by Paul James-Griffiths | Mar 25, 2024 | The Reformation
These days it is popular for history revisionists to degrade the reformers to that of being a bunch of fanatics who were ignorant and unsophisticated. Such an accusation is typical of our age, but backed up by little evidence. Perhaps if they had been brought quietly to the house of one of them, they would have been astounded to observe John Row sitting at his table, surrounded by his children and pupils, discussing with them deep theology in French. The sceptics would have been even more stunned to see Row’s boys reading the Bible at family devotions in Latin, Greek and Hebrew. This man had become John Knox’s right-hand man in theological discussions, being also the first to teach Hebrew in Scotland, and yet he was highly sought after in Europe for his scholarship and razor-sharp mind.
John Row (c.1525-1580) discovered he had an aptitude for law in Scotland, which he studied at the University of St Andrews; he was also appointed as a priest in Perth. In 1550 he was appointed as the agent for the Scottish clergy at Rome, after which he was awarded his doctorate in law at the University of Padua. His sharp mind and intellectual prowess came to the attention of Pope Paul IV, and had it not been for his ill health, he would have been promoted to a high position in the Romanist Church. He was appointed as the Pope’s personal ‘Papal Nuncio’, or messenger in Scotland, to spy out the work of the Reformation and report back to the Vatican, and seek to prevent it. However, such a plan backfired. Having observed and exposed a false ‘miracle’ at the hands of the Romanist priests at the Chapel dedicated to Our Lady of Loretto near Musselburgh, he began to seriously question the religion which he had preached and defended. A friendship grew between him and John Knox, and by the Spring of 1559 he had become a Protestant reformer. When the first ministers of the reformed church were appointed in 1560, John Row was given the parish of Kennoway in Fife in April, then that of St Johnstoun, Perth, in July.
Such was the reformers’ esteem for John Row, that he was selected, with John Knox and four other Johns, to put together the Scots’ Confession of Protestant faith in 1560, which was ratified by the Scottish Parliament. Furthermore, he was a key person in drawing up the First Book of Discipline, a church manifesto, written in that same year, as well as being a significant influence in producing the Second Book of Discipline in 1578. Although he has been in the shadow of John Knox, his part in the Scottish Reformation was hugely important, for his acute mind, once it had been liberated from Romanism, focused like a laser beam on the development of the Protestant Church in this nation, acting as a sharpener for Knox and the other reformers.
‘Wisdom is the principal thing; therefore get wisdom. And in all your getting, get understanding’ (Proverbs 4:7, NKJV).
Image: Hebrew Bible: https://juedisches-leben.erfurt.de/jl/en/education/exhibitions/perm_exhibition_old_syn/index.html, CC BY-SA 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0>, via Wikimedia Commons
by Paul James-Griffiths | Mar 25, 2024 | The Reformation
On 18th December 1596, a passionate preacher thundered from the pulpit in St Giles’, Edinburgh. The thrust of his message was aimed at King James VI’s interference in the church, for the king preferred the concept of the ‘Divine Right’, of being head of the church, rather than the democratic Presbyterian model. As the young preacher, John Welsh, warmed to his message, he let loose his fiery arrow right into the heart of the battle, stating that ‘his majesty was possessed of a devil, and that after the outputting of that devil there joined to his highness seven devils, which was his majesty’s council.’ Following the example of his father-in-law, John Knox, who decades earlier had remonstrated with Mary, Queen of Scots, he continued his head on collision with royal authority. Suggesting that just as it was lawful for a son to bind his lunatic father for reasons of safety, he said that it was equally right for ‘his highness’s subjects to bind his majesty, being in the like case.’ If John Knox had been alive to witness his son-in-law’s message, he would have been proud of him. But King James VI, already being riled by Andrew Melville’s ‘silly vassal’ rebuke, was seething with rage at John Welsh’s remarks. If Lord Ochiltree had not intervened on his behalf, Welsh would have languished long in prison – or worse.
Later, Welsh was again in trouble with the king. Despite wise advice and rebuke, King James VI pursued his autocratic view of royal intrusion in the church. In 1605 he suppressed the right of holding free Assemblies in the Church of Scotland. When some ministers refused to submit to this control, the king imprisoned some and banished others on the charge of high treason. Among them was John Welsh, who was imprisoned in Blackness Castle. Their crimes were twofold: accepting Christ as Head of the Church, and continuing to be obedient to the biblical pattern of church governance. Instead of the expected death penalty, the king showed mercy and Welsh with his friends were exiled to France. Welsh was exiled for 16 years, after which, in 1622, he was allowed to come to London.
