The priests had triumphed! They had got rid of Farel—and now, three months later, of Anthony Froment. And in the place of Froment, they had the Grey Friar. Crowds had gone to his preaching during Advent, and they might expect the same now. Crowds did go. But to the consternation of the priests, the Grey Friar himself preached boldly to the people, just the same blessed gospel which Anthony had preached at the Golden Cross. The light which God had kindled in Geneva was not extinguished. A ray of that light had reached the heart of the poor friar, and he was not ashamed to confess Christ as his Savior. Even during Advent, whilst he had been preaching the misty sermons I described to you, his heart had been drawn to the gospellers. But the gospel was not then clear to him: he had “seen men as trees walking”; now he saw clearly, and stood up in the pulpit of his church to tell what he had seen— Christ, not in the wafer, but in the glory.
The priests were more enraged against the friar than they had been against Froment. With the help of the government of Friburg, they persuaded the council to banish him from the city.
Thus three of the Lord’s servants, one after another, had been driven from Geneva. But when God has set the door open, no man can shut it. The preachers were gone, but they left behind them a multitude, to whom their words had been the message of life. There were men, women, and little children, whom Christ had called by name, whom He had led out of the ruin and the evil, to the green pastures where He feeds His flock. “The Lord added to the church daily such as were saved.” And further we read, “those who believed were together.” They had their preachers no longer, but they had the Word of God. And they met in many houses, especially in the house of Baudichon, to read, and pray, and worship God.
Baudichon was now something more than a Huguenot. He had given his heart to Christ. He had still much to learn, and had not lost all his old faith in stout hearts and good swords. But as far as his light went, he was a true, honest, God-fearing man, and he loved Christ very sincerely, and delighted in hearing the gospel. He was glad that his house should be a meeting-place for all who loved the Lord. He was always ready to stand up for the truth—sometimes in a rough and blundering way, it is true, but it is often a long while before we learn that the weapons of the flesh are a hindrance rather than a help, and Baudichon was like us all in this matter. It would be well if we were all like him in courage and faithfulness.
It was singular that the motto of Baudichon’s family was this: “Except the Lord build the house, they labor in vain that build it.” How many had there been for more than a thousand years thus laboring in vain to build the house of God! But God Himself was building now.
We have an account given us of these meetings, and, as we read it, our thoughts go back to Troas in the days of Paul the tentmaker. “They arrived, they greeted one another with brotherly affection; they sat down in the large room, and remained a few moments in silence. They knew that though they were many, they had all one only Savior, present in the midst of them, although unseen. Then one of them would read a portion of Scripture, another explained and applied it, and a third prayed. The believers departed edified from their meetings, which were so different, they said, from the pope’s mass.”
Sometimes a Swiss or French gospeller, passing through Geneva, would preach on his way, then all the believers would flock to hear him, but it was not often they had such an opportunity. Generally speaking their teacher was Guérin, the cap-maker, who was much esteemed amongst them, and who helped them greatly. They were very happy in these little meetings for reading and prayer; but they read in the Scriptures that the Lord Jesus had also desired those who love Him to meet around His table, “to remember His death till He come.” They spoke therefore to one another about this. Could they not meet to break bread as He had commanded?
Thus did God the Spirit lead them on to that great act of worship, which marks the fellowship of the saints of God. “When they met together,” we are told, “in some humble room, they spoke of the happiness they should feel if they could gather round the Lord’s table to remember His death.” But where should they meet? It was needful to think of some safe place: for if the preaching had roused the priests to fury, the “breaking of bread “would be to them a far more awful crime. It was an act which declared to all that the mass was an evil thing—that there was no altar, no sacrifice, no priest—that all who were washed in the precious blood of Christ were alike near to God—“so nigh that they could not nearer be.” And thus, without a priest, save the Great High Priest in heaven, without an altar, without “consecrated bread,” without a service-book, they could enter into the Holiest, and worship the Father in spirit and in truth. All alike, worshippers once purged—all alike, a holy priesthood—all alike, fitted to “offer up spiritual sacrifices, acceptable to God by Jesus Christ.”
They would have gladly had amongst them William Farel and Anthony Froment—they would have welcomed them as beloved teachers, but not as priests: and, as you know, Farel and Froment were just as much laymen as Guérin or Baudichon.
