Chapter 10 of 14

The Personal Cost

The Personal Cost

The Personal Cost

Judson’s decision to become a Baptist was not made without a great deal of personal thought and grief. Judson described his position as “being in the grip of a Gordian knot.”[26] He reflected on the cost of his decision in his letter home:

But while I obtained light and satisfaction on one side, I was plunged in difficulty and distress on the other. If, thought I, this system is the true one, if the Christian church is not a continuation of the Jewish, if the covenant of circumcision is not precisely the covenant in which Christians now stand, the whole foundation of Pedobaptism is gone; there is no remaining ground for the administration of any church ordinance, to the children and domestics of professors; and it follows inevitably, that I, who was christened in infancy, on the faith of my parents, have never yet received Christian baptism. Must I, then, forsake my parents, the church with which I stand connected, the society under whose patronage I have come out, the companions of my missionary undertaking? Must I forfeit the good opinion of all my friends in my native land, occasioning grief to some, and provoking others to anger, and be regarded henceforth, by all my former dear acquaintance, as a weak, despicable Baptist, who has not sense enough to comprehend the connection between the Abrahamic and the Christian systems? All this was mortifying; it was hard to flesh and blood. But I thought again — It is better to be guided by the opinion of Christ, who is the truth, than by the opinion of men, however good, whom I know to be in an error.[27]

I saw, that, in a double sense, I was unbaptized, and I felt the command of Christ pressing my conscience. Now if I quieted my conscience in regard to my own personal baptism, and concluded, that on account of my peculiar circumstances, it was best to consult my own convenience, rather than the command of Christ, still the question would return, with redoubled force, —How am I to treat the children and domestics of converted heathen? This was the beginning of all my difficulties, and this, on Pedobaptist principles, I could not resolve, by the Bible, or by any books that I consulted.[28]

I have been sensible, that my change of sentiment would give much pain to many whom I loved and respected, to the members of the church I am now addressing, and to my honored father, your pastor. This reflection was the greatest trial attending my baptism. It was natural for me, therefore, to be desirous of showing you clearly the extremity to which I was reduced, and the potency of those arguments which constrained me to become a Baptist; hoping that you would, by that means, be led to sympathize with me, in the exercises of mind that I have experienced, and be willing to admit, that my conduct has not been the result of momentary caprice, or the still more reprehensible effect of interested and sinister motives. I solemnly profess to have done this thing from a single regard to truth and duty. I have not altered my sentiments on any point of doctrine, or Christian experience. My heart tells me, dear brethren, that I am still on with you, though we differ on the subject of baptism.[29]

To become a “weak, despicable Baptist” was not simply a personal issue. His wife, Ann, was intimately involved in the theological journey, and in each debate she chose the side of pedobaptism.[30] She listened attentively to his argumentation and studied the Scriptures personally, and though she saw the reasoning, she was hesitant. She wrote these words to her parents: “I tried to have him give it up, and rest satisfied in his old sentiments, and frequently told him, if he became a Baptist, I would not.”[31] Upon arriving in Calcutta, Ann studied the subject once again “with all my prejudices on the Pedobaptist side.”[32] Eventually she capitulated, not based upon marital pressure, but because she found “that the truth appeared to lie on the Baptist’s side.”[33]

The emotional cost to Ann was significant. Consider her reflections on this subject in a letter to her parents, then in a letter to a friend:

It was extremely trying to reflect on the consequences of our becoming Baptists. We knew it would wound and grieve our dear Christian friends in America—that we should lose their approbation and esteem. We thought it probable the commissioners would refuse to support us; and, what was more distressing than anything, we knew we must be separated from our missionary associates, and go alone to some heathen land. These things were very trying to us, and caused our hearts to bleed for anguish. We felt we had no home in this world, and no friend but each other.[34]

She wrote in a similar fashion to a dear friend:

Can you, my dear Nancy, still love me, still desire to hear from me, when I tell you I have become a Baptist? If I judge from my own feelings, I answer you will, and that my differing from you in those things which do not affect our salvation will not diminish your affection for me, or make you unconcerned for my welfare. . . . Thus, my dear Nancy, we are confirmed Baptists, not because we wish to be, but because truth compelled us to be. We have endeavored to count the cost, and be prepared for the many severe trials resulting from this change of sentiment. We anticipate the loss of reputation, and of the affection and esteem of many of our American friends. But the most trying circumstance attending this change, and that which has caused most pain, is the separation which must take place between us and our dear missionary associates. Although we are attached to each other, and should doubtless live very happily together, yet the brethren do not think it best we should unite in one mission. These things, my dear Nancy, have caused us to weep and pour out our hearts in prayer to Him whose directions we so much wish and need. We feel that we are alone in the world, with no real friend but each other, no one on whom we can depend but God.”[35]

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