church history

History to Be Repeated

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If you have ever felt frustrated trying to help somebody who would not accept your help, or listen to your advice, you would have experienced the same problem as God. The Creator is the only One who is able to solve the problem of death; however, even He cannot solve this problem unless we are willing to listen and heed His advice.

Approximately 500 years before Jesus Christ was born in Bethlehem of Judea, a prophecy was made concerning the events surrounding the birth and ministry of Christ. In Zechariah 9:9, it says, “Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion; shout, O daughter of Jerusalem: behold your King is coming to you: he [is] just, and having salvation; lowly, and riding on a donkey, and a colt, the foal of a donkey.” This was fulfilled as prophesied on what is today called Palm Sunday, the celebration of the day Jesus made a triumphal entry into Jerusalem riding a donkey.

Mark describes this event, saying, “They brought the colt to Jesus, laid their clothes on him and set him on him. And a very great multitude spread their garments on the road: others cut down branches from the trees, and spread [them] on the road.” Mark 11:7, 8. As they proceeded down the Mount of Olives toward Jerusalem, the multitudes began to rejoice. It says in Luke 19:37, “As he was now drawing near the descent of the Mount of Olives, the whole multitude of the disciples began to rejoice and praise God with a loud voice for all the mighty works they had seen.”

Triumphal entries were not new. Each time a Roman general returned from war or battle, there would be a triumphant entry into the city. Behind the victorious soldiers and the army followed the band of chained captives. These miserable creatures knew, of course, that some of them would be thrown to the lions or forced to fight as gladiators and others sold as slaves, thus it was a very mournful procession. Jesus’ happy procession, however, was unlike any procession that had been before, for the people following, were rejoicing and singing.

Many in the crowd were those who had been healed by Jesus. Some could have said, “I was blind until Jesus came, but now I can see.” Others could have said, “I was deaf until Jesus came, and now I can hear,” and still others might have said, “I had leprosy and I was ostracized and quarantined until Jesus came, and now I am whole.” Some of those who walked and rejoiced with the crowd might have been paralyzed before being healed by Jesus. There was even one in the crowd who could say, “I was dead and buried for four days in a cave, but Jesus came and now here I am alive and rejoicing.” There were also people in that crowd who were able to say, “I was under the control of demons; I had no control over my appetite or my passions, until Jesus came and set me free.” Remembrance of all of these wonderful things that had happened gave each and every one a reason to rejoice.

As the joyous procession approached the city, all eyes turned toward the beautiful temple with its walls of white marble, with its gold and precious stones blazing in the sunlight. The beauty of this scene was impressive; thus it was with great amazement that they turned to Jesus and saw that He was weeping.

This was a time of rejoicing, yet there was Jesus, the Majesty of Heaven, weeping at the sight of Jerusalem and the beautiful temple. In Luke 19:41–44, it says, “As he drew near, he saw the city, and wept over it, Saying, If you had known, even you, especially in this your day, the things that make for your peace! but now they are hidden from your eyes. For the days will come upon you, when your enemies will build an embankment around you, surround you, and close you in on every side, And level you and your children within you to the ground, and they will not leave in you one stone upon another: because you did not know the time of your visitation.” Everybody rejoiced, but Jesus, knowing both past and future, wept for the people who would be destroyed with Jerusalem 39 years later.

Jerusalem was the city that had been honored by God above every other place in the world. For ages, God’s prophets had uttered messages of warning to this city. It was in this city where priests had waved their censors and a cloud of incense had risen with the prayers of the worshippers and ascended before the God of heaven. It was in this city that the blood of thousands of slain lambs had been offered, pointing forward to the real sacrifice of the Lamb of God who would later come. It was in the temple in this city where Jehovah had revealed His presence in the Shekinah glory above the mercy seat. There in the heart of God’s chosen people, was represented the base of the mystic ladder dreamed of by Jacob and spoken of by Jesus, the ladder which connects the human race into the holiest of all.

Jeremiah had pleaded with the people to heed his warning, promising that if they changed their rebellious ways, Jerusalem could avoid destruction and stand forever. “Thus says the Lord; Take heed to yourselves, and bear no burden on the sabbath day, nor bring it in by the gates of Jerusalem; Nor carry a burden out of your houses on the Sabbath day, nor do any work, but hallow the sabbath day, as I commanded your fathers. But they did not obey, nor incline their ear, but made their neck stiff, that they might not hear, nor receive instruction. And it shall be, if you diligently heed me, says the Lord, to bring no burden through the gates of this city on the sabbath day, but hallow the sabbath day, to do no work in it; Then shall enter the gates of this city kings and princes sitting on the throne of David, riding in chariots and on horses, they, and their princes, accompanied by the men of Judah, and the inhabitants of Jerusalem: and this city shall remain forever. And they shall come from the cities of Jerusalem, and from the places around.” Jeremiah 17:21–26.

Jeremiah goes on to say, “But if you will not heed me to hallow the sabbath day, such as not carry any heavy burden when entering the gates of Jerusalem on the sabbath day; then I will kindle a fire in its gates, and it will devour the palaces of Jerusalem, and it shall not be quenched.” Verse 27.

The Old Testament records a history of backsliding and rebellion on the part of the Jewish nation. They continually resisted Heaven’s privileges and grace and slighted the opportunities repeatedly offered to them.

“They mocked the messengers of God, despised his words, and scoffed at his prophets, until the wrath of the Lord arose against his people, till [there was] no remedy.” II Chronicles 36:16.

Finally, after sending many prophets and messengers, God sent the Majesty of heaven. All of heaven was poured out upon this world in the gift of His Son. For over three years Jesus pleaded with the impenitent city trying to save them from destruction, but they would not listen. Jesus went about doing good, healing the sick and all who were oppressed by the devil. He passed through villages healing the sick and giving hope to the hopeless. His mission was to “Bind up the brokenhearted, to set at liberty those that were bound, to restore the sight of those that were blind, to cause the lame to walk, and the deaf to hear, to cleanse the lepers, to raise the dead, and to preach the gospel to the poor.” See Isaiah 61:1; Luke 4:18; Matthew 15:31. His gracious invitation to all was the same, “Come unto me, all of you who labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” Matthew 11:28.

His love and good deeds were rewarded with evil and hatred, but He steadfastly pursued His mission of mercy, never rejecting any who sought His grace. Waves of mercy were beaten back by stubborn hearts, and Israel turned from her best Friend and only helper. He was the only One who could save her from destruction. But the pleadings of His love were despised. His counsels were spurned. His warnings were ridiculed. Today also, the hour of hope and pardon is temporary, and if we do not accept the invitation of mercy while it is still available, then, like Jerusalem, we can only receive the just consequences of our deeds.

God’s long deferred wrath against Jerusalem was about to be fulfilled. A cloud had been gathering over the city through ages of apostasy and rebellion and now it was about to burst upon a guilty people. The only one who could save them from the impending destruction was the one person to whom they would not listen. His warnings and invitations had been slighted and abused. He was rejected, and would soon be crucified. In less than a week, when Christ would hang upon the cross of Calvary, Israel’s day as a nation favored and blessed of God, would be over.

The loss of even one soul is priceless in the eyes of God, but here was the whole nation of Israel about to be destroyed. Prophets wept over this vision, “O that my head were waters, and my eyes a fountain of tears, that I might weep day and night for the slain of the daughter of my people!” He continues, “But if you will not hear it, my soul will weep in secret for [your] pride; my eyes will weep bitterly, and run down with tears, because the Lord’s flock has been taken captive.” Jeremiah 9:1; 13:17.

The Messiah Himself knew what the consequence of their rejection of mercy and truth would be, prophetically seeing the walls surrounded by an enemy army. He heard the tread of armies being marshaled to war and the voice of mothers and children crying for bread. He saw the temple and all the beautiful houses and structures around it destroyed, until not one stone was left upon another. He saw the holy city leveled in total destruction.

Looking through the ages, He also saw the covenant people scattered in every land like wrecks on a desert shore. In the temporal retribution about to fall on the children of Israel, He saw but the first draft from that cup of wrath which, at the final judgment, will be completely drained. Divine pity and yearning love found utterance in the mournful words, “O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the one who kills the prophets, and stones those who are sent to her; how often I wanted to gather your children together, as a hen [gathers] her chicks under [her] wings, but you were not willing! See, your house is left to you desolate.” Luke 13:34, 35, first part.

There is no other God, no other person, no other intelligence or power that can give you eternal life except Jesus Christ. “The one who has the Son has life; the one who does not have the Son of God does not have life.” I John 5:12.

Jesus also saw in Jerusalem a symbol of the entire world at the end of time, hardened in unbelief and rebellion, rushing to meet the judgments of God. He also saw the record of sin, human misery, tears and blood, and in His infinite pity for an afflicted human race, He yearned to relieve them. But even He could not turn back the tide of human suffering because few would seek Him, the only Source of help.

He was willing to pour out His soul unto death to make salvation possible, but few would accept Him and His gift of eternal life, so the Majesty of heaven was in tears. The Son of the infinite God was troubled in spirit, and bowed down with anguish revealing to us the exceeding sinfulness of sin. This demonstrates how difficult a matter it is for even infinite power to save the guilty from the consequences of breaking the law of God.

Jesus saw the world in the last generation in a deception similar to that which caused the destruction of Jerusalem. The great sin of the Jews was their rejection of Christ. The great sin of the Christian world in the last generation would be their rejection of the law of God, the foundation of His government in heaven and earth. In the last days, the precepts of God would be despised and set at nought, and millions of human beings in bondage to sin, doomed to suffer the second death as slaves of Satan, would refuse to listen to the words of truth.

In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus predicted what would happen to a large portion of the Christian world in the final day of judgment.

“Not everyone who says to me, Lord, Lord, shall enter the kingdom of heaven; but he who does the will of my Father in heaven. Many will say to me in that day, Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in your name? cast out demons in your name? and done many wonders in your name? And then I will declare to them, I never knew you: depart from me, you who practice lawlessness.” Matthew 7:21, 23.

Jesus predicted that the last days would be a time of great lawlessness, a time when people were breaking the law of God, even professed Christians. Revelation 12:17 says, “And the dragon was enraged with the woman, and he went to make war with the rest of her offspring, who keep the commandments of God, and have the testimony of Jesus Christ.” Revelation 14:12 says, “Here is the patience of the saints: here [are] those who keep the commandments of God, and the faith of Jesus.” John also says, “Blessed [are] those who do his commandments, that they may have the right to the tree of life, and may enter through the gates into the city.” Revelation 22:14.

Speaking to Christians many decades after the crucifixion, the apostle James points out that it is not sufficient to respect only that part of the law of God which we find convenient. “For whoever shall keep the whole law, and yet stumble in one [point], he is guilty of all. For he who said, Do not commit adultery, also said, Do not murder. Now if you do not commit adultery, but you do murder, you have become a transgressor of the law. So speak, and so do, as those who will be judged by the law of liberty.” James 2:10–12. God’s law is the standard of the judgment revealing which spirit controls our lives, be it the Holy Spirit or some other spirit.

The Jews made a great mistake in rejecting Jesus Christ and have been suffering the consequences of their actions throughout the centuries. The great mistake of the Christian world in the last days will be the rejection of the law of God.

“If you keep the whole law, but you offend in one [point], you are guilty of all.” James 2:10.

Be ready, for you know not the day of your visitation.

Pastor John Grosboll is Director of Steps to Life and pastors the Prairie Meadows Church in Wichita, Kansas. He may be contacted by e-mail at: historic@stepstolife.org, or by telephone at: 316-788-5559.

Martin Luther, part VI – Arrival at Worms

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The news that Luther had been summoned to the diet spread rapidly throughout Germany. While the Germans were glad to see the cause of their country and their church taking on an importance that challenged examination and discussion by so august an assembly, they could not help but be filled with apprehension. They trembled when they considered the fate of the man who had become the ablest champion of both their political and religious rights. If Luther should be sacrificed to the hatred of the Church, who then would compensate for his loss to the movement which promised to free them from the tyranny of Rome?

On April 2, the arrangements for travel were completed and Luther, along with three of his more intimate friends, began the trip to Worms. Though Melancthon begged to accompany them, Luther firmly declined, pointing out that should he himself be sacrificed to the malice of Rome, there was no one but Melancthon capable of carrying on. The youth and professors from the university, as well as the towns people, thronged the streets of Wittenberg to witness his departure.

The procession was led by the imperial herald, wearing his insignia and displaying the imperial eagle, showing that the travelers journeyed under the guardianship of the emperor. For Luther’s convenience, the magistrates of Wittenberg, at their own cost, had provided a covered conveyance for his comfort in travel.

Everywhere they went, villagers poured out to catch a glimpse of the monk who dared to stand against Rome, Leipsic being one notable exception. The Roman party had dared to hope that Luther would not accept the invitation to appear. Once the news arrived that he had begun his journey, they did not despair by intrigues and menaces of making him turn back. All along the way both friends and enemies endeavored in vain to turn him from his purpose of appearing before the diet. Little did they know of the character of the man with whom they were dealing. To their dismay, Luther kept his face steadfastly towards Worms.

Rome Fears Luther

Alarm was general in the camp of the pope’s friends. They feared that if Luther entered Worms, all might be lost. To carry him off by force, they could not; for he was traveling under the protection of the emperor. All that was left for them was deception. Glapio, confessor to Charles, and Paul of Amsdorff, the emperor’s chamberlain, decided on a plan which they immediately set out to implement. Finding their way to the castle of Ebernburg, they approached Francis of Sickingen, a knight who was friendly to the Reformed movement. Bucer, a youthful Dominican who had been converted to the evangelical doctrine, had taken refuge there. The knight, who did not understand much about religious matters, was easily deceived by the designs of his visitors. Bucer’s disposition to naturally avoid conflict also played into their hands.

The chamberlain and Charles’s confessor began their attack by making Sickingen and Bucer to understand that Luther was lost if he entered the city. They declared that the emperor was ready to send a few men to Ebernburg to confer with the doctor and indicated that both parties would place themselves under the protection of Sickingen. Further, they asserted that they agreed with Luther on all of the essential points and that it was only on some secondary points that there remained any disagreement. These, they said, they were willing for Bucer to mediate between them. The knight and Bucer were staggered at the apparent change in circumstances. Their two visitors continued by pointing out that the invitation to come to the castle must be presented by Sickingen and Bucer and that they must not allow the too credulous Luther to enter Worms. When his safe conduct expired in three days, who would be able to protect him there?

When Luther arrived at Oppenheim and saw a group of horsemen approaching him, he realized that his safe conduct was only good for three more days. He soon recognized Bucer, a man with whom he had held intimate conversations at Heidelberg. After the first exchange of friendship, Bucer told him that the attending troops were cavaliers belonging to Francis of Sickingen and that the knight had sent him to bring Luther’s party to the safety of his castle. There, he was told, the emperor’s confessor, who held almost unlimited influence with Charles, desired an interview with him in the hope of working out all differences amicably. Aleander, the papal legate in Worms, was not, however, to be trusted.As Bucer was pressing them, Luther’s friends did not know what to think; but Luther had no hesitation. ” ‘I shall continue my journey,’ he replied to Bucer; ‘and if the emperor’s confessor has anything to say to me, he will find me at Worms. I shall go whither I am summoned.’ ” D’Aubigne, History of the Reformation, book 6, chap. 7

Word began to quietly circulate in Worms that the diet was not bound to honor the emperor’s safe-conduct. It was with great apprehension that Luther’s friends heard these whispers. One question came to the minds of all: Was the perfidy of Constance to be repeated in Worms? The elector, greatly alarmed, sent word to Luther by Spalatin, urging him not enter the city. This was perhaps the most difficult obstacle that Luther had yet been forced to deal with, coming as it did from a trusted friend. “Fixing his eyes on the messenger, Luther replied, ‘Go and tell your master that even should there be as many devils in Worms as tiles on the house tops, still I will enter it.’ ” Wylie, History of Protestantism, vol. 1, 333

His Appearance Unexpected

Luther’s friends, and even more so his enemies, did not really expect him to come to Worms. When, however, on the sixteenth of April the sentinel on the lookout sounded his trumpet to announce Luther’s approach, the streets were suddenly flooded by men of all nations and levels of society. So great was the welcome that not even the emperor had received such a turnout. It was only with great difficulty that the procession was able to move through the press of people.

