“Reform: The Church at the Birth of Protestantism” by Luke H. Davis

Luke H. Davis began his published writing career with a series of three mysteries, featuring Cameron Ballack, a county police detective who investigates and solve crimes from his wheelchair. He then published a fantasy book entitled Joël , which was followed by a book on Christian ethics, Tough Issues, True Hope. 

His most recent project has been a series on church history aimed at younger readers (roughly 10-14). In 2022, he published two in the series, Redemption: The Church in Ancient Times and Reign: The Church in the Middle Ages. And now come the next two entries in the series: Reform: The Church at the Birth of Protestantism and Renewal: The Church That Expands Outward.

 

You don’t have to be the targeted age group to enjoy Reform: The Church at the Birth of Protestantism. Each primary chapter focuses on a person, telling a fictionalized account of a specific event in the person’s life. A summary paragraph at the end of the chapter provides a brief biographical overview. And then periodic “fact files” provide a deeper look into a specific topic associated with the overall subject of the book.

 

You can see what Davis is doing here: tell an interesting story about people, provide some factual and biographical information, and inspire the reader to pursue their interest in the subject or person. It works. I thought I knew a lot about the Reformation period. And I was familiar with the major players, like Martin Luther, John Calvin, Ulrich Zwingli, and John Cranmer (I’ve seen the monument to Cranmer’s and others’ martyrdom in Oxford several times). I didn’t know the Reformation roles played by Marguerite of Navarre, Catherine Parr (Henry VIII’s last wife), and Lady Jane Grey. And I’d never heard of Martin Bucer and Patrick Hamilton.

 

Luke H. Davis

What I learned is that, yes, there were major movers in the Reformation, but many people played significant roles. And Davis keeps his accounts interesting by making the historical figures come to life as real and recognizable people. 

 

Davis teaches at Westminster Christian Academy in St. Louis and chairs the Bible Department there. He’s also taught at schools in Louisiana, Florida, and Virginia. He describes himself as “Presbyterian body, Lutheran heart, Anglican blood, Orthodox spirit,” all of which have served him well in writing the Cameron Ballack mysteries. He has published three Ballack mysteries, Litany of Secrets (2013), The Broken Cross (2015), and A Shattered Peace (2017), and the first book of a new series, Joel: The Merivalkan Chronicles Book 1 (2017). He blogs at For Grace and Kingdom.

 

If your children are familiar with church history and the Reformation, Reform is a good place to start. And if you think you know all about the period and the people, Reform might well help you realize that you don’t know as much as you think. 

 

Next Week: Renewal: The Church That Expands Outward.

 

Related:

 

My review of Redemption: The Church in Ancient Times.

 

My review of Reign: The Church in the Middle Ages.

 

Reading a Novel that Stars Your Hometown.

 

My review of Litany of Secrets.

 

My review of The Broken Cross.

 

My review of A Shattered Peace.

 

My review of Tough Issues, True Hope by Luke Davis.

"John Knox, Scotland's Reformer" by William Taylor

I have to confess to a certain amount of ignorance about the Scottish Reformation. I’m more than familiar with the English Reformation, and how it was tied up in European politics and the line of succession in the House of Tudor. And I’ve read about what came after, with the translation of the King James Version of the Bible and, a little later, the Westminster Confession.  

But as for what happened in Scotland, what I knew was through the lens of Mary Queen of Scots. I knew one name – John Knox (1514-1572). But what I knew about John Knox was limited to a few scenes in the 1971 movie “Mary Queen of Scots,” starring Vanessa Redgrave, Glenda Jackson, Patrick McGoohan, Timothy Dalton, Nigel Davenport, Trevor Howard, and Ian Holm. The character of John Knox, played by the Scottish actor Robert James (1924-2004), was limited to a few scenes where he would harangue Mary as she rose by with her retinue.

 

Robert James as John Knox

That’s how the movie portrayed it. But it didn’t actually happen that way.

 

Knox was a minister and theologian who played a critical role in the Scottish reformation. He was the founder of the Presbyterian Church of Scotland and renowned for his sermons and speaking ability. Because Scotland’s queen regent (Mary of Guise) and her daughter Mary Queen of Scots were Catholic, Knox often found himself at odds with the ruling authorities. 

 

At one point, he was taken prisoner by the French; when Henry VIII’s daughter Mary became queen of England, Knox, who had been a royal chaplain to her brother, Edward, was forced to flee the country and live in exile. (Mary had a number of his contemporaries and fellow reformers, like Thomas Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury, burned at the stake.) His choice of exile was Geneva, where John Calvin was living and preaching. When Mary died and her sister became Elizabeth I of England, Knox returned.

