The King Who Supported Missions

Few people know the very first German missionary to China, Indonesia, Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, Korea, and Japan was Karl Gutzlaff.

Even fewer people know that Karl was financially sponsored by a German King that honored God and wanted to see the completion of the Great Commission.

In the year 1820, the German King of Prussia, Frederick William III, sponsored Karl Gutzlaff to be a missionary to Asia.

The following is a segment of our newest book GOD’s RENEGADE – telling the story of a German King that supported missions and changed the world forever.

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The small Pomeranian town of Stettin came to a standstill waiting for the king. The quiet excitement was a chilling experience. Everyone was watching for that first glimpse of the king’s carriage.

The sound came before the sight. Thump after thump of the thorough- bred horses could be heard from far away, followed by the shifting wood and metal of the elaborate carriage. Karl and his friend Heydenreich stretched their necks to see beyond the crooked line of the crowd. The two fifteen- year-old boys desperately wanted to be the first to see the king.

“Can you hear that?” Heydenreich asked. The question was rhetorical. Everyone could hear it.

“Do you have it?” Karl asked. Heydenreich nodded. “You should give it to him.”

“No. It was your idea. You should give it to him.” Heydenreich didn’t answer. He just kept watching. Soon, just past the bend of the road, two chestnut-coloured Anglo-Arabian horses appeared, flinging their heads in the air as they galloped forward. Their strong rectangular build, long sloping shoulders, and long, crested necks stood head and shoulders above every man they passed. These were the same finely chiseled war beasts that met Napoleon on the battlefield and carried the Prussian officers who handed him his humiliating defeat.

Directly behind the horses was a golden carriage, completely adorned with the king’s royal seal. Atop the carriage was a crimson and gold crown, signifying that it was, indeed, carrying the king. The king’s driver did not break his gaze from the road as the carriage passed by.

Karl and Heydenreich tried to peer through the only window visible to the well-wishers waiting on the street. It was a small square glass window just above the encircled black eagle of the coat of arms that had expanded in complexity after the fall of Napoleon when Prussia gained extensive territories.

The king’s carriage passed without even a short pause. Everything normal now felt rugged and inhospitable compared to the kingly glory they had just seen The great scene had frozen them and Heydenreich realised he was still holding the papers in his hand.

“Run!” Karl said, chasing after the royal carriage. They both sprinted, falling far behind the briskly trotting horses, but catching up again when- ever there was a bend in the road. Finally, the carriage came to a rest. Karl slowed down, but Heydenreich deliberately sped up. The three royal guards standing at the back of the carriage leapt off, oblivious to the young boy coming up behind them.

Before anyone could react, Heydenreich ran up to the carriage door as it was opening and threw the bundled papers inside for the king. Heydenreich ran away, paused, jogged back toward the confused guards, bowed to the king, turned back again, and ran toward Karl.

They were both beaming with excitement. Heydenreich clenched his fists in the air as a valiant sign of victory. He had just handed the king a poem they had both written! Then, just as fast as their excitement descended upon them, it quickly dissipated into crippling fear.

“Oh no!”

“I know!” Heydenreich replied, with the same realisation. They had just handed the king something without permission. They had always dreamed of the possibilities that such an event would lead to, but had never stopped to consider the possible consequences. They both increased their pace to run away as fast as they could.

Heydenreich was Karl’s best friend. If he was going to get in trouble with someone, he was glad it was him. Karl had eight brothers and sisters, but none of them were full-blooded siblings. His mother, Maria Elisabeth Behncke, died in 1807 when Karl was just four years old. His father married Caroline Louisa Ockert Schultze the following year. She was a widow with eight children. They grew to a house of eleven people overnight.

Karl’s new stepmother did not have time for Karl, and she let him know it. She was not kind to him and resented his existence. His father, Johann Jacob Gutzlaff, was a master tailor and proud Lutheran. He was too busy with work and duties at the church to pay much attention to the relation- ship of his new wife and eldest son.

Heydenreich understood Karl’s home life better than anyone. His father was a pastor and had passed away at a young age, leaving him and his mother alone. Karl and Heydenreich both found stability in each other and found solace in the writings of Ludwig Tieck, August von Schlegel, Fredrich Hold- erlin, and Gotthold Lessing. They often discussed famous German poets and entertained each other by writing their own and sharing it with one another.

Karl loved literature, but knew he would most likely never get a chance to write. He had just enough education to obtain literacy, but not enough to do it for a living like the writers he so admired.

Karl begged his father to send him to a local Latin school near his home town called Pyritz Latin School so he could get away from his stepmother. When he was eight years old, his father finally agreed, and it was there that Karl learned German, Latin, French, history, math, and science. He also developed a love for geography while he was there.

He remained in Pyritz Latin School for five years until his confirmation on July 7, 1816. Although his teachers considered him to be a brilliant student, five years was all his father could invest. In the fall of 1816, Karl began working as an apprentice in Stettin as a saddler. After only a short time as an apprentice, Karl desperately wanted to return to school and attend university.

“You should go back,” Heydenreich told him one day, to which Karl responded that he didn’t have the money. Karl’s family wasn’t noble or rich, so getting accepted into a good university would be almost impossible.

“But what if you got a decree from the king? Any university in the world will take you if the king decrees it.”

Karl didn’t know if his friend was joking or not, but a decree from the king would be the only way he would ever be allowed to attend university. They had planned the scheme of getting a poem to the king for days. At the end of the poem, they petitioned him to help them get into university. Now, all they could do was wait.