On his journey to Worms, Luther experienced an illness. Though somewhat weakened from his recent recovery, the Reformer arrived in Worms greatly fatigued from his fourteen days of travel and in need of rest. The anxiety of the people to see him was too great to allow for even an hours’ repose. He had but just entered his lodging when princes, dukes, counts, bishops, men of all ranks, both friends and foes, crowded into his apartment. Scarcely had one wave of visitors been dismissed when another pressed its way in.

The crowd of visitors, varying greatly in rank and purpose, pressed about Luther until late into the night. He answered all of their questions with such dignity and wisdom that even his enemies marveled. After the last visitor had left, Luther went to bed and sought rest; but the excitement of the day had left him restless and unable to sleep. After arising and playing a song on his lute, he went to the window. “There were the stars fulfilling their courses far above the tumults of earth, yet far beneath that throne on which sat a greater King than the monarch before whom he was to appear on the morrow. He felt as he gazed, a sense of sublimity filling his soul, and bringing with it a feeling of repose. Withdrawing his gaze, and closing the casement, he said, ‘I will lay me down and take quiet rest, for Thou makest me to dwell in safety.’ ” Ibid., 335

At four o’clock on the day of the hearing, the marshal of the empire appeared to summon Luther before the diet. The crowd that filled the streets was even greater than that which had filled them the day before. It was impossible to advance, and at length the herald ordered some private homes to be opened and they made their way through gardens and private passages to the place where the diet was sitting.

Having at last reached the town hall, Luther and those who accompanied him were again prevented from further advance. By the use of main force, the soldiers were at last able to clear the doors and gain an admittance. On the inside, every corner was crowded. In the antechambers and deep recesses of the windows, there were more than five thousand spectators; and it was only with great difficulty that Luther was able to advance to the entrance of the hall where the diet awaited him.

“As he was about to enter the presence of his judges, an old general, the hero of many battles, said to him kindly: ‘Poor monk, poor monk, thou art now going to make a nobler stand than I or any other captains have ever made in the bloodiest of our battles. But if thy cause is just, and thou art sure of it, go forward in God’s name, and fear nothing. God will not forsake thee.’. . .

“At length the doors opened and Luther went in, and with him entered many persons who formed no portion of the diet. Never had man appeared before so imposing an assembly. The emperor Charles V, whose sovereignty extended over a great part of the old and new world; his brother the Archduke Ferdinand; six electors of the empire . . . ; twenty-four dukes, the majority of whom were independent sovereigns over countries more or less extensive and among whom were some whose names afterwards became formidable to the Reformation,—the Duke of Alva and his two sons; eight margraves; thirty archbishops, bishops, and abbots; seven ambassadors, including those from the kings of France and England; the deputies of ten free cities; a great number of princes, counts, and sovereign barons; the papal nuncios—in all two hundred and four persons: such was the imposing court before which appeared Martin Luther.

A Victory for Truth

“This appearance was of itself a signal victory over the papacy. The pope had condemned the man, and he was now standing before a tribunal which, by this very act, set itself above the pope. The pope had laid him under an interdict, and cut him off from all human society; and yet he was summoned in respectful language, and received before the most august assembly in the world. The pope had condemned him to perpetual silence, and he was now about to speak before thousands of attentive hearers drawn together from the farthest parts of Christendom. An immense revolution had thus been effected by Luther’s instrumentality. Rome was already descending from her throne, and it was the voice of a monk that caused this humiliation.” D’Aubigne, History of the Reformation, book 7, ch. 8

Luther was conducted to a place directly in front of the emperor’s throne. The sudden transition from the uneasy crowd to the calm grandeur of the diet had its effect upon him. As he felt all eyes turn upon him, Luther appeared, for a moment, almost intimidated and bewildered; but it passed and he quickly regained his composure. The sun was near its setting and its golden rays filled the room, accentuating the rich colors of the national costumes. In the midst of all of the imposing grandeur stood Luther in his monk’s frock.

The spokesman for the diet arose and, first in Latin and then in German, addressed Luther, asking him two questions. First he asked, as he pointed to a display of Luther’s books spread out on a table, if he acknowledge these to be his books. Second, was Luther prepared to retract and disavow the opinions that he had advanced in them?

Luther’s First Response

Luther, his bearing respectful and his voice low, began to speak. Some of the members thought that it trembled a little and hoped for a quick retraction.

The first charge Luther frankly acknowledged. As to the second point, he replied. “Seeing it is a question which concerns the salvation of souls, and in which the Word of God—than which nothing is greater in heaven or in earth—is interested, I should act imprudently were I to reply without reflection. I entreat your imperial Majesty, with all humility, to allow me time, that I may reply without offending against the Word of God.” Wylie, The History of Protestantism, vol. 1, 339

It was a wise decision, which was interpreted differently by the papal members of the diet. Confidently, they expressed the belief among themselves that he was merely breaking his fall and would soon retract. They believed that while he might play the heretic in the safety of Wittenberg, he would play the part of a penitent at Worms. How little they penetrated the depth of Luther’s character.

After a deliberation, the diet granted the delay that Luther requested. Luther bowed, and instantly the herald was by his side to conduct him to his hotel.

As he arose the next day, it was not the prospect of death that filled Luther with apprehension but the full realization that the crisis had arrived and he felt unable to meet it. It seemed that the sustaining power that had been with him until that point had deserted him, and all that he could see was an approaching catastrophe. The fear that the enemies of the gospel would triumph distressed him beyond words. In an agony of soul he poured his heart out to God.

Rising from his knees, Luther felt complete calm return to his soul. He then sat down to arrange his thoughts, to draft, in outline, his defense, and to search the Scriptures for passages with which to fortify it. Having completed this task, he laid his left hand upon the sacred Book and raising his right hand to heaven, swore to remain faithful to the gospel and to uphold it, even if it cost him his life. After this, the Reformer experienced a still deeper peace.

At four o’clock that afternoon, the grand marshal and the herald again presented themselves to escort Luther to the hall. On arriving in the outer court, they found the diet in deep deliberation with no indication as to when Luther might expect to be heard. The first hour passed and then a second. So long a delay in such circumstances was sufficient to exhaust him physically and distract him mentally, but the Reformer’s tranquility did not forsake him. The night began to fall, and torches were kindled in the assembly hall.

At last the door opened and Luther entered the hall. If, as some suspect, the delay was arranged by Aleander in the hope that Luther would come before the diet in a state of agitation, he was doomed to disappointment. The Reformer stood before the diet in perfect composure and with an air of dignity.

The End

Birth of the King! The Church Structure Of Jesus’ Day

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From Wichita, Kansas to Kongsberg, Norway, and around the world, the colorful sights and delightful sound of Christmas once again pervade the earth. Many Christians observe Christmas as a commemoration of the birth of Jesus in lowly Bethlehem. Though in all probability it is not His birthday, let us use this time of Christmas awareness to review the events surrounding that glorious occasion.

“When the fullness of the time had come, God sent forth His Son” for whom it was proclaimed that “of the increase of His government and peace there will be no end.” He was to sit “upon the throne of David, and over His kingdom, to order it and establish it with judgment and justice from that time forward, even forever.” “For unto us a Child is born, unto us a Son is given; and the government will be upon His shoulder.”” Galatians 4:4; Isaiah 9:7, 6.

Thus, according to Scripture, when Jesus was “born,” He was to sit upon the “throne of David” and to establish the kingdom in justice and peace. Though the chosen nation should suffer economic chaos, theological apostasy and political corruption, its members were sure it would ultimately recover, for the Messiah would once again bring justice and peace, prosperity and dominion to God’s people.

Was not “the government” to be “upon His shoulder”? And does the government not refer to the leaders and authorities of the nation? Thus, the people confidently looked to their leaders to proclaim the Messiah King.

While the world of Israel thus looked expectantly toward Jerusalem for the birth announcement of their Saviour and King, a newborn babe lay sleeping on the beaten-down straw, under strips of linen, in a Bethlehem barn. He was a normal looking infant, born of peasant stock. He was the Messiah, the Creator of the universe. The future of Israel’s prosperity and existence lay huddled beside Him.

Angels, bursting with eagerness to tell the good news, flew from house to house, synagogue to synagogue, throughout the length and breadth of Judea, searching for receptive hearts, to announce the birth of this newborn Son. They searched and searched. Where were the 7,000 faithful of Elijah’s day? Though Elijah had not known their whereabouts, these angels had known every name and address. But now they searched in vain! Yet the people of Israel were zealous Sabbath-keepers. They sent their children to the rabbinical schools and daily studied the Scriptures. And most of all, they were of the lineage of Abraham, loyal Jews, as demonstrated by their loyalty to their human leaders.

In one classroom an angel lingers as a scholar lectures his students. “It is nearly time for the Messiah to come,” he says. The angel starts forward with breathtaking joy—has he found a worthy group? He readies to lighten the room and share the good news, but the teachers continues:

“Beware, however, that the historic beliefs, based upon simple Bible statements, must today be balanced with modern scholasticism. Rabbi Benikel, for example, in his recent dissertation of the linguistic origins of Daniel, which has received the endorsement of Rabbi Honohan, points out several exegetical problems with the theory of the Babylonian origin of Daniel. He asserts that portions of Daniel were written during the early Maccabean period and that the Messiah prophecy was an attempt to strengthen the support of Judas Maccabeus in his resistance to the Antiochan occupation of Judea. The Sanhedrin Council has yet to decide on this theory, but Rabbi Benikel, understandably, has not wanted to submit it to their jurisprudence until he has more support in the council.”

The angel folds his wings and turns to leave. The professor drones on—Rabbi El-Sevens has also shown problems with the year-day theory. This theory, he says, developed as a result of Israel’s disappointment when the Messiah did not come when expected shortly after Cyrus’ decree. . . . But the angel has gone. The rejection of the Messiah had already begun.

Thus it was that “angels came . . . unseen to Jerusalem, to the appointed expositors of the Sacred Oracles, and the ministers of God’s house. . . . Yet Jerusalem was not preparing to welcome her Redeemer. With amazement the heavenly messengers beheld the indifference of the people whom God had called to communicate to the world the light of sacred truth. . . . They rehearsed their meaningless prayers, and performed the rites of worship to be seen by men, but in their strife for riches and worldly honor they were not prepared for the revelation of the Messiah. The Desire of Ages, 43, 44

The angel returns from his search to the hayloft headquarters of Bethlehem: “I’ve searched the classrooms of Judea,” he reports. “The teachers are expounding the Scriptures, but they are very proud and degree-oriented. ‘They love . . . to be called . . . Rabbi.’ (Matthew 23:6, 7.) The students’ minds are crowded with material that . . . [is] worthless, and they are so busy with their biblical studies that they have no time for ‘quiet hours to spend with God.’ Thus they do ‘not hear His voice speaking to the heart.’ The Desire of Ages, 69. They have elevated human philosophy above simple faith and have ‘set human teaching above God’s Word.’ Christ’s Object Lessons, 304. They pray before every class, but there is no real desire for divine enlightenment. I am sad to report that I have not been able to find a single classroom of Judea within which I could give the glad tidings of Jesus’ birth. Even if I had told them, unless it was endorsed by the Sanhedrin and came through the official channels, they would not have believed it.”

“That’s the kind of reports we’re getting from all over,” was the answer from the coordinating angel. “It is pretty bleak. If we could even find some in individual dwellings with whom we could share the goodness, but the angels visiting the homes report that the people have ‘respected the priests and rabbis for their intelligence and apparent piety’ for so long, that ‘in all religious matters they [have] yielded implicit obedience to their authority.’” The Desire of Ages, 611. They have almost made their human leaders infallible.

“We have found two persons, however, named Simeon and Anna, who are ‘just and devout, waiting for the Consolation of Israel’ and filled with the Holy Spirit. (See Luke 2:29, 36.) Of course, they are so old that few will listen. What’s more, Anna is a prophetess, and you know how the testimony of the Spirit has been received of late. Completely made of none effect by many, I fear.

“Another detachment of angels have found some philosophers in Persia who are sincere seekers for truth. They have the writings of Balaam. Possibly we can reach them through their belief in astrology. Balaam said, ‘A Star shall come out of Jacob’ (Numbers 24:17); now if we make a visible star arise over Bethlehem. . .”

But the commander was interrupted by the entrance of another angel who appears radiant with joy—”I’ve found some who believe!” he announces. “There are some shepherds herding their sheep right outside this very city,” he says, “who are praying and meditating on the Scripture and are expecting the Christ to come!”

“But who will listen to shepherds?” asks one of the angels standing nearby. “They have no degrees, no preaching license, no literary or oratorical skills, no friends in the synagogue, no influence at all—if they preach this gospel it will turn many away!”

“But God is no respecter of persons” responds the angel. “They are worthy and I must tell them.”

“We’re all coming,” responds the commander. “You are the only one who has had success tonight—we’re joining you!”

That night the lowly shepherds became the best and only true theologians of Israel. They did not know four of five variant possibilities of prophetic interpretations; they could not quote rabbinical sources; they did not even know the dictionary definition of exegesis, but they knew the truth. True theology is the process of humbly arriving at truth, not the process of proudly elucidating human speculation.

Those who do not understand or believe in God’s holy Sabbath are not theologians. They may be sincere, but they are not theologians. The most common and illiterate person who understands and keeps the Sabbath is a greater theologian than is the wisest scholar who is ignorant of such a basic, plain truth of the Bible. Those who do not understand the closing events of earth’s history as delineated in Daniel, the Revelation, and The Great Controversy, are not theologians. Those who do not understand the power of Christ to deliver from sin, of the plain and simple gospel story of who Jesus was—”the seed of David according to the flesh” (See Romans 1:3.)—are not theologians. Those who have known and rejected God’s voice through the Spirit of Prophecy may be applauded for their great speculative skills, but their wisdom is no greater than was that of the scribes and Pharisees in Jesus’ day—they are not theologians. And if the church, or individuals, permit themselves to be educated by these broken cisterns, they will be deceived and rejected by God, as were the Jews in Jesus’ day.

As in Jesus’ day,

“There are men among us in responsible positions who hold that the opinions of a few conceited philosophers, so called, are more to be trusted than the truths of the Bible, or the testimonies of the Holy Spirit. Such a faith as that of Paul, Peter, or John is considered old-fashioned and insufferable at the present day. . . . God has shown me that these men are . . . to prove a scourge to our people. They are wise above what is written. This unbelief of the very truths of God’s Word because human judgment cannot comprehend the mysteries of His work is found . . . in most of our schools and comes into the lessons of the nurseries.” Testimonies, vol. 5, 79.

Few so-called scholars are true theologians, and few theologians are recognized scholars. Jesus said, “I thank You, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because You have hidden these things from the wise and prudent, and have revealed them to babes.” Matthew 11:25.

As with ancient Israel at Christ’s first coming, so with modern Israel “in the last solemn work” before His Second Coming—”few great men will be engaged.” They “have trusted to intellect, genius, or talent . . . [and] did not keep pace with the light. . . . God will work a work in our day that but few anticipate. He will raise up and exalt among us those [like the shepherds] who are taught rather by the unction of His Spirit than by the outward training of scientific institutions. . . . God will manifest that He is not dependent on learned, self-important mortals.” Testimonies, vol. 5, 80, 82.

