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Thank-you for the opportunity to read Richard Ing's book. As a writer on Spiritual Warfare, he is worth reading - packed with good teaching and some relevant case history based on his own experience.

- wayne pasco (9 months ago)

About the Book


"Waging Spiritual Warfare" by Richard Ing is a guide to understanding and confronting spiritual battles. It explores the importance of spiritual warfare in the Christian faith, provides practical strategies for recognizing and overcoming spiritual attacks, and offers biblical wisdom for strengthening one's spiritual defenses. Overall, the book aims to empower readers to stand firm in their faith and actively engage in spiritual warfare.

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).

The Very First Prayer

From the opening chapters of the Bible, God makes it clear that humanity was created to enjoy life with God, and God in life — to experience the radiance of his presence and listen to him speak “close up.” Adam and Eve walked with God in the garden, which God himself has provided for this very purpose. And they are charged to turn the whole of creation into a place where God can be known and enjoyed (see Genesis 1:28 and 2:15–16). Relating to God, for them, was natural and unhindered. After the events of Genesis 3, of course, everything gets so much harder. “From the opening chapters of the Bible, God makes it clear that humanity was created to enjoy life with God.” God’s grand plan for his people and his world remains the same, but suddenly the way to God is littered with obstacles, as the ease of relating to God is replaced with struggle. In fact, it’s not altogether clear how our first parents are supposed to relate to God as they leave the now inaccessible garden behind (Genesis 3:24). The task they were commissioned to do in Genesis 1:28 remains, but it now will be tackled against the grain of a broken creation and without the immediate presence of the Creator. Which brings us to Genesis 4. First Recorded Prayer After the exclusion of the original couple from Eden, the narrative immediately jumps to the birth of Cain and then Abel. The intriguing note of Genesis 3:15 has set us up to expect an individual who is able to undo the recently created chaos of sin. Both brothers are pictured bringing offerings to God (the awareness of our obligation to the one who made us remains intact), but the violent events which follow do little beyond showing that the hope of humanity must be found elsewhere — and yet, remarkably, God has continued to speak to his people. Cain’s evil quickly spirals further out of control, as he settles down in a city (Genesis 4:17), rather than continuing to “fill the earth and subdue it,” and then fathers a dynasty of self-reliant men, culminating in the brutality of Lamech, who boasts to his wives that if anyone messes with him, he will exact disproportionate revenge (Genesis 4:24). At this point in the tragic narrative, we find these words: And Adam knew his wife again, and she bore a son and called his name Seth, for she said, “God has appointed for me another offspring instead of Abel, for Cain killed him.” To Seth also a son was born, and he called his name Enosh. At that time people began to call upon the name of the Lord. (Genesis 4:25–26) Initially, Genesis 4:25 raises our hopes. Cain and Abel are not to be the sole heirs of Adam — there is another son, Seth. Eve’s own words, highlighting that he is another “offspring” (same word in Genesis 3:15), lead us to expect more detail, and hopefully a bright counterpoint to the darkness of Cain and his line. However, we get no details whatsoever about Seth. He is born, and then his sole contribution to the unfolding plan of God is to sire a son, Enosh. Like his father, Enosh makes no contribution to the narrative beyond providing a descendant. All this makes it doubly puzzling when the birth of Enosh leads people to begin calling on the name of the Lord, apparently for the first time. Why Pray Now? The phrase “at that time” in the first five books of the Bible tends to introduce significant incidents (for example, Genesis 12:6; 38:1; Deuteronomy 1:9). In this case, the striking nature of the action (calling on the name of the Lord) is a further signal that something important is going on. But it is puzzling — what could possibly have occasioned this “new start” in humanity’s relationship with God? Seth is born, but does nothing else. Now Enosh is born, and similarly, there appears to be nothing remarkable about his birth. So what are we to make of this? What prompted them to seek God in this way now? It’s theoretically possible that this is simply a chronological note. Given the fact, however, that not one word is wasted in the opening chapters of the Bible, and every phrase seems loaded with significance for the unfolding narrative, this seems highly unlikely. Rather, it seems that starting to “call on the name of the Lord” is the right response to the fact that Cain and Abel, Seth and Enosh have all shown up, but there is, as yet, no sign of the promised Serpent-Crusher of Genesis 3:15. The waiting — and the appealing to God to act — has begun. We Ask for What He Promised This is the first address to God after the fall — and it is a cry to God to act by fulfilling his promises. In the Institutes, John Calvin says, “Just as faith is born from the gospel, so through it our hearts are trained to call upon God’s name” (III XX.21). I think that’s what’s going on here in Genesis 4. The announcement of Genesis 3:15 has brought gospel hope to life, which in turn leads God’s people to ask God to act. The gospel gives birth to gospel-shaped prayer. “Prayer is a means of communion with God, but far more often it is simply asking God to do what he has promised to do.” As we look at prayers throughout the Bible, it becomes increasingly apparent that they are dominated by this single concern: to see God act to fulfill his promises as he advances his plan of redemption in our world. That’s not to say, of course, that our relationship with God can be reduced to this one thing. There are lots of activities that we are invited or commanded to engage in as part of our relationship with God (like praise, or repentance, or intercession, or lament, or thanks). When it comes to prayer, however, the Bible seems to have a much narrower focus than we would normally allow. Prayer is a means of communion with God, but far more often it is simply asking God to do what he has promised to do. Until Prayer Is Unnecessary This simple observation, which flows naturally from Genesis 4:25–26, does cut through much of the guilt and confusion we often feel about prayer. Prayer begins with asking God to do his gospel work. This is presumably why Jesus can encourage us to pray unhypocritical, to-the-point kingdom prayers (Matthew 5:5–14). Prayer isn’t primarily communing with God, let alone twisting his arm, but asking God to do what he is already committed to doing (see Luke 11:5–13). It is easy to miss the significance of Genesis 4:25–26, but that doesn’t mean that it isn’t a beautifully gospel-shaped clue to how people like you and me are to relate to the God who loves us this side of the fall. We are to pray — asking God to do what he has promised — until that day when prayer is no longer needed, because all things have already been made new and all his promises have been brought to perfect fruition. But until then? We keep praying like people of the day of Seth and Enosh, asking God to act for our good and his glory. Article by Gary Millar

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