To the Pious Memory of William Hunter

Lent Day 26 & 27...

Whew! I'm a couple days behind as it's been a bit of a crazy schedule since our late landing in London on Saturday. Yet, what a joy and privilege to be in such a lovely country, filled with warm friendly people, yummy food (yesterday, we were served homemade Yorkshire Pudding for supper...mmmmmm.....), and rich in history (a personal love of mine). We've already been involved in some bit of ministry and have thoroughly enjoyed the opportunities that have presented themselves. However, I'd like to highlight a little English Christian history.

We are staying in Brentwood, Essex, a lovely little town outside of London, perhaps an hour's drive. Spring has sprung in the UK, and the daffodils are extraordinarily beautiful, as well as the bright green fields, and budding trees.

Yesterday, March 26th, we took a walk down in the village. Surprisingly, right in the midst of a small strip mall parking lot, there is a memorial stone. This monument was built to remember Brentwood's first (maybe her only) Christian martyr during the reign of Mary Tudor. William Hunter, age 19, was burnt at a stake on this day in 1555 (we had no idea that it was the anniversary date when we stopped to read the stone).

Young William's crime?

Well, he was caught reading the Bible for himself in Brentwood Chapel, which later became Brentwood School.

After he was taken before a local Justice, William was sent to London to appear before Bishop Bonner, "an agent of royal supremacy." Apparently, as the story is told, church officials attempted to bribe him, as well as threaten him, to repent of his crime, and to recant of his openly known heresy in regards to the Catholic teaching of transubstantiation (the doctrine that the communion elements actually become the body and blood of Christ). Yet, William would not recant of either "crime," and, so was sent back to Brentwood to be burned.

The memorial stone is not on the original site of his actual "incineration"...but just down the block is an elm tree with another plaque on it, which was planted on the original site. The memorial reads:

To the Pious Memory of

William Hunter

A native of Brentwood

Who, maintaining his right

to search the Scriptures

and in all matters of faith and practice

to follow their sole guidance

was condemned at the early age of nineteen

by Bishop Bonner in the reign of Queen Mary

and burned at the stake near this spot

March XXVI MDLV

He yielded his life for the Truth

Sealing it with his blood

to the Praise of God

That line, third to the bottom, is what grips my heart:

"He yielded his life for the Truth."

Lent - it's a season of remembrance.
It's a season of preparation.
It's a season of gratitude, generosity...and one of sacrifice.

In no way, does William Hunter's execution rival that of our Savior's
Yet at such a young age, this boy, sacrificed his life to have the right to "search the Scriptures" for himself.
He wanted to know exactly what was TRUTH, in order to live by it.

And...I wonder...in our age of me-ism, where, as one writer put it, "we can't swing a cat without hitting a narcissist," how hungry are we for truth, let alone so convinced by it that we'd die for it? Did young men, as well as other martyrs throughout the ages, die in vain that we might obtain this freedom, only to so take it for granted that it has become impotent in our lives? How diligently do we search the Scriptures that we might follow them? Are they our sole source of guidance, or have we chosen what "seems right in our own eyes" and followed that? How important is getting to the TRUTH and TRUTH alone? Not truth as the world spouts it, or as the media portrays it, or as Hollywood colors it, or as man guesses at it?

William's act to yield his life for Truth, sealing it in blood, bought us the Bibles we freely read. We have access, because of men and women, just like William Hunter!

And, I'm convicted by one monument, standing alone, in the midst of busy-ness of a little English village - does this kind of sacrifice stand alone, in the midst of my busy-ness, in my little world, often passed by, and ignored? Has the depth of the price paid been forgotten and taken for granted?

May it never be!