Ann Hasseltine Judson

August 30, 2026
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She Refused to Give Up. Ann Hasseltine’s story reminds us that sometimes we love people we cannot protect, fix, or rescue. As women, we may face situations in our marriages, families, friendships, or children’s lives that are completely beyond our control. We may pray for change and still wonder why nothing seems to happen. Ann shows us that feeling powerless does not mean we have to stop being faithful. She kept praying, pleading, serving, and taking the next step even when she didn't know how her story would end. When you cannot control the outcome, focus on what God has placed in your hands today. You can pray, love, serve, and remain faithful without carrying the burden of solving everything yourself. Your difficult season does not mean God has abandoned you or forgotten His purpose for your life. You may not be able to fix everything, but you can still trust God and take the next faithful step. “God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.” (Psalm 46:1 NIV)

Full Transcript

In 1812, Ann Hasseltine married  Adoniram Judson, and the next day the young couple headed to the mission field. Within a year—for travel was very slow—they settled in Rangoon, the largest city in Burma—now named Myanmar. Before they left home, the Judsons had been told that the Burmese “were impervious to the Gospel of Christ.” Still they went, and twelve years later, they had eighteen converts.  

As happened from time to time, the King of Burma sent for Adoniram Judson, so the couple traveled to the king’s palace in Ava. A distance from the palace, they set up housekeeping and opened a new mission station. A short while later, England took Rangoon. It was war. And the king suspected that the missionaries were spies. Here’s what happened.  

Living Matthew Five 

On the 8th of June, as the Judsons were getting ready for dinner, “in rushed an officer holding a black book, with a dozen Burmans, accompanied by one, who, from his spotted face, [known]  to be an executioner . . . .” He demanded to see the teacher, and “Mr. [Judson] presented himself.”  

“You are called by the king,” the soldier said, and he grabbed Judson, knocked him down, and brought out a small cord used for torture.  

The whole neighborhood was watching. Skilled workers ran, Burmese children screamed, “and the hardened executioner, with a kind of hellish joy, drew tight the cords, bound Mr. Judson fast, and dragged him off . . .”  to the death prison. 

It turned out that all the white foreigners, except Ann, had been arrested. They were all in the death house, “with three pairs of iron fetters each.” They were fastened to a long pole.  

Ann grieved because she couldn’t do anything to free the missionaries. She begged the magistrate to allow her to see someone in government to plead their case, but was refused. Next, she wrote to one of the king’s sisters whom she’d known. The note was returned with a polite refusal.  

On the third day, she messaged the governor and even got to see him. But he handed her off to an assistant, who promised to relieve the worst of Judson’s and Price’s pain—for about $100, two pieces of fine cloth, and two handkerchiefs. She paid the money and asked him to forego the cloth, since she didn’t have it. He agreed, and the governor gave her permission to visit her husband in prison.  

Judson crawled to the door to see her, but before they could talk seriously, guards ordered her away. Still, the missionaries *were *removed from the prison and locked in an open shed, and Ann was even allowed to bring them food and mats to sleep on.  

Next, Ann visited the queen’s sister-in-law—with whom she’d been friendly—brought her an expensive gift, and asked her to petition the queen for Judson’s release. Unmoved, the woman reluctantly agreed to send the message, but showed no hope of a positive result. (Indeed, in response to the message, the queen only said, “‘The teachers will not die; let them remain as they are.’”)  

The following morning, the royal treasurer, a prince, a  chief, and forty or fifty followers came to take possession of all the Judsons owned. Ann seated the visitors and served them tea and sweets before they searched her house and took whatever they wanted.  

“You have heard that it was said, ‘Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.’ But I say to you, do not show opposition against an evil person; but whoever slaps you on your right cheek, turn the other toward him also. And if anyone wants to sue you and take your tunic, let him have your cloak also” (Matthew 5: 38-42 NASB). 

Judson was moved, harassed, and deprived of food and air and sunlight. Still, Ann prayed and exhausted every conceivable avenue to get better treatment for the prisoners. After a time of some luxuries like a mat to lie on, all the prisoners were moved back into the inner prison.  

After a month there, Judson fell ill with a fever. So Ann moved out of her house “and put up a small bamboo room in the governor’s enclosure, which was nearly opposite the prison gate. Here [she] incessantly begged the governor to . . . take Judson out of the large prison and place him in a more comfortable situation, and the old man being worn out with [her] entreaties, at length” complied, and Ann was allowed to visit her husband to administer medicine. 

Soon Judson was moved to “a little bamboo hovel, so low, that neither of [them] could stand upright—but a palace in comparison with the place he had left.” 

But after two or three days, the same governor tricked Ann, and while he kept her occupied, soldiers marched all the prisoners far away. Ann was distraught. She now had a two-month-old baby, Maria, and two of the four little Burmese girls she’d adopted—Mary and Abby Hasseltine. Ann went in search of the prisoners and found them miles and miles away in a run-down prison, lacking shade, food, water, and hope.  

Since he knew both languages, the Burmese commandeered Judson to negotiate with the English. They used him for six weeks and ordered him back to the first death prison. But God intervened, and Judson did not go back to the prison.  

When the Burmese surrendered, Ann, her husband, and daughters were allowed to go back toward Rangoon. Their first stop was in a British camp, where they were finally safe.  

Ann wrote: “…with hearts filled with gratitude to God, and overflowing with joy at our prospects, we passed down the Irrawaddy [River], … accompanied by all we had on earth. . . . We now, for the first time, for more than a year and a half, felt that we were free… .” 

A short time after Judson was entirely free from the Burmans, Ann wrote: “God has been with us through all our sufferings, and intermingled mercies all the way. Bless his holy name, for he is a prayer hearing God, and will not forsake his people in their distress.” 

