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About the Book
"Make Your Bed" by William H. McRaven is a motivational book that emphasizes the importance of small tasks in achieving success. Drawing upon his experience as a Navy SEAL, McRaven highlights how making your bed every morning can set the tone for a productive day filled with discipline and accomplishment. Through practical anecdotes and life lessons, the author encourages readers to adopt a mindset of resilience, determination, and positivity in order to overcome obstacles and make a positive impact on the world.
William Carey
"Expect great things; attempt great things."
At a meeting of Baptist leaders in the late 1700s, a newly ordained minister stood to argue for the value of overseas missions. He was abruptly interrupted by an older minister who said, "Young man, sit down! You are an enthusiast. When God pleases to convert the heathen, he'll do it without consulting you or me."
That such an attitude is inconceivable today is largely due to the subsequent efforts of that young man, William Carey.
Plodder Carey was raised in the obscure, rural village of Paulerpury, in the middle of England. He apprenticed in a local cobbler's shop, where the nominal Anglican was converted. He enthusiastically took up the faith, and though little educated, the young convert borrowed a Greek grammar and proceeded to teach himself New Testament Greek.
When his master died, he took up shoemaking in nearby Hackleton, where he met and married Dorothy Plackett, who soon gave birth to a daughter. But the apprentice cobbler's life was hardâthe child died at age 2âand his pay was insufficient. Carey's family sunk into poverty and stayed there even after he took over the business.
"I can plod," he wrote later, "I can persevere to any definite pursuit." All the while, he continued his language studies, adding Hebrew and Latin, and became a preacher with the Particular Baptists. He also continued pursuing his lifelong interest in international affairs, especially the religious life of other cultures.
Carey was impressed with early Moravian missionaries and was increasingly dismayed at his fellow Protestants' lack of missions interest. In response, he penned An Enquiry into the Obligations of Christians to Use Means for the Conversion of the Heathens. He argued that Jesus' Great Commission applied to all Christians of all times, and he castigated fellow believers of his day for ignoring it: "Multitudes sit at ease and give themselves no concern about the far greater part of their fellow sinners, who to this day, are lost in ignorance and idolatry."
Carey didn't stop there: in 1792 he organized a missionary society, and at its inaugural meeting preached a sermon with the call, "Expect great things from God; attempt great things for God!" Within a year, Carey, John Thomas (a former surgeon), and Carey's family (which now included three boys, and another child on the way) were on a ship headed for India.
Stranger in a strange land
Thomas and Carey had grossly underestimated what it would cost to live in India, and Carey's early years there were miserable. When Thomas deserted the enterprise, Carey was forced to move his family repeatedly as he sought employment that could sustain them. Illness racked the family, and loneliness and regret set it: "I am in a strange land," he wrote, "no Christian friend, a large family, and nothing to supply their wants." But he also retained hope: "Well, I have God, and his word is sure."
He learned Bengali with the help of a pundit, and in a few weeks began translating the Bible into Bengali and preaching to small gatherings.
When Carey himself contracted malaria, and then his 5-year-old Peter died of dysentery, it became too much for his wife, Dorothy, whose mental health deteriorated rapidly. She suffered delusions, accusing Carey of adultery and threatening him with a knife. She eventually had to be confined to a room and physically restrained.
"This is indeed the valley of the shadow of death to me," Carey wrote, though characteristically added, "But I rejoice that I am here notwithstanding; and God is here."
Gift of tongues
In October 1799, things finally turned. He was invited to locate in a Danish settlement in Serampore, near Calcutta. He was now under the protection of the Danes, who permitted him to preach legally (in the British-controlled areas of India, all of Carey's missionary work had been illegal).
Carey was joined by William Ward, a printer, and Joshua and Hanna Marshman, teachers. Mission finances increased considerably as Ward began securing government printing contracts, the Marshmans opened schools for children, and Carey began teaching at Fort William College in Calcutta.
In December 1800, after seven years of missionary labor, Carey baptized his first convert, Krishna Pal, and two months later, he published his first Bengali New Testament. With this and subsequent editions, Carey and his colleagues laid the foundation for the study of modern Bengali, which up to this time had been an "unsettled dialect."
Carey continued to expect great things; over the next 28 years, he and his pundits translated the entire Bible into India's major languages: Bengali, Oriya, Marathi, Hindi, Assamese, and Sanskrit and parts of 209 other languages and dialects.
He also sought social reform in India, including the abolition of infanticide, widow burning (sati), and assisted suicide. He and the Marshmans founded Serampore College in 1818, a divinity school for Indians, which today offers theological and liberal arts education for some 2,500 students.
By the time Carey died, he had spent 41 years in India without a furlough. His mission could count only some 700 converts in a nation of millions, but he had laid an impressive foundation of Bible translations, education, and social reform.
