Devoted for Life: The Legacy of Adoniram Judson

We have just finished 3 weeks on the Biblical vision of singleness, and next week, we begin a new series called Christmas at Renewal. Here’s what that month will be about: The Christmas season is now often marked with ideas of adding to what you already have, the hopes of receiving new things to enjoy. But the Christian is not enthralled with fancy gadgets and upgrades of electronics or things to add to the house. We are not about gathering things in this life for us to enjoy; we are about giving up our lives so that can others can enjoy . Starting next week, we will be talking about what it means when Jesus says, “It is better to give than receive.” And what it means for us as Christians to give away our resources, time, comfort, in order that others might come to find and follow the greatest treasure in this life and the one to come: a relationship with Jesus. So, the timing I don’t find coincidental. One on hand, we come together this morning after a time of thanksgiving. And after this week, we will come together to orient our hearts toward the priority God lays out for giving, going, and sacrificing to see others gain life found in Christ. When I think about these two themes: thankfulness and sacrifice, I can’t help but turn to individuals who have exemplified a life worthy of imitation. This morning, I want to introduce to you to someone whom I have a great deal of respect for. He died 167 years ago, but he’s done just as much for me if not more than those living. His name is Adoniram Judson—and I also want to introduce you to his first wife, Ann— often called Nancy—Judson.

Now before I start on their stories, someone might be asking to themselves, “Why does this matter? Why spend an entire message on their stories?” I remember when I first read their biographies. If there had been any season of my life marked with disappointment and anger and darkness, this was it. I spent three months in Guatemala 5 years ago, and I had this book in hand. And God used it to do some serious work in my heart, and for that, I am thankful. So, let me give you 5 quick reasons for why I am thankful for the Judsons and for why we should take up reading stories of men and women like them.

1) I am thankful for the Judson’s because they have shown me what godly ambition looks like. They had massive dreams that did not find their ultimate fulfillment in any sort of luxury or fame; instead, their singular aim was to make much of God in the very short life they had. When they envisioned the future, what they hoped to accomplish had everything to do about God and seeing lost souls worshipping and loving and serving Him. They weren’t wrapped up in self. So much of the world we live in today is filled with selfish ambition.

2) I am thankful for the Judson’s because they have modeled for me a deep, abiding faith in their sovereign and benevolent God. They left America as the first Protestant missionaries to be sent overseas—and not knowing what trials or sufferings would befall them (and many did) they resigned their lot into the hands of their Maker who was a “loving Planner” with a “just Plan.” When unimaginable tragedies would strike them like a sword thrust into someone’s side, their knee-jerk reaction was to look to God as the “lifter of their heads.”

3) I am thankful for the Judson’s because their stories serve me like a fire alarm serves a sleeping resident whose apartment is on fire. Everything in this world is set up to have my love for God grow cold and my obedience to Him wane, “What good is it gain the whole world and yet forfeit my soul?” Matthew 16:26 What good is it to get promotions in my career, get A’s in my schooling, settle down with a spouse and focus on my family, move somewhere with greater comfort and security—and yet, forfeit my own discipleship and growth and the priority God places on the lost? Stories like Judson’s are like a fire alarm, because they save me from drowning in the undertow of worldly concerns.

4) I am thankful for the Judson’s because their story strengthens my faith. Living for Jesus is not easy—anyone who is a follower and not a fan of Jesus—knows this. Paul says the Christian life is like running a race where a ton of energy must be exerted. Runners get weary. Their legs and arms grow weak, they get cramps in their sides, the heart becomes fatigued, and sometimes, their bodies can shut down. And runners can start to hear this voice that screams, “Stop! Fall to the ground and give up! Leave the race— it’s too much.” The author of Hebrews knows this temptation is an ongoing. And one of the encouragements we’re given in that book is when we reach that point, consider those who have preserved in finishing the race. In the moments when I want to throw in the towel, I think about Adoniram and Ann Judson standing at the finish line saying, “God gave us what we needed to finish! He will do the same to you! Look to him! He is your strength!” Their witness to God’s amazing power and God’s faithfulness supplies what I need to keep going.

5) I am thankful for the Judsons because they illustrate in flesh and bone what obedience to Jesus looks like. Their lives are real life applications to God’s commandments. I can read instructions from the and ask myself, “How am I supposed to live that out? What does obedience to God’s Word here look like?” And their lives give a glimpse of an answer.

