The Life of John Bunyan [62]
the golden
mean."
We may add the portrait drawn by one who had been his companion and
fellow-sufferer for many years, John Nelson: "His countenance was
grave and sedate, and did so to the life discover the inward frame
of his heart, that it was convincing to the beholders and did
strike something of awe into them that had nothing of the fear of
God."
The same friend speaks thus of Bunyan's preaching: "As a minister
of Christ he was laborious in his work of preaching, diligent in
his preparation for it, and faithful in dispensing the Word, not
sparing reproof whether in the pulpit or no, yet ready to succour
the tempted; a son of consolation to the broken-hearted, yet a son
of thunder to secure and dead sinners. His memory was tenacious,
it being customary with him to commit his sermons to writing after
he had preached them. A rich anointing of the Spirit was upon him,
yet this great saint was always in his own eyes the chiefest of
sinners and the least of saints."
An anecdote is told which, Southey says, "authenticates itself,"
that one day when he had preached "with peculiar warmth and
enlargement," one of his hearers remarked "what a sweet sermon he
had delivered." "Ay," was Bunyan's reply, "you have no need to
tell me that, for the devil whispered it to me before I was well
out of the pulpit." As an evidence of the estimation in which
Bunyan was held by the highly-educated, it is recorded that Charles
the Second expressed his surprise to Dr. Owen that "a learned man
such as he could sit and listen to an illiterate tinker." "May it
please your Majesty," Owen replied. "I would gladly give up all my
learning if I could preach like that tinker."
Although much of Bunyan's literary activity was devoted to
controversy, he had none of the narrowness or bitter spirit of a
controversialist. It is true that his zeal for what he deemed to
be truth led him into vehemence of language in dealing with those
whom he regarded as its perverters. But this intensity of speech
was coupled with the utmost charity of spirit towards those who
differed from him. Few ever had less of the sectarian temper which
lays greater stress on the infinitely small points on which all
true Christians differ than on the infinitely great truths on which
they are agreed. Bunyan inherited from his spiritual father, John
Gifford, a truly catholic spirit. External differences he regarded
as insignificant where he found real Christian faith and love. "I
would be," he writes, "as I hope I am, a Christian. But for those
factious titles of Anabaptist, Independent, Presbyterian, and the
like, I conclude that they come neither from Jerusalem nor from
Antioch, but from Hell or from Babylon." "He was," writes one of
his early biographers, "a true lover of all that love our Lord
Jesus, and did often bewail the different and distinguishing
appellations that are among the godly, saying he did believe a time
would come when they should be all buried." The only persons he
scrupled to hold communion with were those whose lives were openly
immoral. "Divisions about non-essentials," he said, "were to
churches what wars were to countries. Those who talked most about
religion cared least for it; and controversies about doubtful
things and things of little moment, ate up all zeal for things
which were practical and indisputable." His last sermon breathed
the same catholic spirit, free from the trammels of narrow
sectarianism. "If you are the children of God live together
lovingly. If the world quarrel with you it is no matter; but it is
sad if you quarrel together. If this be among you it is a sign of
ill-breeding. Dost thou see a soul that has the image of God in
him? Love him, love him. Say, 'This man and I must go to heaven
one day.' Serve one another. Do good for one another. If any
wrong you pray to God to right you, and love the brotherhood." The
mean."
We may add the portrait drawn by one who had been his companion and
fellow-sufferer for many years, John Nelson: "His countenance was
grave and sedate, and did so to the life discover the inward frame
of his heart, that it was convincing to the beholders and did
strike something of awe into them that had nothing of the fear of
God."
The same friend speaks thus of Bunyan's preaching: "As a minister
of Christ he was laborious in his work of preaching, diligent in
his preparation for it, and faithful in dispensing the Word, not
sparing reproof whether in the pulpit or no, yet ready to succour
the tempted; a son of consolation to the broken-hearted, yet a son
of thunder to secure and dead sinners. His memory was tenacious,
it being customary with him to commit his sermons to writing after
he had preached them. A rich anointing of the Spirit was upon him,
yet this great saint was always in his own eyes the chiefest of
sinners and the least of saints."
An anecdote is told which, Southey says, "authenticates itself,"
that one day when he had preached "with peculiar warmth and
enlargement," one of his hearers remarked "what a sweet sermon he
had delivered." "Ay," was Bunyan's reply, "you have no need to
tell me that, for the devil whispered it to me before I was well
out of the pulpit." As an evidence of the estimation in which
Bunyan was held by the highly-educated, it is recorded that Charles
the Second expressed his surprise to Dr. Owen that "a learned man
such as he could sit and listen to an illiterate tinker." "May it
please your Majesty," Owen replied. "I would gladly give up all my
learning if I could preach like that tinker."
Although much of Bunyan's literary activity was devoted to
controversy, he had none of the narrowness or bitter spirit of a
controversialist. It is true that his zeal for what he deemed to
be truth led him into vehemence of language in dealing with those
whom he regarded as its perverters. But this intensity of speech
was coupled with the utmost charity of spirit towards those who
differed from him. Few ever had less of the sectarian temper which
lays greater stress on the infinitely small points on which all
true Christians differ than on the infinitely great truths on which
they are agreed. Bunyan inherited from his spiritual father, John
Gifford, a truly catholic spirit. External differences he regarded
as insignificant where he found real Christian faith and love. "I
would be," he writes, "as I hope I am, a Christian. But for those
factious titles of Anabaptist, Independent, Presbyterian, and the
like, I conclude that they come neither from Jerusalem nor from
Antioch, but from Hell or from Babylon." "He was," writes one of
his early biographers, "a true lover of all that love our Lord
Jesus, and did often bewail the different and distinguishing
appellations that are among the godly, saying he did believe a time
would come when they should be all buried." The only persons he
scrupled to hold communion with were those whose lives were openly
immoral. "Divisions about non-essentials," he said, "were to
churches what wars were to countries. Those who talked most about
religion cared least for it; and controversies about doubtful
things and things of little moment, ate up all zeal for things
which were practical and indisputable." His last sermon breathed
the same catholic spirit, free from the trammels of narrow
sectarianism. "If you are the children of God live together
lovingly. If the world quarrel with you it is no matter; but it is
sad if you quarrel together. If this be among you it is a sign of
ill-breeding. Dost thou see a soul that has the image of God in
him? Love him, love him. Say, 'This man and I must go to heaven
one day.' Serve one another. Do good for one another. If any
wrong you pray to God to right you, and love the brotherhood." The