 

The Protestant Reformation in Scotland became a political revolution, ousting Mary of Guise. It was then that Knox criticized Scotland’s Mary for continuing to practice the Catholic faith, but he did so from the church pulpit. Eventually, Mary Queen of Scots sought refuge in England and the protection of her cousin Elizabeth. Knox was known and lauded for his sermons, but very few have survived. 

 

William Taylor

In the last decade, a renewed interest in Knox has led to both a few new biographies and reprints of older works. GLH Publishing has reprinted John Knox, Scotland’s Reformer by William Mackergo Taylor, first published in 1885. It’s a 19^th century biography, but it is still very readable and provides a succinct account of Knox’s life and work as a reformer. What Taylor makes clear is that Knox is one of the most influential figures in Scottish history, helping to shape the country and its faith in the tumultuous 16^th century.

 

But he didn’t sit by the roadside, waiting for Mary Queen of Scots to ride by so he could tell her she was a wanton heretic. The movie is highly entertaining; Taylor’s 1885 biography is more factual.

Top illustration: John Knox.

From "Dancing Prophet"

“I’ve been going ‘round to churches,” Michael said, “talking about reformation. It was something I felt called to do, even before we left San Francisco. It was as if God was telling me that the reformation of the church was imperative. Now I wonder if I misheard what I thought God was saying. What if He was telling me to help people prepare, not for a reformation, but for the destruction and re-creation? He knew what was happening. He knew the evil that had to be stopped.”

- from Dancing Prophet https://www.amazon.com/Dancing-Prophet-Book-Priest/dp/194971800X/ref=sr_1_1 

Photograph by Linnea Sandbakk via Unsplash. Used with permission.

"Tyndale" by David Teems

Consider the source of the following familiar lines: I am the way, the truth, and the life; In my father’s house are many mansions; For thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory; Seek, and ye shall find; Let not your hearts be troubled; With God all things are possible; The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.

The source is the Bible – but it’s the English Bible, the English Bible translated by William Tyndale (1494-1536). Those lines, so familiar, did not exist in English until Tyndale translated them. He’s rarely mentioned in the same breath as Chaucer, Shakespeare, and the King James Version of the Bible, but he should be; he had a huge influence upon shaping the English we speak today, and a direct influence on both Shakespeare and the KJV Bible.

David Teems, in Tyndale: The Man Who Gave God an English Voice, tells the story of Tyndale (pronounced like kindle). Very little of his early life is known – there’s a rather large gap between his birth in Gloucestershire in England near the Welsh border and receiving his degrees from Oxford in 1512 and 1515; even his birth date is guessed from the date of the Oxford degrees.

What is told in this lively and highly readable biography is what is known about Tyndale – his writings, not only his Bible translations (starting with the New Testament in 1526) but his pamphlets, letters, and the record of written debate, conducted long distance, between him and Sir Thomas More. (Teems points out that more, the “man of conscience” when it came to his conflict over faith with Henry VIII, denied that Tyndale had that same right of conscience.) The author puts Tyndale in the context of his times, both the Reformation which began with Luther and the Reformation in England.

David Teems

Teems received a B.A. in psychology from Georgia State University. He was a professional musician before turning to writing in 2005. He is the author of To Love is Christ (2009); Majestie: The King Behind the King James Bible (2010); And Thereby Hangs a Tale: What I Really Know about the Devoted Life I Learned from My Dogs (2010); Discovering Your Spiritual Center: The Power of Psalm 119 (2011); and Godspeed: Voices of the Reformation (2017). He and his family lived in Franklin, Tennessee.

Tyndale spent his last years in Antwerp, where he was eventually arrested, imprisoned, tried, and then executed (he was strangled and then his body burned at the stake). Tyndale reminds us that we English-speaking peoples owe much to this man, whose risked and ultimately gave his life for the Scriptures he so dearly loved. It’s a wonderful biography.

Top illustration: the execution of William Tyndale. He was first strangled and then burned at the stake.

“Martin Luther” by Eric Metaxas

I was raised a Missouri Synod Lutheran. That meant that, when I was 12 and 13, I spent every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon from 4 to 5 p.m. during the school year in Pastor Nelson’s office with 10 to 15 other students my age, being taught from the Small Catechism of Martin Luther. The point of all of those classes was our confirmation, which happened during Sunday worship services in late May of our second year in catechism.