In Jesus’ day the people had been led to believe that God’s work depended upon the priests and rabbis, as “we have been inclined to think that where there are no faithful ministers there can be no true Christian, but this is not the case. God has promised that where the shepherds are not true He will take charge of the flock Himself. God has never made the flock wholly dependent upon human instrumentalities.” Testimonies, vol. 5, 80.

The Jewish people could not fathom the Lord ever forsaking them. Their leaders had emphasized the texts that spoke of their eternal heritage to the exclusion of texts that spoke of the conditions of prosperity. This led to a false sense of security in the system. They forgot that God has not made Himself dependent upon any man, nation or church. Anyone, such as John the Baptist, who said, “God can raise up children to Himself from these stones,” was thought of as a schismatic and separationist. The question they asked both John and Jesus was, “By what authority do you do these things?” —What rabbi, priest, or synagogue has endorsed you?

The rejection of Jesus and the destruction of a nation followed a very simple path:

The leaders became political with only an outward appearance of piety in order to retain the people’s confidence and support.

The educational system elevated the human above the divine.

The people were taught that all questions of administration or policy must be submitted to ecclesiastical authority and that only those under such authority could preach, write or teach.

The people were taught that the chosen nation would continue to be blessed regardless of what it did.

The people were led to believe that the work of the Lord consisted totally of the political system then in control of the nation. God was not recognized as the Head of His church as stated in Ephesians 1:22, 23. The Lord Himself was obliged to go through the “proper channels” of the church. No one could ever hope to be the Messiah without the Sanhedrin’s recognition.

Following the anointing of Jesus at His baptism, the Father gave proof after proof of Jesus’ Messiahship. But the one proof He was lacking was the official approval of the church—or at least what the people thought was the church.

Of course, Jesus was the church. He was the government.

For “where Christ is, even among the humble few, this is Christ’s church, for the presence of the High and Holy One who inhabiteth eternity can alone constitute a church.” The Upward Look, 315.

No human council or organization, either today, in Martin Luther’s day, or in Jesus’ day can either establish or annul a church body by mere human fiat. The true church in Jesus’ day was not the temple in Jerusalem, but the believers that surrounded Jesus. This has constituted the church “in every age.” This is the church that “the gates of hell have not been able to prevail against,” and “is the one object upon which God bestows in a special sense His supreme regard.” Acts of the Apostles, 11, 12. But to even suggest such a thing in Jesus’ day would have been considered divisive, insubordinate and apostate. Thus the leaders were able to take a whole nation with them to ruin in their rejection of the humble King of Israel. The leaders were too proud, entrenched and educated to follow Jesus or to submit to His authority, and the people cast their lot with the priests.

Witness one of the most dramatic of Jesus’ healings. The man was born blind, the result, supposedly, of a curse from the parents’ or grandparents’ sins. But Jesus made clay, packed it upon his eyes, and told him to go wash in the pool of Siloam.

The man came seeing and rejoicing. Though he had never seen Jesus, he knew that He was the Messiah, and acknowledged Him so before the priests. The priests knew this man. They knew he had been blind from birth. They had tried to suggest in previous healings of Jesus, that it was by sleight of hand, but they could not deny this miracle. Neither could they accept the One who performed it, for it was done by Jesus, who was not under their authority or jurisdiction. To acknowledge Him would mean to humble themselves. It could possibly lead to the whole moral and economic collapse of their system. Tithes and offerings would probably start flowing to Jesus. Their own authority would be limited. If they should yield their authority here, what would prevent any and every other upstart from beginning his own ministry? What would preserve the “purity” of the church? To their way of thinking, the whole prosperity of a nation depended upon their handling of this case in such a way as to deprive Jesus of His glory and yet retain the confidence of the people. It would require the utmost skill in administrative tact and crisis management.

“So they . . . called the man who was blind, and said to him, ‘Give God the glory! We know that this Man [Jesus] is a sinner.’” But the healed man would not relinquish his faith in Jesus. “Then they reviled him and said, ‘You are His disciple, but we are Moses’ disciples.’” John 9:24, 28.

As one last attempt to break through the stubborn resistance of the Jews, Jesus raised a man to life who had been dead for four days. The priests knew that they could not refute this miracle. In their hearts they knew that He was divine. But to acknowledge Him now would destroy their whole social, economic and political system. And to their way of thinking, it would therefore destroy God’s church. That, as “faithful stewards,” they could not allow. Thus Caiaphas said, “It is [more] expedient for us that one man should die for the people, . . . [than] that the whole nation should perish.” John 11:50.

Corruption and political maneuvering they could permit; but someone calling for repentance, someone speaking without their authority, they could not tolerate. When the decision came to choose between Barabbas and Christ, they unanimously, save for Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea, demanded Barabbas, and the multitudes followed suit.

“At the time of the first advent of Christ to our world, the men who composed the Sanhedrin exercised their authority in controlling men according to their will,” and the people blindly accepted their dominion.” Testimonies to Ministers. 301. In their acceptance of human authority they rejected God’s. And though the true church of Israel never fell, the human machinery that the people thought was the church did fall.

“The sin of ancient Israel was in disregarding the express will of God and following their own way according to the leadings of unsanctified hearts. Modern Israel are fast following in their footsteps and the displeasure of the Lord is as surely resting upon them.” Testimonies, vol. 5, 94.

“The religion of many among us will be the religion of apostate Israel, because they love their own way, and forsake the way of the Lord. . . . I know that a work must be done for the people, or many will not be prepared to receive the light of the angel sent down from heaven to lighten the whole earth with His glory.” Testimonies to Ministers, 468, 469.

When the earth was lightened with the glory of the angels at Jesus’ first coming, few were ready to receive it—only the humblest were lightened by their glory. Just so, another angel is to lighten the earth before Jesus’ Second Coming. Again, only the humblest will receive His glory. The church, purified, is going through. But not everything that purports to be the church today is going to triumph with it. Only the pure and holy are going to triumph. Nothing that in any way bespeaks corruption or political maneuvering will survive.

“The Lord Jesus will always have a chosen people to serve Him. When the Jewish people rejected Christ, the Prince of Life, He took from them the kingdom of God and gave it to the Gentiles. God will continue to work on this principle with every branch of His work. When a church proves unfaithful to the work of the Lord, whatever their position may be, however high and sacred their calling, the Lord can no longer work with them. Others are then chosen to bear important responsibilities.” The Upward Look. 131.

“Let a church become proud and boastful, not depending on God, not exalting His power, and that church will surely be left by the Lord, to be brought down to the ground.” Testimonies, vol. 8, 127.

Throughout the land it is Christmas time again. Though the origins of Christmas preceded the Christian era, let us review the meaning of the Bethlehem scene. While all eyes were fastened upon Jerusalem for the official birth announcement of their Saviour and King, a newborn babe lay sleeping on beaten-down straw, under strips of linen, in a Bethlehem barn. While the church went on with its forms and ceremonies and Sabbath rituals, the lowly shepherds were bowing beside His cradle. They were the true theologians of Israel, but none would accept their inspired announcement. There in that cradle of Bethlehem lay the government of Israel. The prosperity of a nation, a church, a people, lay huddled beside Him. Though many rejected Him, God’s true church accepted Him. That church still lives!

Martin Luther, part I – The Groundworks

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During the days of Valentinian (A.D. 364), the Roman Empire was divided into the Eastern and Western sections. The Turks eventually came to control the Eastern Empire, but proved unable to conquer Western Europe. Largely as a result of the efforts of the pope to revive the Empire in the west, the nations were grouped into a body, or federation of confederate states. From the kings of these various states, one was chosen to rule over them collectively and was given the title Emperor.

Charlemagne, the first head, succeeded in giving the confederation empire a show of power, but true to the words of prophecy: “And whereas thou sawest iron mixed with miry clay, they shall mingle themselves with the seed of men: but they shall not cleave one to another, even as iron is not mixed with clay.” Daniel 2:43. It was extremely difficult to introduce universal laws or to bring the nations together, even in matters of mutual interest. It was only the terror inspired by Mahomet II that led the princes of Germany to unite themselves in an empire.

Pope Gregory, about the year 997, is believed to have instituted seven electors. Of these, three were churchmen and three lay princes, to which one of kingly rank was added. The three churchmen wee the Archbishop of Treve, Chancellor of France; the Archbishop of Mainz, Chancellor of Germany; and the Archbishop of Cologne, Chancellor if Italy. The four laymen were the King of Bohemia, the Duke of Saxony, Count Palatine of the Rhine, and the Marquis of Brandenburg. The election was to take place in Frankfort; and no elector was permitted to enter the city attended by more than 200 horsemen, of which only 50 were to be armed.

The emperor had no special revenue to support the imperial dignity and no power to enforce the imperial commands. The princes were careful not to make the emperor too powerful, lest he should infringe on their independent sovereignty. In the end, the Empire had only two elements of cohesion—Roman Catholicism and their fear of the Turks.

With the death of Maximilian, in 1519, the imperial crown became vacant. There were two powerful contenders who came forward to claim the price—Francis I of France and Charles of Austria, the grandson of Maximilian and King of Spain. Henry VIII had an interest; but finding his chances of winning small, he early withdrew. In the end, the Germans chose Charles.

The Turks, hovering on their frontier, helped the German princes to recognize the benefit of a strong central government. They were not, however, unaware that the hand which could be strong to protect them could as easily crush out their rights. In order to protect themselves, they drew up an instrument called a Capitulation, or claim of rights, enumerating and guaranteeing the privileges and immunities of the Germanic Body, which the representatives of Charles signed. At the time of his coronation, Charles confirmed the agreement with an oath. In so doing, these men were, quite unconsciously, creating an asylum to which Protestantism might retreat when the emperor would later raise his hand to crush it.

Charles V was more powerful than any emperor had been for centuries. To the imperial dignity he added the substantial power of Spain, which was, at that time, by far the mightiest nation in Europe. In order to better understand how Spain had achieved this position, we will briefly look at the events that had taken place to bring Spain to the pinnacle of power and grandeur that it then enjoyed.

 

Spain Emerges

 

In 711, a Berber Muslim army crossed the Strait of Gibraltar from northern Africa into the Iberian Peninsula. By 719, Moorish rule was established in Spain. Their progress northward was arrested, however, at a battle fought in France, between Tours and Poitiers, in 732 by the Frankish ruler Charles Martel.

During the centuries of Moorish supremacy, numerous schools were built, many of them free and for the education of the poor. At the great Muslim universities, medicine, mathematics, philosophy, and literature were cultivated, placing Spanish civilization far in advance of that experienced by the rest of the continent.

With the death of Hisham III, the dynasty ended and the dissolution of the central Moorish power began, enabling the Christian kings of northern Spain to gain the advantage and subdue some Moorish states, while making others tributary. The Christian kings, in a great battle fought on the plains of Toledo in July 1212, won a decisive victory and shortly thereafter largely expelled the Muslims from Spain.

Except for small areas that were still under Moorish control, Spain, for the next two centuries, consisted of various principalities. As the Reformation approached, this suddenly changed with the merging of the various kingdoms into the two kingdoms of Castile and Aragon. Only one step remained to make Spain one monarchy, and that step was taken in 1469 by the marriage of Princess Isabella of Castile and Prince Ferdinand of Aragon. They became joint rulers of Castile in 1474 and of Aragon in 1479.

In 1492, sponsored by Ferdinand and Isabella, Christopher Columbus sailed west and landed in the West Indies. The opening of the New World made Spain the richest and most powerful European State of the sixteenth century. Through conquest and exploration, the Spanish colonies came to include the West Indies, Cuba, Mexico, all of Central America, the greater part of South America, Florida, and the Philippine Islands. In a series of Spanish campaigns from 1509 through 1511, Oran, Bougie, and Tripoli, in North Africa, became Spanish tributaries. It could then be said, as was later said of the British, that the sun never set on the Spanish Empire. Upon the death of Ferdinand, his grandson Charles became the first king of a united Spain.

In addition to Spain and the Spanish colonies, Charles inherited Naples (through his mother) and the Netherlands and Burgundy (through his father) and also acquired the duchy of Milan, including most of Lombardy. “Since the noon of the Roman power, the liberties of the world had at no time been in so great peril as now. The shadow of a universal despotism was persistently projecting itself father and yet farther upon the kingdoms and peoples of Western Europe. There was no principle known to the men of that age that seemed capable of doing battle with this colossus, and staying its advance . . . Unless Protestantism had arrived at that crisis, a universal despotism would have covered Europe, and liberty banished from the earth must have returned to her native skies.” Wylie, The History of Protestantism, vol. 1, Book 2, 220.

From the fall of the Western Empire to the eleventh century, Europe experienced an era of unparalleled darkness. It was the crusades that first began to break the darkness. Though it was a feeble beginning, and of itself would not have been sufficient to bring the day that was yet to break over the world, commerce, art, and poetry began to appear to act upon society. In the passage of time, the printing press appeared, and soon after, the mariner’s compass. Men, who until this time had but a limited view of the world, suddenly awakened to discover a world larger and richer in natural resources than they had dared to dream existed.

 

The Bible Brings Light

 

Though these things could not have brought the dawn, they opened the way for the true light to make its way, scattering the darkness before it. The Bible, so long buried, was brought forth and translated into the various languages of Europe. “The light of heaven, after its long and disastrous eclipse, broke anew upon the world.” Ibid., 227.

It was into this setting that Martin Luther was born on November 10, 1483, in Eisleben, Germany. John and Margaret, Luther’s parents, were very poor. His father, however, was determined to make a scholar of his son; and at the age of fourteen, Luther was sent away to advance his education at Madeburg, and later at Eisenach. At eighteen, Luther entered the university at Erfurth where he pursued a course in law, according to his father’s wishes.

At this time, books were very rare. One day, during his second year at Erfurth, he was in the library, opening books to learn the writer’s names, when he came upon a Bible. His interest was greatly aroused to learn that there was such a book. Until this time he had thought that the fragments of the Gospels and Epistles that the Church had selected for reading made up the entire Bible. With indescribable emotion he turned the pages of the sacred Volume. The first part to which his attention was drawn was the story of Hanna and Samuel. As he read of Samuel’s dedication to the Lord, of how he witnessed the wickedness of Eli’s sons, the priests of the Lord who made the people to transgress and abhor the offering of the Lord, he fancied that he saw a parallel with his own times. Day after day he returned to read, rejoicing in the truth that began to open to his inquiring mind.

Luther continued to pursue his education until he acquired a Master of Arts, or Doctor of Philosophy; and for a time, the Bible appeared to be forgotten as he began to give public lectures on physics and ethics of Aristotle.

God did not, however, leave Luther. About this time, a very dear friend and companion, Alexius, was overtaken by a sudden and violent death. Soon after this, Luther paid a visit to his parents in Mansfield. On returning to Erfurth, as he neared the city gate, he was caught in a fierce thunderstorm. One bolt struck so close that, by some accounts, he was thrown to the ground. In his extremity, he vowed to God that if his life was spared, he would devote his life to His service. The storm passed, and a solemn Luther made his way into town.

On August 17, 1505, Luther entered the Augustinian Convent. He had expected that in a place so quiet and, as he thought, so near to heaven, he would find rest for his soul and relief from the burden of sin that was, to him, becoming an insupportable burden. “There is a city of refuge to which the sinner may flee when death and hell are on his track, but it is not that into which Luther had now entered.” Ibid., 236.

At the news of his son’s change of plans, John Luther became indignant and wrote an angry letter to his son. He withdrew all of his favor, and declared him disinherited from his paternal affection. In vain did the father’s friends seek to effect reconciliation.