His greatest legacy was in the worldwide missionary movement of the nineteenth century that he inspired. Missionaries like Adoniram Judson, Hudson Taylor, and David Livingstone, among thousands of others, were impressed not only by Carey's example, but by his words "Expect great things; attempt great things." The history of nineteenth-century Protestant missions is in many ways an extended commentary on the phrase.
Will You Praise Him While You Wait
I have trusted in your steadfast love; my heart shall rejoice in your salvation. (Psalm 13:5) If faith is the beating heart of a Christianâs spiritual anatomy, then praise is the healthy pulse. When faith looks back upon Godâs wondrous deeds of redemption, we cannot help but praise. We praise him for parting the Red Sea with a word. We praise him for felling giants with a shepherdâs sling. We praise him for sending his Son to suffer and die. We praise him for raising Christ from the grave. âIf faith is the beating heart of a Christianâs spiritual anatomy, then praise is the healthy pulse.â Yet faith goes further still. Not content to praise God only on the far side of deliverance, faith teaches us to praise him before deliverance even comes: not only after heâs parted the Red Sea, but while the Egyptian army still presses in; not only after Goliath lies slain, but as he still taunts the hosts of Israel; not only after the stone rolls away from the tomb, but during the Sabbath silence of Holy Saturday. As David shows us in Psalm 13, such praise does not arise effortlessly. Often, it comes on the other side of agonizing prayer. How Long, O Lord? Without introduction or preamble, Psalm 13 opens in anguish: âHow long, O Lord?â The question is a familiar one for most, even if our straits have not been quite so dire as Davidâs. Pressure builds. Prayer apparently goes unheard. All the while, Godâs promises rest unfulfilled. No matter where David looks, comfort eludes him. Above, a wall of clouds hides Godâs face (Psalm 13:1). Within, cares and sorrows swirl (Psalm 13:2). Around, enemies threaten the tottering king (Psalm 13:2). Four times in two verses, David repeats his question: âHow long? . . . How long? . . . How long? . . . How long?â Yet even here, faith has not forsaken him. For all the misery wrapped up in Davidâs question, he knows that Godâs intervention is a matter not of if, but of when â not of âWill you?â but of âHow long?â His is no cry of despair thrown up into a godless sky, but rather the song of distressed trust. âConsider and Answer Meâ With each breath in the psalm, faith grows firmer. By verse 3, God is not only âO Lord,â but âO Lord my God.â At the same time, lament gives way to petition: âConsider and answer me . . . light up my eyesâ (Psalm 13:3). Genuine faith may often speak the language of lament and complaint, but eventually it takes up the language of specific request. David follows his prayers to be seen, answered, and revived with three reasons: âLest I sleep the sleep of death, lest my enemy say, âI have prevailed over him,â lest my foes rejoice because I am shakenâ (Psalm 13:3â4). These reasons may seem, at first, simply like the logic of desperation: âAnswer me or I will die!â But more is going on here than that. âWhen we merely give vent to the chaos within us, our prayers often leave us right where we started.â David, desperate as he may be, is appealing to God on the basis of his own promises. Early in Davidâs public life, God pledged that the shepherd boy would sit on the throne of Israel. Then he sealed that pledge with covenant promises: âI will make for you a great name. . . . I will give you rest from all your enemies. . . . When your days are fulfilled and you lie down with your fathers, I will raise up your offspring after youâ (2 Samuel 7:9, 11â12). In Psalm 13, those promises seem to be in jeopardy. So David sends them back to God, wrapped in prayer. When we merely give vent to the chaos within us, our prayers often leave us right where we started. But when we pray in the slipstream of Godâs promises, we often find, with David, faith slowly rising. âI Will Sing to the Lordâ Many Christians are familiar with the famous âBut Godâ statements of the New Testament (Ephesians 2:4, for example). Yet we can look not only at our sin and say, âBut Godâ; we can look also at our despair and say, âBut Iâ: But I have trusted in your steadfast love; my heart shall rejoice in your salvation. I will sing to the Lord, because he has dealt bountifully with me. (Psalm 13:5â6) No circumstance has changed; no prayer has been answered; no deliverance has arrived. Yet in a moment, enemies grow small, sorrow and care loosen their grip, and lament gives way to praise. Why? Because Davidâs prayerful meditation on Godâs promises has reminded him of something more powerful than his enemies, more certain than his sorrow: âyour steadfast love.â Another psalm of David shows us why steadfast love had such an effect on the fainting king. From the perspective of time, the steadfast love of the Lord is âfrom everlasting to everlastingâ; from the perspective of space, it is âas high as the heavens are above the earthâ; from the perspective of Godâs character, it flows from him with abundance (Psalm 103:8, 11, 17). Such steadfast love is the pledge of all Godâs promises. No wonder David sings. Today, we have even greater assurances of Godâs steadfast love: a bloody cross, an empty tomb, and a Savior who sits on the throne. And if this steadfast love is ours, then we too can sing with abandon, far before deliverance comes. For if Christ has come, and if we are in him by faith alone, then God will not fail to deal bountifully with us. Article by Scott Hubbard