By Carol Bolden
The debt we owe to those saints of old who held tightly to their faith and worked tirelessly to share it, and the Christians throughout the history of the British Isles involved in the interplay of events with royalty and the powers of Rome, came into sharper focus on a recent trip through the British Isles. There, I picked up the trail of the saints who walked before me through the events that took place over the centuries leading up to the Reformation.
From the remote and windswept isle of Iona, Scotland, with its ancient monastery and ruins of an old abbey, relics of a bustling Christian community begun by Columba in the fifth century, to the cobblestone streets of Oxford, England, with its prestigious, time-honored university, where men of faith were burned at the stake, to the Christian community of Glendalough, Ireland, with its defensive towers, stone churches and Celtic cross-filled cemetery, I walked last July, taking in the stories of courageous men and women who lived and died for their beliefs.
It was in these far-flung western-most parts of the then-known world that the cause of Christ was carried and preserved.
Hugh Latimer, Nicholas Ridley, Thomas Cranmer: these men burned with a fire to share Christ with their world. Consumed by a love for God and their fellow man, the Church of their day put them to the flame, a flame that still burns today.
As the fire rose about him on that sad October day in 1555, just outside the city walls where Broad Street is now located in Oxford, England, Latimer said to Ridley, “Be of good comfort, Master Ridley, and play the man! We shall this day light such a candle by God’s grace, in England, as I trust shall never be put out.”
This was followed five months later by the burning of their friend, Thomas Cranmer, who had watched their execution from a nearby tower and had subsequently recanted.
With text submitted in advance, Cranmer preached his last sermon, departing in the end from his script saying he renounced his recantations and would burn the hand that signed them. At his execution in March 1556, he held his hand to the flame saying, “This hand hath offended.”
Similar scenes played out near St. Andrews in Edin- burgh, Scotland, first in 1433 when Paul Craw was burned at the market cross for promoting Wycliffe’s translation of the Bible. Patrick Hamilton followed in February of 1528. His cry at his execution was, “I will not deny [my faith] for awe of your fire . . . I will rather be content that my body burn in this fire . . . than my soul burn in the fire of hell.”
Walking those trails oozing with importance, the term “counting the cost” took on a deeper meaning. I found the resolve demonstrated by so many worth emulating. Their hands seemed to reach across the centuries to clasp the hands of Christians today.
Beside the quaint cottage home of C.S. Lewis, I stood, pondering the prolific works of that great Christian apologist and writer. I visited the home and chapel of John Wesley, assembly in session, and learned of his belief that, in this life, Christians can achieve a state where the love of God reigns supreme in their hearts.
I marveled at the courage of these witnesses throughout the history of the British Isles who impacted their world for Christ. Holding widely-differing beliefs and views, they held one in common, one that bound them together—their belief in a Creator God who desired to live in their hearts, a Creator God willing to lay down His own life for theirs. Had they come together from their differing centuries and locales, this belief would firmly unite them.
I wrapped this around my shoulders like a warm shawl.
–Carol Bolden provides editorial support for the RMC communication department. Email her at: [email protected]