Three Objections
"May I have grace to live above every human
motive; simply with God and to God, and not
swayed, especially in missionary work, by the
opinions of people not acquainted with the state
of things, whose judgment may be contrary to my
own."
_Henry Martyn, India._
THESE letters have been put together to help our comrades at home to
realise something of the nature of the forces ranged against us, that
they may bring the Superhuman to bear upon the superhuman, and pray with
an intelligence and intensity impossible to uninformed faith. We have
long enough under-estimated the might of the Actual. We need more of
Abraham's type of faith, which, without being weakened, considered the
facts, and then, looking unto the promise, wavered not, but waxed
strong. Ignorant faith does not help us much. Some years ago, when the
first girl-convert came, friends wrote rejoicing that now the wall of
Caste must give way; they expected soon to hear it had. As if a grain of
dust falling from one of the bricks in that wall would in anywise shake
the wall itself! Such faith is kind, but there it ends. It talks of what
it knows not.
Then, as to the people themselves, there are certain fallacies which die
hard. We read, the other day, in a home paper, that it was a well-known
fact that "Indian women never smile." We were surprised to hear it. We
had not noticed it. Perhaps, if they were one and all so abnormally
depressed, we should find them less unwilling to welcome the Glad
Tidings. Again, we read that you can distinguish between heathen and
Christian by the wonderful light on the Christians' faces, as compared
with "the sad expression on the faces of the poor benighted heathen." It
is true that some Christians are really illuminated, but, as a whole,
the heathen are so remarkably cheerful that the difference is not so
defined as one might think. Then, again, we read in descriptive articles
on India that the weary, hopeless longing of the people is most
touching. But we find that our chief difficulty is to get them to
believe that there is anything to long for. Rather we would describe
them as those who think they have need of nothing, knowing not that they
have need of everything. And again and again we read thrilling
descriptions of India's women standing with their hands stretched out
towards God. They may do this in visions; in reality they do not. And it
is the utter absence of all this sort of thing which makes your help a
necessity to us.
But none of you can pray in the way we want you to pray, unless the mind
is convinced that the thing concerning which such prayer is asked is
wholly just and right; and it seems to us that many of those who have
followed the Story of this War may have doubts about the right of
it--the right, for example, of converts leaving their homes for Christ's
sake and His Gospel's. All will be in sympathy with us when we try to
save little children, but perhaps some are out of sympathy when we do
what results in sorrow and misunderstanding--"not peace, but a sword."
So we purpose now to gather up into three, some of the many objections
which are often urged upon those engaged in this sort of work, because
we feel that they ought to be faced and answered if possible, lest we
lose someone's prevailing prayer.
The first set of objections may be condensed into a question as to the
right or otherwise of our "forcing our religion" upon those who do not
want it. We are reminded that the work is most discouraging, conversions
are rare, and when they occur they seem to create the greatest
confusion. It is evident enough that neither we nor our Gospel are
desired; and no wonder, when the conditions of discipleship involve so
much. "_We_ should not like strangers to come and interfere with our
religion," write the friends who object, "and draw our children away
from us; we should greatly resent it. No wonder the Hindus do!" And one
reader of the letters wrote that she wondered how the girls who came out
ever could be happy for a moment after having done such a wrong and
heartless thing as to disobey their parents. "They richly deserve all
they suffer," she wrote. "It is a perfect shame and disgrace for a girl
to desert her own people!"
One turns from the reading of the letter, and looks at the faces of
those who have done it; and knowing how they need every bit of
prayer-help one can win for them, one feels it will be worth while
trying to show those who blame them why they do it, and how it is they
cannot do otherwise if they would be true to Christ.
This objection as to the right or wrong of the work as a whole, leads to
another relating to baptism. It is a serious thing to think of families
divided upon questions of religion; surely it would be better that a
convert should live a consistent Christian life at home, even without
baptism, than that she should break up the peace of the household by
leaving her home altogether? Or, having been baptised, should she not
return home and live there as a Christian?
Lastly--and this comes in letters from those who, more than any, are in
sympathy with us--why not devote our energies to work of a more fruitful
character? We are reminded of the mass-movement type of work, in which
"nations are born in a day"; and often, too, of the nominal Christians
who sorely need more enlightenment. Why not work along the line of least
resistance, where conversion to God does not of necessity mean fire and
sword, and where in a week we could win more souls than in years of this
unresultful work?
We frankly admit that these objections and proposals are naturally
reasonable, and that what they state is perfectly true. It is true that
work among high-caste Hindus all over India (as among Moslems all over
the world) is very difficult. It is true that open confession of Christ
creates disastrous division in families. It is true there is other work
to be done.
Especially we feel the force of the second objection raised. We fully
recognise that the right thing is for the convert to live among her own
people, and let her light shine in her own home; and we deplore the
terrible wrench involved in what is known as "coming out." To a people
so tenacious of custom as the Indians are, to a nature so affectionate
as the Indian nature is, this cutting across of all home ties is a very
cruel thing.
