Elizabeth Taylor has a birthday this month. So does Ralph Nader. Ted Kennedy and Prince Andrew were both born in February, as was Copernicus. And Sidney Poitier. And John McEnroe. Almost everyone knows that Washington and Lincoln were born in February.

But did you know that this is also the month of Henry Martyn’s birth?

Martyn was born on Feb. 18, 1781, in Truro, England. By the time he entered school, it was clear that he was exceptionally brilliant. At the age of 19 he graduated from the University of Cambridge – with highest honors. His training was in mathematics, and he soon began teaching at the university level.

But inside, a major re-evaluation of life’s purposes was under way. Henry’s father had died a year or so before his graduation, and this moved the young man to think deeply about the meaning of life. Just as he was achieving his educational goals, his ideas of what really matters were changing.

Henry said it this way: “I had obtained my highest wishes, but was surprised to find that I had grasped a shadow.”

How young and how wise. Sometimes it takes a lifetime to sort out issues of such importance. Steven Covey once said: “Many people have climbed hard and fast up the ladder of success, only to discover later that the ladder has been leaning against the wrong wall.”

What is it that makes life significant? What credentials? What accomplishments?

The chairman of Apple Computer, Steve Jobs, also has a birthday in February.

In 1983 Jobs wooed John Sculley to Apple from his position as CEO of Pepsi by asking him, “Do you want to sell sugar water for the rest of your life or do you want to change the world?”

Henry Martyn came to the conclusion that the only thing really worth living for was not a thing at all, but a person. He was going to live for Jesus Christ. Turning his back on what might well have become a lucrative career, he entered the ministry. He was ordained on Oct. 22, 1803, and began serving as curate in the church of Holy Trinity, Cambridge.

But then came God’s call to foreign missions.

Leaving behind Lydia Grenfell, with whom he had fallen in love, and two dear sisters, Martyn sailed from England for India on July 17, 1805. He endured a difficult voyage. Following that came illness, severe heat, frequent discouragement, and the eventual news of his sisters’ deaths back home.

In spite of it all, Henry Martyn served God in India from 1806 to 1811, during which time he preached, pastored, and single-handedly translated the entire New Testament into Hindustani. He once wrote: “The spirit of Christ is the spirit of mission, and the closer that we get to Christ, the more intensely missionary we become.”

In 1811 Martyn left India for Persia where he completed a Persian translation of the Bible. By that time he was exhausted. But just as he was beginning the long journey back to England, he fell seriously ill.

Henry Martyn died in a foreign land at the age of 31 on Oct. 16, 1812. No flags flew at half-staff. Few apparently took notice. His life and mission seemed of little effect. But then, in 1856, 44 years after his death, Martyn’s story appeared in a book entitled “Heroes and Martyrs of the Modern Missionary Enterprise.”

In that old book, a copy of which recently was given to me by thoughtful friends, appear these words, penned by Henry Martyn in 1806: “Even if I should never see a native converted, God may design by my patience and continuance in the work to encourage future missionaries.”

And that’s just what has happened. Today, 225 years after Martyn’s birth, Google yields page after page of testimony to his continued influence.

Elisabeth Elliott, a noted missionary in her own right, has drawn a particularly convicting challenge from Martyn’s extraordinary life: “Are we … ready to relinquish whatever God wants us to let go of?” she asks. “Are we willing to [sacrifice our lives for] Jesus Christ? Henry Martyn was prepared for that.”

Some men die in ashes, some men die in flames. Some men die playing silly little games.

Is this to suggest that only the lives of vocational missionaries are significant? Certainly not. Rather, in many different professions and places, we are to “do our work heartily, as for the Lord and not unto men,” always with eternity’s values in view.

The Rev. Daryl E. Witmer is founder and director of the AIIA Institute, a national apologetics ministry, and associate pastor of the Monson Community Church. He may be reached by e-mail at aiiainstitute@aol.com or through christiananswers.net/aiia. Voices is a weekly commentary by Maine people who explore issues affecting spirituality and religious life.