Not long after this, the plague deprived John of two of his sons. At that time, it was related to him that Martin had also been taken in death. The father’s friends seized this opportunity to reconcile him to the young novice. Somewhat grudgingly, and still half-rebellious, John relented. “Some time after this, when Luther, who had been reconciled to his father, related to him the event that had induced him to enter a monastic order: ‘God grant,’ replied the worthy miner, ‘that you may not have taken for a sign from heaven what was merely a delusion of the devil.’” D’Aubigne’s History of the Reformation, Book 2, Chapter 3, 57.

The monks at the convent received Luther with joy. It was no small gratification to their vanity to have one of the most esteemed doctors of the age abandon the university and join their order. Nevertheless, they treated him harshly and imposed on him the meanest occupations, seeking to humble him.

The drudgery of the monastery, combined with the late nights of study, worked a transformation in the communicative and jovial student. He became solitary and withdrawn. At times he fell to the floor of his cell in sheer weakness, more like a corpse than a living man. One day, when his door had not been opened as usual, they knocked on his door; but there was no response. “The door was burst in, and poor Fra Martin was found stretched on the floor in a state of ecstasy, scarcely breathing, and well-nigh dead. A monk took his flute, and gently playing upon it one of the airs that Luther loved, brought him gradually back to himself. The likelihood at that moment was that instead of living to do battle with the pope, and pull down the pillars of his kingdom, a quiet grave, somewhere in the precincts of the monastery, would erelong be the only memorial remaining to testify that such a one as Martin Luther had ever existed.” Wylie, The History of Protestantism, vol. 1, Book 2, 237, 238.

Later, as a Reformer, he wrote to Duke George of Saxony, “I was indeed a pious monk and followed the rules of my order more strictly than I can express. If ever monk could obtain heaven by his monkish works, I should have certainly been entitled to it. Of this all the friars who have known me can testify. If it had continued much longer, I should have carried my mortifications even to death by means of my watchings, prayers, reading, and other labors. D’Aubigne’s History of the Reformation, Book 2, Chapter 3, 59.

 

Staupitz Points Luther to Christ

 

A tender conscience inclined Luther to regard the slightest fault as a great sin. He would endeavor, by the severest mortifications, to expiate it; but in all of this, he found no peace.

It was at this time that the Lord brought the pious John Staupitz into Luther’s life. Staupitz was Vicar-General of the Augustines of Germany. Through his study he had learned the way of salvation. The purity of his own life condemned the corruption that surrounded him, but he lacked the courage to be the Reformer of Christendom. In spite of this lack, God used him in preparing Luther for that work. “The pious Staupitz opened the Word of God to Luther’s mind and bade him look away from himself, cease the contemplation of infinite punishment for the violation of God’s law, and look to Jesus, his sin-pardoning Saviour. ‘Instead of torturing yourself on account of your sins, throw yourself into the Redeemer’s arms. Trust in Him, in the righteousness of His life, in the atonement of His death. . . . Listen to the Son of God. He became man to give you the assurance of divine favor. Love Him who first loved you.’ D’Aubigne’s, History of the Reformation, Book 2, Chapter 4. Thus spoke this messenger of mercy. His words made a deep impression upon Luther’s mind. After many a struggle with long-cherished errors, he was enabled to grasp the truth, and peace came to his troubled soul.” The Great Controversy, 123, 124.

The light that pierced the darkness that surrounded Luther freed him from the principles of popery. He no longer looked to himself and to the Church for salvation, but to Jesus Christ. Before he left the convent cell to break the shackles of Rome from the Christian world, the Reformation first rehearsed itself in his cell at Erfurth.

A short time later, Luther was ordained a priest and accepted a call to professorship in the University of Wittenberg. There he applied himself to his study of the Scriptures in the original tongues. He began to lecture on the book of Psalms, the Gospels, and the Epistles. His friend Staupitz urged him to ascend the pulpit and preach the Word of God; but Luther hesitated, feeling himself unworthy of such a high calling. It was only after a long struggle that he yielded to the invitation of friends.

Luther was still a true son of the papal church and had no thought that he would ever be anything else; but in the providence of God, he was led to make a trip to Rome. About this time a quarrel broke out between seven monasteries of the Augustines and their Vicar-General. It was agreed to submit the matter to the pope, and Luther’s eloquence recommended him as the person most fit to undertake the task. Descending the mountains to the fertile plains of Lombardy, he stopped for a few days of rest at a monastery on the banks of the Po. He was filled with misgivings as he observed the magnificence and luxury. The monks, endowed with a princely income, lived in splendid apartments and dressed themselves in the richest and most costly attire. His mind became perplexed as he contrasted this lifestyle with the self-denial and hardship of his own life. Friday came and, according to church law, there was to be no meat served. The tables of the monks, however, groaned under the abundance as before. Luther could no longer remain silent. “’On this day,’ said Luther, ‘such things my not be eaten. The pope has forbidden them.’” Wylie, The History of Protestantism, vol. 1, Book 2, 248.

Though it did not spoil their appetites, the manners of this rude German did startle the monks. They became apprehensive that he might report their style of life to their superiors at headquarters, and they consulted how this danger might be avoided. A friendly porter disclosed to Luther that to remain longer would be to incur great risk. Profiting by the friendly warning, Luther quickly departed with as little delay as possible.

At the first sight of Rome, Luther fell to his knees, exclaiming, “Holy Rome, I salute thee!” Expecting there to find the spotless beauty of apostolic truth, he made his way into the city.

Address To Believers In Christ Of All Denominations

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Written: February, 1844 (from Memoirs of William Miller, 249–253, by Sylvester Bliss, 1853.)

Dear Brethren—We would ask in the name of our dear Master, Jesus Christ, by all that is holy, by the fellowship of the saints, and the love of the truth, why you cast us off as if we were heretics? What have we believed that we have not been commanded to believe by the Word of God, which you yourselves allow is the rule and only rule of our faith and practice? What have we done that should call down such virulent denunciations against us from pulpit and press, and give you just cause to exclude us (Adventists) from your churches and fellowship? In the name of all that is dear, all that is holy and good, we call upon some of you to come out and tell us wherein our great sin lies. Have we denied the faith once delivered to the saints? Tell us, we pray you, or, wherein is our fault? If there is an honest man among you, of which we cannot doubt, we shall expect to see your reasons publicly and honestly avowed; and if we are guilty of heresy or crime, let the Christian community know it, that we may be shunned by all who know and love the truth.

 

Is it heterodox to believe that Jesus Christ will come again to this earth, to receive His saints to Himself, and to reward all men as their works shall be? If so, then our fathers, and our ministers, our creeds, and our Bibles, have taught us heresy; and from our infancy we have misunderstood our teachers, and misapplied our Bible. Do tell us what mean a class of texts like these:

 

  • John 14:3: “And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto Myself; that where I am, there ye may be also.”

 

  • Acts 1:11: “Which also said, Ye men of Galilee, why stand ye gazing up into heaven? This same Jesus, which is taken up from you into heaven, shall so come in like manner as ye have seen Him go into heaven.”

 

  • I Peter 1:7, 13: “That the trial of your faith, being much more precious than of gold that perisheth, though it be tried with fire, might be found unto praise, and honour, and glory, at the appearing of Jesus Christ. Wherefore, gird up the loins of your mind, be sober, and hope to the end for the grace that is to be brought unto you at the revelation of Jesus Christ.”

 

⦁ Revelation 1:7: “Behold, He cometh with clouds; and every eye shall see Him, and they also which pierced Him: and all kindreds of the earth shall wail because of Him.”

 

Does our crime consist in our looking for Him and loving His appearing? This, too, we charge upon our fathers and teachers; we have heard, ever since we had consciousness, as our duty explained and enforced, to watch and look, to love and be prepared for His return, that when He comes we may enter into the marriage supper of the Lamb. We also have Christ and the apostles for our example in so doing. Witness Matthew 24:44; 25:13; Mark 13:34–37; Philippians 3:20, 21; II Timothy 4:8; Titus 2:13; II Peter 3:12; Revelation 14:15.

 

Or are we to be severed from our brethren because we believe the prophecies of the Old and New Testament to be the true prophecies of God; or because that we think we can understand them, and see in the history of our world their fulfillment? Are we to be cut off from our connection with your churches because we believe as your ministers have told us we ought to for ages past?

 

  •  Acts 24:14: “But this I confess unto you, that after the way which they call heresy, so worship I the God of my fathers, believing all things which are written in the Law and in the prophets.”

 

  • Acts 26:22: “Having therefore obtained help of God, I continue unto this day, witnessing both to small and great, saying none other things than those which the prophets and Moses did say should come. King Agrippa, believest thou the prophets?”

 

  • I Timothy 6:14: “That thou keep this commandment without spot, unrebukeable, until the appearing of our Lord Jesus Christ.”

 

  • Revelation 1:3: “Blessed is he that readeth, and they that hear the words of this prophecy, and keep those things which are written therein: for the time is at hand.”

 

Again, let me inquire: Are we treated as heretics because we believe Christ will come this year? Are we not all commanded to watch?

 

  • Mark 13:37: “And what I say unto you I say unto all, Watch.” And I would ask, Is it not our duty to watch this year? If so, will you tell us how a man can watch, and not expect the object for which he watches? If this is the crime, we plead guilty to the charge, and throw ourselves upon the Word of God, and the example of our fathers, to justify us in so doing.

 

  • Ecclesiastes 8:5, 6: “Whoso keepeth the commandments shall feel no evil thing; and a wise man’s heart discerneth both time and judgment; because to every purpose there is time and judgment.”

 

  • Daniel 12:6, 7: “And one said to the man clothed in linen, which was upon the waters of the river, How long shall it be to the end of these wonders? And I heard the man clothed in linen, which was upon the waters of the river, when he held up his right hand and his left hand unto heaven, and sware by Him that liveth forever that it shall be for a time, times, and a half; and when he shall have accomplished to scatter the power of the holy people, all these things shall be finished.”

 

  • I Peter 1:9–13: “Receiving the end of your faith, even the salvation of your souls. Of which salvation the prophets have inquired and searched diligently, who prophesied of the grace that should come unto you; searching what, or what manner of time, the Spirit of Christ which was in them did signify, when it testified beforehand the sufferings of Christ, and the glory that should follow. Unto whom it was revealed, that not unto themselves, but unto us they did minister the things which are now reported unto you by them that have preached the gospel unto you, with the Holy Ghost sent down from heaven; which things the angels desire to look into. Wherefore, gird up the loins of your mind, be sober, and hope to the end for the grace that is to be brought unto you at the revelation of Jesus Christ.”

 

Now, if we are wrong, pray show us wherein consists our wrong. Show us from the Word of God that we are in error; we have had ridicule enough; that can never convince us that we are in the wrong; the Word of God alone can change our views. Our conclusions have been formed deliberately and prayerfully, as we have seen the evidence in the Scriptures; and all reasoning against our views has only served to confirm us in them.

 

Or, are you ready to say that our crime consists in examining the Bible for ourselves? We have inquired, “Watchman, what of the night?” We have besought and entreated them to give us any signs of the coming morning, and have waited patiently for the answer; but have waited in vain; have been turned off with some German or French philosophy, or had the Book closed in our face, and been insulted for our deep anxiety. We have, therefore, been obliged to study for ourselves; and if we are to be cut off for honestly believing in the exactness of prophetic time, then Scott, and Wesley, and the Newtons, and Mede, Gill, and others should all be excommunicated for the like offense. We, therefore, once more call upon you to show us our errors; and until this is done, we must continue to believe the Lord will come this Jewish year.

 

A Portrait of William Miller

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In September, 1842, Elders Himes, Miller, and others, held a meeting in the mammoth tent in Eastern Maine. In company with one Moses Polly, a Christian minister of my acquaintance, I attended that meeting. I there for the first time saw that great and good man, William Miller. His form and features showed great physical and mental strength. The benevolent, affable, and kind spirit manifested by him in conversation with numerous strangers, who called on him to ask questions, proved him a humble, Christian gentleman. Infidels, Universalists, and some others came to him with opposing questions. He was quick to perceive their designs, and with becoming firmness and dignity promptly met their objections and sent them away in silence. So long had he, even then, been in the field meeting opposition from every quarter, that he was prepared for any emergency.

In his public labors his arguments were clear, and his appeals and exhortations most powerful. The tent in which he spoke was a circle whose diameter was one hundred and twenty feet. On one occasion, when this tent was full, and thousands stood around, he was unfortunate in the use of language, which the baser sort in the crowd turned against him in a general burst of laughter. He left his subject with ease, and in a moment his spirit rose above the mob-like spirit that prevailed, and in language the most scorching he spoke of the corruption of the hearts of those who chose to understand hi to be as vile as they were. In a moment all was quiet and the speaker continued to describe the terrible end of the ungodly in a solemn and impressive manner. He then affectionately exhorted them to repent of their sins, come to Christ, and be ready for His appearing. Many in that vast crowd wept. He then resumed his subject, and spoke with clearness and spirit, as though nothing had happened. In fact, it seemed that nothing could have occurred to fully give him the ears of thousands before him, and to make his subject to impressive as this circumstance.

A Man for His Time

God raised up Paul to do a great work in his time. In order that the Gentiles might be clearly taught the great plan of redemption through Jesus, and that the infidelity of the Jews might be met, a great man was selected.

Martin Luther was the man for his time. He was daring and sometimes rash, yet was a great and good man. The little horn had prevailed and millions of the saints of the Most High had been put to death. To fearlessly expose the vileness of the papal monks and to meet their learning and their rage, and also to win the hearts of the common people with all the tenderness and affection of the gospel, called for just such a man as Martin Luther. He could battle with the lion, or feed and tenderly nurse the lambs of Christ’s fold.

So William Miller, in the hands of God, was the man for his time. True, he was a farmer, had been in the service of his country, and had not the benefits of an early classical education. And it was not till he had passed the noon of life that God called him to search His Word and open the prophecies to the people. He was, however, a historian from his love of history, and had a good practical knowledge of men and things. He had been an infidel. But on receiving the Bible as a revelation from God, he did not also receive the popular, contradictory ideas that many of its prophecies were clad in impenetrable mystery. Said William Miller: “The Bible, if it is what it purports to be, will explain itself.”

He sought for the harmony of Scripture and found it. And in the benevolence of his great and good heart and head, he spent the balance of his life in teaching it to the people in his written and oral lectures, and in warning and exhorting them to prepare for the Second Coming of Christ.

Much of the fruits of his labors are now seen. Much more will be seen hereafter. Heaven will be hung with the fruits of the labors of this truly great and good man. He sleeps. But if it can be said of any who have toiled and worn and suffered amid vile persecutions, “Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord from henceforth, that they may rest from their labors, and their works to follow them,” it can be said of William Miler. He nobly and faithfully did his duty, and the popular church, united with the world, paid him in persecutions and reproaches. The very name of William Miller was despised everywhere, and Millerism was the jeer of the people from the pulpit to the brothel.

The Trial, John Huss, part 2

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Sigismund, the son of Holy Roman Emperor Charles IV, was born in 1368. Through marriage to Mary, Queen of Hungary, in 1387, he became king of Hungary two years later. In 1396 he led an army of Crusaders against the Turks and received a crushing defeat at what is now Nikopol, Bulgaria. Upon the death of Holy Roman Emperor Rupert in 1410, Sigismund was elected to succeed him. Wherever he looked, the situation in Europe was most distressing. There were three popes, each of whose personal profligacy’s and official crimes were the scandal of Christianity, who yet claimed to be the supreme pastor and chief teacher of the Church. The most sacred things were bought and sold. Everywhere was strife and bloodshed as nation contended with nation. Many of the major nations of Europe were convulsed with internal problems; and to complete the confusion, the Moslem hordes, encouraged by these dissensions, were threatening to break through and subject all Christianity to Mohammed.

The spectacle of Christianity, disgraced and fractured by three popes while the Church was being corrupted by heretics, greatly concerned Sigismund. In considering how to deal with the situation, he hit upon the expedient of calling a General Council. He determined to assemble the whole Church, with all its patriarchs, cardinals, bishops, and princes, and to summon before this august body the three rival popes. He believed that a council of this nature would have sufficient authority, especially when supported by the imperial power, to force the rival popes to adjust their claims and at the same time silence heretics.