His wife Elizabeth beseeched King James to let Welsh come home to Scotland. ‘Who is your father?’ the king asked her. When he learnt that it was John Knox, he exclaimed, ‘Knox and Welsh! The devil never made such a match as that.’ With typical Knox-like courage and sharp wit she replied: ‘It’s right-like, Sir, for we never asked his advice.’ When the king agreed to allow her husband to return home on the condition that he would submit to him as head of the church and to his bishops, she held out her apron towards him and boldly said: ‘Please your Majesty, I’d rather kep [receive] his head there.’ Welsh died in London as an exile.
In our modern age the outspoken courage of John and Elizabeth Welsh might be misunderstood as religious fanaticism, but to do so would be to ignore the period of history in which they stood. If it had not been for such brave people, we would not today enjoy the freedoms we have. It must not be forgotten either, what sort of a man John Welsh was. This was a man who would spend eight hours a day in prayer, would weep profusely over the sins of his people, pleading with God for hearts to be changed. This was a man, who as minister in Ayr, a town renowned for strife and violent Scottish feuds, became the peacemaker. Setting out a large table in the high street he invited the rival belligerents to sit down and eat together, with Welsh being the mediator, restoring peace to the town, based on truth and forgiveness. Welsh has been described as ‘one of the saintliest men whoever stood in the Scottish pulpit.’
‘Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God. Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven’ (Matthew 5:9-10, NKJV).
Image: Unknown author, public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
by Paul James-Griffiths | Mar 25, 2024 | The Reformation
When Mary Tudor ascended to the English throne in 1553, after the death of Edward VI, she was driven by the desire to reverse all of the Protestant activity of her teenage step-brother, and bring the nation full throttle back to Rome. Within a few years she was rounding up many Protestant ‘heretics’ and almost 300 perished by burning, among them being Archbishop Thomas Cranmer and Bishops Latimer, Ridley and Hooper. John Knox fled to Frankfurt-am-Main in Germany, where for a time he led the English-speaking refugee church. The Englishman, Christopher Goodman, joined him there and became his close friend.
Goodman was born in about 1519 in Chester and went on to study divinity at Oxford University, where he became the Lady Margaret Professor of Divinity from about 1548 until 1554, when he fled the carnage of ‘Bloody Mary’. However, his life was entwined with Knox and Scotland. He became co-pastor with Knox at the English-speaking congregation in Geneva during the great persecution, where he also assisted Miles Coverdale and others in the production of the Geneva Bible, which became the primary bible text for the English-speaking Protestants of the 16th century.
In 1558, inspired by Knox’s bold example of a tract called The First Blast of the Trumpet against the Monstrous Regiment of Women, he produced his own treatise called How superior powers ought to be obeyed of their subjects: and wherin they may lawfully by Gods Worde be disobeyed and resisted.
At the request of Knox, he came up later to Edinburgh, where he was appointed the minister of the reformed church in Ayr in November 1559. Goodman was among the first twelve ministers in the newly established Church of Scotland and was present at the first General Assembly which met in Magdalen Chapel on 20th December, 1560, after which he was appointed to lead the work in St Andrews, as Knox’s right-hand man. As such, he played a significant part in steering the fledgling Protestant Church in Scotland.
In 1565 he became embroiled with James Stewart, Earl of Moray, over the issue of Mary Queen of Scots marrying her cousin, Lord Darnley. Their opposition backfired, and they wisely fled to England. Although Goodman never returned to Scotland, he was appointed as chaplain to Sir Henry Sidney, the Lord Deputy of Ireland. Having been inspired by Knox’s vision for universal education, Goodman used his influence to stir the otherwise controversial Sidney to establish schools in Ireland. In 1603 Goodman died in Chester.
Although his scholarship and influence for education were significant in Scotland for the Protestant cause, probably his most important role was that of being John Knox’s close friend and encourager, who through the constant assault course of betrayals, slander, strife, and birth pains of the Scottish Protestant Church, needed a constant supporter, just as Moses needed his friends, Aaron and Hur, to lift up his hands in prayer. More than that, he was Knox’s sounding-board, a man of rock-like integrity from whom he could seek counsel. Of this David-Jonathan covenant friendship, Knox could write in a letter to him: ‘God made you to bear with me to the comfort of many in the time most dangerous.’ To his friend Anne Locke, in a time of depression, he wrote that he missed ‘my deir brother, Mr Gudman, whose presence I more thrist [thirst] than she that is my own fleshe [Knox’s wife].’ Just as Barnabas was to Paul in the early church as an encourager, so was Goodman to Knox.
