and causes them to work for our eternal good and joy (Romans 8:28).  He  restores our joy in our work. Therefore, my beloved brothers and sisters,  whatever  God gives your hands to do today, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the creative, vigorous, joy-producing work of the Lord.

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