According to tradition, in 1637, a Scottish market trader named Jenny Geddes stood up in the middle of a Sunday service and hurled the stool on which she was sitting at the preacher in the pulpit.
Her protest was provoked by a new prayer book, introduced into the Scottish Church by King Charles I. This was an attempt to bring Scottish worship more closely into line with the Church of England since the two realms were now united under one crown.
As Dean James Hannay began to read from the new liturgy in St Giles’ Church in Edinburgh, its language sounded strange and concerning to Scottish ears. To many who had been raised in the fiercely Genevan tradition of the Scottish Kirk, liturgical aspects of its ceremonies sounded like a return to the Roman Catholic worship their forebears had rejected.
So in response to this reading, Geddes is said to have shouted, “Fause thief! … Dinna say Mas in ma lug”—or, in other words, “False thief! Don’t say Mass in my ear!”
Whether Geddes really threw the stool and spoke these words is uncertain. But what followed this reading of the Scottish Prayer Book is not.
A riot broke out in St Giles’ Church. Congregants shouted and threw objects. Authorities struggled to restore order. The disturbances soon spread beyond Edinburgh, becoming part of a much larger opposition to the new prayer book that would reshape the landscape of the Scottish Church.
Presumably, those gathered at St Giles’ Church in 1637 knew that what they were being taught mattered. And they knew enough of the gospel to recognise what they believed to be error. And in that we see something amazing about how God works: his plans come about through ordinary people.
Of course, we don’t want to conclude that rioting is the correct response to theological disagreement! But we know God uses even the messy and imperfect actions of his people, and he used them in this story to help preserve a church in which the Scriptures would continue to be preached and taught.
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This is one of the many stories I tell my children every year during the month of October. This is the month we dedicate to sharing stories of believers from history, and it culminates with Reformation Sunday, when they get to dress up as their favourite historical hero for church.
When we share stories from history, our children learn that spiritual heroism isn’t reserved for characters from the Bible, but also for everyday, ordinary people.
In the Bible they hear stories of heroes like Daniel who slept with lions, or David who defeated giants, or Peter who walked on water. Amazing stories of bravery and resolve and power.
More recent history, however, gives us stories of ordinary people who did ordinary things.
Their stories aren’t infused with supernatural phenomena. There’s no big fish, no raising people from the dead, no fireproof skin, just men and women who believed what they heard, and stood firm.
But of course, that’s the entire point of the gospel, isn’t it?
God’s word saves, not through flashy spectacle or mystical experiences, but through the ordinary means he’s given us: his word proclaimed, taught and lived out by his people. The miracle of salvation can seem remarkably ordinary to our eyes.
And that is why these stories are important for our children.
When we share stories of those who came before us, we not only share something of God’s story so far; we get a glimpse of what it might look like to live within his story in the years ahead.
The gospel is not passed on in a vacuum but through the example of the people who speak it and live it. Those who came before us set the model of what it looks like to be kingdom-focused and submit to the will of God for our lives.
As we tell stories of men and women who stood firm in the face of opposition, we share a vision for the prayer we have for our children. That they would stand firm no matter what.
So if William Tyndale could spend his life working to ensure even the ploughboy could have access to God’s word, then we too can value and share God’s word.
And if Martin Luther was willing to challenge entrenched theological error despite the cost, then we too can speak truth without fear of man.
If Thomas Cranmer can repent before the blistering flames, then we too can turn back to God at any time.
And we not only have the example of brave men in leadership, but also faithful women with resolve.
Like Corrie ten Boom, who hid Bibles and secretly read them to others in the quiet night of the concentration camp.
Or Katharina Luther, who woke up before the sun each morning so she could run a busy household filled with foster children and theology students.
Or Elisabeth Elliot, who refused to leave Ecuador after her husband was murdered by the Waorani people he had come to evangelise, choosing instead to serve among them.
Ordinary people of faith who lived with eternity in mind.
By telling their stories, we share a vision. And we also honour the faithfulness of those who came before us.
You see, church history is our history.
We stand on the shoulders of those who came before us and on foundations they helped to lay. We have Bibles in our native language because men and women worked, suffered and, in some cases, died so that they might be available to ordinary people. We have the freedom to gather, the education needed to understand, and centuries of creeds and confessions to help us articulate what the church has believed.
God has worked through generations of ordinary Christians to preserve and proclaim the gospel. Men and women have suffered and died in the name of this mission—that all people would know Jesus Christ.
And as they stood on the precipice of death, they couldn’t imagine exactly how God would use their faithfulness. But I imagine that they might have thought of us—of those who would benefit from their sacrifice, the generations of people who would hear the name of Jesus because they stepped out in faith. They died to preserve the word of God for future generations. For us.
Every year we remember the ANZACs who died in war, and rightly so. Their deaths remind us that the freedoms and security we enjoy came at great cost.
How much more do we owe to those who died to protect our souls. They are our brothers and sisters who will one day stand beside us before the throne of God.
We tell their stories because we honour their memory.
And as we share these stories, we realise that it’s not really about the individuals at all.
For they were simply normal, average people. Jars of clay.
What we’re really sharing is the work of God. As the gospel spreads, we see the power of his word, and his plans come to fruition. It glorifies God to celebrate his work throughout history and it strengthens us to know that his work will continue long after we’re gone.
So as I spend October sharing stories of God’s work throughout history, I pray my children would be inspired and amazed—at how marvellous our great God is, and how magnificent his plan for their lives is.
Because history shows us, we shouldn’t expect anything less.
Resources
If you’re looking for ideas on where to get started with church history for kids, here are some ideas.
Everyone a Child Should Know by Clare Heath-Whyte and Jenny Brake
The Do Great things for God series published by The Good Book Company
Reformation ABCs: The People, Places, and Things of the Reformation—from A to Z by Stephen J. Nichols
The Banner of Truth board book series on Martyn Lloyd-Jones, Susannah Spurgeon, George Whitefield and Katharina Luther by Rebecca VanDoodewaard
Brave Heroes and Bold Defenders: 50 True Stories of Daring Men of God and Courageous World Changers: 50 True Stories of Daring Women of God by Shirley Raye Redmond
The Lightkeepers series by Irene Howat
Teaching materials by Tiny Theologians—if you can bear the cost of shipping to Australia!
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