Part of confirmation was being quizzed by the pastor – in front of the entire church. It was always helpful to have a large confirmation class, because then you would get only one question at most. Mine was the smallest they’d ever had, before or since – four of us, and I was the only boy. That was a great relief to the three girls because they knew Pastor Nelson would ask me the hard questions, including the one every person in every class dreaded because the answer was so long – explaining the “Jesus section” of the Apostles Creed. They were right to be relieved. That was one of my questions. Somehow, I was confirmed in spite of my answers.

What I didn’t know then was that what I learned those two years in catechism became my theological framework. While I might change somewhat or adapt or add or subtract over the years, what I learned from Luther’s Small Catechism is still inside my head more than half a century later.

So it was with some curiosity and then considerable delight that I began to read Martin Luther: The Man Who Rediscovered God and Changed the World by Eric Metaxas. I knew some of the basics about Luther (circa 1483-1546), and had even visited Erfurt in Germany, where he attended seminary. But the Luther I found on the pages of Metaxas’s book was not the myth but the living, breathing reality. In fact, I knew I was in good hands when the first thing Metaxas did was to enumerate and sweep away the myths that have grown up about Luther over the centuries.

No, he didn’t come from a family of peasants. No, he didn’t have a hardscrabble upbringing. No, there was no literal bolt of lightning that led him to become a monk (although there was a thunderstorm involved). No, his trip to Rome did not convince him of the need for a reformation. No, he didn’t literally hurl a pot of ink at the devil. No, the nun who eventually became his wife didn’t escape the convent hidden in an empty herring barrel. And no, he most likely did not nail his 95 theses on the church door in Wittenberg on Oct. 31, 1517. That probably happened two weeks later. What he did do on Oct. 31 was to send a letter to the Archbishop of Mainz, and it was that letter that officially began the process we came to know as the Reformation.

Perhaps the most critical thing Metaxas tells us about Luther is that he was a passionate reader of the Bible – and he was in a tiny minority, because most people, nobles, priests, archbishops, cardinals, and popes did not read the Bible. And it was his understanding of Scripture that framed the Reformation. The church’s practice of selling indulgences (allowing people to pay for time off in purgatory, for themselves and departed family members) was the flashpoint, but it was Luther’s knowledge of Scripture that propelled what could only be called the most significant revolution in human understanding and development of the last 500 years. And perhaps longer.

The church had become comfortable with the teachings of Aristotle. Luther, who also knew his Augustine, saw the inherent contradictions the church had either missed or glossed over.

The church taught that only the priests could drink the wine in communion. Luther made the startling claim, based on the Bible, that all people were equal in God’s eyes, and all people should partake of both the bread and the wine. That shocking idea of the equality of all people would find political expression more than 250 years later in a document called the Declaration of Independence.

Luther articulated the ideas of each person being free, subject to none, and each person being a servant, subject to all. He understood that anyone could understand Scripture – it wasn’t only church officials who could read and interpret. And to that point, as he stayed hidden in the castle of Wartburg while church and state looked high and low for him, he translated the New Testament into German. He did it in 11 weeks, and it was such a good translation, Metaxas says, that it is still used as the basis for new German translations today.

Eric Metaxas

Metaxas tells this story of Luther extraordinarily well; the man has a gift for storytelling. Never would I have imagined that I would become fascinated with the account of the theological debate between Luther and Johannes Eck at Leipzig in 1519, but I was – and that’s due entirely to how well the author tells the story.

Metaxas is the author of four New York Times bestsellers and the host of the Eric Metaxas radio show, broadcast daily to more than 120 cities. A Senior Fellow and Lecturer at Large for the King’s College in New York City, he is the author of numerous books, including Amazing Grace: William Wilberforce and the Heroic Campaign to End Slavery (2007); Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy (2011); Miracles: What They Are, How They Happen, and How They Can Change Your Life (2015); 7 Men and Their Secrets of Greatness (2016); 7 Women and Their Secret of Greatness (2016); and If You Can Keep It: The Forgotten Promise of American Liberty (2016).

Martin Luther is not only an outstanding biography. It is an incredible reminder of what one man accomplished, often in the face of great personal and professional peril. And it is a reminder that the Reformation was only something that happened 500 years ago, but something that is still happening, and needs to continue to happen, especially in our own hearts.

Related:

My review of If You Can Keep It by Eric Metaxas.

I Feel Like I Lost a Friend – Mark Sutherland on Dietrich Bonhoeffer by Eric Metaxas.

Top photograph: Memorial statue Martin Luther, Marktplatz, Lutherstadt Wittenberg in Germany, via Wikimedia Commons.