I was reading a biography recently. It was a relatively short biography of John MacDonald, which takes up a single chapter in Iain Murray's book A Scottish Christian Heritage. And in that chapter there is an introductory paragraph about a man who was a missionary pioneer in northern Highlands of Scotland. His name was Eneas Sage, and his whole life fit quite neatly on the first half of page 130.

Evidently, Sage moved into the town of Lochcarron in 1726 and ministered there till he died in 1774. Murray provides Sage's own testimony that he went to this dark and cold place "merely to pave the way, if it were practicable, for settling the bounds with a gospel ministry, though it should be at the peril of my life." And peril he faced. His house was burned down and at least three attempts were made on his life. After six years of work, there was one family coming to hear him preach in a tiny thatched church. After 20 years of laboring, he was still treated as an outsider and had to evade yet another assassination attempt. But at the end of nearly 50 years of toil, there were some who "were themselves the primitive fathers of the spiritual generations that followed them." And with that line, the story of Eneas Sage came to an end, and the story moved on to recount the accomplishments of others.

A whole ministry boiled down into a paragraph. 50 hard and lonely years, summarized in just a few sentences. A whole life that serves as an introduction to the next. Yet I cannot help but admire how the Lord Jesus used Eneas Sage. Someone had to go and start tilling that soil. And that is exactly what Sage did. He paved the way—just like he intended to do. And while he is literally what we might call a footnote on the pages of history, his toil mattered to his Master. And who cares what history records, so long as at the end of our labors we get to hear the words, "Well done, good and faithful servant. Enter into the joy of your Master" (Matthew 25:23).