‘A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity’ (Proverbs 17:17, NKJV)
by Paul James-Griffiths | Mar 25, 2024 | The Reformation
In 1596 a delegation sought a private audience with King James VI. Despite their polite warning of the dangers of allowing avowed Romanist subversives back into Scotland, the king interrupted them, accusing the delegates of sedition. At this point Andrew Melville took the king by the arm and used a more blunt approach: ‘Sir, as at various times before, I say now again, I must tell you, you are God’s silly vassal,’ he said, ‘There are two kings and two kingdoms in Scotland: there is Christ Jesus the King of the church, whose subject King James the Sixth is, and of whose kingdom he is not a king, nor a lord, nor a head, but a member […] We will yield to you your place, and give you all due obedience; but again I say, you are not the head of the church: you cannot give us that eternal life which even in this world we seek for, and you cannot deprive us of it.’ You would have thought that Melville would have been executed for sedition himself, but it was this kind of firmness that paved the way for the kind of freedoms we would later enjoy. It is true that later he fell foul of the king, being locked up in the Tower of London between 1607 and 1611, on account of his outspoken views, but he was exiled to the University of Sedan in France, where he died in 1622.
Andrew Melville is usually remembered for his ‘God’s silly vassal’ quote, but there was much more to this dogged and determined personality. It was Melville who took the Scottish universities by the scruff of the neck, shook them free of Romanism and Aristotelian methodology, reformed and refined them, and set them on a path which would elevate them to being among the top places of learning in Europe.
As the Moderator for the Church of Scotland Assembly in 1578, he had a direct influence on the Second Book of Discipline, which was discussed in Edinburgh’s Magdalene Chapel. Melville played a crucial part in shaping the fledgling Protestant church into a fully Presbyterian model. He was a leading opponent of the Episcopalian form of church government, believing, like many reformers, that the papal-style bishops were the chief cause of Scotland’s religious troubles. In the Second Book of Discipline bishops were stripped of their lordly titles, and were referred to only by their personal names, and as ‘brethren’. Points 5-6 of this document, which echoed Melville’s earlier rebuke to King James VI, would become a stumbling block to those who believed in the Divine Right of Kings. The Divine Right of Christ is clearly expressed here:
‘5. For this ecclesiastical power flows immediately from God, and the Mediator Jesus Christ, and is spiritual, not having a temporal head on earth, but only Christ, the only spiritual King and Governor of his kirk. 6. It is a title falsely usurped by Antichrist to call himself head of the kirk, and ought not to be attributed to angel nor man, of what estate that ever he is, saving to Christ, the only Head and Monarch of the kirk.’
Not surprisingly, the king and Scottish Parliament did not ratify this document, for already the tug-of-war between the Presbyterian democratic model, and the Episcopalian and autocratic rule of kings, was in process. Nevertheless, Melville, and those with him, were shaping the future, but it would come at a great price.
‘… contend earnestly for the faith which was once for all delivered to the saints’ (Jude 1:3, NKJV).
Image: Unknown author, public domain, via Wikimedia Commons. Notice that Andrew Melville is pulling the sleeve of a bishop, and not King James VI in this sketch.
by Paul James-Griffiths | Mar 25, 2024 | The Reformation
One day as I was addressing a tour group outside St Giles’ in Edinburgh, a tall man joined at the back. After giving my usual information about the Scottish Reformation and John Knox, we moved on. The tall man sidled up to me as we left and said, ‘It’s a pity you did not speak about George Buchanan, rather than John Knox; he’s a much more interesting fellow!’ Although John Knox is far more famous, George Buchanan is one of those forgotten lights of the Scottish Reformation, and so this short article is about him.
At one time George Buchanan was lauded as one of Europe’s greatest scholars, but he could so easily have been executed for his faith in 1540. Knox, in his Reformation in Scotland, tells us that ‘the King caused [to] put hands on that notable man, Master George Balquhannan [Buchanan]’ who was known for his ‘singular erudition and honest behaviour’, but he managed to escape ‘to the great honour of his nation, and to the comfort of them that delight in letters and virtue’. Buchanan fled to London, then to Paris. When his opponent, Cardinal David Beaton, came there from Scotland, he fled again, this time to Bordeaux, where he was appointed as professor of Latin at the newly established College of Guienne. His translation of various classical works, like Erasmus, launched him as a leading light in Europe. The French Protestant, Joseph Scaliger, admired his scholarship so much that he wrote the following epigram: ‘Just as Scotland was at the apex of the Roman Empire, so Scotland shall be at the apex of Roman eloquence.’ It was probably in 1553, whilst he was in France, that Buchanan sided fully with the reformers.
