The Life of John Bunyan [15]
As he read, to his
amazement and thankfulness, he found his own spiritual experience
described. "It was as if his book had been written out of my
heart." It greatly comforted him to find that his condition was
not, as he had thought, solitary, but that others had known the
same inward struggles. "Of all the books that ever he had seen,"
he deemed it "most fit for a wounded conscience." This book was
also the means of awakening an intense love for the Saviour. "Now
I found, as I thought, that I loved Christ dearly. Oh, methought
my soul cleaved unto Him, my affections cleaved unto Him; I felt
love to Him as hot as fire."
And very quickly, as he tells us, his "love was tried to some
purpose." He became the victim of an extraordinary temptation - "a
freak of fancy," Mr. Froude terms it - "fancy resenting the
minuteness with which he watched his own emotions." He had "found
Christ" and felt Him "most precious to his soul." He was now
tempted to give Him up, "to sell and part with this most blessed
Christ, to exchange Him for the things of this life; for anything."
Nor was this a mere passing, intermittent delusion. "It lay upon
me for the space of a year, and did follow me so continually that I
was not rid of it one day in a month, no, not sometimes one hour in
many days together, except when I was asleep." Wherever he was,
whatever he was doing day and night, in bed, at table, at work, a
voice kept sounding in his ears, bidding him "sell Christ" for this
or that. He could neither "eat his food, stoop for a pin, chop a
stick, or cast his eyes on anything" but the hateful words were
heard, "not once only, but a hundred times over, as fast as a man
could speak, 'sell Him, sell Him, sell Him,' and, like his own
Christian in the dark valley, he could not determine whether they
were suggestions of the Wicked One, or came from his own heart.
The agony was so intense, while, for hours together, he struggled
with the temptation, that his whole body was convulsed by it. It
was no metaphorical, but an actual, wrestling with a tangible
enemy. He "pushed and thrust with his hands and elbows," and kept
still answering, as fast as the destroyer said "sell Him," "No, I
will not, I will not, I will not! not for thousands, thousands,
thousands of worlds!" at least twenty times together. But the
fatal moment at last came, and the weakened will yielded, against
itself. One morning as he lay in his bed, the voice came again
with redoubled force, and would not be silenced. He fought against
it as long as he could, "even until I was almost out of breath,"
when "without any conscious action of his will" the suicidal words
shaped themselves in his heart, "Let Him go if He will."
Now all was over. He had spoken the words and they could not be
recalled. Satan had "won the battle," and "as a bird that is shot
from the top of a tree, down fell he into great guilt and fearful
despair." He left his bed, dressed, and went "moping into the
field," where for the next two hours he was "like a man bereft of
life, and as one past all recovery and bound to eternal
punishment." The most terrible examples in the Bible came trooping
before him. He had sold his birthright like Esau. He a betrayed
his Master like Judas - "I was ashamed that I should be like such
an ugly man as Judas." There was no longer any place for
repentance. He was past all recovery; shut up unto the judgment to
come. He dared hardly pray. When he tried to do so, he was "as
with a tempest driven away from God," while something within said,
"'Tis too late; I am lost; God hath let me fall." The texts which
once had comforted him gave him no comfort now; or, if they did, it
was but for a brief space. "About ten or eleven o'clock one day,
as I was walking under a hedge and bemoaning myself for this hard
hap that such a thought should arise within me, suddenly this
sentence bolted upon
amazement and thankfulness, he found his own spiritual experience
described. "It was as if his book had been written out of my
heart." It greatly comforted him to find that his condition was
not, as he had thought, solitary, but that others had known the
same inward struggles. "Of all the books that ever he had seen,"
he deemed it "most fit for a wounded conscience." This book was
also the means of awakening an intense love for the Saviour. "Now
I found, as I thought, that I loved Christ dearly. Oh, methought
my soul cleaved unto Him, my affections cleaved unto Him; I felt
love to Him as hot as fire."
And very quickly, as he tells us, his "love was tried to some
purpose." He became the victim of an extraordinary temptation - "a
freak of fancy," Mr. Froude terms it - "fancy resenting the
minuteness with which he watched his own emotions." He had "found
Christ" and felt Him "most precious to his soul." He was now
tempted to give Him up, "to sell and part with this most blessed
Christ, to exchange Him for the things of this life; for anything."
Nor was this a mere passing, intermittent delusion. "It lay upon
me for the space of a year, and did follow me so continually that I
was not rid of it one day in a month, no, not sometimes one hour in
many days together, except when I was asleep." Wherever he was,
whatever he was doing day and night, in bed, at table, at work, a
voice kept sounding in his ears, bidding him "sell Christ" for this
or that. He could neither "eat his food, stoop for a pin, chop a
stick, or cast his eyes on anything" but the hateful words were
heard, "not once only, but a hundred times over, as fast as a man
could speak, 'sell Him, sell Him, sell Him,' and, like his own
Christian in the dark valley, he could not determine whether they
were suggestions of the Wicked One, or came from his own heart.
The agony was so intense, while, for hours together, he struggled
with the temptation, that his whole body was convulsed by it. It
was no metaphorical, but an actual, wrestling with a tangible
enemy. He "pushed and thrust with his hands and elbows," and kept
still answering, as fast as the destroyer said "sell Him," "No, I
will not, I will not, I will not! not for thousands, thousands,
thousands of worlds!" at least twenty times together. But the
fatal moment at last came, and the weakened will yielded, against
itself. One morning as he lay in his bed, the voice came again
with redoubled force, and would not be silenced. He fought against
it as long as he could, "even until I was almost out of breath,"
when "without any conscious action of his will" the suicidal words
shaped themselves in his heart, "Let Him go if He will."
Now all was over. He had spoken the words and they could not be
recalled. Satan had "won the battle," and "as a bird that is shot
from the top of a tree, down fell he into great guilt and fearful
despair." He left his bed, dressed, and went "moping into the
field," where for the next two hours he was "like a man bereft of
life, and as one past all recovery and bound to eternal
punishment." The most terrible examples in the Bible came trooping
before him. He had sold his birthright like Esau. He a betrayed
his Master like Judas - "I was ashamed that I should be like such
an ugly man as Judas." There was no longer any place for
repentance. He was past all recovery; shut up unto the judgment to
come. He dared hardly pray. When he tried to do so, he was "as
with a tempest driven away from God," while something within said,
"'Tis too late; I am lost; God hath let me fall." The texts which
once had comforted him gave him no comfort now; or, if they did, it
was but for a brief space. "About ten or eleven o'clock one day,
as I was walking under a hedge and bemoaning myself for this hard
hap that such a thought should arise within me, suddenly this
sentence bolted upon