By these trials, the
promises became more apparent and more invaluable than ever. He never saw those
heights and depths in grace and love, and mercy, as he saw them after this
severe trial—'great sins drew out great grace'; and the more terrible and
fierce guilt was, the more high and mighty did the mercy of God in Christ
appear. These are Bunyan's own reflections; but may we not add to them, that
while he was in God's school of trial, every groan, every bitter pang of
anguish, and every gleam of hope, were intended to fit him for his future work
as a preacher and writer? Weighed in the balances of the sanctuary, there was
not a jot too little, or an iota too much.
Every important
subject which embarrasses the convert was most minutely investigated,
especially faith, the sin against the Holy Ghost, the divinity of Christ, and
such essential truths. He well knew every dirty lane, and nook, and corner of
Mansoul, in which the Diabolonians found shelter, and well he knew the
frightful sound of Diabolus' drum. Well did his pastor, John Burton, say of
him, 'He hath through grace taken these three heavenly degrees, to wit, union
with Christ, the anointing of the Spirit, and experience of the temptations of
Satan, which do more fit a man for that mighty work of preaching the gospel,
than all the university learning and degrees that can be had.'
Preserved in Christ
Jesus, and called—selected from his associates in sin, he was taken into this
school, and underwent the strictest religious education. It was here alone that
his rare talent could be cultivated, to enable him, in two immortal allegories,
to narrate the internal discipline he underwent. It was here he attained that
habitual access to the throne of grace, and that insight into the inspired
volume, which filled his writings with those solemn realities of the world to
come; while it enabled him to reveal the mysteries of communion with the Father
of spirits, as he so wondrously does in his treatise on prayer.
To use the language
of Milton—'These are works that could not be composed by the invocation of Dame
Memory and her Siren daughters, but by devout prayer to that eternal Spirit,
who can enrich with all utterance and knowledge, and send out his seraphim,
with the hallowed fire of his altar, to touch and purify the lips of whom he
pleases, without reference to station, birth, or education.' The tent-maker and
tinker, the fisherman and publican, and even a friar or monk, became the
honoured instruments of his choice.
Throughout all of Bunyan's writings, he never murmurs at his want of education, although it is
often a source of humble apology. He honored the learned godly as Christians but preferred the Bible before the library of the two universities. He saw,
what every pious man must see and lament, that there is much idolatry in human
learning and that it was frequently applied to confuse and impede the gospel.
Thus he addresses the reader of his treatise on The Law and Grace—'If thou find
this book empty of fantastical expressions, and without light, vain, whimsical,
scholar-like terms, it is because I never went to school, to Aristotle or
Plato, but was brought up at my father's house, in a very mean condition, among
a company of poor countrymen. But if thou do find a parcel of plain, yet sound,
true, and home sayings, attribute that to the Lord Jesus his gifts and
abilities, which he hath bestowed upon such a poor creature as I am and have
been.'
His maxim was—' Words
easy to be understood do often hit the mark, when high and learned ones do only
pierce the air. He also that speaks to the weakest may make the learned
understand him; when he that strives to be high, is not only of the most part
understood but of a sort, but also many times is neither understood by them nor
by himself!' This is one of Bunyan's maxims, well worth the consideration of
the most profoundly learned writers and the most eloquent preachers
and public speakers.
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