It might be supposed that as soon as the little family was at home in Rangoon, they’d find a way to return to the United States. No. Ann wrote: “We now consider our present missionary prospects as bright indeed,” and she was looking forward to things settling down so their time and energy could be exclusively devoted to the people of Burma.  

Though Ann died young, and the Judsons had been told the Burmese were impervious to the Gospel of Christ, by the end of Judson’s life, there were more than 100 churches and 18,000 Christians in Burma.  

In 1812, Ann Hasseltine married  Adoniram Judson, and the next day the young couple headed to the mission field. Within a year—for travel was very slow—they settled in Rangoon, the largest city in Burma—now named Myanmar. Before they left home, the Judsons had been told that the Burmese “were impervious to the Gospel of Christ.” Still they went, and twelve years later, they had eighteen converts.  

As happened from time to time, the King of Burma sent for Adoniram Judson, so the couple traveled to the king’s palace in Ava. A distance from the palace, they set up housekeeping and opened a new mission station. A short while later, England took Rangoon. It was war. And the king suspected that the missionaries were spies. Here’s what happened.  

Living Matthew Five 

On the 8th of June, as the Judsons were getting ready for dinner, “in rushed an officer holding a black book, with a dozen Burmans, accompanied by one, who, from his spotted face, [known]  to be an executioner . . . .” He demanded to see the teacher, and “Mr. [Judson] presented himself.”  

“You are called by the king,” the soldier said, and he grabbed Judson, knocked him down, and brought out a small cord used for torture.  

The whole neighborhood was watching. Skilled workers ran, Burmese children screamed, “and the hardened executioner, with a kind of hellish joy, drew tight the cords, bound Mr. Judson fast, and dragged him off . . .”  to the death prison. 

It turned out that all the white foreigners, except Ann, had been arrested. They were all in the death house, “with three pairs of iron fetters each.” They were fastened to a long pole.  

Ann grieved because she couldn’t do anything to free the missionaries. She begged the magistrate to allow her to see someone in government to plead their case, but was refused. Next, she wrote to one of the king’s sisters whom she’d known. The note was returned with a polite refusal.  

On the third day, she messaged the governor and even got to see him. But he handed her off to an assistant, who promised to relieve the worst of Judson’s and Price’s pain—for about $100, two pieces of fine cloth, and two handkerchiefs. She paid the money and asked him to forego the cloth, since she didn’t have it. He agreed, and the governor gave her permission to visit her husband in prison.  

Judson crawled to the door to see her, but before they could talk seriously, guards ordered her away. Still, the missionaries *were *removed from the prison and locked in an open shed, and Ann was even allowed to bring them food and mats to sleep on.  

Next, Ann visited the queen’s sister-in-law—with whom she’d been friendly—brought her an expensive gift, and asked her to petition the queen for Judson’s release. Unmoved, the woman reluctantly agreed to send the message, but showed no hope of a positive result. (Indeed, in response to the message, the queen only said, “‘The teachers will not die; let them remain as they are.’”)  

The following morning, the royal treasurer, a prince, a  chief, and forty or fifty followers came to take possession of all the Judsons owned. Ann seated the visitors and served them tea and sweets before they searched her house and took whatever they wanted.  

“You have heard that it was said, ‘Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.’ But I say to you, do not show opposition against an evil person; but whoever slaps you on your right cheek, turn the other toward him also. And if anyone wants to sue you and take your tunic, let him have your cloak also” (Matthew 5: 38-42 NASB). 

Judson was moved, harassed, and deprived of food and air and sunlight. Still, Ann prayed and exhausted every conceivable avenue to get better treatment for the prisoners. After a time of some luxuries like a mat to lie on, all the prisoners were moved back into the inner prison.  

After a month there, Judson fell ill with a fever. So Ann moved out of her house “and put up a small bamboo room in the governor’s enclosure, which was nearly opposite the prison gate. Here [she] incessantly begged the governor to . . . take Judson out of the large prison and place him in a more comfortable situation, and the old man being worn out with [her] entreaties, at length” complied, and Ann was allowed to visit her husband to administer medicine. 

Soon Judson was moved to “a little bamboo hovel, so low, that neither of [them] could stand upright—but a palace in comparison with the place he had left.” 

But after two or three days, the same governor tricked Ann, and while he kept her occupied, soldiers marched all the prisoners far away. Ann was distraught. She now had a two-month-old baby, Maria, and two of the four little Burmese girls she’d adopted—Mary and Abby Hasseltine. Ann went in search of the prisoners and found them miles and miles away in a run-down prison, lacking shade, food, water, and hope.  

Since he knew both languages, the Burmese commandeered Judson to negotiate with the English. They used him for six weeks and ordered him back to the first death prison. But God intervened, and Judson did not go back to the prison.  

When the Burmese surrendered, Ann, her husband, and daughters were allowed to go back toward Rangoon. Their first stop was in a British camp, where they were finally safe.  

Ann wrote: “…with hearts filled with gratitude to God, and overflowing with joy at our prospects, we passed down the Irrawaddy [River], … accompanied by all we had on earth. . . . We now, for the first time, for more than a year and a half, felt that we were free… .” 

A short time after Judson was entirely free from the Burmans, Ann wrote: “God has been with us through all our sufferings, and intermingled mercies all the way. Bless his holy name, for he is a prayer hearing God, and will not forsake his people in their distress.” 

It might be supposed that as soon as the little family was at home in Rangoon, they’d find a way to return to the United States. No. Ann wrote: “We now consider our present missionary prospects as bright indeed,” and she was looking forward to things settling down so their time and energy could be exclusively devoted to the people of Burma.  

Though Ann died young, and the Judsons had been told the Burmese were impervious to the Gospel of Christ, by the end of Judson’s life, there were more than 100 churches and 18,000 Christians in Burma.