On his return to Scotland in 1560, Buchanan found himself in the throes of the Reformation which had overturned Romanism. The Protestants celebrated his return, appointing him two years later as the tutor to the 18-year-old Mary, Queen of Scots. In a letter of Sir Thomas Randolph, the English ambassador, to his friend Sir William Cecil, Queen Elizabeth’s Chief Secretary of State, we read that ‘The Queen readeth daily after her dinner, instructed by a learned man, Master George Buchanan.’ Buchanan, likewise, was appointed as private tutor to Queen Mary’s son, Prince James, who went on to become King James VI, of Bible fame. Although James did not like the strict discipline of Buchanan, he readily appreciated his scholarly nurturing, and publicly extolled this talent. Later, as King, he said: ‘All the world knows that my master, George Buchanan, was a great master in Latin learning.’ But Buchanan was more than a Latin scholar; he was a deep thinker. In his treatise, De Jure Regni apud Scotos (1579), he wrote about the rights of the ruling monarch in Scotland. This was followed by his History of Scotland. In both works he challenged the view of the Divine Right of monarchs to absolute rule, and proposed the right of the people to depose such tyrants, by force, if necessary. In doing this, he was regarded as an authority for the upheaval that would ensue later in the 17th century at the time of the Covenanters, which would eventually lead to a more just and democratic political system.
‘… gifted in all wisdom, possessing knowledge and quick to understand, who had ability to serve in the king’s palace…’ (Daniel 1:4, NKJV)
Image: George Buchanan, in the Presbytery Hall, Paul James-Griffiths
by Paul James-Griffiths | Mar 25, 2024 | The Reformation
During the Reformation the watchword was Sola Scriptura – Scripture Alone, as the authority for belief and practice. If the reformers were active in denouncing the pope of the Vatican, they were also vigorous in challenging ‘the pope of philosophy’, Aristotle. For the Reformation to succeed, it was believed that both the pope of religion and the pope of philosophy had to be dethroned. Eagerly the reformers tested every practice in the corrupt Roman Catholic Church against the Bible, and stripped away all that was contrary to God’s authority. Likewise, Aristotle, Pliny, Ptolemy, Galen and others from a pagan philosophical worldview were also scientifically cross-examined, and what was based on assumptions and metaphysics was overturned, and replaced by enquiring minds that tested and tried theories, looking for solid evidence.
It was out of this crucible of the Reformation that modern empirical science was born. Peter Harrison, formerly Professor of Science and Religion at Oxford University, wrote: ‘Strange as it may seem, the Bible played a positive role in the development of science… Had it not been for the rise of the literal interpretation of the Bible and subsequent appropriation of biblical narratives by early modern scientists, modern science may not have arisen at all. In sum, the Bible and its literal interpretation have played a vital role in the development of western science.’1
In Scotland, as in Europe, religious and philosophical debates erupted among the intellectuals. In some cases, scholars lost their jobs for daring to question the pagan philosophers, in a similar way to critics of Darwinist macro-evolution today. But Aristotle was on the way out; his rule was disintegrating. Holding on to the good, the reformers shed his errors, alongside those of Galen’s human/ape anatomy, and Ptolemy’s earth-centred universe.
John Napier (1550-1617) was an extraordinary Scottish genius. The Encyclopaedia says about him: ‘There is no British author [scientist] of the time except Napier whose name can be placed in the same rank as those of Copernicus, Tycho Brahe, Kepler, Galileo, or Stevinus.’ Even David Hume, Edinburgh’s famous sceptic, said Napier was one of the greatest men that Scotland had ever produced. And yet he is largely forgotten today. Napier was a mathematician and astronomer who was born in Merchiston, Edinburgh, who invented the logarithm in 1614. He created what he called ‘Napier’s Bones’, which were rods of ivory with integers on them that were laid down side by side. From these rods mathematicians could calculate sums, quotients, products, square and cube roots. Both the logarithm and Napier’s Bones were the forerunners of our calculator, and were essential for astronomers like Kepler to calculate with huge numbers. Napier was also a dedicated reformed Christian who wrote one of the first biblical commentaries in Scotland called ‘A Plaine Discourse on the Whole Revelation of St John’. His remains are buried in St Cuthbert’s Church just below Edinburgh Castle, and Edinburgh Napier University has been named after him.
‘Test all things; hold fast what is good’ (1 Thessalonians 5:21, NKJV).
1The Bible and the rise of science, Australasian Science 23(3):14–15, 2002).
Image: John Napier at St Cuthbert’s Church, Paul James-Griffiths.
by Paul James-Griffiths | Mar 25, 2024 | The Reformation
Most people today believe that our modern democratic system came from the Greeks in Athens. It is true that the Athenians pioneered an early form of democratic government centuries before Christ, but it was only semi-democratic: women and slaves were not allowed to vote, and only a certain section of the men, amounting to about 10-20% of the population, could exercise their democratic rights. Furthermore, the democracy of Athens swayed back and forth between 508 and 322 BC, and came to a dramatic end with the rise of the political demagogues, and final suppression by the Macedonians in 322 BC. Plato, in his Republic, predicted what would happen to a secular democracy: ‘An excessive desire for liberty at the expense of everything else,’ he wrote, ‘is what undermines democracy and leads to the demand for tyranny.’
