The Cost of an Open Bible

In 1525, William Tyndale hunched over a printing press in Cologne, Germany, racing to finish what no one in England would let him attempt — the New Testament in English. An Oxford-educated scholar, Tyndale had abandoned every comfort his credentials afforded. His conviction was simple and dangerous: ordinary people deserved to read Scripture in their own language.

For over a decade, Tyndale moved between safe houses across Europe — Worms, Antwerp, Hamburg — translating from the original Greek and Hebrew while English agents hunted him. His completed New Testaments, first printed in Worms in 1526, were smuggled into England hidden in bales of cloth. Cuthbert Tunstall, the Bishop of London, bought copies in bulk just to burn them at St. Paul's Cross.

In May 1535, a man named Henry Phillips befriended Tyndale in Antwerp, then betrayed him to imperial authorities. On October 6, 1536, at Vilvoorde Castle near Brussels, Tyndale was strangled and burned at the stake. His reported final words: "Lord, open the King of England's eyes."

Within three years, Henry VIII authorized an English Bible built largely on Tyndale's translation.

Jesus declared, "You will know the truth, and the truth will set you free" (John 8:32). Tyndale wagered everything on that promise — not for his own freedom, but so that future generations could encounter God's Word without a gatekeeper. Courage is not the absence of fear. Sometimes it is a scholar translating by candlelight in a foreign city, knowing the price, and choosing the work anyway — because truth that sets people free is worth more than one man's safety.