“Spare No Arrows”
“For the word of God is [living], and powerful, and sharper than any twoedged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart” (
Hebrews 4:1212For the word of God is quick, and powerful, and sharper than any twoedged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart. (Hebrews 4:12)).
On December 20th, 1560, the first General Assembly of the Reformed Church of Scotland met in Edinburgh. With a full heart John Knox took his place among the six ministers and 35 laymen who composed this gathering. But, if he felt thankful and happy as he saw the fruits of his long and difficult toils, at the same time he was mourning the death of his loving wife Marjory, who had shared his labors but did not live long enough to share in his triumph. As she was dying, she said “I would have been so happy to see our prayers answered. But it is not to be. Stay strong, dear John, for the Lord.”
“You have been a true helpmeet to me,” replied her husband sadly. “You have lightened my sorrows, and I have been a better man because of your prayers. O Marjory, how empty my life will feel when you have gone away! No one will be here to share my sorrows, or to comfort me when I am cast down. What a grief is mine! O Marjory, what will I do when I call your name and no one answers?”
“What you have done in the past, and told others to do also,” replied the dying woman. “Trust in God, and rest on Him alone. Oh, dear John, we have been very, very happy together. We have gone through many troubles, but you have brightened my life, and I hope I have comforted yours a little. I know I have tried.”
“Yes, you have indeed been my joy and life. I don’t know what I should have done without you.”
“God gave us to each other, and now He calls us to give Him back His gift. Shall we not allow Him to do His will?”
“Yes, His will is blessed and all of grace. I will be patient,” said John Knox. “And be sure, Marjory, that your mother will always find a home with me.”
“That is kind of you, and just like your goodness,” said Marjory, managing a weak smile. “She loves you deeply for all the good you have done to her. O John, just think when we shall be united again in heaven!”
They laid her out of his sight, and Knox realized, as we all do, that earthly treasures, however dear, only last for a while. At the same time, however, he could rejoice in his heavenly treasures in Christ, and that Marjory herself was with Christ, both secure where neither thieves nor moths nor rust could ever steal or harm them. To help overcome his grief, John Knox busied himself with his work and comforted the widowed mother, whose natural sadness was increased by the new and bitter anguish of her daughter’s death.
On August 19, 1561, the young Queen Mary of Scots arrived in Scotland, her husband having died in France. She had been taught to bitterly oppose the Gospel and to hate its bold preachers. Soon after her arrival she sent for Knox to come to her palace and tried to win him over by flattery to her point of view.
“Do you think,” asked the beautiful but haughty Queen, “that subjects having the power may resist their lawful princes? I have been taught that the lives and property of all my subjects are mine to use as I wish, and I believe it. Francis, the great king of France, when asked what revenue he drew from some of his provinces, replied, ‘What I please!’ I whole-heartedly believe it should be so in Scotland too!”
“No, madam,” disagreed Knox. “When princes abuse their power, they may be lawfully resisted. Just like a crazy man must be tied up so that he doesn’t harm his children, so princes, when they begin to act angrily or recklessly, must be restrained so that they don’t harm their people,” he explained.
The Queen didn’t respond, and seemed overcome by silent rage. Her beautiful features that had made so many men forget her many faults worked hard to hide the strong passions of anger and ambition that her prudence compelled her to master in the moment. At length she broke the silence, and flinging her fan to the ground, exclaimed passionately, “Well, then, I see what you want. My subjects will obey you and not me. I shall be subject to them, and not they to me.”
“God forbid, madam!” exclaimed Knox firmly. “God forbid that I should take it upon myself to command any of your subjects to obey me or to set them at liberty from their duty to you. No, madam, I don’t advocate for treason. I only wish that both princes and subjects would obey God. O madam, I wish you too were on the Lord’s side!”
“I love the Roman Catholic faith; it does for me all that I need.”
“But, madam, consider that you have been placed in a high place to serve God and to do His will. And you will one day stand before a Judge’s throne where princes can plead no special favors, and where the Judge is not swayed in the least by rank, wealth, or beauty. O madam, the only plea God will accept will be the atonement of Christ, made ours by a living faith. Oh, fair lady, don’t reject the mercy of God! Accept the peace He offers while you still have a chance!”
“My conscience is not disturbed, and I’m quite content to live and die with the Roman Catholics, whom I believe to be the true Church,” replied the Queen angrily.
“Conscience, madam, requires knowledge,” replied Knox. “I’m afraid you lack correct knowledge. The Bible teaches the conscience.”
“You interpret the Bible one way, and my priests another. Whom shall I believe?” asked the Queen furiously.
“Believe the Bible itself, madam,” said Knox earnestly. “It speaks for itself and needs no human help or wisdom.”
“How I wish that my priests were here to silence you,” said the Queen with a frown. “In France, men never dared to dispute my word, but all men agreed with my opinions. Who are you to dare to oppose my will?”
“Madam, I am a man who shall answer before God for the use that I made of my opportunities, and who would willingly give my life to see you become a true disciple of Christ,” said Knox.
“You are very rude! Be gone!” screamed the Queen. “I am hurt that you dare to answer me again!” and, unused to contradiction, she burst into a flood of indignant tears. Attendants hustled the reformer from the apartment while the courtiers endeavored to soothe the angry Queen with flattering words.
For a long time Knox heard no more from the Queen. But when she threw a party to celebrate a massacre in which an inoffensive congregation of French Protestants was ruthlessly butchered by the Duke of Guise, who was annoyed by their singing a hymn to Christ that he overheard while passing, Knox gave a sermon in which he spoke plainly about the wrong. In those days before newspapers, and books were also rare, no other method of protest was as effective as the sermon.
Hearing of the fiery sermon, the Queen at once sent for Knox and accused him of trying to stir up the people against her authority. But after John gave his reason for speaking as he did, she softened her tone and told him, in the future, to come and tell her of anything that he heard to be wrong in her, rather than rushing out to give a sermon. Immediately detecting her snare, Knox replied, “Madam, I would do anything lawful to content you; and if your grace would but come to the preaching yourself, you would hear for yourself what I say, rather than depending on people who try to stir up mischief. Or, if your grace wants, I will come when you ask, and repeat to you what I said in my preaching. But neither my conscience nor my position allow me to wait at your door and whisper in your ear what other people think or say about you.”
Seeing the angry look that the Queen shot his way, Knox calmly continued, “By your grace’s will I am here now, but what will men say of me when they learn I’m always waiting at the court and away from my book?”
“Your book! Your book! You are always reading that book,” shouted the Queen, turning her back.
As Knox left the room, one of the lords-in-waiting said aloud, “A bold man! He’s not afraid!”
With a grimace Knox replied, “I have looked into the faces of many angry men and not been afraid; why should the pleasing face of a woman scare me?”
It was evident that neither snares nor threats could move Knox from the path of duty. Queen Mary regarded him with unchanged fear and hate but restrained herself from doing anything against him until the Roman Catholics reunited to take up arms to destroy the Protestants.