In 1414, Sigismund sought to persuade Pope John XXIII to convoke a council. Such a proposition was alarming beyond measure to him. Nor can we wonder at this if he were guilty of half the crimes which have been attributed to him by church historians. John was accused of having cleared his way to the papal chair by the murder of his predecessor, Alexander V; and he lived in continual fear of himself being removed by the same dreadful means by which he had ascended it. He was in the position, however, of having but little choice. He was at war with Ladislaus, against whose armies he had not fared well and from whom he had been forced to flee to Bologna. Rather than offend the emperor, whose assistance he desperately needed, he determined to face the council. A General Council was finally agreed upon, to be convoked at Constance, November 1, 1414.

Amid all of the many dignitaries to attend the Council were three who took precedence of all others: Sigismund, Pope John XXIII, and John Huss. The two anti-popes had been summoned to the Council, but they chose to appear by representation, rather than in person.

Sigismund appeared, professing John XXIII to be the only valid contender to the tiara. Nevertheless, it was his secret purpose to force John to renounce his claim. John, on the other hand, pretended to be quite cordial in calling the Council, while secretly he was determined to dissolve it as quickly as possible should he find it unfriendly to himself. He left Bologna with a substantial store of jewels and money, hoping to be able to use them to corrupt those he could not dazzle with their splendor. All along the way he took care to make arrangements to leave the way clear should he have to leave Constance in haste. As he passed through Tyrol, he made a secret treaty with Frederick, Duke of Austria, to the effect that one of his strong castles would be at his disposal should it become necessary. When he arrived with the league of Constance, he sought to bind the Abbot of St. Ulric to himself by bestowing on him the miter.

“Meanwhile, another traveler was approaching Constance. Huss was conscious of the dangers which threatened him. He parted from his friends as if he were never to meet them again, and went on his journey feeling that it was leading him to the stake. Notwithstanding he had obtained a safe-conduct from the king of Bohemia and received one also from the emperor Sigismund while on his journey, he made all his arrangements in view of the probability of his death.” The Great Controversy, 104, 105. Though he expected to find more enemies in Constance than Christ had at Jerusalem, he was determined not to betray the gospel by cowardice.

Through every town and village on his route, there were indications of the spread of his doctrines and the favor with which they were held. The inhabitants turned out to welcome him in large numbers. At Nuremberg, as well as at other town through which he passed, the magistrates formed a guard of honor and escorted him through the streets that were thronged with spectators, eager for a glimpse of the man who was changing the face of Christianity. Thus, his journey was, of a sort, a triumphal procession.

Soon after his arrival, Huss met with John XXIII, who added his safe conduct to that of the emperor. A short time later, in violation of these solemn promises, Huss was arrested on orders of the pope and cardinals and thrust into a loathsome dungeon.

The imprisonment of Huss excited great indignation in Bohemia. A number of the barons united in remonstrating with the emperor, reminding him of his safe conduct. Sigismund’s first impulse was to set the Reformer free, but Huss’ enemies were determined and malignant in their designs against him. Playing upon the emperor’s zeal for the Church, they brought forward arguments that sought to convince him that he had had no right to issue such a safe conduct in the circumstances without the consent of the counsel and that the greater good of the Church must overrule his promise. In the voice of the assembled Church, Sigismund believed that he heard the voice of God and allowed the enemies of Huss to have their will with him.

Emperor Sigismund was 47 years of age at the time of the Council. Noble in bearing and tall in stature, he was graceful in manners. His understanding had been improved by study, and he spoke with ability several languages. Had it not been for one grave error, the name that has come down to posterity with an eternal blot upon it might have been fair, if not illustrious. Sigismund committed the grave error common to almost all the princes of his age in believing that in order to reign, it was necessary to dissemble and that craft was an indispensable part of policy.

One of the first matters to be taken up by the Council was that of the trial of John XXIII. John, faced with the charges that were drawn up against him, promised to abdicate; but recovering, he was more determined than ever to maintain his cause and, in stealth, fled the city.

In contrast with the pomp with which he arrived in Constance, John left in the disguise of a peasant. His departure had been arranged beforehand with the Duke of Austria, a friend and staunch protector. The duke, on a given day, was to give a tournament. The spectacle was to take place late in the afternoon; and while the whole city was engrossed in the proceedings, oblivious to all else, the pope would make good his escape.

When the pope’s flight became known, the city was thrown into confusion. Everyone thought that the Council was at an end and the merchants shut their shops and packed up their wares, fearful of pillage from the lawless mob into whose hands they feared the city had been thrown. As soon as the initial excitement had somewhat abated, the emperor rode around the city, openly declaring that he would protect the Council and maintain order.

Sigismund hastily assembled the princes and deputies and indignantly declared that it was his purpose to bring the pope back, and if necessary, reduce the duke of Austria by force of arms in the process. When the pope leaned that a storm was gathering that threatened to follow him, he wrote in conciliatory terms to the emperor, excusing his hasty departure by saying that “he had gone to Schaffhausen to enjoy its sweeter air, that of Constance not agreeing with him; moreover, in this quiet retreat, and at liberty, he would be able to show the world how freely he acted in fulfilling his promise of renouncing the Pontificate.” Wiley, History of Protestantism, vol. 1, 152.

John, however, appeared to be in no haste to lay aside the tiara, and every few days he moved farther and farther away in his quest for still sweeter air. He had believed that his flight would be the signal for the Council to break up, and in this he hoped to block Sigismund’s plans and avoid the humiliation of deposition.

The emperor was determined not to be put off in his plans, and the Council proceeded. The charges against John were sustained and he was stripped of the pontificate. When the news arrived, John was as abject as he had before been arrogant. He acknowledged the justice of the sentence and asked only that his life might be spared—which no one at that time had thought to deprive him of.

The cases of the other two popes were more easily dispensed with; and by election of the cardinals, Otta de Colonna was unanimously elected to rule the church as Martin V.

Having condemned John for crimes far more grievous than the charges Huss had made and for which he was called to trial, the Council turned its attention to the Reformer.

Called before the Council, Huss naturally wished to reply to the charges, pointing out those which were false. He had uttered but a few words when there arose such a clamor as to completely drown out his voice. Huss stood motionless, viewing the excited assembly with pity rather than visible anger. As the tumult subsided, he again attempted to proceed with his defense. He had gone but a little ways when he had cause to appeal to the Scriptures, and immediately the storm was renewed with even greater violence.

Some Bohemian noblemen who had witnessed the scene informed Sigismund of what had transpired, urging him to be present at the next hearing.

At the next meeting Sigismund and Huss were brought face to face. The chains that bound Huss were a silent but eloquent commentary on the imperial safe conduct. The emperor, however, consoled himself with the thought that while he had been willing to deprive the Reformer of his freedom, he would at the last extremity save his life. There were two things, however, that Sigismund had failed to take into consideration. The first was the firm and unyielding resolve of the Reformer; the other was the awe in which he, himself, held the Council. Too late, he found, as did Pilate, that having once compromised his conscience, there was no room to change. “And so, despite his better intentions, he suffered himself to be dragged along on the road of perfidy and dishonour, which he had meanly entered, till he came to its tragic end, and the imperial safe conduct and the martyr’s stake had taken their place, side by side, ineffaceable, on history’s eternal pages.” Ibid., 158.

While Huss differed from the Church of Rome, it was not so much on dogmas as on great points of jurisdiction and policy. While these differences directly attacked certain of the principles of the papacy, they tended indirectly to the subversion of the whole system. This was perhaps a far greater revolution than Huss perceived, or perhaps intended; for until the last, he did not abandon the communion of the Roman Church. He admitted to the Divine institution and office of the pope, though he made the effacy of their official acts dependent on their spiritual character. “He held that the supreme rule of faith and practice was the Holy Scriptures; that Christ was the Rock on which our Lord said He would build His church; that ‘the assembly of the Predestinate is the Holy Church, which has neither spot nor wrinkle, but is holy and undefiled; that which Jesus Christ calleth His own;’ that the Church need no one visible head on earth, that it had none such in the days of the apostles; that nevertheless it was then well governed, and might be so still although it should lose its earthly head; and that the Church was not confined to the clergy, but included all the faithful.” Ibid., 158, 159.

Already enfeebled by illness and by his long confinement, he was exhausted and worn out by the length of the appearance and the attention demanded to rebut the attacks and reasonings of his attackers. At length, the Council rose, and Huss was led back to prison.

During the interval between Huss’ second and third appearance, the emperor tried ineffectually to induce the Reformer to retract. Not only was he motivated by a genuine desire to save Huss’ life, but doubtless also out of a regard for his honor which was deeply at stake in the issue. The Reformer, while most willing to abjure those things of which he was falsely accused, refused to be moved regarding those truths he had taught. “‘He would rather,’ he said, ‘be cast into the sea with a millstone about his neck, than offend those little ones to whom he had preached the Gospel, by abjuring it.’” Ibid., 160.

At last the matter was brought to the point of whether or not he would submit implicitly to the Council. “‘If the Council should even tell you,’ said a doctor, whose name has not been preserved, ‘that you have but one eye, you would be obliged to agree with the Council.’ ‘But,’ said Huss, ‘as long as God keeps me in my senses, I would not say such a thing, even though the whole world should require it, because I could not say it without wounding my conscience.’ What an obstinate self-opinionated, arrogant man! Said the Fathers.” Ibid. Even the emperor became irritated at what he regarded as obstinacy.

This was the great crisis in the Reformer ‘s life. It was as if the Council had laid aside all charges of heresy and asked only that he give assent to its divine authority as an infallible council. From that moment, Huss had greater peace of mind than at any time since his ordeal had begun, and he calmly began to prepare for his death.

During his imprisonment before his third and final hearing, Huss was cheered by a prophetic glimpse of the dawn of the better days that awaited the church of God.

While awaiting his final hearing and sentencing, Huss’ thoughts often turned to the chapel of Bethlehem in which he had proclaimed the gospel. One night he “saw in imagination, from the depths of his dungeon, the pictures of Christ that he had painted on the walls of his oratory, effaced by the pope and his bishops. This vision distressed him: but on the next day he saw many painters occupied in restoring these figures in greater number and in brighter colours. As soon as their task was ended, the painters, who were surrounded by an immense crowd, exclaimed: “Now let the popes and bishops come! They shall never efface them more!” D’Aubigne, History of the Reformation, Book 1, chapter 6, 30.

As the Reformer related his dream to his faithful friend, John de Chlum, he was advised to occupy his thoughts with his defense, rather than with visions. “’I am no dreamer,’ replied Huss, ‘but I maintain this for certain, that the image of Christ will never be effaced. They have wished to destroy it, but it shall be painted afresh in all hearts by much better preachers than myself.’” Ibid.

Thirty days elapsed and the Council again called for Huss. The charges against him were again read, following which Huss refused to abjure. This he accompanied with a brief recapitulation of the events that had led up to that moment. He ended by saying that he had come to this Council of his own free will, “‘confiding in the safe conduct of the emperor here present.’ As he uttered these last words, he looked full at Sigismund, on whose brow the crimson of a deep blush was seen by the whole assembly, whose gaze was at the instant turned towards his majesty.’” Wiley, History of Protestantism, vol. 1, 161.

Sentence of condemnation was now passed upon Huss. There then followed the ceremony of degradation. One after another of the garments of a priest were brought forward and placed upon him. They next placed in his hand the chalice, as if he were about to celebrate mass. He was then asked if he were willing to adjure. “‘With what face, then,’ he replied, ‘should I behold the heavens? How should I look on those multitudes of men to whom I have preached the pure Gospel? No; I esteem their salvation more than this poor body, now appointed unto death.’” Ibid.

“The vestments were removed one by one, each bishop pronouncing a curse as he performed his part of the ceremony. Finally “they put on his head a cap or pyramidal-shaped miter of paper, on which were painted frightful figures of demons, with the word ‘Archheretic’ conspicuous in front. ‘Most joyfully,’ said Huss, ‘will I wear this crown of shame for Thy sake, O Jesus, who for me didst wear a crown of thorns.’” The Great Controversy, 109.

As the fire began to burn, Huss began to loudly sing, “Jesus, thou Son of David, have mercy on me.” Even his enemies were struck with his heroic bearing. One of the observers, AEneas Sylvius, who afterwards became pope and whose testimony is not liable to suspicion, commented on the heroic demeanor of both Huss and Jerome at their executions. It was said that the vehemence of the fire could scarcely stop their singing.

When Huss bowed at the stake, it was the infallible Council that was vanquished, not the martyr. “Heap together all the trophies of Alexander and of Caesar, what are they all when weighed in the balance against this one glorious achievement? . . . From the moment he expired amid the flames, his name became a power, which will continue to speed on the great cause of truth and light, till the last shackle shall be rent from the intellect, and the conscience emancipated for from every usurpation, shall be free to obey the authority of its rightful Lord.” Wiley, History of Protestantism, vol. 1, 164, 165.

Already Bohemia was awakening; and within a hundred years, Germany and all Christendom would arise from their slumber to the awakening prophetically seen in the martyr’s dream.

The Seven Letters

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The wise man said, “That which hath been is now; and that which is to be hath already been; and God requireth that which is past.” Ecclesiastes 3:15. There are libraries full of history books that record those things that have been to enable us to learn from the past.

Many people are afraid to study the book of Revelation. It is not a book that should be avoided or just lightly skimmed through, but one that should be understood. In fact, the book begins and ends with an encouraging promise. John said, “Blessed is he that readeth, and they that hear the words of this prophecy, and keep those things which are written therein, for the time is at hand.” Revelation 1:3. And again at the end, “Behold, I come quickly: blessed is he that keepeth the sayings of the prophecy of this book.” Revelation 22:7.

It is impossible to keep something that you do not have. The word keep, according to Webster’s dictionary means to take notice of by appropriate conduct. This means more than a mere mental assent. “And he saith unto me, Seal not the sayings of the prophecy of this book: for the time is at hand” (Revelation 22:10).

Revelation is to be understood by the people of God, especially in the final hours of earth’s history. Ellen White wrote, “When we as a people understand what this book means to us, there will be seen among us a great revival. We do not understand fully the lessons that it teaches, notwithstanding the injunction given us to search and study it.” Testimonies to Ministers and Gospel Workers, 113.

“When the churches are revived, it is because some individual seeks earnestly for the blessing of God. He hungers and thirsts after God, and asks in faith, and receives accordingly. He goes to work in earnest, feeling his great dependence on the Lord, and souls are aroused to seek for a like blessing, and a season of refreshing falls on the hearts of men.” The Review and Herald, March 13, 1888.

A revival begins with one individual catching a view of the glory of Jesus that moves him to be earnest in searching his own heart and in diligent work for the salvation of souls. With this spirit, others are infused.

Christ commissioned John to write letters to the seven churches of Asia. He said, “I was in the Spirit on the Lord’s day, and heard behind me a great voice, as of a trumpet, Saying, I am Alpha and Omega, the first and the last: and, What thou seest, write in a book, and send it unto the seven churches which are in Asia; unto Ephesus, and unto Smyrna, and unto Pergamos, and unto Thyatira, and unto Sardis, and unto Philadelphia, and unto Laodicea. … And He had in His right hand seven stars: and out of His mouth went a sharp two-edged sword: and His countenance was as the sun in his strength. … Write the things which thou hast seen, and the things which are, and the things which shall be hereafter; The mystery of the seven stars which thou sawest in My right hand, and the seven golden candlesticks. The seven stars are the angels of the seven churches: and the seven candlesticks which thou sawest are the seven churches.” Revelation 1:10, 16, 19, 20.

