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u·pris·ing (ˈəp-ˌrī-ziŋ) — n.
When people rise up against what they see as corruption or oppression.
re·volt (ri-ˈvōlt) — n.
When the pressure of injustice boils over into open defiance.
pro·test (ˈprō-ˌtest) — n.
When contrarian voices insist on being heard.
re·form (ri-ˈfȯrm) — n.
A belief that society’s ills can still be made right.
Sound familiar?
It should.
A movement that turned the known world upside down on its head all began with a goose and a swan.
They chained the man to a stake in the summer of 1415 and stacked kindling high around his feet. Before the flames were lit, he looked calmly at his accusers and said,
“You may roast this goose, but in a hundred years a swan will arise whose song you will not silence.”
The crowd laughed, not realizing “goose” was more than a metaphor. It was his last name. Hus, in his native tongue, literally meant goose.
As the fire rose, his voice faded, but his words did not. A century later, they came to life. A German monk — whose family coat of arms, as history would have it, bore a swan — stood in open defiance, hammer in hand, posting his protest on a church door in Wittenberg on All Hallows’ Eve, October 31, 1517.
When reminded of Hus’s final words, “In a hundred years a swan will arise whose song you will not silence,” he wept at the realization, “I am that swan.”
The name of the goose? Jan Hus.
And the swan? You know him as Martin Luther.
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Martin Luther was no saint — and our Lutheran friends would agree. If heaven could be earned by our goodness, prestige, or merit, its confines would be barren and empty. Whether Protestant, Catholic, Lutheran, or non-denominational, entrance is gained only one way: by faith alone, in Christ alone, through grace alone, according to Scripture alone, and all for the glory of God alone.
Flaws and fallenness are common to us all. What can be affirmed, however, is that God used imperfect individuals — beginning in the late 1300s — to bring about desperately needed change in His church.
The Protestant Reformation later spurred the Counter-Reformation within the Roman Catholic Church — a movement later leaders recognized as both helpful and necessary. While putting this blog together, I came across several remarkable acknowledgments I never knew existed that validate my point:
Pope John Paul II (1999):
"The Reformation was a call to reform that found an echo within the Catholic Church itself."
Pope Benedict XVI (2008):
"The need for reform was undeniable, even if the form it took divided the Church."
Pope Francis (2016, at the joint Lutheran–Catholic commemoration in Lund, Sweden):
"With gratitude, we acknowledge that the Reformation helped give greater centrality to Scripture in the life of the Church."
Of all the Reformers, my favorite has always been John Wycliffe — often called the Morning Star of the Reformation. He preceded both Jan Hus and Martin Luther, and he believed what few dared to say aloud: that the Bible should belong to ordinary people, not just the clergy.
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As such, he began furiously translating Scripture into English — the language of common men and women, rather than Latin, which only academics and clergy could read and understand.
Seriously, how crazy is that? People couldn’t read the Bible for themselves, nor understand it when it was read aloud! To read or even possess the Bible in English was considered a heresy punishable by death!
King Henry VI of England saw such measures as “rebellion.” Wycliff called it obedience. The king’s sentiments may have won the day, but providence, in the end, would have the final say.
When John Wycliffe lay dying in 1384, his opponents gathered around his bed, waiting to see if the heretic would finally recant. As they leaned in, demanding his repentance, Wycliffe lifted his head one final time and said,
“With what you call today’s fire, you only strike a spark. But the Word of God I have preached shall not die — it shall one day be heard by a king."
As Wycliffe’s final words faded, few could have imagined how true they would become. More than a century later, King Henry VIII authorized the Great Bible of 1539—the first English translation appointed to be read aloud in every parish church.
Remarkably, nearly 80–85% of its phrasing would later appear in another version commissioned by a different king — the King James Version (1611). The work that had once been forbidden was now proclaimed by royal decree.
You may be wondering if all the Uprisings + Revolts + Protests + Reforms of the Middle Ages were worth it.
I’ll ask a question in return: Do you have a copy or an app of the Bible you can read and understand for yourself?
Assuming you do, then the battles they fought became the freedom you now hold in your hands.
So please read it. Learn it. Memorize it. Love it. Share it. Live it.
And never take their sacrifice for granted.
