John Bunyan

John Bunyan: The Pilgrim in Chains, and the Sinner Set Free

He was a poor tinker.
A mender of pots. A wanderer. A blasphemer.
A man whose mouth was full of cursing and whose heart was full of fear.
And then God found him.

His name was John Bunyan.
Born in 1628.
Raised in hard labor and harder sin.
He feared hell, but could not flee from it.
He married, read old Puritan books, and began to tremble.

The fear of God took hold of him.
His conscience awoke.
And it did not sleep for a long time.

He saw his sin. And it crushed him.
He tried to pray, but feared he blasphemed even as he spoke.
He tried to believe, but feared it was too late.

“I am the chief of sinners,” he cried.
“I have sinned away the day of grace.”

He walked through doubt, despair, and dread.
Each footstep a question.
Each breath a fear.
Each moment a war between hope and horror.

And so he wrote.
Not to impress.
But to survive.
Not to teach.
But to testify.

Thus was born his first great work:
Grace Abounding to the Chief of Sinners.

It is not a book of polished doctrine.
It is the cry of a man drowning in guilt, grasping at Christ.
A furnace account. A record of mercy.

He feared he was Esau.
He feared he had sold his soul.
He feared he had no part in Christ.

But grace — amazing, relentless, sovereign grace —
broke through.

“He that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out.” (John 6:37)
That verse became his lifeline.
The rope that held him.
The promise that saved him.

And so the tinker became a preacher.
Unlicensed. Unofficial.
But unashamed.

He preached in barns, in fields, in homes.
Crowds came.
The gospel rang out.

And so, the prison doors opened — to receive him.

For 12 years, he sat in jail.
Why?
Because he would not stop preaching Christ.

He could have walked free.
They told him, “Be silent, and you may go home.”
But he would not betray the pulpit.

“I will stay in prison,” he said,
“till the moss grows on my eyelids, rather than disobey God.”

And there — in that cold Bedford cell —
with a Bible, a pen, and the Holy Spirit,
he gave the world a gift it has never forgotten.

The Pilgrim’s Progress was born in chains.

It is not fiction.
It is truth in allegory.
It is theology wrapped in story.
It is the Christian life on foot.

Christian, burdened with sin,
flees from the City of Destruction,
climbs the Hill of Difficulty,
wades through the Slough of Despond,
fights Apollyon,
walks through Vanity Fair,
and presses toward the Celestial City.

Every soul who has walked with Christ
finds themselves in its pages.

It is the story of the narrow path.
The fight. The burden. The cross. The crown.

“I seek a country,” Christian says.
“A city whose Builder and Maker is God.”

He meets Evangelist. He loses Faithful. He finds Hopeful.
He faces Doubting Castle. He walks the Enchanted Ground.
But through it all — he presses on.

Why?

Because the gate is open.
The King is waiting.
The promise is sure.

The Pilgrim’s Progress is more than a book.
It is a map for the weary.
A sermon for the seeker.
A song for the suffering.

Millions have read it.
Kings and children. Scholars and sinners.
It has never gone out of print.
Because truth never grows old.

And Bunyan?
He died in 1688.
But he has not been silenced.

His voice still calls:

“Flee the City of Destruction.”
“Lay down your burden at the cross.”
“The gate is open. Enter and live.”

Grace Abounding tells us how he was saved.
Pilgrim’s Progress shows us how we must walk.
And his life declares:

“No one is too broken for Christ. No prison is too dark for grace.”

He walked the narrow road before us.
He wrote the journey behind him.
And now, he waits at the gates —
with all those who overcame by the blood of the Lamb.