A reference is made in the book, The Acts of the Apostles, 585, that these seven churches are symbolic. “The names of the seven churches are symbolic of the church in different periods of the Christian Era. The number seven indicates completeness, and is symbolic of the fact that the messages extend to the end of time, while the symbols used reveal the condition of the church at different periods in the history of the world.”

At the time in which John received the vision there were more than these seven churches in Asia, but in His infinite wisdom Christ saw that in these were represented exactly the trials that His people would go through at specific times and would also apply individually to those living in the last days.

The Loveless Church

The first letter was to the church of Ephesus. “Unto the angel of the church of Ephesus write; These things saith He that holdeth the seven stars in His right hand, Who walketh in the midst of the seven golden candlesticks; I know thy works, and thy labour, and thy patience, and how thou canst not bear them which are evil: and thou hast tried them which say they are apostles, and are not, and hast found them liars: And hast borne, and hast patience, and for my name’s sake hast laboured, and hast not fainted.” Revelation 2:1–3.

Ephesus means to let go, relax, permit something. The church of Ephesus existed from the years A.D. 31 to A.D. 100. Ephesus was the capital and the most important city in the Roman province of Asia. It was wealthy and within the city could be found theaters, public bathhouses, the public square, paved streets, and many other modern conveniences. It was the major center for commerce, politics and religious importance and as such, it was a promising field for missionary effort. Ephesus was the center for the worship of Artemus, believed to be the Greek goddess of fertility. Many Jews also congregated there. In the book, The Acts of the Apostles, 578, 579, we are told: “At the first the experience of the church at Ephesus was marked with childlike simplicity and fervor. The believers sought earnestly to obey every word of God, and their lives revealed an earnest, sincere love for Christ. They rejoiced to do the will of God because the Saviour was in their hearts as an abiding presence. Filled with love for their Redeemer, their highest aim was to win souls to Him.”

Ephesus was a missionary-minded church. They had found this new love and had a burden that those around them could also experience it. It is well documented that from that center missionaries were sent forth, even as far as Rome, to share the gospel of Jesus and to proclaim His Second Coming to the inhabitants there. But after a while things began to change. The zeal of the believers began to wane and their love for God and for one another grew less. Coldness crept into the church and they no longer made missionary efforts; they no longer engaged in the work and as a result they lost their burden for souls.

“Nevertheless I have somewhat against thee, because thou hast left thy first love. Remember therefore from whence thou art fallen, and repent, and do the first works; or else I will come unto thee quickly, and will remove thy candlestick out of its place, except thou repent.” Revelation 2:4, 5.

The Ephesians left their first love, their missionary spirit with a burden to win souls to Christ, and as a result, darkness and coldness crept into the church, its spiritual condition becoming worse until the whole church went through a change.

The Persecuted Church

Smyrna signifies “myrrh,” which being of bitter taste is expressive of the bitter afflictions and persecutions which was the experience of this church. This church represents the time period from around A.D. 100 until A.D. 313 when Christianity was legalized by the Roman Empire. “And unto the angel of the church in Smyrna write; ‘These things saith the first and the last, which was dead, and is alive.’ ” Verse 8. Smyrna was built by Alexander’s general Lysimachus around the third century B.C. It was one of the most prosperous cities of Asia minor. Under the Roman Empire it was famous for its beauty and the magnificence of its public buildings. Verses 9, 10 state: “I know thy works, and tribulation, and poverty, (but thou art rich) and I know the blasphemy of them which say they are Jews, and are not, but are the synagogue of Satan. Fear none of those things which thou shalt suffer: behold, the devil shall cast some of you into prison, that ye may be tried; and ye shall have tribulation ten days: be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life.”

The church of Smyrna encountered much opposition from the Jews and also suffered heavy persecution from the Roman government. Under the emperor Marcus Aurelius, the famous bishop Polycarp was martyred in A.D. 155, his fate being sealed by the flames and sword. Polycarp’s words are insightful into the character of God’s faithful who were persecuted at that time. When asked by the power of Rome to repent and deny Christ, Polycarp replied, “Our minds are not to be changed from the better to the worse, but it is a good thing to be changed from evil to good.” When he was nailed to the stake to be burned Polycarp said, “Let me remain as I am; for He who giveth me strength to sustain the fire, will enable me also, without your securing me with nails, to remain unmoved in the fire.” Pioneer Authors, Cornell, Merritt E, Miraculous Powers, 62.

The Compromising Church

Pergamos was a compromising church. “And to the angel of the church in Pergamos write; These things saith he which hath the sharp sword with two edges; I know thy works, and where thou dwellest, even where Satan’s seat is; and thou holdest fast My name, and hast not denied My faith, even in those days wherein Antipas was My faithful martyr, who was slain among you, where Satan dwelleth.” Revelation 2:12, 13. Due to its strategic position along the land and the sea, Pergamus enjoyed many centuries of wealth and prosperity. In 133 B.C., Pergamos came under Roman control and it held a religious primacy in the whole province of Asia.

It was a well-known center of religious activities, and it was here that the first temple for emperor worship was built, Satan’s seat. “But I have a few things against thee, because thou hast there them that hold the doctrine of Balaam, who taught Balac to cast a stumblingblock before the children of Israel, to eat things sacrificed unto idols, and to commit fornication. So hast thou also them that hold the doctrine of the Nicolaitans, which thing I hate. Repent, or else I will come unto thee quickly, and will fight against them with the sword of My mouth.” Verses 14–16.

Religious pressure by the pagans was very intense against the church of Pergamos. There was also much religious pressure from within. Many of the pagan believers compromised the faith as did Balaam, God’s prophet who apostatized and tried to curse Israel. This took place with the pagan believers because their hearts were not truly converted. These compromises were made with the Roman state, represented as Balak. It was compromise that allowed many false teachings and practices to enter the Christian church. It was at this time that there were many changes in doctrines and practices. The doctrine of eternal burning of the wicked was introduced and the teaching of the Nicolaitans that God’s grace blotted out the law. Serious compromises were made during this time in which the groundwork for the union of church and state was established. This period was approximately from A.D. 313 until 538.

The Corrupt Church

Thyatira means a sweet savor of affliction and this was the church in darkness. “And unto the angel of the church in Thyatira write; These things saith the Son of God, Who hath His eyes like unto a flame of fire, and His feet are like fine brass.” Verse 18.

Thyatira was about twenty-five miles southeast of Pergamum. Thyatira was well-known for its industries. It was famous for garment making, baking, and many other industries. Its citizens were mostly poor humble laborers. “I know thy works, and charity, and service, and faith, and thy patience, and thy works; and the last to be more than the first. Notwithstanding I have a few things against thee, because thou sufferest that woman Jezebel, which calleth herself a prophetess to teach and seduce My servants to commit fornication, and to eat things sacrificed unto idols.” Verses 19, 20.

This was a period of darkness for the church. Jezebel, a woman in Bible prophecy, representing a church, here refers to the apostate church at this time—the Roman system, the Papacy. There was an improvement in Thyatira’s condition, the last being better than the first. The church of Thyatira represents the church of darkness, the church during the Dark Ages, A.D. 538 till around 1517, which is when the council of Trent came to the final decision of separation between the Catholics and Protestants. It was at this time that the Reformers came upon the scene, thus the last of Thyatira’s works were greater than the first.

The Dead Church

“And unto the angel of the church in Sardis write; These things saith he that hath the seven Spirits of God, and the seven stars; I know thy works, that thou hast a name that thou livest, and art dead.” Revelation 3:1. Sardis represents the church of the Reformers—the Reformation church. Sardis was around 35 miles southeast of Thyatira, and due to its early prosperity, the city became known for its wealth. The fortress of the city was almost impregnable. They had a name that they lived and they were wealthy, very prosperous.

“Be watchful, and strengthen the things which remain, that are ready to die: for I have not found thy works perfect before God. Remember therefore how thou hast received and heard, and hold fast, and repent. If therefore thou shalt not watch, I will come on thee as a thief, and thou shalt not know what hour I will come upon thee.” Verses 2, 3. In 549 B.C., Cyrus the Mede set out to take Sardis from King Crusos. To reach Sardis meant a climb up a steep and narrow hill, which was heavily fortified. The king of Sardis had no concern when Cyrus came against him believing his fortress was impregnable. However, Cyrus took a route that the king thought to be impassable so was not heavily guarded and entered at an unguarded point and conquered the city.

Almost 330 years later in 214 B.C., Antiochus used the same strategy to conquer Sardis. In other words, they did not learn their lesson the first time and as a result, they fell again. They were not diligent in watching for danger. They did not strengthen the things that remained, so they fell. This, of course, is a perfect symbol of the Protestant Reformation. At its beginning, the Reformers stood boldly for righteousness by faith and understood the principles of the gospel, although there was still more light to shine upon them that they had not yet received.

God was calling His people out of the apostate system of worship and we know many of these Reformers such as Martin Luther who established the church of the Lutherans. There were other Reformers as well: John Huss, Jerome, Zwingli and Wycliffe, who was called the “Morning Star of the Reformation.” The problem with the Protestant churches was that they only went to a certain point and then ceased to protest. They ceased to progress in the light and as a result, the Protestant churches became similar to that which they came out of, the mother church, Babylon.

This is what took place with Sardis in A.D. 1517, which was when the Council of Trent finally settled the fact that Protestants would go one way and Catholics would go another. The Protestant churches flourished until around the middle of the eighteenth century.

The Faithful Church

“And to the angel of the church in Philadelphia write; These things saith He that is holy, and that is true, He that hath the key of David, he that openeth, and no man shutteth; and shutteth and no man openeth.” Revelation 3:7. Athalas Philadelpus named his brother Philadelpus because his brother was very loyal to him. He also named this city Philadelphia after his brother, meaning brotherly love. Philadelphia is a symbol of the missionary church. It was well-known for its temples and religious festivals. “I know thy works: behold, I have set before thee an open door, and no man can shut it: for thou hast a little strength, and hast kept My word, and hast not denied My name.” Verse 8.

In the late 1700s and early 1800s, a great religious awakening took place worldwide and prominently in America. Missionaries coming out of the Reformation movement went to various places proclaiming the Second Advent message. Here in America, William Miller was the one who led out in the great religious awakening. God used him to preach the near Advent. But, as we know, the believers thought that in 1844 Jesus would return. When Jesus did not return, there was a great disappointment. Their timing was correct, but the event was wrong. It was not the return of Jesus to this earth. Rather it was that Jesus had placed before them an open door, which no man could shut.

In the heavenly courts there is a sanctuary. You can read this specifically in Hebrews chapter 8. The believers came to recognize that in 1844, instead of Jesus’ coming to this earth as they expected, He moved from the Holy Place into the Most Holy Place of that sanctuary. The door therein was opened and the door to the Holy Place was shut.

This was the early Advent movement and the believers were fervent. They had a zeal to preach the great Second Advent. These individuals prayed constantly, confessing their sins, searching their hearts, expecting Jesus to come immediately. And after the disappointment, the majority lost faith; they lost their zeal and love and only a few remained faithful. This was the period of the Philadelphia church, from around the 1750s up to approximately the 1850s.

The Lukewarm Church

And as time went on, the church lost its fervor and zeal and again began to come into another saddened condition. The seventh church, the church of Laodicea, represents this period. “And unto the angel of the church of the Laodiceans write; These things saith the Amen, the faithful and true witness, the beginning of the creation of God; I know thy works, that thou art neither cold nor hot: I would thou wert cold or hot.” Revelation 3:14, 15.

Laodicea was about 40 miles southeast of Philadelphia and its strategic position made it a prosperous commercial center. However, Laodicea lacked a supply of good water. “So then because thou are lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spue thee out of My mouth. Because thou sayest, I am rich, and increased with goods, and have need of nothing; and knowest not that thou art wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked.” Verses 16, 17. Laodicea is a reference to the lukewarm church of God from the days of the 1850s until the end. This Laodicean condition is taking place today, not just in the Protestant world, but within those who profess to be Seventh-day Adventists.

Laodicea means judgment of the people. It is interesting here because in context, Laodicea had a judgment of themselves. And their judgment of themselves was wrong because it says, “You say that you are rich, you say that you are increased with goods, not knowing your true condition.” Their righteousness was self-righteousness, not knowing they were blind, and poor and naked. This era of the Laodicean period is the time in which we are living today.

We take courage that there were some faithful Christians there in the church in the wilderness. In Revelation 2:24 we are told: “But unto you I say, and unto the rest in Thyatira, as many as have not this doctrine, and which have not known the depths of Satan, as they speak; I will put upon you none other burden.”

Remember, the church at Thyatira represented the church of the Dark Ages, the time in which the papacy was reigning at its utmost. The darkness for which the period was known had its beginning in the church. But here we see that there were some in Thyatira who had not these doctrines being promoted to the church by the Nicolaitans. This is the period of time spoken of in the prophecy in Revelation 12:6 and 14: “And the woman fled into the wilderness, where she hath a place prepared of God, that they should feed her there a thousand two hundred and threescore days. … And to the woman were given two wings of a great eagle, that she might fly into the wilderness, into her place, where she is nourished for a time, and times, and half a time, from the face of the serpent.” Here the woman represented the true church of God that went into the wilderness during this dark period of one thousand two hundred sixty days, which represents, according to Bible prophecy, one thousand two hundred and sixty years: the church in the wilderness.

Many of God’s people still resisted the darkness. The Albigenses of France and the Waldenses, who originated in the valley of Piedmont in north Italy, the very land where the darkness was thickest, were among the groups that resisted the darkness. This group of people had to flee out into the mountains and caves because of persecution by the apostate church. Although they were in mountains and caves, yet they maintained the true faith. The few copies of the Bible they had were so precious to them that they copied them by hand to have more. They would go out as missionaries in the marketplaces and carefully share their faith with others at the risk of their lives.

A papal bull of Pope Innocent the 8th in 1487 really began a fierce persecution against God’s faithful people at that time. The bull said in part: “… absolved from all ecclesiastical pains and penalties general and particular those who join it along. …” It released, “all who joined the crusade from any oaths they may have taken.” It “… legitimized their title to any property they may have illegally acquired and promised remission of all their sins to such as should kill any heretic.” It “… annulled all contracts made in favor of Waldenses.” It “… ordered their domestics to abandon them, forbade all persons to give them any aid whatever, and empowered all persons to take possession of their property.” The Great Controversy, 77.

As the church in the wilderness, God’s people endured suffering, affliction and were hunted as wild beasts. Many of them were martyred for their faith, thrown to wild beasts to devour them, burned at the stake, hung up-side-down and tortured beyond our imagination. This was the experience of God’s people.

These lessons are instructive for us today. We know, according to prophecy, that the time will come in the last days for the people of God to endure troublesome times beyond that which we have ever imagined. In II Timothy 3:12, the apostle Paul says concerning all those who believe, “Yea, and all that will live godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution.”

I have asked myself, “Where then is that persecution?” Sure, we may have experienced a little persecution here and there, but it has been a drop in the bucket in comparison to the great ocean with which God’s people have been drenched in the past.

A well-known quotation from The Great Controversy, 48, says, “Why is it, then, that persecution seems in a great degree to slumber? The only reason is that the church has conformed to the world’s standard and therefore awakens no opposition. The religion which is current in our day is not of the pure and holy character that marked the Christian faith in the days of Christ and His apostles. It is only because of the spirit of compromise with sin, because the great truths of the word of God are so indifferently regarded, because there is little vital godliness in the church, that Christianity is apparently so popular with the world. Let there be a revival of the faith and power of the early church and the spirit of persecution will be revived and the fires of persecution will be rekindled.”

