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About the Book
"Think Big" by Ryuho Okawa is a motivational self-help book that encourages readers to set ambitious goals, believe in themselves, and take action to achieve their dreams. Okawa presents practical advice and strategies for cultivating a positive mindset, overcoming challenges, and finding success in all areas of life. Ultimately, the book emphasizes the power of positive thinking and the importance of thinking big to create a fulfilling and impactful life.
Andrew Fuller
Fuller was born in Soham, Cambridgeshire, England, where in 1775 he was ordained pastor of the Baptist church. Originally schooled in the hyper-Calvinist theology then prevalent in parts of the Particular Baptist denomination, he became convinced in 1775 that the hyper-Calvinist position was not scriptural. In 1785 he published The Gospel Worthy of All Acceptation, which did much to prepare his denomination for accepting this missionary obligation. As pastor in Kettering, Northamptonshire, from 1783, Fuller became firm friends with John Sutcliff of Olney, John Ryland of Northampton, and later the young William Carey. The strengthening missionary vision of this group bore fruit on October 2, 1792, when the Particular Baptist Society for Propagating the Gospel among the Heathen (later known as the Baptist Missionary Society) was formed in the home of one of Fuller’s deacons in Kettering. Fuller was appointed secretary. Until his death he combined the demands of a busy pastorate with managing the affairs of the BMS. He traveled extensively to raise funds for the society, especially in Scotland, which he visited five times.
Brian Stanley, “Fuller, Andrew,” in Biographical Dictionary of Christian Missions, ed. Gerald H. Anderson (New York: Macmillan Reference USA, 1998), 230-231.
This article is reprinted from Biographical Dictionary of Christian Missions, Macmillan Reference USA, copyright © 1998 Gerald H. Anderson, by permission of Macmillan Reference USA, New York, NY. All rights reserved.
Pastor, apologist, and promoter of missions
Though not university trained, Andrew Fuller was recognized by his contemporaries as the preeminent Baptist theologian of their day and was awarded honorary doctor of divinity degrees by both Princeton (1798) and Yale (1805). Fuller’s published works, preaching ministry and churchmanship was, perhaps, the primary mediating agency between the transatlantic evangelical revival and the English Particular (or “Calvinist”) Baptists who had distanced themselves from what was largely at the start an Anglican renewal movement. Fuller was also well known as a co-founder of the Baptist Missionary Society (or, the Particular Baptist Society for the Propagation of the Gospel Amongst the Heathen [est. 1792]), on whose behalf he itinerated regularly in the British Isles, lobbied the East India Company, and wrote numerous letters and magazine articles during his twenty-two year tenure as its first general secretary. He was an opponent of the British slave trade and, though a dissenting non-Anglican, an acquaintance of William Wilberforce and other members of the Clapham sect, who were key allies in Parliament. He was a pastors’ pastor who exerted no small influence for evangelical doctrine and a missionary vision through the many ordination sermons he preached. From 1782 until his death in 1815 he served as pastor of the Kettering Baptist Church and was frequent chairman of the Northamptonshire Association, a consortium which included the likes of William Carey, Samuel Pearce, John Sutcliffe, and John Ryland, Jr.
Fuller was born in 1754 at Wicken, Cambridgeshire, to non-conformist parents who worked a dairy farm. In 1775, six years after his own conversion experience, he was inducted as pastor of the forty-seven member church in Soham, where he had received his baptism and was a member. In 1776 he married his first wife, Sarah Gardiner, with whom he had eleven children, only three surviving beyond early childhood. Sarah would die in 1792, less than two months before the founding of the British Missionary Society (BMS). During this seven year pastorate, Fuller immersed himself in the literary culture of Anglo-American evangelical Calvinism. He cultivated his theological perspective and ministry philosophy by ardently studying the Scriptures alongside the works of the Reformers, seventeenth-century Puritans (especially John Owen), early English Baptists like John Bunyan and John Gill, as well as the writings of American Congregationalist philosopher-theologian and pastor, Jonathan Edwards. Fuller also acknowledged in his most popular book, The Gospel Worthy of All Acceptation (1781), the influence of the lives of John Eliot and David Brainerd, both late missionaries to the native Americans. The Gospel Worthy was Fuller’s remonstration against the hyper-Calvinism that negated the propriety of evangelistic appeals. By the 1790s, evangelical (or “strict”) Calvinism was known in England as “Fullerism” (vs. “High” or hyper-Calvinism). The Gospel its Own Witness (1800) was Fuller’s refutation of Deism. Fuller gained a reputation by these two books, especially, for publically, clearly and systematically opposing in print whatever widely held doctrines he believed were undermining the church and its mission.