Although Athens had an influence on the development of modern democracy, the main thrust for this movement came from the Reformation. As the reformers wrestled with the corrupt hierarchy of the church, which had grown to reflect the Roman Empire in its pyramid-style control, they rediscovered the New Testament model in the 1520s. In the early church the people chose their leaders, and their leaders were the servants of the people, following Christ’s example. The Swiss reformers began to challenge the overbearing religious system of their time, and in turn this influenced the Scottish reformers. When Scotland left the papal structure, the fledgling Protestant church established the biblical understanding of the priesthood of all believers, and the democratic voting of the people for a plural eldership of servant leaders. This can clearly be seen in the 1560 First Book of Discipline, in which it is stated:
‘But this liberty with all care must be reserved to every several kirk [church] to have their votes and suffrages in election of their ministers… The election of elders and deacons ought to be… appointed yearly, by common and free election… How the votes and suffrages may be best received, so that every man may give his vote freely, every several church may take such order as best seems to them.’
It was Andrew Melville who pursued the Scottish reformers’ vision of a truly Presbyterian Church, fully establishing it in its democratic structure and plurality of leadership by 1578, thus rooting out any pyramid power system. Such ideas began to influence the Puritans in England, so that in the seventeenth century there became a widespread movement to a more democratic church and civil government, with Puritans like Edward Coke, John Hampden and John Pym, leading the way. It would, of course, take a few more centuries of reform, to see a truly democratic government emerge in Britain, which in turn would impact much of the world. It would be a fascinating history, full of twists and turns, but it would be the Christians who would be key influencers at every stage, for what became a Christian-based democratic nation. Today’s secular democracy is, however, moving down a different path, as predicted by Plato. Time will tell what we have done with our Christian heritage.
‘Then it pleased the apostles and elders, with the whole church, to send chosen men of their company to Antioch’ (Acts 15:22, NKJV).
Image by kelvinhu, CC BY-SA 2.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0>, via Wikimedia Commons
by Paul James-Griffiths | Mar 25, 2024 | The Reformation
As far back as the Council of Nicaea in AD 325 the bishops discussed the vision ‘of the hospital to be established in every city’. Right from the beginning Jesus sent out his disciples to heal people through prayer, and the apostle Paul also took the Greek medical doctor Luke with him on some of his mission trips. From early times Christians were developing healthcare and simple hospitals. The monastic orders in particular carried the responsibility of pioneering and running healthcare. They were so successful, that by the Reformation period in the 1550s, the Benedictines alone ran 37,000 health units.
Last week I wrote that corruption had entered the monastic orders in their welfare system; the same was true for the hospitals in Europe, and here in Scotland. The reformers in Scotland took the existing healthcare structure, purifying and revitalizing it, and developing it. For example, in Edinburgh the hospitals, such as Our Lady, and Trinity, were handed over to the care of reformed clergy, with clear instructions that they must ‘not defile with blame of any notable vice, but [be] of good reputation and conversation’. Education, welfare, and healthcare, were in the hands of the Protestant church to make sure everyone in our nation would be looked after, through the parish network, although few hospitals were added in this period. Such a system would, of course, take centuries to be developed properly.
The Surgeons’ Hall Museum in Edinburgh has an exhibition tracing the rise of medical and surgical development in Scotland. A prayer is highlighted there for surgeons of the 16th century to use before operating on their patients. Attributed to John Knox, the prayer expresses the desire to treat people well in their care: ‘O eternal God, our loving and merciful Father,’ it says, ‘– Jesus Christ – seeing we are converted to treat of those things which concern our calling, we beseech thee, O Lord, to be merciful to us, and give us grace to proceed therein without malice, grudge, or partiality: so that the things we do may tend to the Glory of God, and weal [wellbeing] of our vocation, and the comfort of every member of it, through Jesus Christ our only Lord and Saviour. Amen.’
Gilbert Primrose, a dedicated Christian, rose to prominence in the Scottish Reformation as the Royal Surgeon for King James VI. It was he who raised surgery in 1583 to its prime position amongst the guilds in Edinburgh, and thus became a key person in the development of this skill in Scotland. Peter Lowe was another reformer from this period, who in 1599, went from Edinburgh to pioneer the Faculty of Physicians and Surgeons in Glasgow. It would be from this Reformation movement that Scotland would cultivate a healthcare system and advance medical science, so that by the eighteenth century, Edinburgh would become the leading medical training centre in Europe, surpassing even that of Leiden. By the end of the nineteenth century the Reformation vision for healthcare across Scotland became a reality, preparing the way for the NHS (National Health Service) last century.
