This morning I shared the story of William Tyndale with our congregation. This amazing young man had earned advanced degrees from Oxford and mastered 8 languages by the time he set out to become the first to translate the Greek New Testament into English. Because the leaders of the Church were bitterly opposed to an English translation, Tyndale was forced into hiding as a fugitive. So while fleeing from house to house and one country to another, he somehow managed to achieve his ambition: an excellent English translation of the Greek New Testament and most of the Hebrew Old Testament. His work was accurate, lyrical and memorable for the common men and women.
As you may know, Tyndale's quest cost him much more than the comforts of life in the mainstream. He never enjoyed the bliss of wife or children. He never enjoyed the security of his own home. He missed most of the world's tourist locations. And he ultimate lost his life. In 1536, he was strangled and then burned at the stake for his crime of "laying the Holy Scriptures open and naked before the unwashed masses."
When the King James Version was authorized just about 70 years later, the translators used Tyndale's vocabulary almost entirely. In fact, until very recently, virtually every English translation of the Bible contained heavy percentages of English words selected by Tyndale. He actually coined certain terms like Passover, scapegoat, and atonement.
But here's the question we sometimes ask in response to stories like this one: what made these gigantic figures of faith like Tyndale so different? Why are their lives able to leap across the barriers of space, time and culture to inspire and bless generations like our own hundreds of years later?
Some would say their faith was greater. But in fact, Christ constantly diminishes the significance of size in regard to faith. A mere mustard seed of faith can vanquish unthinkable obstacles.
Some would insist that their courage was greater. The saints of earlier generation were absolutely fearless. But in fact, courage is simply the ability to disregard one's fears for the moments. Today, you and I seem to have very few fears to conquer- except for the possible fear of rejection by others. Our tiny fears are not the issue.
I have come to believe that heroes like Tyndale were different from you and me only because they're appetites were greater. They yearned for more than self-fulfillment and the latest toy for their collections of things. No, the great ones of earlier generations were focused on the glory of God and the needs of others. That focus made all the difference.
Tyndale knew that his effort to translate the Bible could cost him everything and yet still he persisted. Don't miss the fact that he didn't need to do this for his own spiritual health- he could read Greek, Hebrew and Latin. All the words of Scripture were available to him in legal languages which he could understand. He could have read them in safety for the rest of his life. And he could have quoted them to others with no risk to himself.
But Tyndale wanted more than comfort and self-fulfillment. He wanted to honor the Lord Jesus Christ and offer a timeless gift to all posterity. He wanted a Bible others could read and embody. So he laid everything on the line and went for the gold. We are all the better for his sacrifice.
You and I would all do well to remember William Tyndale on days when we complain that we have been treated unfairly, or that our financial burdens are so stressful that we can scarcely go on. The problem with us Post-moderns is not the size of our bank accounts or the stressful nature so many consumer decisions. As C.S. Lewis once opined, our desires are not too large: they are too small. So we settle for the joy of making pud pies in a ghetto because we cannot imagine the pleasure of an ocean cruise. And so we miss the adventure of faith, and the impact of living among the great ones.
On the gallows, Tyndale prayed that God would open the eyes of the King of England. Indeed, may he open ours as well.
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