LAUSR

Taylor refused to allow the Methodist Missionary Board to oversee his missions. His maverick ways and relentless self-promotion made him “a living hero of the Methodist faithful,” according to Tzan, a prophet of a bold future (196). Not surprisingly, Taylor increasingly quarreled with denominational leaders. When they tried to place his South American missions under the umbrella of the church’s missions board in 1884, Taylor abruptly resigned his ministerial credentials, whereupon his friends in the South India Conference elected him as a lay delegate to the 1884 General Conference. In a stunning turnaround, after returning to the U.S. from Chile, Taylor was elected the Methodist Episcopal Church’s Bishop of Africa. When his health began to fail, Taylor returned to California in 1895, only to find “a wife and sons he had abandoned for most of his life . . . either unable or unwilling to care for him” (236). He died in Palo Alto in 1902. In some ways, Taylor anticipated trends that would continue into the twentieth century: a trend toward short-term missions based on easier travel, reliance on indigenous preachers (particularly in Africa), and the growing prevalence of women on the mission field, to name only a few. Methodism’s expansion into Africa, India, and South America owed much to William Taylor. He was a controversial figure in his own day, whose larger-than-life persona exaggerated the church’s strengths and weaknesses, and whose ultimate end was mostly sad. There is much to learn from Taylor’s life. This is a brilliant achievement that deserves to be widely read.