‘Heal the sick who are there’ (Luke 10:9, NIV).
‘I was sick and you looked after me’ (Matthew 25:36, NIV).
Image used: SSgt. Derrick C. Goode, U.S. Air Force, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
by Paul James-Griffiths | Mar 25, 2024 | The Reformation
Part 3: Welfare
When the Jewish people were thrust into exile in Babylon, God spoke to them through the prophet Jeremiah, that they should ‘seek the welfare of the city’ where he had sent them. The church had sought to do this before the Reformation, particularly through the monastic movements. Sadly, corruption sprang up even there, to such an extent that a ‘Beggars’ Summons’ was nailed to the doors of the Scottish monasteries by the reformers on 1st January 1559, calling for the friars to hand back the hospitals and properties illegally obtained by them, which had originally been designated for the poor. Knox tells us in The Reformation in Scotland that the placards were addressed to the friars as if by ‘the blind, crooked, bedrells [bedridden], widows, orphans, and all other poor, so visited by the hand of God, as they may not work.’ The reformers’ demands to the friars were clear: ‘we wish Restitution of wrongs past, and Reformation in times coming.’
When the Scottish Parliament ratified the Scots’ Confession in 1560, the reformers got to work putting together the First Book of Discipline. In this Christian manifesto the vision for the welfare of the poor and needy was laid out for the nation: ‘Every several kirk must provide for the poor within itself,’ it declared,‘for the widow and fatherless, the aged, impotent, or lame, who neither can nor may travail for their sustenance, we say that God commands his people to be careful. And therefore, for such, as also for persons of honesty fallen in[to] decay and penury, ought such provision be made that [of] our abundance should their indigence be relieved. How this most conveniently and most easily may be done in every city, and other parts of this realm, God shall show you wisdom and the means, so that your minds are godly thereto inclined.’ Thus, the foundation for the Scottish national welfare system was put in place through the church. We should not think that it was a free-for-all handout, but for those in genuine need, with safe guards in place against idle scroungers.
With the wealth stripped from the corrupt Roman Catholic system, Knox and the reformers were hopeful that their vision for education and the welfare of the nation might be financially cared for. Unfortunately, the Scottish nobles, eager to get their hands on the lands and properties, swooped in as vultures to the carcass. After the Roman Catholic clergy had been pensioned off, the nobles gorged themselves on much of the rest. Having previously supported the Book of Discipline, they now ignored it in their greed for advancement, leaving Knox and the reformers broken hearted as they saw the money depleted. ‘I see,’ said Knox. ‘Two parts [are] freely given to the Devil; and the third must be divided between God and the Devil.‘ Despite the setbacks Knox and the reformers experienced, their vision for a Scottish society being cared for was carried as a burning torch to the subsequent generations, through whom the welfare system became a reality and a model for many nations.
‘But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare’ (Jeremiah 29:7, ESV).
Image: Fernando Fantova, Social Consultant, 2014
by Paul James-Griffiths | Mar 25, 2024 | The Reformation, Uncategorized
Part 1: Restoring Biblical Authority
The watchword cry of the reformers throughout Europe was Sola Scriptura – Scripture alone as the authority for belief and practice, rather than the authority of the Vatican. This was the very heart of the Reformation in Scotland too. The reformers were convinced that every belief and practice in the church should line up with the Bible, which was the true measuring line. For example, it was understandable that Christians should respect and honour the memory of believers who had gone before them. Their examples should stir up Christians for every generation, and Scripture encourages this in Hebrews chapter 11. However, praying to Mary and the saints was seen as pagan idolatry because ‘there is one God and one Mediator between God and men, the Man Christ Jesus’ (1 Timothy 2:5, NKJV). Likewise, we cannot possibly earn eternal life through our good works, but through trusting in Christ alone, ‘For by grace you have been saved through faith, and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God, not of works, lest anyone should boast’ (Ephesians 2:8-9). The Roman Catholic transubstantiation belief, that the priest could just say some words in Latin and the communion would literally turn into the body and blood of Christ, was seen as blasphemy. The reformers reminded their persecutors that Jesus had clearly explained that eating Christ’s flesh and drinking his blood had a spiritual, not literal meaning (John 6:48-64).