And now, only that we may not miss your prayer, we set ourselves to try
to answer you. And, first of all, let us grasp this fact: it is not
fair, nor is it wise, to compare work, and success in work, between one
set of people and another, because the conditions under which that work
is carried on are different, and the unseen forces brought to bear
against it differ in character and in power. There is sometimes more
"result" written down in a single column of a religious weekly than is
to be found in the 646 pages of one of the noblest missionary books of
modern days, _On the Threshold of Central Africa_. Or take two typical
opposite lives, Moody's and Gilmour's. Moody saw more soul-winning in a
day than Gilmour in his twenty-one years. It was not that the _men_
differed. Both knew the Baptism of Power, both lived in Christ and
loved. But these are extremes in comparison; take two, both
missionaries, twin brothers in spirit, Brainerd of North America and
Henry Martyn of India. Brainerd saw many coming to Jesus; Martyn hardly
one. Each was a pioneer missionary, each was a flame of fire. "Now let
me burn out for God," wrote Henry Martyn, and he did it. But the
conditions under which each worked varied as widely spiritually as they
varied climatically. Can we compare their work, or measure it by its
visible results? _Did God?_ Let us leave off comparing this with
that--we do not know enough to compare. Let us leave off weighing
eternal things and balancing souls in earthly scales. Only God's scales
are sufficiently sensitive for such delicate work as that.
We take up the objections one by one. First, "_Why do you go where you
are not wanted?_"
We go because we believe our Master told us to go. He said, "all the
world," and "every creature." Our marching orders are very familiar. "Go
ye into all the world and preach the Gospel to every creature." "All the
world" means everywhere in it, "every creature" means everyone in it.
These orders are so explicit that there is no room to question what they
mean.
All missionaries in all ages have so understood these words "all" and
"every." Nearly seven hundred years ago the first missionary to the
Moslems found no welcome, only a prison; but he never doubted he was
sent to them. "_God wills it_," he said, and went again. They stoned him
then, and he died--died, but never doubted he was sent.
Our Master Himself went not only to the common people, who heard Him
gladly, but to the priestly and political classes, who had no desire for
the truth. "Ye will not come to Me that ye might have life," He said,
and yet He gave them the chance to come by going to them. The words, "If
any man thirst, let him come unto Me and drink," were spoken to an
audience which was not thirsting for the Gospel.
St. Paul would willingly have spent his strength preaching the Word in
Asia, especially in Galatia, where the people loved him well; but he was
under orders, and he went to Europe, to Philippi, where he was put in
prison; to Thessalonica, where the opposition was so strong that he had
to flee away by night; to Athens, where he was the butt of the
philosophers. But God gave souls in each of these places; only a few in
comparison to the great indifferent crowd, but he would tell you those
few were worth going for. You would not have had him miss a Lydia, a
Damaris? Above all, you would not have had him disobey his Lord's
command?
So whether our message is welcomed or not, the fact remains we must go
to all; and the worse they are and the harder they are, the more evident
is it that, wanted or not, it is _needed_ by them.
M. Coillard was robbed by the people he had travelled far to find. "You
see we made no mistake," he writes, "in bringing the Gospel to the
Zambesi."
The second objection is, "_Why break up families by insisting on baptism
as a_ sine quâ non _of discipleship?_"
And again we answer, Because we believe our Master tells us to. He said,
"Baptising them in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the
Holy Ghost." What right have we, His servants, to stop short of full
obedience? Did He not know the conditions of high-caste Hindu life in
India when He gave this command? Was He ignorant of the breaking up of
families which obedience to it would involve? "Suppose ye that I am come
to give peace on earth? I tell you nay, but rather division." And then
come words which we have seen lived out literally in the case of every
high-caste convert who has come. "For from henceforth there shall be
five in one house divided, three against two, and two against three.
The father shall be divided against the son, and the son against the
father; the mother against the daughter, and the daughter against the
mother; the mother-in-law against her daughter-in-law, and the
daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law." These are truly _awful_
verses; no one knows better than the missionary how awful they are.
There are times when we can hardly bear the pain caused by the sight of
this division. But are we more tender than the Tender One? Is our
sympathy truer than His? Can we look up into His eyes and say, "It costs
them too much, Lord; it costs us too much, to fully obey Thee in this"?
But granted the command holds, why should not the baptised convert
return home and live there? Because he is not wanted there, _as a
Christian_. Exceptions to this rule are rare (we are speaking of Caste
Hindus), and can usually be explained by some extenuating circumstance.
The high-caste woman who said to us, "I cannot live here and break my
Caste; if I break it I must go," spoke the truth. Keeping Caste includes
within itself the observance of certain customs which by their very
nature are idolatrous. Breaking Caste means breaking through these
customs; and one who habitually disregarded and disobeyed rules,
considered binding and authoritative by all the rest of the household,
would not be tolerated in an orthodox Hindu home. It is not a question
of persecution or death, or of wanting or not wanting to be there; it is
a question _of not being wanted there_, unless, indeed, she will
compromise. Compromise is the one open door back into the old home, and
God only knows what it costs when the choice is made and that one door
is shut.