That evening, the king finally read their poem and was overwhelmingly impressed. He was so moved that he called for his guards. “Find me the young boys who gave me this letter!” he commanded.

Three of the king’s royal guards were sent out with no clue where to start, so they set about knocking on every door in the vicinity until finally, late at night, they arrived at Heydenreich’s home. They demanded that he get out of bed, get dressed, and go with them to see the king.

Heydenreich led them to Karl’s home and the two of them were escorted to the door which stood outside the king’s chambers.

Unfortunately, the king had already gone to sleep that night and the two boys had to wait until morning to be presented to him.

The next morning they were both brought before the king and allowed to make their case for why they wanted to attend university.

“Are you young men aware of Karl Theophilus Ewald Rhenius?” The king paused after the question, but his face did not allow for a polite answer.

“His father, Otto Go Otto Gottlieb Nikolaus Rhenius,” he continued, “was a great officer in the Prussian army. Like you two, Karl Rhenius lost one of his parents when he was still a young boy. He, too, was forced to leave school when he was fourteen years old and had no way of going to univer- sity. He thus went to work in his uncle’s office, but he had a calling to serve the Kingdom of God, and his heavenly calling was greater than his earthly limitation. Do you boys feel a calling by God?”

Karl nodded. Something he had not shared with anyone was that he deeply wanted to be a missionary to China. At church, he heard about the work of Robert Morrison, the first missionary to China. He immediately showed interest, but oddly his rector dismissed his interest and said that missions work was a result of fanaticism. Not long after that experience, a local merchant gave him a magazine called Evangelisches Missions-Magazin, a Basil mission periodical from Switzerland.

The stories of missionaries in faraway nations made him long to be a part of it. He was not able to explain the emotion, so he didn’t mention it to anyone, but it seemed to be divine providence that the king was bringing it up now.

“Karl Rhenius felt God’s calling, but did not tell his family because his mother, Catharina, did not approve of it. His uncle who gave him a job did not approve of it. No one approved of it, so Karl kept it to himself.”

The way he was repeating Karl Rhenius’s name made Karl feel as if the king was speaking directly to him.

“But, Karl,” the king continued, “had a calling that he could not reject, and when God puts a calling on your life, you will not find peace in your heart until you follow in the footsteps of that calling.”

The room was silent. The guards didn’t make a sound. Everyone was waiting for what the king was going to say next. “Karl did eventually go to university. He went to Berlin and attended the university of Johannes Jaenicke. Do you know who that is?”

They both nodded. Every believer in Stettin knew the great Moravian Johannes Jaenicke. He started the first mission school in Berlin, worked together with the London Mission Society to get the Bible translated into Chinese with Robert Morrison, and even personally translated the Bible into the Bohemian language.

“You boys want to take the Gospel to the world?” They both nodded and though they were stricken with awe to be in the presence of the king, they both meant it. “All right then. It is settled. You will both be sent to mission training school in Berlin where you will train to be missionaries. And if you grad- uate and are privileged enough to be sent to another country to preach the Good News among natives who have never heard it, then I will continue to support you with an annual stipend. By Majestic decree and by Cabinet Order on the 28th of November in the year of our Lord, 1820, it shall be so.”

Karl could not believe his ears. His knees buckled and he almost fell to the ground. The king continued, “The chief doctrine of Christianity is Evangelium, a glad tidings announcing recovery and deliverance. Disease, bondage, and fetters are to be taken away. The world is full of joy at the suppression of serfism, yet how much more should it rejoice at the emancipation that Christianity can and will give.”

The rumours of him being a king after God’s own heart were true, Karl thought. The king sounded more passionate about the Gospel than his own rector.

“Of what use is boasted knowledge if it does not make men better? Our ancestors understood this less and did more!”

“As for your calling . . . God’s blessing on heart and calling is the best dower man can have, so is it for country and people. To obtain that, thereto must all endeavours be directed. For the practice of Christianity, we cannot think ourselves into it. No! We must live ourselves into it. Don’t allow any man to fix a boundary line, showing how far the divine influence extends or where it stops. All religion and piety rest on the consciousness of a connec- tion existing between man and God. The more we place confidence in Him, the more we may obtain His grace. It happens to man according to his faith, and he receives according to his respectability. One must not judge another or presume to make his own ideas dogma for others. Everyone must know and feel whereon he himself is and live on his own faith.”

“Don’t allow any man to fix a boundary line, showing how far the divine influence extends or where it stops,” Karl repeated silently to himself. The king’s statement shook him to his core. It would be a statement that he would never forget and would forever shape his life.

They both bowed low and thanked the king emphatically. “Thank me not. The praise of men gives me no comfort. I could almost envy the comfortable contentedness of mind I see in some persons. I am never so. The more earnestly I ponder o’er the matter, and investigate myself, the more discontented I am with myself. I know from the Word of God what I should do, and I desire to do it, but I can never wholly succeed. I can never satisfy myself. Something unripe clings to all my endeavours—a defectiveness—ʼtis all below the Christian idea of the matter. God has graciously kept me from coarse sins, nevertheless I know of no single transaction in my whole life that I can dare quote, in His holy presence, as being pure in thought and deed, free from earthly blemish. For that reason is the praise and commendation of mankind hateful to me. All hinges on how we stand in respect of God. That is the only standard.”

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