In the Northamptonshire Assocation Fuller was a member of a thriving intellectual community most influenced by Edwards. In 1784 John Sutcliff initiated a “concerts of prayer” movement similar to the program suggested by Edwards in An Humble Attempt to Promote Explicit Agreement and Visible Union of God’s People in Extraordinary Prayer (1748). Baptist congregations prayed monthly for the spread of the gospel and the kingdom of Christ to the ends of the earth through all denominations. In 1791, Sutcliff, Fuller and Samuel Pearce each preached at significant events (Sutcliff and Fuller at the association meeting of pastors, Pearce at William Carey’s ordination) on the duty of the church to evangelize the whole inhabitable globe. Fuller based his appeal on the eternal truth of the gospel, the eternal relevance of the gospel, the eternal power of the gospel, and the circumstances of the age that made missionary endeavors possible and obligatory.(1) Carey’s much touted association sermon from Isaiah 54:2-3 in May of 1792 did not arise in a vacuum. The influence was mutual between Carey and Fuller, both being influenced by Robert Hall, Sr. and Samuel Pearce (who had been inspired by the Methodist Thomas Coke in Birmingham).
On October 2, 1792, the BMS was formed with Fuller its first secretary and the assumption that its support would come largely from the churches of the Northamptonshire Association. When the society sent Carey and John Thomas to India the following year, Fuller preached their commissioning service from John 20:21 (“As the Father has sent me, even so I [Christ] am sending you.”). Fuller believed the mission’s raison d’être was the uniqueness of Christ and Christian responsibility to proclaim him. Bible translation and evangelism should take priority. Hindus were not desiring or seeking the Christian Scriptures. But to ignore and neglect anyone in an unconverted state is inconsistent with the love of God and man. In addition, God had promised the messiah the inheritance of the nations (An Apology for the Late Christian Missions to India, 1808). The church is obligated to employ means and make an effort as the means God uses to fulfill that promise to Christ. Obstacles are merely a test to sincerity of faith.
Fuller spent up to ten hours per day in correspondence and reporting for the BMS. He contributed articles to Evangelical Magazine, Missionary Magazine, Quarterly Magazine, Protestant Dissenters’ Magazine, Biblical Magazine, and Theological Miscellany. He sought financial support via letters and by an average of three months of vigorous itineration each year among various evangelical churches in Scotland, Ireland, Wales and England. John Ryland, Jr. wrote of Fuller’s style, that he, “…always disliked violent pressing for contributions, and attempting to outvie other societies: he chose rather to tell a plain, unvarnished tale; and he generally told it with good effect.”(2) Through written correspondence he “pastored” the missionaries in the field while maintaining a decentralized approach to mission administration. He believed the missionaries were more capable of governing themselves and that the time required for correspondence made central control impractical anyway.
The security of the unlicensed Baptist missionary society’s place in the British Empire was frequently tenuous up to 1813. Fuller occasionally had to petition Parliament or the Board of Control for continued tolerance of the BMS. Muslim irritation at the Christian missionary presence and the conversion of some Indians from Islam had been blamed for the Vellore Mutiny of 1806. Thomas Twining had openly claimed efforts at conversion were contradictory to “the mild and tolerant spirit of Christianity.” Fuller responded to Twining and other English defenders of Hinduism with his three-part Apology for the Late Christian Missions to India (1808) in which he argued for a toleration of religion that allows all religious views as well as efforts to persuade through reasonable means. He attributed several social ills, like ritual infanticide and sati, to Hinduism, and commended the missionaries for trying to put an end to such practices. Fuller was also a critic of the “detestable traffic” of the African slave trade, asserting it made England deserving of ruin at the hands of the French (from whose invasion he urged prayer that God would mercifully protect England). The prosperity of the empire should not come at the expense of other human beings. Patriotism must “harmonize” with “good will toward [other] men.”(3) On the other hand, Fuller often counseled BMS missionaries not to become “entangled” in political concerns which were “only affairs of this life” and endangered colonial toleration of the mission.(4) Because Jesus accomplished “moral revolution” in the heart, loyalty to the British government, rather than republicanism, should be encouraged as far as it is compatible with Christian commitments.(5)
Fuller, the pastor of families in England and abroad, counseled missionary families to nurture a deep spirituality for the sake of attaining the character commensurate with the nature of the gospel and their mission. Fuller knew the vicissitudes of even the Christian heart, and the “spiritual advantage” of engaging in mission. Reflecting in his diary on July 18, 1794, he wrote:
Within the last year or two, we have formed a missionary society; and have been enabled to send out two of our brethren to the East Indies. My heart has been greatly interested in this work. Surely I never felt more genuine love to God and to his cause in my life. I bless God that his work has been a means of reviving my soul. If nothing comes of it, I and many others have obtained a spiritual advantage.(6)
Fuller died in 1815. The epitaph stone for Fuller in the Kettering meeting house says he devoted his life for the prosperity of the BMS.(7) One biographer has said Fuller “lived and died a martyr to the mission.”(8) After December, 1794, he was assisted in life by his second wife, Ann Coles. Fuller also spent himself itinerating for the British and Foreign Bible Society after it was founded in 1804. His many occasional writings and sermon manuscripts reveal a love for the gospel message itself and the life-orienting impact of Bible texts such as Matthew 28:16-20 and Mark 16:15-16; John 12:36 and 20:21; and Romans 10:9, 14-17. Fuller is noted today for making a significant contribution to the revitalization of Particular (Calvinist) Baptist life in late eighteenth century England as well as for being a key figure in the historic turn toward a proliferation of free Protestant missionary societies at the beginning of the Great Century.
