Bunyan Preached the Gospel to Himself!

As I've preached through Ephesians, on a number of occasions I've encouraged people to "preach the gospel to yourself".  Years ago I struggled with debilitating doubt and still struggling with pride.  I still struggle with both pride and discouragement.  I have found that the gospel is the remedy for these and many other ailments.  Bunyan experienced an extended time of wondering if he had committed an unpardonable sin and "feeling hopelessly damned."  His remedy was to preach to himself the gospel of God's free, justifying grace.

"One day as I was passing into the field ... this sentence fell upon my soul.  Thy righteousness is in heaven.  And methought, withal, I saw with the eyes of my soul Jesus Christ at God's right hand; there, I say, was my righteousness; so that wherever I was, or whatever I was doing, God could not say of me, he wants [lacks] my righteousness, for that was just before Him.  I also saw, moreover, that it was not my good frame of heart that made my righteousness better, nor yet my bad frame that made my righteousness worse, for my righteousness was Jesus Christ Himself, "The same yesterday, today, and forever." Hebrews 13:8.  Now did my chains fall off my legs indeed.  I was loosed from my afflictions and irons."

Bunyan's Perspective on Affliction

I've been teaching through Psalm 119 and the last few sections have had a lot to say about affliction.  In "The Hidden Smile of God", Piper confronts those who say God has no part in or plan for evil done to us.  He quotes Bunyan:

"It is not what enemies will, nor what they are resolved upon, but what God will, and what God appoints, that shall be done... And as not enemy can bring suffering upon a man when the will of God is otherwise, so no man can save himself out of their hands when God will deliver him up for his glory... We shall or shall not suffer; even as it pleaseth Him... God has appointed who shall suffer.  Suffering comes not by chance or by the will of man, but by the will and appointment of God."

I seem to have an easier time resting in God's sovereignty over suffering when the suffering is the result of 'natural' causes rather than the result of another person's actions.  I pray that God will give me the kind of faith Bunyan had in his prison cell.

Pastoring a Suffering Church

I've been reading "Pilgrim's Progress", one version for myself and another to my kids.  I also read 1 Peter 4 this morning.  I'm also a pastor.  Those three things came together and made this passage from Piper's "The Hidden Smile of God" quite sobering.  In 1684, Bunyan wrote a book, "Seasonable Counsel, or Advice to Sufferers" for his congregation.  This was just before a time in the history of England when over 300 Puritans were hanged and more than 800 were transported to Barbados.  Hundreds more were fined, flogged or imprisoned.

"The need for this "seasonable counsel" was not theoretical.  Some of his parishioners had already been imprisoned with him.  The threat was so real again that Bunyan deeded over all his possessions to his wife Elizabeth in the expectation that he might be imprisoned and made to pay fines that would take all his possessions.  It was no exaggeration when Bunyan wrote, "Our days indeed have been days of trouble, especially since the discovery of the Popish plot, for then we began to fear cutting of throats, of being burned in our beds, and of seeing our children dashed to pieces before our faces.""

I've tried to imagine what it would be like to look out from the pulpit at a congregation with these kinds of concerns.  I've tried to imagine the worry and fear they would be battling.  I know I preach to worrisome, fearful people on a weekly basis, but the situation Bunyan faced makes mine feel like a walk in the park.

Do I really want to be humble?

Sometimes I assume the apostle Paul was born again and soon thereafter he was a fully sanctified super apostle.  Of course I know that's not true, but it's easy to read of his faith in action and just assume he was always like that and didn't really struggle that much with sin and self.  But Paul had to be made humble the same way the rest of us are made humble - through difficult situations and people.  God even gave Paul a thorn in the flesh, a "messenger of Satan to torment" him, in order to keep him from being prideful.  Paul prayed for it to be gone, but God had a purpose in the thorn.  God was showing Paul the sufficiency of His grace and the pathway to humility.  So rather than continuing to pray for the thorn to be gone, complaining about the thorn, or simply enduring the thorn, Paul actually rejoiced in it.  For Christ's sake, he delighted in whatever would lead to humility.