There are more reasons I could give for why I want to share their story with you, but I’ll save them so that I can actually get to it. Paul says in Philippians, “Whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.” We know these virtues find their consummation in Christ, and anything that is an echo of Christ’s excellence is worthy of our attention. We take up that commandment now by looking at the story of the Judsons.

Adoniram grew up as a preacher’s kid. But in adolescence, he revolted against the idea of God. Desiring to blaze his own path, he left home and went to New York to pursue theater. His endeavor did not go well; one night he abandoned his little band of players that he had traveled with. He really had no place to go; he just knew he didn’t want to return home to Plymouth. He found himself passing through a small village and stopped at a small inn and asked the innkeeper if he might have a room for the night. Only one was available and it was right next to young man critically ill who would probably not last through the night. That entire evening, he heard squeaking boards as feet went to and from the room to take care of the boy. Gasps and groans filled the early morning hours. Adoniram was uneasy: “Was this man prepared for death?” Was he?”

That morning, he tried to shake it off the experience until he inquired about the status of the boy. The innkeeper relayed the news: the boy was dead. Adoniram, the inquisitive person he was, asked who the young man was? His name: Jacob Eames. Adoniram’s world spun around. This was a friend from Brown University; not just any friend—one of his closest. Jacob had strong opinionated views of religion, declaring himself a Deist as best. He was not at all a follower of the God Adoniram’s father followed. This friendship deeply influenced Adoniram. But now, Jacob was dead. Adoniram could not help but wander, “What if Jacob was wrong?” Adoniram knew the God his father and mother worshipped: All-Powerful and All-Knowing, Purposeful in All of His Actions; though he was the valedictorian of his university class at Brown and superior to peers and elders in reasoning, this experience shattered all his logic and he could not help but think, “God has brought me here to warn me.” He left the inn with the one place he knew to go: home to Plymouth. His running from God had finally taken its toll and come to an end.

He did not know his destiny, but he knew it was not linked to following after his own ambitions. Instead “He banished forever the dreams of literary and political ambition in which he had formerly indulged, and simply asked himself, “How shall I so order my future being as best to please God?” Oh, the words of a man surrendered to God. I pray those be your words this morning.

He had enrolled in seminary at Andover and displayed an exceeding talent for the languages, esp. those of the Old and : Hebrew and Greek. This question, however, about where best to please God remained unanswered. In September after his first year at seminary, he came across a sermon called, “A Star in the East” which highlighted the need for missionary service in the Eastern world. The seed for missionary service had been planted. But America had never before sent out a missionary—how would that happen?

As providence would have it, there were a few other men God was raising up to answer his call to foreign missions: , , Jr. and . They presented themselves to the Massachusetts General Associations for missionary work, and as a result, the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions (ABCFM) was formed. E very American missionary ever sent out stands on the shoulders of these men, and to be from Massachusetts of all places. In 1810, the same year he first attended Andover, Adoniram set his eyes on a beautiful lady named Ann Judson at a dinner party just east of the seminary campus. One month from the day he met her, he declared his intentions by means of a letter. Her response: before she would even consider Adoniram, her parents must give consent. So, he took to the pen again this time writing her father (and now, I want to read what he wrote):

I have now to ask, whether you can consent to part with your daughter early next spring, to see her no more in this world; whether you can consent to her departure, and her subjection to the hardships and sufferings of a missionary life; whether you can consent to her exposure to the dangers of the ocean; to the fatal influence of the southern climate of India; to every kind of want and distress; to degradation, insult, persecution, and perhaps a violent death. Can you consent to all this, for the sake of him who left his heavenly home, and died for her and for you; for the sake of perishing, immortal souls; for the sake of Zion, and the glory of God? Can you consent to all this, in hope of soon meeting your daughter in the world of glory, with the crown of righteousness, brightened with the acclamations of praise which shall redound to her Saviour from heathens saved, through her means, from eternal woe and despair?

Her father and mother left the decision up to her. And she said, “Yes.”

On Feb. 5th, 1812, the two were married. On Feb. 6th,19th, only two weeks later (so much for a honeymoon), they set sail along with a small team out from Salem, Massachusetts on boat called Caravan. Ann was 23. Adoniram was 25. One of the wives that hopped on the boat that cold morning was only 17 years old. None of them had plans for ever returning to America, but they left with the promise of Jesus in Mark 10:29-30: “No one who has left home or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields for me and the gospel will fail to receive a hundred times as much in this present age: homes, brothers, sisters, mothers, children and fields—along with persecutions—and in the age to come eternal life.” Their destination was India.