Are you prepared to endure hardship and persecution? Can you endure the trials you may face right now? Often times we talk about the time of trouble that is to come, but we weep, and complain, and murmur over little hardships that we may have today. Many do not want to sacrifice for the cause of Christ but are comfortable just attending church every Sabbath to listen to the messages preached from the pulpit. We should be searching our own hearts, pleading for God to infuse us with His word, that we too may have a word to give in due season to those that are weary (Proverbs 15:23). Many have lost that missionary spirit, and have become as patients who come to church sick, perhaps receiving a bandaid, and maybe even being healed, but in turn, not wanting to aid in the healing of someone else.

There are many opportunities available to serve in the cause of Christ. Many offices need to be filled, but where are the workers? Where are those who are consecrated? Too many people are more concerned about our own business and their own houses, rather than the things that are of Jesus Christ.

James 1:3, 4 says, “Knowing this, that the trying of your faith worketh patience. But let patience have her perfect work, that ye may be perfect and entire, wanting nothing.” Here is the patience of the saints. We are told to let patience have her perfect work (James 1:4). Let God work it out. Bear the responsibilities that He has granted. In fact, we are even called to choose the hard instead of the easy, but how often we choose the easy way.

The Waldensians endured far more persecution than we have thus far, and they recognized the blessings that this persecution brought. Yet in our Laodicean condition, thinking that we are rich, increased with goods, and have need of nothing, we know not our true condition, that we are wretched, poor, blind, miserable and naked (Revelation 3:17). Perhaps not until we experience the degree of persecution that the Waldensians did will we recognize our true state and the blessings that persecution brings.

When we undertake the work that has been so clearly laid out before us by our Saviour, there are likely to be two consequences, perhaps occurring concurrently, as they often go hand in hand. One, we may well suffer persecution, just as the Waldensians did, though initially not as severe as they ultimately did. That comes very near the meeting of time and eternity. But second, once we begin that heart-work in the vineyard, we will begin to develop the character of Christ.

“When the character of Christ shall be perfectly reproduced in His people, then He will come to claim them as His own.” Christ’s Object Lessons, 69. If we are going to have the character of Christ reproduced in us, something is essential. “God could have reached His object in saving sinners without our aid; but in order for us to develop a character like Christ’s, we must share in His work. In order to enter into His joy—the joy of seeing souls redeemed by His sacrifice—we must participate in His labors for their redemption.” The Desire of Ages, 142.

It is well time to recognize the gifts and talents that God has given you, or you will be like that wicked, unprofitable servant who shall be cast into the lake of fire.

In Jude 3 we are given this exhortation: “Beloved, when I gave all diligence to write unto you of the common salvation, it was needful for me to write unto you, and exhort you that ye should earnestly contend [fight] for the faith which was once delivered unto the saints.”

Fredrick Faber was a nineteenth century priest for the Church of England who later sadly joined the Roman church. But among Faber’s interests were the lives of the saints and he wrote a hymn that acknowledges the legacy of the martyrs in England. In this famous hymn published in 1849, occur the following words:

“Faith of our fathers, living still,
In spite of dungeon, fire, and sword;
Oh, how our hearts beat high with joy,
Whenever we hear that glorious Word!
Faith of our fathers, holy faith,
We will be true to Thee till death.”

May that also be our prayer.

Demario Carter is currently a Bible worker for Steps to Life. He may be contacted by email at: gospelworker@stepstolife.org.

The Gun Powder Plot And The Vatican

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The destruction of the Armada drew England together. The nation seemed to realize that if it did not draw together in the work of the Reformation, all of the various factions would fall prey to a common enemy. The years that followed were years of prosperity and added to the glory of England. Unfortunately, however, Elizabeth appreciated the Reformation less for the freedom it gave to the conscience than for freeing her throne. One of her chief aims was to reconcile the English Catholics leading her to dread the complete separation of the Church of England from Rome. She loved splendor in worship and finding the Puritans to be an intolerable nuisance, exercised great intolerance toward them.

Elizabeth has been called great, but her greatness lay largely in the greatness of those she surrounded herself with. The Reformation had set England on the road to greatness; and as the head of state, Elizabeth was lifted up along with it.

Elizabeth died in March of 1603. When it became apparent that she would soon breathe her last, the Catholic interests took steps to see that none would take her place who were not deeply attached to Roman Catholicism. James VI, the king of Scotland, whose Protestantism was open to question, was anxious to obtain the throne. He received warnings from Elizabeth and her counselors that unless his Protestant interests were above suspicion, he would never be accepted by England. In 1600 he gave strong assurances that he would maintain the profession of the gospel. This strong assurance doubtless quieted the fears of the English statesmen; but at the same time, it awakened the fears of the Roman Catholics.

The conspirators who had seen their hopes dashed by such a strong statement, appealed to Pope Clement VIII to use his influence to bar Jame’s ascent to the throne. Clement was not hard to be persuaded in the matter and sent two bulls—one addressed to the Roman clergy, the other to the nobility and laity. Both bulls were of similar tenor and urged that no one should be allowed to ascend the throne who had not only sworn to tolerate the Roman Catholic faith but who would, to the utmost of his power, uphold and advance it.

When Elizabeth died, the Catholic faction immediately dispatched a messenger to the court of Spain, seeking Philip’s interposition on their behalf. The memory of the Armada was still fresh in Philip’s mind. The loss that he had sustained, as well as the blow that the national spirit had received, was too great to allow him to do anything but wish them well.

“The Order of Jesus is never more formidable than when it appears to be least so. It is when the Jesuits are stripped of all external means of doing harm that They devise the vastest schemes, and execute them with the most daring courage….The Jesuits in England now began to meditate a great blow. They had delivered an astounding stroke at sea but a few years before; they would signalize the present emergency by a nearly as astounding stroke on land. They would prepare an Armada in the heart of the kingdom, which would have inflicted had not the ‘winds become Lutheran,’ as Medina Sidonia said with an oath, and in their sectarian fury sent his ships to the bottom.” J.A. Wylie, The History of Protestantism, vol. 3, 527

Catesby, a gentleman of an ancient family, proposed in one sweeping blow to destroy the king and Parliament. In short, he proposed to blow up the House of Parliament with the gunpowder when the king and the Estates of the Realm were all assembled. The plot was entrusted to about twenty persons. They were able to hire a coal-cellar under the Parliament building in which they placed thirty-six barrels of gunpowder. Over these they placed stones and iron bars.

In order to more deeply conceal their real feelings of the conspirators, there was a petition that was published in which they begged the king’s toleration, professing great fidelity and unfeigned love for his Majesty and attesting to their loyal behavior. Shortly before the time for the plot to be executed, Guy Fawkes, one of the ringleaders in the plot, was sent to Rome with a letter to Clement requesting an order from his Holiness, or else the head of the Jesuits, ordering a cessation of all disturbances among the Catholics of England. The Protestants were deceived by these pretensions, not realizing that the very men who were loudest in their protestations of loyalty and brotherly concern were all the while storing gunpowder under the House of lords, counting the hours until they could wreck ruin on England.

All that prevented the horrible crime from being executed was the failure on the part of one of the conspirators. Losing heart, one of the men involved wrote a letter to Lord Monteagle. A search was made and the plot was discovered.

Instead of learning from these events, James later sent the Earl of Bristol to Spain to negotiate the marriage of his son Prince Charles to the daughter of Philip. Though it eventually came to nothing, he gave fresh life to Romanism and laid the foundation for the miseries which would later overtake his house and England. Believing that the religion of his subjects was a weakness rather than the strength of his throne, he labored to destroy it; and in so doing, he alienated the nation.

James VI sank to his grave in 1625 and Charles I replaced him as reigning monarch of England. The year of James’ death was rendered memorable by the birth of a spiritual revival in Scotland. Even men of the world were impressed by the evidence of the working of a supernatural influence. The moral character of whole towns, villages, and parishes was suddenly changed.

The first error of Charles was his marriage to the French princess, a member of the Roman Catholic faith. His second was his dismissal of Parliament because they refused to vote him a supply of money until they had been given a redress of grievances. His second parliament was dismissed for the same reason. Then deciding that he could do as well without a parliament, Charles ruled by prerogative alone. Under this arrangement he could tax his subjects whenever and to whatever extent that he chose. Many unjust and severe taxes were levied.

History confirms that civil tyranny cannot maintain itself along side of religious liberty. Whenever it is confronted by liberty of conscience, it must either extinguish that freedom or suffer itself to be extinguished by it. So was the case in the days of Charles.

The bishop who was over the diocese of London, Bishop Laud, was a man of remarkable character. Becoming one of Charles’s leading counselors, Laud bent his whole energies to molding the religion of England in the direction of the Roman Church. Candlesticks, tapers, and crucifixes began to appear in the churches. Those clergymen who questioned his policies were subject to fines and imprisonment. He made use of forms of prayer that were taken directly from the Mass Book. In his diary, Laud reveals that the pope twice made him the offer of a red hat.

Alarm and discontent, along with the smoldering spirit of insurrection, pervaded all of England. Superstitious rites replaced the pure scriptural forms of the Reformation, and civil and ecclesiastical tyranny were the rule of the land; but before it resulted in open rebellion, events in Scotland took such a turn as to bring deliverance to both Scotland and England.

The Scottish bishops, in a letter to Laud, expressed their desire to maintain a nearer conformity with the Church of England, confirming that this was also the wish of the people. With Charles, however, the wishes of the people mattered nothing. Rather than condescend to the wishes of the Scottish church, Laud imposed upon them the Liturgy, which upon examination was found to be alarmingly popish in nature. The 23rd of July, 1637, was fixed as the day on which the new services were to be implemented.

On that Sunday morning, the reader appeared in the desk of St. Giles’ and went over the usual prayers. Having ended, with tears in his eyes he turned to bid the people good-by, informing them that this was likely the last time he would ever read prayers in the church. At the stated hour, he was followed by the Dean of Edinburgh who appeared to institute the new services. As the dean, Liturgy in hand, worked his way to the desk, the scene became more animated. Scarcely had he begun to read when his composure was shaken by the whiz of a missile passing dangerously close to his ear. Tradition tells us that Jane Geddes, who kept a stall on the High Street, finding nothing more convenient, flung her stool at the dean, with the rebuke, “Villian, dost thou say mass at my lug?” Ibid., 542. The dean hastily shut the obnoxious book and fled with all speed. Thinking that perhaps his greater dignity would effect to gain the reverence of the people, the Bishop of Edinburgh ascended to the desk. His appearance, however, was the signal for a renewed tempest which was more fierce than the first. He managed to escape, the magistrates escorting him home to protect him from the fury of the mob.

If the hatred of the Scottish people had been limited to the unpremeditated outbreaks of the lower classes, the king would have triumphed in the end; but along with these surface demonstrations, there was the strong determined resistance that pervaded all ranks of society. The Privy Council of Scotland, sensing the firm attitude of the nation, sent a representation to the king stating the true feelings of the people. Charles insolently responded by issuing another proclamation, insisting that the Liturgy be used and branding with treason any who opposed it. This expression of tyranny was sufficient to thoroughly arouse the slumbering spirit of the Scots and served to unite them in their opposition.

In the opinion of Charles, nothing remained for him to do but to resort to force. In April 1640, the king summoned Parliament to vote him supplies for a war with the Scots, but they refused to do so. The king then turned to the clergy to raise the necessary funds. The queen addressed a letter to the Roman Catholics who, far from being indifferent spectators, raised a considerable amount of money. As a result, Charles raised an army and marched to the Scottish border.

The Scots were not unaware of what was taking place and had prepared to meet the invasion. Thirty thousand able-bodied men answered the call to service for their country. Hardly had their preparations been completed when the announcement was made that the English forces were approaching.

The Scots were overall victorious as they represented the flower of Scotland, whereas the English soldiers had little heart for fighting. Negotiations were soon opened and a treaty of peace was concluded. Though the terms were vague, the Scots still had a great deal of loyalty to their king and willingly agreed to terms that would never have been acceptable with a foreign enemy. This devotion was repaid by Charles’ perfidy, and the next year he again prepared to invade Scotland. Not waiting for the English armies to reach their boarders, the Scots entered England and completely discomfited the king’s forces at Newburn, almost without striking a blow. With his army dispirited and his nobles lukewarm, the king was forced to again open negotiations with the Scots.

In November, 1640, Parliament met at Westminster. This parliament, known as the Long Parliament, boldly discussed the grievances under which the nation groaned. The king’s two favorites, Strafford and Laud, were impeached and brought to the block. Other reforms were instituted, and many of the effects of the recent years of despotism were swept away by the spirit of reform. It seemed for a time that even the king was converted to the changes. The dark clouds of war seemed to be diminishing; and the king, who had betrayed the faith of his subjects a score of times, was almost trusted by a rejoicing nation.

At this critical moment, terrible tidings arrived from Ireland. A slaughter of Protestants by the Roman Catholics began on October 23, 1641, that rivaled that of the slaughter of St. Bartholomew in France. The butcheries were similar to those imposed on the Waldenses, and the estimates of the total number killed ranged from the low of 50,000 upwards to 300,000. The northern parts of Ireland were nearly depopulated. The persons involved in this atrocity pleaded the king’’ authority and produced Charles’s commission with is broad seal attached to it, reviving the former suspicions of the king’s sincerity and hurrying the king and the nation to a terrible catastrophe.

After the breakdown of a series of exchanges between the king and Parliament, Charles marched to Nottingham where he set up his standard on August 22, 1642.
The first battle between the forces loyal to the king and those recruited by Parliament was at Edgehill, Warwickshire. Both sides claimed the victory over the hard-contested field. From there the tide of battle shifted from one side to the other with the Royalists initially holding the upper hand. The Royalists had the superiority of arms and their soldiers were well discipline, led by commanders who had learned the art of war on the battlefields of the Continent. In contrast, the armies of Parliament were new recruits. As time passed, however, and the new recruits gained skill and experience, the fortunes of war began to shift. Brave from principle and with the consciousness of a noble cause, the army of Parliament was inspired with ardor and courage. The longer the war lasted, the greater became the disparity between the two opposing armies. Finally, on July 1, 1644, at Marston Moor, the virtual fate of the war was decided. From this day on, the king’s fortunes steadily declined.

When the king eventually became a prisoner, England came under a dual directorate, one half of which was a body of debating civilians and the other a conquering army. Parliament soon lost control of the situation and ceased to be master of itself. Cromwell, the virtual head of the army, put himself at the head of affairs and brought the debating to an end. Colonel Joyce was sent to Holmby House, where Charles was confined, and showed such good authority—namely and armed force—that Charles was immediately turned over to him. Colonel Pride was next sent to the House of Commons; and taking his stand at the door with a regiment of soldiers, he admitted only those who could be relied upon. The number to which Parliament was reduced to by this action was no more than fifty or sixty members. This body, known as the Rump Parliament, drew up papers accusing Charles Stuart of high treason. Brought before this tribunal, Charles declined to accept its jurisdiction and was quickly condemned as a traitor and sentenced to be beheaded.

The scaffold was erected before Whitehall on January 30, 1649. An immense crowd filled the street, along which shotted cannon were turned assuring that no tumult would interrupt the unfolding events. A scaffold receiving their sovereign’s blood was a spectacle that England had never before witnessed, and it was a drama they could scarcely believe would go to its end. At the appointed hour, the king stepped to the scaffold, bearing himself with dignity.

For thirty years the popish powers had attempted to overthrow the Protestant movement. Massacres and devastation had overtaken the cities and villages of Bohemia and Hungary. These nations, Protestant when the war began, were forced back and trodden into popish superstition and then into slavery by its end. This period, known as the Thirty Years’ War, continued to sweep over the forces of the Protestant kingdoms of Germany until Gustavaeus Adolphus of Sweden had rolled it back. After his death, Romanism seemed to gain a fresh force; but by this time, England and Scotland had become even more important theaters than Germany was. Knowing that without the overthrow of Protestantism in these two countries their triumphs in other parts of Europe would by to no avail, the Jesuits with their intrigue, sought to corrupt Great Britain and thereby recover both England and Scotland. Their design seemed to be on the very threshold of success when it all ended at the scaffold at Whitehall.