The hierarchy which had been built up in the church reflected more that of the Roman Empire than the New Testament church. It was clear to the reformers that either this whole structure would have to be pulled down and rebuilt, or that true believers would have to leave the system and start again. In Scotland we were more rigorous than England in our zeal for reformation. Celibacy and special priests were rejected as being unbiblical because every Christian is a royal priest (1 Peter 2:9), and leaders of the church should be married (1 Timothy 3:1-6). The idea of popes, bishops, and abbots living like princes in palaces was horrific, for they should be servant-leaders of God’s people, following Christ’s example who washed the disciples’ feet and laid down his life for us. Thus, in Scotland, when the reformers rejected Romanism in favour of the Bible, they replaced this pyramid power structure with Presbyterianism – the rule of a team of godly elders, chosen by the vote of the people.
It is not surprising that the Romanist hierarchy fought tooth and nail to oppose this movement because it threatened their existence and their control over the people. They knew that if the Bible was made public for everyone to read, the church could split into different factions, but more than that, their system would be exposed as being fraudulent and contrary to the God they claimed to worship. Much is made of the Scottish reforming zeal when the crowds smashed down statues of the saints, destroyed stained-glass windows, and in some cases pulled down whole church buildings, but only one known Romanist priest was possibly executed. This has to be compared with the wholescale massacres of Protestants in Europe by Romanists. As such the Scottish Reformation, by comparison, was surprisingly subdued.
‘Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path’ (Psalm 119:105, NKJV).
Image: Magdalen Chapel, the Cowgate, Edinburgh. In this chapel the reformers met to establish the Protestant church in Scotland, Paul James-Griffiths
by Paul James-Griffiths | Mar 21, 2024 | The Reformation
On 4th September 1561, an extraordinary discussion was going on at Holyrood House in Edinburgh. Some scholars have said that this was the beginning of Scotland’s democratic process when a man could speak his mind and not be killed for it. The conversation between John Knox and Mary, Queen of Scots, as recorded by Knox himself in his Reformation in Scotland, has gone down in history as being a watershed moment in the development of our culture. After some initial debate, Queen Mary brought the question that was troubling her most.
‘Think ye that subjects, having the power, may resist their princes?’ she asked Knox.
Knox, expecting this question, was well prepared. ‘If their princes exceed their bounds, Madam, no doubt they may be resisted, even by power,’ he boldly reasoned. ‘For there is neither greater honour, nor greater obedience, to be given to kings or princes, than God has commanded to be given unto father and mother. But the father may be stricken with a frenzy, in which he would slay his children. If the children arise, join themselves together, apprehend the father, take the sword from him, bind his hands, and keep him in prison till his frenzy be overpast – think ye, Madam, that the children do any wrong?’
When Knox then applied this analogy to what the kings under the Roman Catholic authorities had been doing to those who wished to obey Christ, Queen Mary rose to her feet, her facial expression changed, and she stood unspeaking for about fifteen minutes. Lord James Stewart was so concerned for her that he asked what had offended her so much. Mary, recovering from the shock, spoke to Knox:
‘Well, then, I perceive that my subjects shall obey you, and not me. They shall do what they list [want], and not what I command; and so must I be subject to them, and not they to me.’
Straightaway Knox corrected the Queen’s misunderstanding, saying that ‘God craves of Kings that they be foster-fathers to His Church, and commands Queens to be nurses to his people.’ This now brought up the heart of the issue: the tyranny of Romanism.
‘Yea, but ye are not the Kirk that I will nourish’, Queen Mary replied. ‘I will defend the Kirk of Rome, for it is, I think, the true Kirk of God.’
Gathering himself for his second volley, Knox answered. ‘Your will, Madam, is no reason; neither doth your thought make that Roman harlot to be the true and immaculate spouse of Jesus Christ. Wonder not, Madam, that I call Rome an harlot; for that Church is altogether polluted with all kind of spiritual fornication, as well in doctrine as in manners… the Church of the Jews which crucified Christ Jesus, was not so far degenerate…’
Ultimately the debate between them hinged on the authority of God’s word, the Bible, which Knox espoused, and the authority of Rome’s papal system, for which Queen Mary resolutely stood. The Queen once exclaimed about Knox, ‘I fear his prayers more than the combined armies of Europe’. Whereas Knox’s fear was expressed differently in that period because of Queen Mary’s subtle plan of reintroducing Romanism through the back door: ‘One Mass is more fearful to me,’ he wrote, ‘than if ten thousand armed enemies were landed in any part of the Realm of purpose to suppress the whole Religion.’ Ultimately Knox’s Scotland would prevail, and Queen Mary would be the victim of the axe at Fotheringhay Castle in 1587.
‘And Jesus answered and said to them, “Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s”’ (Mark 12:17, NKJV).
Image: Two actors performing the above scene between John Knox and Mary, Queen of Scots
by Paul James-Griffiths | Mar 21, 2024 | The Reformation
In November 1558 two unexpected friends from Scotland came knocking on John Knox’s door. They had travelled far to deliver a letter from the Earl of Glencairn, John Erskine of Dun, and Lord James Stewart, requesting that Knox should return home to preach and lead the church. This was uncomfortable news for him and his family, for they had settled down and loved Geneva. The thought of returning home to an unstable and potentially volatile society filled them with dismay. Within five months however, he was on the long trek back home.