During their four-month voyage, Adoniram spent hours studying the topic of . His studies convinced him more and more of the Baptist position re: baptism through immersion. And so did Ann. This presented a problem, because their funding came from a Congregationalist Board. Would their departure of the Congregationalist position sever their support? What would their American friends think back home of learning of this decision? None of this bothered Adoniram, for he acted courageously according to his conscience willing to face whatever consequences God seemed fit to bring.

After landing in India, the local authorities did not take well to Americans evangelizing to , and the group of missionaries was forced to dissemble and find their own fields of ministry. Adoniram Judson was a trailblazer—a pioneer. It was his virtue of gritty determination and resoluteness that sometimes made him appear pushy and stubborn. This personality suited him well for the twists and turns he encountered on the mission field. Back in seminary, he had read this small book called Embassy to Ava, which described the country of Burma. What particularly caught his attention was that the Burmese people did not have the Bible in their own language. His mind was set: this was where they were to go.

They talked it over with some friends in Madras, India. The consensus among all their friends was anonymous: don’t go near Burma. Especially because Ann was so far along in pregnancy. But how could they say no? Two days before they left, she wrote this in her journal:

But I most sincerely hope that we shall be able to remain…among the Burmans, a people who have never heard the sound of the Gospel, or read, in their own language, of the love of Christ. Though our trials may be great, and our privations many and severe, yet the presence of Jesus can make us happy, and the consciousness that we have sacrificed all for his dear cause, and are endeavoring to labor for the salvation of immortal souls, will enable us to bear our privations and trials, with some degree of satisfaction and delight.

They set sail from the Bay of to Burma. But the crew experienced heavy winds and strong waters. Ann went into delivery with no physician or attendant, and the baby was born dead and buried at sea. The couple finally arrived in Rangoon where they would settle down and start a mission. Within a few days, Adoniram found a teacher that would help him learn the language. He would study some twelve hours a day. What discipline, what commitment to the one thing God had called him to do. The routine of Adoniram studying, the writing of tracts, trips into town to share the Gospel, and Ann responsible for the management of the household (no small task!) and the evangelization to women lasted for years. With no fruit or avail.

By 1815, Ann gave birth to a son. His name was Roger. The first baby of white parents in Rangoon. By March 1816, Roger was sweating heavily at night and had a fever during the day. And to top it off, Adoniram was getting attacked by excruciating headaches. Reading or writing caused unbearable pain. Adoniram was in this state for a month and a half. And Ann had to take care of both him and the baby. Roger fluctuated—sometimes healthy, sometimes sick. But the baby’s health failed toward the beginning of May dying in his sleep. Ann wrote in her diary:

“Our hearts were bound up in this child; we felt he was our earthly all, our only source of innocent recreation in this heathen land. But God saw it necessary to remind us of our terror, and to strip us of our only little all. Oh may it not be in vain that he has done it. May we so improve it; that he will stay his hand and say, “It is enough.”

When for a moment we realize what we once possessed the wounds open and bleed afresh. Yet we would still say, “Thy will be done.”

After six long years of translating, studying, holding prayer meetings, passing out tracts, day by day answering questions from the Burmese, enduring the severity of weather, not losing hope when the plague of sickness hit, at last, a seed had started to grow. Adoniram saw his first convert . Can you imagine laboring for six years without seeing any real reward for all you’ve poured into a task? Renewal is four years old. And God has been incredibly gracious to us. We’ve seen Jesus change people from the inside out. But what if he withheld his hand from us for two years, three, years, four years? Would we keep at it or would we move on? It takes a man or woman unshakably confident in God to keep at it like the Judsons.

In August of 1821, Nancy had to return to the states—the first time she had been back since her departure in Salem: over 9 years had passed. Her liver problems were growing increasingly worse and if she did not get help, she would not make it. She did not return to Rangoon until December 5, 1823. If you add up that up, that’s 27 months apart. The last ten months, Adoniram did not hear a word from No letter had arrived. Ann. Think about that 27 months of celibacy, 27 months of day-by-day entrusting yourself into your Savior’s plan, 27 months of fighting off the “What If’s” and worry and despair.