he carried a cross through the empire - ignatius of antioch (35–107)
Shaded from the heat of a Syrian summer, an old man sits in shackles, speaking earnestly to a secretary. His words mingle conviction and compassion, like a father to his children. In the next room, ten of emperor Trajan’s legionaries drink off another day’s pay. For them, the road from Antioch to the Roman Colosseum will be long, but it is better than being sent a second time into the Dacian wars. It is August, AD 107. The prisoner’s name is Ignatius. Before his arrest just weeks ago, he was the bishop of Antioch. After the Apostles As Ignatius travels to the Colosseum, the church sits in a precarious spot. Ignatius’s mentor, the apostle John, has recently died. For the first time, there is no living witness to the resurrected Jesus. No leader who can comfort or correct the course of the church with apostolic authority. And yet the need for both comfort and correction is great. From outside the church, Roman society marginalizes Christians as “atheists” (those who do not acknowledge the Roman gods), and the authorities respond to rumors of strange rites in Christian worship with intensifying cycles of persecution. External pressure exposes internal fault lines among those claiming to follow in The Way. Doctrinal deviation creeps in, questioning the truth of the incarnation (Docetism) or requiring adherence to the law of Moses (Ebionism). Behavioral aberration crops up, as some take the name of Christian  but remain complacent in patterns in sin. Errors in both doctrine and practice multiply as the church continues to expand across the reaches of the Roman Empire. All of which serves to highlight the question of authority. The old ways of answering this question are gone: Christ has ascended, and his apostles have been martyred. The new and perpetual authorities are not yet in place: a creedal consensus on the faith, a recognition of the canon of Scripture, and the biblical structure of the church all remain undetermined. Seven Last Letters At just over seventy years old, Ignatius steps into this crucial moment in the life of the church by writing letters addressed to seven congregations along his route to Rome. His public ministry through these seven letters has been compared to a meteor, his brightest moment coming as he “blazes briefly through our atmosphere before dying in a shower of fire” ( Apostolic Fathers , 166). But Ignatius is much more concerned about his role as a pastor than as a martyr. As he writes, he cares more about the churches’ discipleship than his own death. He may, therefore, be better pictured like a weaver’s shuttle, carrying the thread of Christlikeness from east to west behind him as he passes through the empire, binding the churches together in the beautiful truths of the Christian life. The pattern he weaves, from the threads of his concern for the church as well as reflection on his own situation, is centered on the cross of Christ in at least five ways. 1. Branches of the Cross First, and foundationally, the cross was central to the earthly ministry of the Lord Jesus. Ignatius presented the cross as capturing the essence of Jesus’s life in this world. This acute moment of passive obedience was the consummation of lifelong humiliation. Jesus was, from first to last, “a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief” (Isaiah 53:3). This broad view of the sufferings Jesus endured — “in every respect” (Hebrews 4:15) — opens wide the door for Ignatius, as well as those to whom he writes, to share in the sufferings of Christ. In a stunning adaptation of Jesus’s words from John 15, Ignatius writes, “If anyone is the Father’s planting, they appear as branches of the cross.” To be branches in the vine, to have his life in us, means that we must “die into his sufferings,” not only as martyrs but in our mundane life as disciples (3.1). 2. Foolishly Different Hope Second, the cross is central to the Christian proclamation of the gospel. In the gospel announcement of “Christ for us,” the “passion has been made clear to us,” and we, in turn, must make it clear to others (6.7). Ignatius celebrates the saving power that was released at Calvary: we escape death in Christ’s death; we receive the new birth only because he died on our behalf. Furthermore, as a community of the redeemed, the ministry life of the church is shaped by the crucifixion. Ignatius pictures the cross as a crane lifting living stones into the temple of God (1.9). It is this cross-shaped congregation that is regularly re-formed around the broken body and spilled blood at the Lord’s Table (1.20), proclaiming the Lord’s death until he comes. This is why the church must reject those who soften the weak and foolish offense of the cross. “[Be] deaf whenever anyone speaks to you apart from Jesus Christ — really born, really persecuted, really crucified, really raised” (3.9). Otherwise — if our hope is not evidently and “foolishly” different than that of this world — someone “might praise me but blaspheme my Lord” by denying that he was God in the flesh (6.5). 