“This hill, though high, I covet to ascend; the difficulty will not me offend, for I perceive the way of life lies here. Come, pluck up, heart; let’s neither faint nor fear.”
— John Bunyan, The Pilgrim’s Progress
John Bunyan, the Bedford tinker who penned one of the greatest works in Christian literature from a prison cell, knew something about hard roads. Imprisoned for preaching the gospel, he did not write from the comfort of a study but from the cold reality of suffering, and yet his pen dripped with hope.
In The Pilgrim’s Progress, Christian does not travel an easy path to the Celestial City. He stumbles into the Slough of Despond, faces the giant Apollyon, and is locked in Doubting Castle. Bunyan was not writing fiction; he was writing his own soul’s biography, and perhaps yours as well.
The great comfort Bunyan offers us is this: the fire of grace in the believer’s heart is not maintained by the believer alone. In the Interpreter’s House, Christian sees a fire burning against a wall while a man continually pours water on it — yet the flame never dies. The secret? Behind the wall, another man quietly pours oil to keep it burning. That hidden man is Christ. The oil is His Spirit. Your perseverance is His work.
Bunyan captured what Paul declared in Philippians 1:6 — “Being confident of this very thing, that he which hath begun a good work in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ.” The God who saved you on the King’s Highway will not abandon you in the Valley of the Shadow. He maintains the flame.
Pilgrim, pluck up your heart this Thursday. The hill is high, but the way of life lies there. Fix your eyes not on how steep the road is, but on the City whose Builder and Maker is God. Bunyan pressed on, and so, by sovereign grace, shall you.
— Press on, dear pilgrim. The crown is incorruptible.
— John Bunyan, The Pilgrim’s Progress
John Bunyan, the Bedford tinker who penned one of the greatest works in Christian literature from a prison cell, knew something about hard roads. Imprisoned for preaching the gospel, he did not write from the comfort of a study but from the cold reality of suffering, and yet his pen dripped with hope.
In The Pilgrim’s Progress, Christian does not travel an easy path to the Celestial City. He stumbles into the Slough of Despond, faces the giant Apollyon, and is locked in Doubting Castle. Bunyan was not writing fiction; he was writing his own soul’s biography, and perhaps yours as well.
The great comfort Bunyan offers us is this: the fire of grace in the believer’s heart is not maintained by the believer alone. In the Interpreter’s House, Christian sees a fire burning against a wall while a man continually pours water on it — yet the flame never dies. The secret? Behind the wall, another man quietly pours oil to keep it burning. That hidden man is Christ. The oil is His Spirit. Your perseverance is His work.
Bunyan captured what Paul declared in Philippians 1:6 — “Being confident of this very thing, that he which hath begun a good work in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ.” The God who saved you on the King’s Highway will not abandon you in the Valley of the Shadow. He maintains the flame.
Pilgrim, pluck up your heart this Thursday. The hill is high, but the way of life lies there. Fix your eyes not on how steep the road is, but on the City whose Builder and Maker is God. Bunyan pressed on, and so, by sovereign grace, shall you.
— Press on, dear pilgrim. The crown is incorruptible.
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