“But do we not read of ministers in the New Testament?” you may say. We do, indeed, read much of ministers. And I would have you to observe that one great difference between the gospellers, and the Catholics of Geneva was just this—the gospellers owned the ministers whom God sent amongst them; the Catholics drove them away, because, for one reason, they were not priests. May the Lord preserve those who read this history from the same sin—or save them from it, if in their case it is growing up amongst the weeds of the natural heart. When Christ went up on high He gave gifts to men. “He gave some apostles, some prophets, some evangelists, and some pastors and teachers.” He gives apostles and prophets no more. We need no more inspired teachers, because the inspired Word is completed, and there is nothing to add to it. In other words, the New Testament is to us what the apostles and prophets were to the first believers. But Christ, in His grace, has not ceased to send evangelists, pastors, and teachers. He had been sending them to Geneva, in the persons of William Farel, Anthony Froment, and the Grey Friar. Some rejected them, and owned the priests whom man had made. Some received them, and praised the Lord for His blessed gift. Which of these were owning the ministers of God?
As regards the Lord’s Supper, it is true the gospellers believed that, without a minister at all, they could meet together to break bread and to worship God. Not only without a priest, but without a minister also. Were they wrong in so doing?
To answer you this question I would refer you to an infallible teacher—the New Testament—which is the Word of God Himself. If there is any reason to think they were wrong, you will find the reason there; and if you do not find it there, it will be because there is no such reason. The Word of God is plain and simple to all who desire to know His mind, and to do His will. And if the Lord’s Supper needs the presence of a priest or minister, you will find that God has said so.
Let us now go back to the gospellers of Geneva. The place was chosen for the first breaking of bread. It was a little walled garden near the city gates. The time fixed upon was very early on a March morning. Benches were placed around the table, on which were set the bread and wine. They sat down in silence. Just at that moment the sun arose, and lighted up the peaks of the snowy mountains, above which the morning-star was shining. Guérin, the cap-maker, stood up and prayed. He then broke the bread, and passed it round. He then passed round the wine. Then together they praised the Lord, and went home filled with joy.
The priests heard of this meeting. They told Sister Jane the Lutheran dogs had met together to eat bread and cheese, which they called the Lord’s Supper. They consulted together what next to do. They determined to get rid of Guérin, and the shortest way was to kill him. But Guérin was warned of the plot. He escaped from Geneva, and took refuge with Anthony Froment at Yvonand. Thus had a fourth witness for Christ been driven from the city.
But the priests had not got rid of the gospel in getting rid of the cap-maker. “Day by day,” we are told, “the gospellers met in houses or gardens to pray to God, to sing hymns, and to explain holy Scripture. And the people began to dispute with the priests, in their houses, and publicly.” If a meeting was put down in one house, it was held in another. The priests said, “They could find no remedy against this plague.”
In the midst of their despair help arrived. A Dominican monk came to Geneva, to preach the Lent sermons in the place of the banished friar. “He is a true Catholic,” said the priests, “just the opposite of the one that is gone.” The monk was pleased at the thought of putting down the heresy, and proud that he should be thus chosen for the work. He prepared, we are told, “a fine discourse,” which he was to preach in the church of St. Dominic. He began his sermon by warning all men against the Bible. He then proceeded to abuse the gospellers, and to glorify the pope. He poured forth all that came into his head: “for,” he said, “I will so blacken the heretics, that they shall never be washed clean.”
The Huguenots had gone to listen. They became more and more excited as the sermon went on. “If one of us dares to move his lips,” they said to one another, “our masters bawl out like madmen, but those friars are allowed to pour out their poison and infect the world, and nobody stops them.”
As the monk said his last word, a man sprang up on a bench, and said, in a loud voice, “Master, I desire to show you honestly from Scripture wherein you have erred.” The priests looked round in astonishment. “What! a layman to teach the church!” they said, and in a moment they rushed upon the man, who was a servant of our friend Guérin, named Peter Fédy. They abused him, pushed him off the bench, and would have killed him with their blows, but Chautemps, Claude Bernard, and others, carried him off in safety.
The priests ran for help to the council, who banished Fédy without a hearing. Everyone lamented his loss. Thus was a fifth of the Lord’s servants sent into exile.