A Welcome To Heaven

A Welcome To Heaven

They paid a terrible price.

AFTER THIRTY-SEVEN years as a missionary to Burma, Adoniram Judson could look back not only on good times but also on extremely difficult times. He had struggled against intense persecution, imprisonment, disease, and discouragement. Yet at the end of Judson’s labors, he could look with satisfaction on a complete Burmese translation of the Scriptures; a Burmese-English dictionary; sixty-three churches among the Burmese and Karens; and best of all, seven thousand Burmese Christians.

In November 1849 Judson was caring for his convalescing wife, Emily, as she recovered from a debilitating disease. After a cold night of caring for a sick child as well, Judson found himself ill. At first it seemed a mere cold, but dysentery and congestive fever followed. Though pregnant with their second child, Emily steadfastly ministered to him day and night as he lay in bed, wracked with unbearable pain.

After a time it became clear that he would not recover in the stifling Burmese climate. Together they decided his only chance to survive was an extended sea voyage out into the clean, ocean air, away from the pestilence of the jungle. As they talked about the possibility of his death, he remarked, “I am not tired of my work, neither am I tired of the world; yet when Christ calls me home, I shall go with the gladness of a boy bounding away from his school.” On the ship he’d have friends and doctors with him, while upon land he’d have praying friends and family. By the time he left on April 3, 1850, Judson had difficulty walking and speaking. Emily kissed his silent yet grateful lips, and he was carried to the ship.

Emily prayed hard and long, but she knew in her heart that her husband’s death was near. On April 22, their son Charlie was born but did not survive the day. Emily poured out her grief through a poem she entitled “Angel Charlie.”

He came—a beauteous vision—

Then vanished from my sight,

His wing one moment cleaving

The blackness of my night;

My glad ear caught its rustle,

Then sweeping by, he stole

The dew-drop that his coming

Had cherished in my soul.

Oh, he had been my solace

When grief my spirit swayed,

And on his fragile being

Had tender hopes been stayed;

Where thought, where feeling lingered

His form was sure to glide,

And in the lone night-watches

’Twas ever by my side.

He came; but as the blossom

Its petals closes up,

And hides them from the tempest

Within its sheltering cup,

So he his spirit gathered

Back to his frightened breast,

And passed from earth’s grim threshold,

To be the Saviour’s guest.

Emily didn’t find out until several months later that Adoniram had died at sea on April 12, 1850, ten days before Charlie was born. He was in heaven to welcome his little son.

Reflection

Many Christians like Adoniram Judson have paid a profound price for serving Jesus. Yet because of him and missionaries like him, there are more than 2.3 million Christian believers in Burma (modern Myanmar) today. If God calls you to do so, are you willing to suffer for him?

[God said,] “Saul is my chosen instrument to take my message to the Gentiles and to kings, as well as to the people of Israel. And I will show him how much he must suffer for me.”

Acts 9:15-16