3. Greatest When Most Hated Third, the cross is central to Christian discipleship. This is true for Ignatius as he is on the way to Rome to “die for [Christ] as he died for us” (4.6). His caravan has become a classroom — “I am just now learning to be a true disciple” (1.3). But Christian discipleship is deeper and wider than the spiritual gift of martyrdom. It is wider because it applies to every believer — we are all to bear “the stamp of God” rather than “the stamp of the world” (2.5). And it is deeper because the cross places a claim on the whole of our life; once we have “taken on new life through the blood of God,” our new and “righteous nature” delights to reflect the cruciform character of God in Christ. The Spirit of Christ within us enables us to imitate him rather than the world. In response to their anger, be gentle; in response to their boasts, be humble; in response to their slander, offer prayers; in response to their errors, be steadfast in the faith; in response to their cruelty, be civilized; do not be eager to imitate them . . . [instead] let us be eager to be imitators of the Lord, to see who can be the more wronged, who the more cheated, who the more rejected, in order that no weed of the devil may be found among you. (1.10) As he wrote to the church in Rome, “Christianity is greatest [most like Jesus] when it is hated by the world” (4.3). 4. Doorway to God Fourth, the cross is central to Ignatius’s longing to commune with Christ. One of the most striking aspects of these letters is the way Ignatius pleads with the believers in Rome not to interfere with his impending martyrdom out of misplaced concern. Reflecting the way Christ has turned life and death upside down, he writes, “do not hinder me from entering into life, and do not desire my death” (4.6). Ignatius’s journey to the Colosseum is, in a tangible way, a journey into the presence of God. “To be nearer to the sword is to be nearer to God” (4.2). Yet even on the way, communion with Christ in his sufferings has turned the chains draping his body into “spiritual pearls” carried “in Christ” (1.11). In this, Ignatius sets himself as an example for us to imitate. We too must “stand firm, like an anvil being struck by a hammer” (7.3). We too are storm-tossed ships still on the way to the harbor. We too “lack many things so that we may not lack God” (3.5). And yet we do not lose heart because, as the persecuted church gathers together, Christ himself is present among his people. And Christ is he “than whom nothing is better” (2.6). Indeed, “nothing is better than him” (7.1). Because of his cross, we die into his sufferings. But because of his resurrection, suffering has turned into birth pangs, the grave has been turned into a womb, and death is a doorway into life full and everlasting. 5. Scripture Unlocked Fifth, and perhaps most immediately relevant for twenty-first-century disciples who seek to follow Ignatius as he follows Christ, the cross is central to his interpretation of Scripture. Rejecting the accusation that a crucified Messiah is unknown in Israel’s Scripture, Ignatius installs the Christ of the Gospels as the “unalterable archives” out of which the wisdom of God is to be read. The lens through which the Old Testament can be rightly understood must be the person and work of Christ (5.9). For the church in the first century and the twenty-first century, Christ is known, proclaimed, worshiped, and followed as he stands forth from the Book of God, unlocked by the key of his cross and resurrection. Christ of His Cross In considering the example of Ignatius, we can receive encouragement from his faithful witness. The testimony of his life did not seep into the sand of the Colosseum to be lost but, spread through his seven letters, watered the church. We can rejoice in the Spirit-led process by which the canon of Scripture was not only recognized but was faithfully summarized in the creeds of the church, providing us with firm ground on which to stand. Most of all, however, our attention must be drawn to the cross Ignatius carried across the empire, and to which he called the church. In many ways beyond those few listed here, the Christ of this cross is our hope, our joy, and our life.