While she was gone, he threw himself into translation finishing up the entire New Testament and a summary of the in twelve sections. The work of translation was tedious. He did not want to give the Burmese a translation from English to Burmese. No, he translated into Burmese from the original languages of the Bible— Hebrew and Greek. His education back in America had paid off as well as his staunch 13 hour a day routine of studying.

And how was Ann doing? Back in the States and on the road to recovery from her liver disease and in spite of her terrible coughing and pains in her side wrote a book under the title An Account of the American Baptist Mission to the Burman Empire. She had been given the talent to write, and she would use it in sickness or in health in service of her Lord. Ann was not a woman that gave into complaints or murmurings or the “woe is me” mentality. She got after it. Bold as a lion! She was battling for her life and what is she up to? She’s writing this book to fund the work her and her husband are doing.

The same year Ann returned back to Adoniram in Burma, the Judsons moved from Rangoon to the capital, Ava. The emperor lived at the capital, and they risked living so close to him with their attempts at propagating the Christian religion. In May of 1823, a British fleet attacked a harbor in Rangoon. Because of this, all westerners were seen in the eyes of the government as spies. Judson was dragged from his home June 8th, 1824 and put in prison. Up to this point, Adoniram had seen only 18 converts, but he had also completed the Burmese New Testament. That was his work of 12 years.

Ann was in a state of distress. Getting word the Burmese officials were confiscating property of the Westerners, Ann hid any gold and silver in the mission yard, and took special care of Adoniram’s translations and Bible notes wrapping them carefully in a bundle and burying them a ways off from the house. Ann was pregnant at this time, but this did not stop her from walking two miles each day to plead for mercy for the prisoners at the palace. She daily attended to Adoniram bribing the guards with gifts so she could supply him some food. Adoniram had a plan to continue his translation of the Old Testament, even in these conditions. He would have Ann bring a pillow so hard and uncomfortable, so poor in appearance, it would not be coveted by the guards. Ann hid the translations inside the pillow so Adoniram could guard it. Thus, he was able to continue the work. The conditions of the prison were terrible. The prisoners had their feet fettered and at night a long horizontal bamboo pole was lowered and passed between the fettered legs and hoisted up till only the shoulder and heads of the prisoners rested on the ground.

Because of rotting food in their quarters, the prisoners often got vermin in their hair and had to be shaved bald. After a year in this prison, they were relocated to a more distant village. The walk was excruciating for Adoniram already weak and frail. His feet became bloodied and blistered. Mosquitoes taking advantage of his condition went after these infections and were a constant form of torture. Ann followed Adoniram to this village and by now had already given birth to a little girl, Maria. But Ann became sick herself, so much so, she was unable to provide milk for the baby. By God’s grace, Ann was able to talk the guards into letting Adoniram out for a few hours so he could take the baby to nursing mothers in the village.

After 17 long months of prison, he was finally released. The confrontation between Britain and Burma were ending, and he was used as a translator for negotiations. A year later, Ann succumbed to her health problems and died. Six months later, so did his daughter. Three months later, he got word of his father’s death.

All of this at one time overwhelmed Adoniram. He had withstood miseries of many forms: he had watched his colleagues die of dysentery, malaria, and cholera. He had endured years of 108-degree weather, sickness himself, prison, and the loss of children. But back to back to back deaths sent him over the edge, especially the death of his beloved Ann. He began to doubt why he had ever moved to Burma—if he had done it truly for the right reasons. He burned his letters of commendations, renounced his honorary Doctor of Divinity from Brown, insisted his pay be cut by one quarter, and gave any saved up money—about $6,000 to the Baptist Board. By the second year of Ann’s passing, he had isolated himself in a dangerous jungle, built a hut, and had a grave dug waiting beside it for weeks, as if waiting to die.

But Adonriam slowly climbed out of the abyss. Ironically, another death seemed to help with his recovery, that of his brother Elnathan. His last memory of his brother was the both of them riding horses together on the way to Adonriam’s wedding and ordination. That memory was still poignant in his mind even after two and half decades. Before they departed, they both knelt together in the snow and Adoniram prayed for his brother’s soul. To his knowledge, his brother had no relationship with Jesus. But the report Adoniram received of his brother’s death included a testimony of his brother’s peace with God. There was reason to believe his brother was experiencing eternal happiness in the presence of his maker. This goodness and providence of God proved to be a balm for Adoniram’s wounds. On the other side of all this suffering—the next year, 1831—God orchestrated spiritual breakthrough. Don’t take this as coincidental. The destination to glory always takes the road of suffering, at least in God’s kingdom: “Unless a seed falls to the ground and dies, it cannot bear fruit” John 12:24. Adoniram was the dying seed that had fallen to the ground. It had previously taken 9 years to see 18 converts. Five years after the war, there were 317 reported , but 217 had been made in this one-year.

