During Paton’s schooldays, the Lord put a conviction in his heart: He must be a missionary to the perishing, cannibalistic people in the New Hebrides. Despite opposition from nearly all sides, Paton remained committed, through the encouraging and prayerful support of his dear parents, to preaching the gospel to these people who did not know Christ.
This is the fifth in a series of episodes from the life of John G. Paton, adapted from his autobiography for young readers.
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Though God blessed me with happy and successful work during those ten years, the cry of the perishing pagans in the South Seas kept haunting me. So few were caring for them. Yet so many would be ready to take my place in Calton. I told no one, but these thoughts filled my daily meditations and prayers. Then, something happened that led me to offer myself immediately for the foreign mission field.
The Reformed Presbyterian Church of Scotland had been searching for another missionary to join Rev. John Inglis in his work on the New Hebrides. Dr. Bates, the excellent convener of the Heathen Missions Committee, was deeply grieved because no one was found for the mission.
The Synod decided to take a vote. After prayer, each member of the Synod would list the names of the three men who were, in their opinion, most qualified for the work. The one with the clear majority was to leave his congregation and proceed to the mission field. I remember how quiet and serious the room was as they prayed before handing the names in. I remember how silent the Assembly was while the people who counted the votes went away to examine them. And I remember how tears blinded my eyes when they announced the result: It was undetermined. The Lord had not provided a missionary in that way. They again laid this issue before God in prayer, and a cloud of sadness fell over all the Synod.
I felt, as though by the Lord’s leading, the almost overwhelming impulse to answer aloud, “Here am I, send me!” But I was dreadfully afraid of mistaking my own feelings for the will of God. So I decided to give it thoughtful consideration and pray about it for a few days longer, and to look at the proposal from every possible angle. I was deeply concerned for the hundreds of young people and others in all my classes and meetings. Still, I felt a growing assurance that this was the call of God to His servant. And I was sure that He who was willing to send me to the mission field was both able and willing to provide someone to continue my work at home. My medical studies, as well as my literary and divinity training, had specially qualified me in some ways for the foreign field. And when I carefully considered everything at hand, my inner conviction was clear.
I had begun my career in Glasgow under the guidance of Dr. Bates of West Campbell Street. I received £25 per year to visit families in the district as part of the work of his congregation. I was also receiving instruction under Mr. Hislop and his staff in the Free Church Normal Seminary. How joyful Dr. Bates was when I offered myself for the New Hebrides Mission! He even wept! As I returned to my lodgings, I finally had a light heart. Nothing brings so much clarity and encouragement as making a decision to do what you entirely know is the Lord’s will. I told my fellow-student, Joseph Copeland, who had been my close friend all throughout college, “I have been away signing my banishment” (a rather light way of talking about such a situation). “I have offered myself as a missionary to the New Hebrides.”
After a long and silent meditation, in which he seemed lost in his wandering thoughts, he answered, “If they will accept me, I will go too!”
A few minutes later, his letter of offer was in the post office. Early the next morning, Dr. Bates visited us and, after a long conversation, entrusted us and our future work to the Lord God in heartfelt prayer. Soon after, the Foreign Missions Committee met. After careful consideration, both of us were formally accepted—as long as we passed the examinations required for candidates for the ministry. And for the next twelve months, we were placed under a special committee for advice on medicine, knowledge of basic trades and skills, and anything else which might be useful to us in the foreign field.
But how many people opposed my going to the mission field! Nearly everyone on all sides was against the idea.
Dr. Symington, who was one of my professors in theology and the beloved minister of the church connected with my work as a city missionary, and in whose church I served as an elder, urged me to remain at home. In response, I told him that my mind was fully made up. Although I loved my work and my people, I felt that I could leave them to the care of Jesus, who would soon provide them a better pastor than I. As for my life among the cannibals, since I can only die once, I was content to leave its time, place, and means in the hand of God. He is the one who had already marvelously preserved me when visiting cholera patients and the fever-stricken poor. So concerning that matter, I no longer had any other concerns. I had left it all entirely up to the Lord, whom I sought to serve and honor, whether in life or by death.
They offered me the house connected with the Green Street Church, along with any reasonable salary that I ask for (as opposed to the £120 per year offered to me at the far-off and dangerous New Hebrides). The only condition was that I would remain at home. To be honest, such offers and opposing influences were no heavy trial for me. They rather confirmed my determination to go abroad.
One dear old Christian, Mr. Dickson, argued, “The cannibals! You will be eaten by cannibals!” At last, I replied, “Mr. Dickson, you are advanced in years now. And you will soon be laid in the grave, there to be eaten by worms. I confess to you that if I can only live and die serving and honoring the Lord Jesus, it makes no difference to me whether I am eaten by cannibals or by worms. And on the Great Day, my resurrection body will arise as complete as yours in the likeness of our risen Redeemer.”
He gave up, raised his hands in protest, and left the room, saying, “After that, I have nothing more to say!”
My dear Green Street people were very sad at the thought of my leaving them. Every day, they begged me to remain. The opposition was so strong from nearly everyone—with many of them being warm Christian friends—that I was really tempted to question whether I was obeying God’s will or only some stubborn wish of my own. But my conscience said more loudly and clearly every day, “Leave all these results with Jesus your Lord, who said, ‘Go into all the world, preach the gospel to every creature, and behold! I am with you always.’” These words kept ringing in my ears; these were our marching orders.
Some objected by saying, “There are unbelievers at home! Let us first of all seek and save the lost ones perishing at our doors.” What a true and troubling fact! But I observed that the same people who made this objection neglected these unbelievers at home themselves. So their objection lost all its power.
As I encountered many hindering influences, I again explained the whole situation to my dear parents. But when I told my dear father and mother, they replied, as was their way, that they had long ago given me away to the Lord, and in this decision also, they would leave me in God’s hands. Their response was essentially this:
Until now, we were afraid of influencing your decision. But now we must tell you why we praise God for the decision to which you have been led. Your father’s heart was set upon being a minister, but other responsibilities forced him to give it up. When you were born, your father and mother dedicated you, their first-born, to God’s service as a missionary of the cross—if He was willing. And it has been their constant prayer that you might be prepared, qualified, and led to this very decision. And we pray with all our heart that the Lord may accept your sacrifice of service to Him, give you many years to live, and give you many souls from the foreign unbelieving world as your reward for service.
Their encouragement and prayers banished every doubt. The hand of God was now visible, both in preparing me for and now leading me to the foreign mission field.
I knew well that the support and prayers of my dear parents were warmly with me in all my studies and in all my mission work. But they could not help me with money for my education. On the contrary, all throughout that time, it was my pride and joy to help them, being the eldest in a family of eleven. But I can gladly and gratefully say that all my brothers and sisters, as they grew up and began to earn a living, took their part in this same blessed privilege. For we stuck close to each other and to our aging parents; we had all things “in common” as a family in Christ. I knew that however many more years they would have left in their peaceful old age, my father and mother would lack nothing that the willing hands and loving hearts of their children could provide. How I praised the Lord for that!
It was a comfort beyond words as I left them probably forever—in this world, at least.
John G. Paton was a nineteenth-century Scottish missionary to the New Hebrides, where he preached the gospel to heathen cannibals for over thirty years.
