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).
What Dead Abel Speaks to Us
The story of Cain and Abel in Genesis 4 tells much more about Cain than Abel. In fact, not one word is recorded from living Abel. But the author of Hebrews says that, “through [Abel’s] faith, though he died, he still speaks” (Hebrews 11:4). So what is dead Abel speaking to us? It was dusk. Cain was working late. Not wanting to face his parents, he was trying to disguise his guilt-infused fear with a preoccupation with his crops. Then suddenly the unmistakable voice of the Lᴏʀᴅ sent a shock through his core: “Where is Abel, your brother?” Cain had grown to loathe Abel. It had been building for years. No matter what, Abel always seemed to turn a situation to his advantage. Was there a conflict? Abel the Humble loved to be the first to reconcile. Did anyone need help? Abel the Servant loved to be the first to offer it. Was there an injury? Abel the Compassionate loved to be the first to comfort. Even when Cain showed greater endurance and ingenuity in his work, Abel could rob him of any satisfaction with a virtuoso performance of self-effacing virtue. What Cain found most maddening was Abel the Pious, flaunting his tender conscience and precious devotion to God for the admiration of all. Cain could barely stomach how father and mother gushed over that. With every perceived humiliation, Cain caressed the secret suspicion that Abel only used goodness to show himself superior to Cain. But that morning Cain had suffered a crushing blow. The Lᴏʀᴅ had required each brother to present an offering, the first fruits of their labors. Cain saw in this an opportunity. This time Abel would not upstage him. Cain would prove that he too could excel in devotion. So he made sure that his offering lavishly exceeded the required amount of his best produce. But when the Lᴏʀᴅ reviewed Cain’s extravagant offering, he rejected it. Cain was stunned. Then, injury to insult, the Lᴏʀᴅ accepted Abel’s comparatively simple lamb offering. Humiliated by Abel again! But this time before God! Cain was beside himself. Hatred metastasized into horror. Abel had outshined him for the last time. By late afternoon Abel’s lifeless body lay in a remote field, abandoned in the hope that a beast’s hunger would conceal the fratricide. But the Lᴏʀᴅ’s question left Cain naked and exposed (Hebrews 4:13). He lied with the anger of cornered guilt: “I do not know; am I my brother’s keeper?” What it was, in fact, that he did not know was that his silenced brother had not been quiet. The Lᴏʀᴅ replied, “What have you done? The voice of your brother’s blood is crying to me from the ground” (Genesis 4:9–10). Yes, the blood of dead Abel cried out to God for justice (Genesis 4:10; Hebrews 12:24). But the faith of dead Abel “still speaks” (Hebrews 11:4). So what is he saying to us through his faith? “Without faith it is impossible to please God” One thing we hear is that God only accepts faith-fueled offerings. It’s significant that God doesn’t provide details about either Cain’s or Abel’s offerings, the first ever recorded in the Bible. In the story, I imagined Cain trying to win God’s approval with an impressive looking offering. But it could just have easily been a stingy offering or an exactingly precise offering. The point is that right from the beginning God draws our attention away from what fallen humans think is important, namely how our works can make us look impressive, to what God thinks is important, namely how our works reveal who we trust. All of Scripture teaches us that “the righteous shall live by his faith” (Habakkuk 2:4) because “without faith it is impossible to please” God (Hebrews 11:6). Abel was “commended as righteous” by God because he presented his offering in faith (Hebrews 11:4). Cain’s offering was “evil” (1 John 3:12) because without humble trust in God, even our offerings (hear: any work we do for God) are evil to God — no matter if they appear to everyone else as obedient or impressive. “You will be hated by all for my name’s sake” A second thing we hear from Abel is that the world will hate you if you live by faith in Jesus (who the New Testament reveals is YHWH, the Lᴏʀᴅ in Philippians 2:11). The Apostle John makes this clear: “We should not be like Cain, who was of the evil one and murdered his brother. And why did he murder him? Because his own deeds were evil and his brother’s righteous. Do not be surprised, brothers, that the world hates you” (1 John 3:12–13). Abel was the first to discover that “all who desire to live a godly life in Christ Jesus will be persecuted” (2 Timothy 3:12). To “let [our] light shine before others, so that they may see [our] good works” (Matthew 5:16) will at times expose others’ wickedness and arouse their hatred (John 3:20). Jesus himself said, “you will be hated by all for my name's sake,” “some of you they will put to death” — some even at the hands of “parents and brothers and relatives and friends (Luke 21:16–17). Righteous faith arouses evil hatred. A better word than Abel’s blood In the story, though we’d rather see ourselves as Abel, we are all Cain. We were at one time cursed, “hostile to God” and alienated from him (Romans 8:7; Ephesians 4:18). Abel, the first martyr of faith, is a foreshadowing of our Lord Jesus, whose “blood… speaks a better word than the blood of Abel” (Hebrews 12:24). For though Abel’s innocent blood cried out for justice against sin, Jesus’s innocent blood cried out for mercy for sinners. Abel’s blood exposed Cain in his wretchedness. Jesus’s blood covers our wretchedness and cleanses us from all sin (Romans 7:24; 1 John 1:9). So now as we seek to present our bodies as living sacrifices to God, let us remember that the only thing that makes this acceptable to God, the only thing that makes it a spiritual service of worship, is our childlike faith in Jesus (Romans 12:1; 3:26). And let us soberly remember that the only reward this is likely to earn us from the world is its hatred. Article by Jon Bloom