By 1833, Adoniram was trying to complete 25-30 verses of the Old Testament every day; by June of 1833, only the minor prophets and historical books were left to be done. By January of 1834, he was able to write:

Thanks be to God, I can now say I have attained, I have knelt down before him, with the last leaf in my hand, and imploring his forgiveness for all the sins which have polluted my efforts in this department, and his aid in future efforts to remove the errors and imperfections which necessarily cleave to the work, I have commended it to his mercy and grace; I have dedicated it to his glory. May he make his own inspired word, now complete in the Burman tongue, the grand instrument of filling all Burma with songs of praise to our Great God and Saviour Jesus Christ. Amen.

Adoniram married two more times after Ann. The first was to the widow of a Burmese missionary, Sarah Boardman, who knew the language almost as well as he did. They got married eight years after Ann died. Sarah had 8 children with Adoniram, 5 surviving into adulthood. They were married for 11 years before she died at sea in an attempt to get well from sickness.

With now a family, he went back to the United States---only for a short time to get the kids settled and find a ship back. He had not been back to the US for 33 years; he was greeted back in the States as a celebrity, but he had only one wish: to return back to his home in Burma. Having spent much over half his life now in Burma, he identified himself as Burmese more so than American. While in the US, he fell in love for a third time, to a famous writer named . They wed in Boston, and she left the fame of writing and her career and adventured with Adoniram to Burma. They had a daughter and a son; however, the son died the same day he was born.

The latter years of his life, Adoniram dedicated his life to the creation of a Burmese- English dictionary. This would be an invaluable tool for new missionaries coming to Burma. In 1850, sickness would attack Judson one last time. Judson’s only chance was to board a ship and travel to receive medical care. The care wouldn’t come. On April 12, 1850, Adoniram died at sea away from his church, Burmese family, wife, and kids. He was in the company of one friend, Thomas Ranney.

What was Adoniram’s legacy? By the time of his death, there were 63 churches, 123 ministers, and 7,000 Baptized Christians in Burma. Even more so, the Burmese had a Bible, the very words of eternal life. Today, there are over 3,700 Baptist congregations in (modern-day Burma) that can trace their lineage back to the sufferings, perseverance, and faith of Adoniram Judson. He was known for saying this: “The motto for every missionary, whether preacher, printer, or schoolmaster, ought to be ‘Devoted for Life.’” He modeled that well.

Here’s my prayer for Renewal; namely, that God might raise up zealous, risk-taking, emboldening, fearless and faithful men and women that are passionate to make disciples. The main business for every Christian is the Father’s business. Let me ask you, what might be your role in the Great Commission—the making disciples of all nations? Who might in the years to come be able to trace their spiritual lineage back to you?

Please do not settle for a routine, safe, comfortable Christian life. Take enormous steps of faith, and you know what will happen? You will experience him in ways few have. Would you humbly and even gladly accept the sacrifices and sufferings of this short life to help secure eternity for those who do not have Jesus as their hope? Here’s my plea: give yourself to this task—through the tears and sweat and blood and unknown tragedies and inevitable pains—give yourself to this task, and even in the midst of all these things, your joy will be full.

Chelsea and I believe our role right now in fulfilling the Great Commission is to start a church in the Mission Hill neighborhood. I’ve watched the sacrifices of the Kirk family; and for them, I am thankful. And God is calling my wife and –like the Kirks—like the Judsons to fall to the ground like a seed and die. We’ve tasted only a sample of the difficulties, and I expect things to get a lot harder. It will not be a cakewalk; Jesus says to take up our crosses and follow him, so the road will be agonizing and painful.

But in this season as Chelsea is pregnant, I think about our little girl—and what view of God she’ll have. The view of God Adoniram’s father provided greatly influenced Adoniram faith and conversion experience. It was a big view of God that made the man Adoniram was: undaunted, valiant, and tough. God was his Consoler, his Provider, his Leader, his Savior.

What will your view of God lead you to do? Let’s pray.