This ever-recurring reiteration of the power and the bondage of Caste
may seem almost wearisome, but the word, and what lies behind it, is the
one great answer to a thousand questions, and so it comes again and
again. In Southern India especially, and still more so in this little
fraction of it, and in the adjoining kingdoms of Travancore and Cochin,
Caste feeling is so strong that sometimes it is said that Caste is the
religion of South India. But everywhere all over India it is, to every
orthodox Hindu, part of his very self. Get his Caste out of him? Can
you? You would have to drain him of his life-blood first.
It is the strength of this Caste spirit which in South India causes it
to take the form of a determination to get the convert back. Promises
are given that they may live as Christians at home. "We will send you in
a bandy to church every Sunday!"--promises given to be broken. If the
convert is a boy, he may possibly reappear. If a girl--I was going to
say _never_; but I remember hearing of one who did reappear, after
seventeen years imprisonment--a wreck. Send them back, do you say? Think
of the dotted lines in some chapters you have read; ponder the things
they cover; then send them back if you can.
The third objection divides into two halves. The first half is, "_Why do
you not go to the Christians?_" To which we answer, we do, and for
exactly the same reason as that which we have given twice before,
because our Master told us to do so. Our marching orders are threefold,
one order concerning each form of service touched by the three
objections. The third order touches this, "Teaching them to observe all
things whatsoever I have commanded you." So we go, and try to teach them
the "all things"; and some of them learn them, and go to teach others,
and so the message of a full Gospel spreads, and the Bride gets ready
for the Bridegroom.
The second half of this last objection is, "_Why not do easier work?_
There are so many who are more accessible, why not go to them?" And
there does seem to be point in the suggestion that if there are open
doors, it might be better to enter into them, rather than keep on
knocking at closed ones.
We do seek to enter the so-called open doors, but we never find they are
so very wide open when it is known that we bring nothing tangible with
us. Spiritual things are not considered anything by most. Still, work
among such is infinitely easier, and many, comparatively speaking, are
doing it.
The larger number here are working among the Christians, the next larger
number among the Masses, and the fewest always, everywhere, among the
Classes, where conversion involves such terrible conflicts with the Evil
One, that all that is human in one faints and fails as it confronts the
cost of every victory.
But real conversion anywhere costs. By conversion we mean something more
than reformation; _that_ raises fewer storms. The kind of work, however,
which more than any other seems to fascinate friends at home is what is
known as the "mass movement," and though we have touched upon it
before, perhaps we had better explain more fully what it really is. This
movement, or rather the visible result thereof, is often dilated upon
most rapturously. I quote from a Winter Visitor: "Christian churches
counted by the thousand, their members by the million; whole districts
are Christian, entire communities are transformed." And we look at one
another, and ask each other, "Where?"
But to that question certain would answer joyously, "Here!" There are
missions in India where the avowed policy is to baptise people "at the
outset, not on evidence of what is popularly called conversion. . . . We
baptise them 'unto' the baptism of the Holy Spirit, and not because we
have reason to believe that they have received the Spirit's
baptism,"--we quote a leader in the movement, and he goes on to say, if
it is insisted "that we should wait until this change (conversion) is
effected before baptising them, we reply that in most cases we would
have to wait for a long time, and often see the poor creatures die
without the change."
Of course every effort is made by revival services and camp meetings to
bring these baptised Christians to a true knowledge of Christ, and it is
considered that this policy yields more fruit than the other, which puts
conversion first and baptism second. It is certainly richer in
"results," for among the depressed classes and certain of the middle
Castes, among whom alone the scheme can be carried out, there is no
doubt that many are found ready to embrace Christianity, as the phrase
goes, sometimes genuinely feeling it is the true religion, and desiring
to understand it, sometimes for what they can get.
It must be admitted--for we want to state the case fairly--that a mass
movement gives one a splendid chance to preach Christ, and teach His
Gospel day by day. And the power in it does lay hold of some; we have
earnest men and women working and winning others to-day, fruit of the
mass movement of many years ago.
But on the whole, we fear it, and do not encourage it here. The dead
weight of heathenism is heavy enough, but when you pile on the top of
that the incubus of a dead Christianity--for a nominal thing is
dead--then you are terribly weighted down and handicapped, as you try to
go forward to break up new ground.
So, though we sympathise with everything that tends towards life and
light in India, and rejoice with our brothers who bind sheaves,
believing that though all is not genuine corn, some is, yet we feel
compelled to give ourselves mainly to work of a character which, by its
very nature, can never be popular, and possibly never successful from a
statistical point of view, never, till the King comes, Whose Coming is
our hope.