As he became less
agitated with fear, and drew consolation more frequently from the promises,
with a timid hope of salvation, he began to exhibit singular powers of
conception in spiritualizing temporal things. His first essay was to find the
hidden meaning in the division of God's creatures into clean and unclean.
Chewing the cud, and parting the hoof, he conceived to be emblematical of our
feeding upon the Word of God, and parting, if we would be saved, with the ways
of ungodly men. It is not sufficient to chew the cud like the hare—nor to part
the hoof like the wine—we must do both; that is, possess the word of faith, and
that be evidenced by parting with our outward pollutions. This spiritual
meaning of part of the Mosaic dispensation is admirably introduced into the
Pilgrim's Progress when Christian and Faithful analyze the character of
Talkative. This is the germ of that singular talent that flourished in the after-life, of exhibiting a spiritual meaning drawn from every part of the
Mosaic dispensation, and which leads one of our most admired writers to
suggest, that if Bunyan had lived and written during the early days of
Christianity, he would have been the greatest of the fathers.
Although he had received that portion of comfort which enabled him to indulge in religious speculations, still his mind was unsettled and full of fears. He now became alarmed lest he had not been effectually called to inherit the kingdom of heaven. He felt still more humbled at the weakness of human nature, and at the poverty of wealth. Could this call have been gotten for money, and 'could I have given it; had I a whole world, it had all gone ten thousand times over for this.' In this he was sincere, and so he was when he said, I would not lose one promise, or have it struck out of the Bible if in return I could have as much gold as would reach from London to York, piled up to the heavens.
In proportion
to his soul's salvation, honour was a worthless phantom, and gold but
glittering dust. His earnest desire was to hear his Saviour's voice calling him
to his service. Like many young disciples, he regretted not having been born
when Christ was manifest in the flesh. 'Would I have been Peter or John!' their
privations, sufferings, martyrdom, was nothing in comparison to their being
with and hearing the voice of the Son of God calling them to his service.
Strange, but general delusion! as if Christ were not the same yesterday, today, and forever. Groaning for a sense of pardon, he was comforted by Joel—'I
will cleanse their blood that I have not cleansed, for the Lord dwelleth in
Zion' (Joel 3:21), and he was led to seek advice and assistance from a
neighboring minister, and from pious persons.
The poor women in Bedford, whose conversation had been blessed to his thorough awakening, were sought for, and to them he unfolded his sorrows. They were members of a Baptist church, under the pastoral care of John Gifford, a godly, painstaking, and most intelligent minister, whose history is very remarkable. In early life he had been, like Bunyan, a thoroughly depraved character; like him had entered the army, and had been promoted to the rank of a major in the royal forces. Having made an abortive attempt to raise a rebellion in his native county of Kent, he and eleven others were made prisoners, tried by martial law, and condemned to the gallows. On the night previous to the day appointed for his execution, his sister found access to the prison. The guards were asleep, and his companions drowned in intoxication. She embraced the favorable moment, and set him at liberty. He lay concealed in a ditch for three days, till the heat of the search was over, and in disguise escaped to London, and thence to Bedford, where, aided by some great people who favored the royal cause, he commenced business as a doctor. Here his evil habits followed him, notwithstanding his merciful deliverance. Swearing, drunkenness, gambling, and other immoral practices, rendered him a curse to others, especially to the Puritans, whom he bitterly persecuted.
One night he lost fifteen pounds at play, and, becoming outrageous,
he cast angry reproaches upon God. In this state he took up a book by R.
Bolton—he read, and his conscience was terror-stricken. Distress, under
conviction of sin, followed him. He searched his Bible, and found pardon and
acceptance. He now sought acquaintance with those whom before he had
persecuted, but, like Paul, when in similar circumstances, 'they were all
afraid of him.' His sincerity soon became apparent; and, uniting with eleven
others, they formed a church. These men had thrown off the fetters of
education, and were, unbiased by any sectarian feeling, being guided solely by
their prayerful research into divine truth as revealed in the Bible. Their
whole object was to enjoy Christian communion—to extend the reign of grace—to
live to the honour of Christ—and they formed a new, and at that time
unheard-of, community. Water-baptism was to be left to individual conviction;
they were to love each other equally, whether they advocated baptism in
infancy, or in riper years. The only thing essential to church fellowship, in
Mr. Gifford's opinion, was—'UNION WITH CHRIST; this is the foundation of all
saints' communion and not any judgment about externals.' To the honor of the
Baptists, these peaceable principles appear to have commenced with two or three
of their ministers, and for the last two centuries, they have been, like
heavenly leaven, extending their delightful influence over all bodies of
Christians.
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