I am always intrigued when I read the writings of missionaries from previous generations, especially missionaries of the pioneering sort. Where did their initial drive come from? How was their sustaining perseverance instilled in them? Without a doubt, they were, first and foremost, men and women who did not count their lives as precious; they only aimed to finish the work given to them by their God (Acts 20:24). But what of their upbringing, education, peers, teachers, and mentors? What role did these play in their zeal?

Certainly, the parents and mentors of many shaped them to value the call to leave behind home and family for the glory of the King. John Paton and Amy Carmichael serve as good examples here. Others were influenced by a forerunner in missions, such as David Brainerd. His biography and writings arrested men like William Carey, Robert Morrison, and Henry Martyn, eventually guiding them to faraway lands. But the more I read about the history of missions, the more I see the crucial role of institutions, and especially their key leaders, in shaping so many long-term missionaries.

In particular, a breakout session at a recent Radius Conference made me aware of the radical nature of Princeton Seminary as a missions hotbed.

Nursery of Missions

Two centuries ago, Princeton was the jewel of theological education in the English-speaking world. It is no overstatement to say that it was the most known, trusted, and respected seminary of the nineteenth century.

Luminaries like B.B. Warfield, James Boyce, Jonathan Edwards, J. Gresham Machen, and so many others served as professors or studied as students at this venerable institution. And amazingly, in its prime, one out of every three Princeton graduates headed out to be involved in serious long-term missions (Princeton Seminary, 406).

When Princeton was formed, one of the stated pillars of the school was to be a “nursery for missionaries,” and professors led and taught to that end (Princeton Seminary, 139). This intentionality fostered student-led groups that met regularly to pray that some among them would be led to missions. The “Society of Inquiry” dealt with logistical issues in reaching faraway countries, collected language data, and worked steadily to gather a library of books to aid those students setting out to be missionaries. Students also queried active missionaries, asking for information about their field of service, the surrounding people groups, and ways they could pray for the work on the ground.

In short, the faculty of Old Princeton made missions a primary topic of discussion and study, and students caught what the professors prioritized, resulting in over one-third of graduates moving to places where no church existed. Oh, for God to raise up in our day more seminaries, Bible schools, and colleges with the Old Princetonian values!

Schooled by Princeton

Considering that most who will read this article will not help to lead a Christian institution of higher education, what applications can we take from the model of Old Princeton for our churches and other institutions today?

1. Making missions primary helps, not hurts, the church.

David Livingstone, the famous missionary to Africa, is reported to have said, “The best remedy for a sick church is to put it on a missionary diet.” While many would expect a missionary to say as much, hearing the same sentiment from other Christian leaders is rare. The spirit that existed at Old Princeton was alive for Christ-exalting missions, and the faculty at every level bought into it. Archibald Alexander, the seminary’s first president, would remark, “we regard the missionary cause as the greatest beneath the sun” (quoted in John C. Lowrie’s 1876 paper, “Princeton Theological Seminary and Foreign Missions,” 11). This spirit grew the seminary numerically, but more importantly, in zeal.

There exists today, as in earlier days, an unvoiced fear that if a church or seminary pushes missions too hard, the building projects won’t get done, the giving will decline, and some who are needed on the home front will be sent to the field. The problem with this fear is that it views the task of missions through man-centered eyes. If the task of taking the gospel to those peoples still in darkness is merely conjured up by fallen men, then we are right to hold back resources, avoid speaking about it from the pulpit, and generally tamp down the entire enterprise.

“The astounding legacy of Princeton can be measured by what its graduates gave their lives for.”

But if Christ himself issued the Great Commission, then the God of all grace has stamped his own name on this task, and it remains binding on the church today. He must bring in his sheep that have yet to hear his voice (John 10:16). And his voice, his call of the gospel, comes through God’s ambassadors, as though God himself were making his appeal through men (2 Corinthians 5:20). Far from being a man-centered task, the Great Commission is given by God, is orchestrated by God, and will result in God’s eternal glory.

The church, the school, the seminary that puts the commission of the God of heaven and earth above endowments, above building plans, above succession plans works in harmony with the heart of our God. The institution that makes itself a “nursery for missionaries” will not regret that path. How wonderful for a local congregation to foster sister congregations around the world raised up by men and women whom they have sent! On that great day, the glory accorded to those pastors and congregations will be something to behold.

2. Champion missions from the front.

The astounding legacy of Old Princeton can be measured by what its graduates gave their lives for. But most of the graduates didn’t go into the seminary with missions in mind; they caught the passion of the institution’s leaders. Men like Archibald Alexander, Charles Hodge, Samuel Miller, and others led from the front.

Listen to what James W. Alexander said in a talk to the seminary students about “calling” in missions:

Candidates for the sacred office [church pastor] are too much accustomed to think, “I will prepare myself to serve God as a preacher in my native land, and if I should be specially moved, and loudly called, I will become a foreign missionary.” Here there is altogether an error, and an error so great, that we need not be surprised to find him who harbors it, as really unfitted for the ministry at home, as he supposes himself to be for the ministry abroad. (Considerations on Foreign Missions, 125–26)

Did you catch that? According to Alexander, if you think you need a special call to go into missions, you’re unsuited for ministry in your home country. This is coming from the leadership!

No amount of zeal from a young person and no depth of history from a missions committee can substitute for a pastor leading his flock into long-term missions. If the pastor isn’t “into it,” it likely won’t happen. There may be the proverbial missions weekend or an offering for some overseas cause, but there will be scant few who leverage their futures to go to the nations unless the church leadership is genuinely leading that way from the front.

I don’t mean every Sunday brings a Matthew 28 or Acts 1 message, but the pastor clearly and regularly puts the burden of reaching those groups who still have no access to the gospel before the congregation. He tailors the church’s book reading so missions is in the mix (good biographies to start with) and ensures that those in the next generation are taken to the right conferences, exposed to missions regularly, and given a chance to see what it might be like to consecrate their lives to the task of cross-cultural church planting. What would the world look like with church leaders who fearlessly lead in “come and die” missions?

Legacy in Foreign Tongues

The lessons from Old Princeton are too good not to be retold. Today, Old Princeton is spoken of most often in regard to its theological acumen and well-known graduates who changed the course of the English-speaking world. But when the King does the final accounting of this school someday, Old Princeton will likely bear a far more glorious legacy — one sung in foreign tongues.

May God raise up more like her for his glory to the ends of the earth.