“So sudden a collapse had overtaken the schemings and plotting of thirty years! The sky of Europe changed in almost a single day; and the great wave of popish reaction which had rolled over all Germany, and dashed itself against the shores of Britain, threatening at one time to submerge all the Protestant States of Christendom, felt the check of an unseen Hand, and subsided and retired at the scaffold of Charles I.” Ibid., 556
In the overthrow of the popish plans, Protestantism ascended to a higher platform than it had ever before attained.

The fall of the monarchy in England was soon followed by a military dictatorship, headed by Oliver Cromwell. If Cromwell was a tyrant, he was so in a very different way than Charles had been. Under his government, England suddenly broke forth from a position of weakness to one of great prestige. She again became a force to be reckoned with in Christendom. The massacres were brought to an end in the Waldensian valleys, and even the pope trembled in the Vatican when Oliver threatened to make his fleet visit the Eternal City. For the remainder of his rule, as Lord Protector, until his death in 1658, the people of England experienced the spirit of liberty; and her people could breathe more freely.

The End

The Armada, part 2

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Sunday, morning, July 31, witnessed the first encounter between the great navy of Spain and the little fleet of England. Medina Sidonia gave the signal for an engagement; but to his surprise, he found that the ability of accepting or declining battle lay entirely with the English. Howard’s ships were stationed to the windward and the sluggish Spanish galleons could not close with them. The English vessels, however, which were light and skillfully handled, would run up to the Armada, pour a broadside into it, and then as swiftly retreat beyond the reach of the Spanish guns. Sailing right into the wind, they defied pursuit. This was a method of fighting most frustrating to the Spanish, but they were unable to change it. All day the Armada moved slowly up-channel before the westerly breeze; and the English fleet hanging upon its rear, continued to fire into it, now a single shot, and again, a whole broadside. This action was repeated over and over again. The Spanish guns, seeking to return the fire, found that their shots, fired from lofty decks, passed over the English ships, falling harmlessly into the sea beyond them. It was in vain that the Spanish admiral raised the flag of battle, for the wind and the sea would not permit him to lie to. His nimble foe would not come within reach, unless it might be for a moment to send a cannonball through the side of some of his galleons and then make off, laughing to scorn the ungainly efforts of this bulky pursuer to overtake him. As yet there had been no loss of either ship or man on the part of the English.

In addition to the damage inflicted on them by the English guns, the Armada sustained other damage. As night fell, its ships huddled together to prevent dispersion. The galleon of Pedro di Valdez, fouling with the Santa Catalina, was damaged and fell behind, becoming the booty of the English. This galleon had onboard a large amount of treasure and, what was of even greater importance to the captors, whose scanty stock of ammunition was already becoming exhausted, many tons of gunpowder. A loss of even greater significance to the Spanish than the money and the ammunition was that of her commander. Pedro di Valdez was the only navel officer of the fleet who was acquainted with the Channel.

Later the same evening a yet greater calamity befell the Armada. The captain of the rear admiral’s galleon, much out of humor for the day’s adventures and quarreling with all who approached him, accused the master gunner of careless firing. Greatly offended, the man went straight to the powder magazine, thrust a burning match into it, and threw himself out of one of the portholes into the sea. Within seconds, in a momentary burst of splendor, the explosion lit the surrounding ocean. The deck was upheaved; the turrets at stern and stem rose into the air, carrying with them the paymaster of the fleet and 200 soldiers. The strong hulk, though torn by the explosion, continued to float and was seized in the morning by the English who found in it a great amount of treasure and supply of ammunition which had not ignited.

On the very first day of conflict, the Armada had lost two flagships, 450 officers and men, the paymaster of the fleet, and 100,000 ducats of Spanish gold, a sum equal to about 50,000 of English money. This was not a favorable start of an expedition which Spain had exhausted herself to outfit.

The following day the Armada continued its way slowly up-channel, followed by the fleet under Howard, who hovered upon its rear but did not attack it. On Tuesday the first really serious encounter took place. As the morning rose, the wind changed to the east, which exactly reversed the position of the two fleets, giving the weather advantage to the Armada. Howard attempted to sail around it and get to the windward side, but Medina Sidonia intercepted him by coming between him and the shore and compelled him to accept battle at close quarters. The combat was long and confused. In the evening the Spanish ships gathered themselves up and forming into a compact group, went on their way. It was believed that they were obeying Philip’s instructions to meet the duke of Parma and then, with his army, strike the decisive blow. The shores of the English Channel were crowded with anxious spectators, breathlessly watching their brave little fleet battling against the mighty ships of the Spanish invader. From every port of the realm, English merchant vessels were hastening to the spot where England’s very existence hung on the outcome of the battle. While the many small additions added greatly to the appearance, they did very little to the effectiveness of the queen’s navy.

On Wednesday a few shots were exchanged, but no general action took place. By the following day, the wind had once again changed to the east, giving the Armada once more the advantage. The sharpest action yet to be fought began. The ships of the two fleets engaged yardarm to yardarm, and broadside after broadside was exchanged at a distance of about 100 yards. The English admiral, Lord Howard, in his ship the Ark, and by the shock unshipped her rudder and rendered her unmanageable. Six Spanish galleons closed around her, never doubting that she was their prize. In an instant the Ark’s own boats had her in tow; and passing out of the hostile circle she was off, to the amazement of the Spaniards. The fight continued several hours longer. When evening fell, it found the English fleet, who had all through the conflict seen the Spanish shot pass harmlessly over it, burying itself in the sea, showing no sign of battle, with scarcely a cord torn and its crews intact. The sides of the galleons, however, were pierced and riddled with the English shot, and their masts were cut or splintered.

The following day the procession up-channel was resumed in the same order as before, the mighty Armada leading the van and the nimble English fleet following. By Saturday afternoon the Spaniards were approaching the point at which they were to be joined by the Duke of Parma. As he had not arrived yet, Medina Sidonia decided to cast anchor and wait.

The critical hour had arrived when it was to be determined whether England should remain an independent kingdom or become one of Philip’s numerous satrapies; whether it was to retain the light of the Protestant faith or to fall back into the darkness and serfdom of a medieval superstition. In the skirmishes that had preceded this moment, the English ships had fared well; but now the moment had come for a death struggle between Spain and England. The Armada had arrived on the battleground comparatively intact. It had experienced rough handling from the tempests of the Atlantic and had received some heavy blows from the English fleet; several of the galleons which had glided so proudly out of the harbor at Lisbon were now at the bottom of the ocean, but these losses were hardly felt by the great Armada. It only awaited the arrival of the Duke of Parma to be perhaps the mightiest combination of navel and military power which the world had seen.

As evening drew on, low, rapidly moving clouds gave evidence of an approaching storm. The waves of the Atlantic, forcing their way up the Channel, uneasily rocked the huge Spanish galleons. The night wore away and with the return of light, Medina Sidonia could be seen scrutinizing the eastern ocean, looking for the approach of the Duke of Parma.

Meanwhile, Parma was himself as anxious to join the Armada as they were to have him. A fleet of flat-bottomed vessels was ready to carry this powerful host; but one thing was wanting, and its absence rendered all of these vast preparations fruitless. In order to join the Spanish fleet, Parma needed an open door from his harbors to the ocean, and the Dutch saw to it that he had none. They drew a line of warships along the Netherland coast; and Parma, with his sailors and soldiers, was imprisoned in his own ports. It was strange that these circumstances had not been foreseen and provided for. In this oversight is revealed the working of a Hand powerful enough by its slightest touches to defeat the wisest schemes and crush the mightiest combinations of man when directed against a people who were leaning on Him for help.

Parma repeatedly wrote to both Philip and Medina Sidonia telling them of his predicament, but Philip either would not or could not understand.

In the meantime, anxious consultations were being held onboard the English fleet. The brave and patriotic men who led it recognized the gravity of the situation. If the Armada was joined by Parma, it would be so overwhelmingly powerful that it seemed nothing could hinder its crossing over to England. The men of the English fleet feared that before another dawn had come, Parman’s fleet would anchor alongside that of Medina Sidonia and the opportunity for striking a preemptive blow would be past.

A bold and somewhat novel idea was decided upon. Eight of the volunteer ships were selected, their masts smeared with pitch, and their hulls filled with powder, all kinds of explosives, and combustible materials. Once prepared they were set adrift in the direction of the Armada. The night favored the execution of this design. Dark clouds hid the stars while the muttering of distant thunder reverberated in the sky. The deep, heavy swell of the ocean that precedes the tempest was rocking the galleons, rendering their positions every moment more unpleasant. On the one side they found themselves close to the shallows of Calais, with the quicksand of Flanders behind them.

Suddenly, about the hour past midnight, the watch discerned dark objects emerging out of the blackness and advancing toward them. They had scarcely given the alarm when suddenly these dark shapes burst into flame, lighting up sea and sky in gloomy grandeur. Steadily these pillars of fire continued to move over the waters straight toward the Armada. The Spaniards gazed for one terrified moment upon the dreadful apparition; and then, divining its nature and mission, they instantly cut their cables, and, with the loss of some of their galleons and the damage of others, fled in confusion and panic.

With the first light, the English admiral weighed anchor and set sail in pursuit of the fleeing Spanish. At eight o’clock on Monday morning, Drake caught up with the Armada; and giving it no time to collect and form, began the most important of all the battles which had yet been fought.

The English ships drew close to the galleons, pouring broadside after broadside into them. From morning to night the rain of shot continued. The galleons, falling back before the fierce onslaught, huddled together. The English fire, pouring into the mass of hulls and masts, was doing fearful work, converting the ships into shambles. Rivulets of blood poured form their scuttles into the sea. By this time, many of the Spanish guns were dismounted; those that remained active fired but slowly, while the heavy rolling of the vessels threw the shot into the air. Several of the galleons were seen to go down in the action, others reeled away toward Ostend.

When evening fell the fighting was still going on. But with the shifting of the breeze to the northwest and the increasing rise of the sea, a new calamity threatened the disabled and helpless Armada; it was being forced upon the Flanders coast. If the English had had strength and ammunition to pursue them, the galleons would have that night found common burial on the shoals and quicksand of the Netherlands.

The power of the Armada had been broken; most of its vessels were in sinking condition. Between 4,000 and 5,000 of its soldiers had been killed and received burial in the ocean, and at least as many more lay wounded and dying onboard their shattered galleons. Of the English, not more than 100 had fallen.

Thankful was the terrified Medina Sidonia when night fell, giving him a few hours respite; but with morning his dangers and anxieties returned as he found himself between two great perils. On the windward of him was the English fleet. Behind him was that belt of muddy water of the Dutch coast, which, if he struck was lost. With every passing moment the helpless Armada was drawing nearer to those terrible shoals. Suddenly the wind shifted to the east, and the change rescued, at least for the moment, the Spanish galleons on the very brink of destruction.

The English fleet, having lost the advantage of the wind, stood off; and the Spanish admiral, relieved of their presence, assembled his officers to deliberate on the course to be taken. The question to be decided was: Should they return to their anchorage off Calais or go back to Spain by way of the Orkneys? To return to Calais involved a second battle with the English; and were this to take place, the officers were of the opinion that for the Armada, there would be no tomorrow. The alternative of returning to Spain in battered ships, passing without pilots through unknown and dangerous seas, was a solution nearly as formidable; nevertheless, it was the lesser of the two evils to which their choice was limited, and it was the one adopted.

No sooner had the change of wind rescued the Spanish from the destruction which seemed to await them than it shifted once more and, settling in the southwest, blew with ever increasing intensity. The mostly rudderless ships could do nothing but drift before the rising storm into the northern seas. Drake followed them for a day or two without firing a gun, having spent his supply of ammunition; but just the sight of his ships was enough for the terrified Spaniards and they fled.

Spreading the sail to the rising gale, the Armada bore northward. Drake had been uneasy, fearing that the Spaniards might seek refuge in Scotland; but when he saw this danger pass and the Armada speed away toward the shore of Norway, he resolved to return before famine should set in among his crews.

No sooner did Drake turn back from the fleeing foe than the tempest took up the pursuit. Suddenly a furious gale burst out, and the last the English saw of the Armada was the vanishing forms of their retreating galleons as they entered the cloud of storm and became lost in the blackness of the northern night.

Carried on the tempest’s wings around Cape Wrath, they were next launched amid the perils of the Hebrides. The rollers of the Atlantic hoisted them, dashing them against the cliffs or flinging them on the shelving shore. Their crews, too worn with toil and want to swim ashore, were drowned in the surf and littered the beaches with their corpses. The winds drove the survivors farther south until they reached the west coast of Ireland.

There came a day’s calm; hunger and thirst were raging on board the ships; their store of water was entirely spent. Seeking to relieve their desperate situation, the Spaniards sent some boats on shore to beg supplies. They prayed piteously, willing to pay any amount of money but were unable to obtain any. The natives knew that the Spaniards had lost the day and should they comfort and assist the enemies of Elizabeth, they would be held answerable.

The storm then returned in all its former violence and raged for eleven days. During that time, galleon after galleon came on shore, scattering its drowned crews by hundreds upon the beach.

The sea was not the only enemy these wretched men had to dread. The Irish, though of the same religion as the Spaniards, were more pitiless than the waves. As the Spaniards crawled through the surf up the beaches, the Irish slaughtered them for the sake of their velvets, their gold brocades, and their rich chains. In addition, prompted by the fear that the Spaniards might be joined by the Irish and lead them in revolt, the English garrisons in Ireland had received orders to execute all who fell into their hands. It was calculated that in the month of September alone, 8,000Spaniards perished between the Giant’s Causeway and Blosket Sound, 1,100 were executed by the government officers, and 3,000 were murdered by the Irish. The rest were drowned. The tragedy, witnessed of old on the shores of the Red Sea, had repeated itself, with wider horrors, on the coast of Ireland.

The few galleons that escaped the waves and rocks crept back home, one by one. The terrible tragedy was too great to be disclosed all at once. When the terrible facts became fully known, the nation was shocked. There was scarcely a noble family in all of Spain which had not lost one or more of its members. Of the 30,000 who had sailed in the Armada, scarcely 10,000 ever returned; and these returned, in almost every instance, to pine and die. The Duke of Medina Sidonia, the commander in chief, was almost the only one of the nobles who outlived the catastrophe; but his head was bowed in shame. Envying the fate of those who had perished, he buried himself from the eyes of his countrymen in his countryseat.

The sorrowful Philip was deeply wounded from a quarter from which he looked for sympathy and help. Pope Sixtus had promised a contribution of a million crowns toward the expenses of the Armada; but when he saw the outcome, he refused to pay a single ducat. In vain Philip urged that the Pope had instigated him to the attempt, the expedition had been undertaken in the sacred cause of the Church, and that the loss ought to be borne mutually. To his entreaties, Sixtus was deaf.

The Armada was the mightiest effort, by force of arms, ever put forth by the Roman Catholic powers against Protestantism; and it proved the turning point in the great war between Rome and the Reformation. Spain was never after what she had been before the failure of that expedition. It said in effect to her, “Remove the diadem; put off the crown.”

Almost all of the military genius and the naval skill enrolled in the service of Spain were lost in that ill-fated expedition. The financial loss could not be reckoned at less than six million ducats, but that was nothing compared with the loss of Spain’s prestige. The catastrophe stripped her naked. Her position and that of the Protestant powers were to a large extent reversed—England and the Netherlands rose, and Spain fell.

The tragedy of the Armada was a great sermon, the text of which was that the ordinary course of events had been interrupted; the heavens had been bowed, and the Great Judge had descended upon the scene, working out a marvelous deliverance for England. While dismay reined within the popish kingdoms, the Protestant states joined in a chorus of thanksgiving.

The End