Murray writes of two stages Christians pass through in relation to trials and humility:

"In the first he fears and flees and seeks deliverance from all that can humble him.  He has not yet learnt to seek humility at any cost.  He prays for humility, at times earnestly; but in his secret heart he prays more, in not in word, then in wish, to be kept from the very things that will make him humble."

In the second stage we believe that it is in difficulties that Jesus Christ is revealed to us.  The believer longs to know Jesus and knows that only His presence can expel pride:

"A clearer insight was to be given to Paul in the deep truth that the presence of Jesus will banish every desire to seek anything in ourselves, and will make us delight in every humiliation that prepares us for His fuller manifestation."

I don't believe following Jesus can be broken into tidy "stages" that, once reached, becomes our permanent home.  These are more like attitudes or mindsets than stages.  But I do believe Paul's attitude can become that of any believer who understands that the grace that sanctified Paul is the grace that sanctifies us.  God still uses the same kind of circumstances.  I need to pay more careful attention to when my attitude is opposing my prayers and my actions reveal that I don't really want to be that humble!

Humility & Bearded Dragons

Several years ago a friend gave his son a pet he had been asking for - a bearded dragon.  It was a pretty cool pet.  Watching it eat crickets was quite entertaining, as was watching his son (italics) hold it!  But it was also a lot of work to take care of a bearded dragon.  The work took some of the fun out of owning a bearded dragon.  My friend said something to me one time that I will never forget: "My son liked the idea of having a dragon; he just didn't like actually having it."  He's an insightful dad!  Eventually the bearded dragon grew so huge they had to give it to a zoo.  But the principle has stuck with me.  I think it applies to me and humility.

It seems that most of the time I really like the idea of being humble.  It's actually becoming humble that a don't like too much.  Years ago Murray pointed out this tendency.

"Oh, beware of the mistake so many make, who would fain to be humble, but are afraid to be too humble.  They have so many qualifications and limitations, so many reasonings and questionings, as to what true humility is to be and to do, that they never unreservedly yield themselves to it.  Beware of this."

That sounds a lot like me.  I want to be humble; I just don't want to become humble.  I don't want to go through the trials and relational difficulties that God uses to develop humility.  Only when I am willing to gladly accept the one in order to get the other will I know what it is to be humble.

Faith & Humility, Humility & Faith

Murray writes: "As we see how in their very nature pride and faith are irreconcilably at variance, we shall learn that faith and humility are at root one, and that we can never have more of true faith than we have of true humility."

Faith is passive.  By faith I rest in and depend upon God.  It is an act of humility to place myself in the hands of God.  I will only stand by faith if I am willing to kneel in humility.  But the opposite is true as well.  I can never have more of true humility than I have of true faith.  It is an act of faith to humble myself, allowing God to take care of exalting me.  It is an act of faith to humbly and joyfully accept being treated badly, knowing that God will take care of doing me good.  It is an act of faith to humbly fall to the ground and die as a single seed, trusting that God will use it to produce many seeds.

You'll Get Used to It

Edward Bloom left home after high school graduation and there was only one road out of his hometown. That road passed through the town with no name. Those who were meant to leave home were able to pass through unharmed. Those who weren't stayed forever, unable to go forward or move back. The town with no name was always enveloped in fog with a light rain falling. Edward walked through town with a man named Willie. Willie described the dampness as a kind of residue. The residue of a lot of dreams.

"We have our share of rain," Willie said, "but you get used to it."

"Everything here seems sort of . . . damp," Edward said.

Willie cut him a glance. "You get used to it," he said. "That's what this place is all about, Edward. Getting used to things."

"It's not what I want," he said.

"That, too," he said. "You get used to that, too."

I wonder how many people whom I encounter in an average week are living a life that they have learned to "get used to"? It's the opposite of a life of hope. Followers of Christ can have the kind of hope that causes people to ask them about it and can be ready with a a gentle, respectful answer when asked. (1 Peter 3:15)