Five things mobilizers can learn from old, dead white guys. And women. And an African American.
By Shane Bennett
I’m really not much of a historian. I know that things, important things, happened, but I’m sadly not much more sophisticated than that. If you ask when some particular event took place, I can say with reasonable confidence, “Before now.”
So it’s a risky move for me to teach mission history, like lesson eight of the Perspectives on the World Christian Movement course. It’s all history, with significant events happening in a particular order that matters, and important people saying and doing landmark things under the influence of God and their contemporary cultures. Whew! If my instructor evaluations are any indication, my students and I survived my recent go at this lesson, but barely.
What I did walk away with (in addition to a bruised ego and growing admiration for our editor/publisher who also kills at teaching history) was a set of five lessons from missionary heroes that mobilizers like us should keep in mind.
1. Advocating new directions will raise old-guard hackles.
It is the nature of mobilization to say, “Hey, how about we do this thing we haven’t done yet?” For some, that type of thinking is all fun and unicorns. Others, however, particularly those who are in charge of “what we’re currently doing,” might not be so enthusiastic.
This is what Hudson Taylor, pioneer of the effort to continue from initial coastal missions outposts to reach yet untouched inland peoples, found when began to advocate for unreached Chinese provinces. I suppose it didn’t help his cause that he’d begun to dress like a person from an unreached Chinese province! (Read more.)
To their credit, though, the guardians of the “current” had something of a case: Things are going well here. Join in with where God is moving. Maybe even, “bloom where you’re planted,” though that might be a stretch.
But we have to move forward, don’t we? For example, the 1100 unengaged, unreached Muslim people groups are off the radar of all except themselves and a Father who loves them dearly. As we advocate for such as these, let’s honor the custodians of now, while gently, persuasively calling forth the new things God has in mind.
2. Do what you can with what you have.
One of the old, dead white guys who figures prominently in this lesson, and in missions history, is Count Zinzendorf. He was a Christian who happened to have an estate. When some refugees from Bohemia came by, he allowed them to set up house there.
Hit pause for just second: Would you have done this? Are you having a hard time imagining having an estate? Me, too. But if I did, I’m afraid I’d say, “You’re good camping here for the weekend, but I’ve got company coming after that.” He did become their bishop; maybe that was part of the deal.
Turns out a revival broke out in the midst of these Moravian refugees and sparked what ended up being a 100-year-long, 24/7 prayer initiative and one of the most remarkable sending efforts in missions history. (Read more.)
Bishop Nick’s lesson for us? Well, there are a few, but since I’m all obsessed with the estate idea, here’s one: When you offer what you have, though it might not seem that great in your eyes, you never know what God might bring forth. An encouraging text. A bed to crash in. Thirty minutes of looking someone in the eye and saying in 18 different ways, “You were made for this.” You really never know what might happen.
3. It’s possible you might have blind spots.
The first time I ever taught this lesson, I made the mistake of asking if there were any questions. I’d pretty much already said everything I knew about the topic and a few things I’d guessed at. Someone raised their hand and said, “What about William Carey as a family man?”
What indeed? As you may be aware, William’s first wife did not want to accompany him to India. I don’t know all the subtle and overt pressure that was brought to bear on dear Dorothy, but I can guess. She eventually went along, hated India (especially the part where one of her children died), and eventually pretty much broke with reality. (Read more.)
Did Carey have a blind spot where caring for his family was concerned? The accuracy of hindsight makes judging in this instance seem unsporting.
This much seems clear, though: If Carey, as brilliant and hard after God as he was, could miss something like this, perhaps I have blind spots as well. Maybe you, too. It’s hard to know your blind spots (hence the name), but what you can do, what I need to do better, is to get people close enough to you to see them and gutsy enough to say what they see when they do.
4. Plodding is often the pace of God.
I want things to happen fast. I delight in the rapid movements to Jesus we increasingly hear about. But I know one of God’s basic units of work is the transformation of the human heart and that usually takes time. As do learning a language, shifting the missional direction of a church, or opening eyes that have by years of habit been closed to certain works of God. We need determination over time.
William Carey, when asked late in life how he accomplished so much, replied, “I can plod. I can persevere in any definite pursuit. To this I owe everything.” (Read more.)
It’s that grit, that determination, that helped Carey and so many others live lives that qualify them to be on the “of whom the world was not worthy” list in Hebrews 11. Don’t grow weary of doing good (Galatians 6:9), and don’t give up praying (Luke 18). God will bring about his results through you.
5. Consider how much we owe pioneering women.
The Perspectives lesson I just taught emphasizes the men who pioneered modern mission efforts but also highlights the women who were behind, alongside, and not infrequently in front of them. We’re reminded they did the same work as the men, but against prevailing social norms. As they said of Ginger Rogers, she did everything Fred Astaire did, but backwards and in high heels!
And, let’s be frank here, a lot of them also gave birth, no easy task in your home culture and rife with challenges when done in another. Sadly, they also buried many of the children they bore. I can’t even imagine that pain.
My hat is off to poor, broken Dorothy, to Hannah Marshman, Lottie Moon, to countless others, and to the contemporary missionary women Marti Wade illuminates in Through Her Eyes, a book you should probably get right now! To whatever degree it’s in my power, I want to cheer on such women and say thanks for leading us forward.