By the next year Knox and his family found their way back to Scotland to settle in Edinburgh. Although he became the leader of the Scottish Reformation, it was not something he had instigated, but rather he came back on the crest of a wave. Before he arrived the Reformation had been growing dramatically in many parts of the country and the nation was ripe for change. There was a climate of increasing hostility to Romanism because people were angered by the corruption. The main church in Edinburgh held a large statue of its patron saint, St Giles, which had been stolen by a group of zealots and drowned in the Nor’ Loch below the castle, then burned.
The annual Feast of St Giles had come on 1st September 1558, with the usual procession led down the Royal Mile by Mary de Guise, the Regent Queen, so the priests had to find another, smaller stature of the saint. The cavalcade processed from St Giles’ to Holyrood House with the Queen Regent stopping for dinner in the Canongate. Some Protestants managed to grab the statue, and with shouts of ‘Down with the idol! Down with it!’they smashed it to pieces. Mary de Guise was furious and ordered that the ringleader, Paul Methven, should appear before the Privy Council for his heresy, but he refused. Furthermore he was backed by the Protestant lords who signed a covenant promising to protect him, if necessary.
Following this, on 1st January 1559, reformers drew up ‘The Beggars Summons’ calling on the friars to hand over what the accusers said were illegally held hospitals and properties, which should be for the poor. Copies of this document were nailed to the doors of friaries throughout Scotland leading to the eventual dissolution of the monasteries in the nation during this period.
When Knox’s family arrived on 2nd May the city was greatly stirred up. The Queen Regent realised that many of the lords were pretending to be Protestants because they had their eyes on getting family inheritances back from the corrupt church; others, referred to by Knox later as ‘the rascal multitude’ were ready to vent their grievances with little interest in real Christianity; and then there was the growing number of genuine Christians looking for a godly and biblical reformation in the church. It was in this potent mixture that Knox found himself, and after he had found his feet, began to exercise his ministry.
After a short stay in Edinburgh Knox was off again, this time to Perth where he preached a passionate sermon against pagan idolatry in the church. He saw himself as a fiery preacher of righteousness, not as a rabble-rouser, and he did not realise how stirred-up people were. His sermon ignited an angry mob that tore down all the statues of the saints, and then proceeded to the Grey and Black Friaries and the Charterhouse, where they destroyed all the religious statues, then stole the food and rich bedding of the friars. This kind of wanton rioting was condemned by Knox.
For the Queen Regent this was an act of rebellion and so she summoned the Duke of Châtelherault and ordered him to lead the army to punish the offenders and threatened to have all the population of men, women and children put to death and the town torched. Although this ended peacefully with Mary de Guise pretending to bring reconciliation, war against the French was inevitable; it was simply a ploy by her to gain time and gather a larger army. Others were hoodwinked by her, but Knox was not fooled by her duplicity.
The Reformation in St Andrews, the Vatican of Scotland, was however, a much more organised affair, with the town council, university and the Augustinian canons working together to remove the ‘pagan idolatry’ from the churches under the supervision of Lord Winram and Lord James. Fearing that Rome’s darling daughter Scotland would be lost, the French heeded the Queen Regent’s call to arms and battles ensued. During this dark hour Knox’s dogged character and fiery speeches as chaplain did for the Protestant army what Churchill did for the British during the Second World War against Germany.
Thomas Randolph described Knox’s blistering messages like five hundred trumpets continually blowing in their ears. Besides this, Knox’s statesman skills came to the fore, and his twelve years spent in England was invaluable. Overcoming Queen Elizabeth’s dislike for him because of his First Blast of the Trumpet against the Monstrous Regiment of Women,he exerted considerable leverage on Lord Cecil, her chief advisor, and others, pleading with them to send an English army to help them. They all realised that if Scotland fell and came under the control of France, then it would only be a short time before the French would seek to invade England from there.
In the summer of 1560 two vital things happened to change the fortunes of Scotland: Mary de Guise died of natural causes in Edinburgh Castle, and the English navy arrived to help. There were tears in the eyes of many Scots as they forgave the ‘auld enemy’ and fought side by side with the English to liberate Scotland from the French. With the defeat of Mary de Guise’s army by the allies the nation was liberated and the Treaty of Edinburgh was signed in Leith on 6th July. The foreign armies withdrew, leaving Scotland to sort out its own affairs.
Image: An actor as John Knox in the house where he died in Edinburgh. Photo: Stephen Carter
