This is a modernized edition of John Bunyan’s spiritual autobiography, with the English updated for contemporary readers.

Preamble

1.   As I share the story of God’s merciful work in my soul, it’s fitting to begin with a brief mention of my background and upbringing. This will highlight the goodness and generosity of God toward me, making His grace shine even brighter before all people.

2.   As for my family background, many know it was humble and unremarkable—my father’s household was among the lowliest and most overlooked in the land. So, I have no reason to boast, as others might, about noble ancestry or a high social status by human standards. Yet, when I consider everything, I praise the majestic God in heaven who chose to bring me into the world through such humble means, so I could share in the grace and life found in Christ through the gospel.

3.   Despite the lowliness and simplicity of my parents, God put it in their hearts to send me to school to learn to read and write, which I managed to do at the level of other poor children. But to my shame, I admit, I soon forgot nearly everything I learned, long before the Lord began His gracious work of transforming my soul.

Without God in the World

4.   As for my life before I knew God, when I was still lost in the ways of this world, it was truly shaped by the sinful patterns of this world and the spirit that now works in those who disobey God, Ephesians 2:2–3. I took pleasure in being led astray by the devil, following his every whim, 2 Timothy 2:26. My heart and life were filled with all kinds of wickedness, so much so that, even as a young child—considering my tender years—I had few equals in cursing, swearing, lying, and dishonoring God’s holy name.

5.   In fact, these sins became so ingrained in me that they felt like second nature. Looking back with a sober heart, I realize how deeply this offended the Lord. Even in my childhood, He startled and alarmed me with terrifying dreams and dreadful visions. Often, after spending my days in sin, I would lie in bed at night, overwhelmed by fears of demons and evil spirits. I thought they were trying to drag me away with them, and I could never shake those fears.

6.   During those years, I was also deeply troubled by thoughts of the terrifying torments of hellfire, constantly afraid that my fate would be to end up among those demons and wicked spirits, bound in chains of darkness until the great day of judgment.

7.   These fears, I say, troubled my soul even when I was just a child, only nine or ten years old. In the middle of my games and childish pursuits, surrounded by my carefree friends, I was often overwhelmed with distress and heaviness in my heart because of them. Yet I couldn’t let go of my sins. In fact, I was so consumed by despair about life and heaven that I often wished either that hell didn’t exist or that I could be a devil—thinking they were only tormentors—so that, if I had to go there, I could be the one causing torment rather than suffering it myself.

8.   After some time, those terrifying dreams faded, and I quickly forgot them, as my pleasures swept away their memory as if they had never happened. So, with even greater eagerness, driven by my sinful nature, I gave free rein to my desires and took delight in every kind of rebellion against God’s law. Until I got married, I was the ringleader among all the young people I spent time with, leading them into all sorts of vice and wickedness.

9.   Yes, the desires and sinful tendencies of my heart had such a strong hold over me that, if God’s miraculous grace hadn’t intervened, I would have not only faced eternal judgment but also brought myself to ruin and public shame under the laws of this world.

10.                 In those days, thoughts of religion were deeply troubling to me. I couldn’t stand them myself, nor could I bear others being religious. Whenever I saw someone reading books about Christian faith, it felt like a prison to me. I even said to God, “Leave me alone, for I don’t want to know Your ways,” Job 21:14–15. I had no regard for anything good; heaven and hell were far from my thoughts. As for salvation or judgment, they barely crossed my mind. O Lord, You know my life, and my ways were not hidden from You! (Jeremiah 16:17)

11.                 But I clearly remember this: though I could sin with great delight and ease, and even took pleasure in the wickedness of my friends, whenever I saw people who claimed to be good do something evil, it shook me to my core. For example, once, when I was at the height of my recklessness, I heard a man who was considered religious swear, and it struck my heart so deeply that it caused me real pain.

12.                 God did not abandon me completely but continued to pursue me, not with convictions now, but with judgments mixed with mercy. Once, I fell into a creek by the sea and narrowly escaped drowning. Another time, I fell out of a boat into the Bedford River, but God’s mercy kept me alive. On another occasion, while in a field with one of my friends, I saw a snake cross the path. With a stick in my hand, I struck it on the back, stunning it. Then I pried open its mouth with my stick and pulled out its fang with my fingers. Through this reckless act, if God had not been merciful, I could have brought about my own destruction.

13.                 I’ve also reflected on this event with gratitude: when I was a soldier, I was chosen, along with others, to go to a place to lay siege to it. But just as I was about to leave, one of my companions asked to take my place. I agreed, and he went instead of me. At the siege, while he was standing guard, he was shot in the head by a musket bullet and died.

14.                 Here, as I said, were both judgment and mercy. Yet neither of these stirred my soul to seek righteousness. So I continued in my sin.

Marriage

15.                 Soon after this, I entered into marriage, and by God’s mercy, I married a woman whose father was known to be godly. My wife and I came together in extreme poverty, without even a dish or spoon to our name. Yet she brought with her two books her father had left her when he died: The Plain Man’s Pathway to Heaven and The Practice of Piety. I would sometimes read these books with her, and I found some things in them that appealed to me. But even so, I felt no conviction of my sin. She often spoke of her father, describing what a godly man he was, how he confronted and corrected sin both in his home and among his neighbors, and how he lived a strict and holy life in both his words and actions.

16.                 These books, along with her stories, didn’t touch my heart to awaken me to my sinful and wretched condition, but they did spark some desire for religion in me. So, not knowing any better, I eagerly embraced the popular religion of the time—going to church twice a day, joining the most prominent people there. I would sing and pray devoutly, just like the others, while still holding on to my sinful life. In this, I was so caught up in superstition that I revered everything associated with the church—the altar, the priest, the clerk, the vestments, the services, and all else. I considered everything in the church to be holy, and I especially thought the priest and clerk were truly blessed, even happy, because I believed they were God’s servants, leading His work in the sacred sanctuary.

17.                 This belief grew so strong in my heart that, in a short time, whenever I saw a priest—no matter how corrupt or immoral his life might be—I would feel myself drawn to him, respecting and admiring him. In my love for them, thinking they were God’s ministers, I could have humbled myself at their feet and let them walk over me.

18.                 After living this way for some time, another thought crossed my mind: Were we part of the Israelites or not? I had read in the Scriptures that they were once God’s chosen people, and I thought that if I belonged to that race, my soul would surely be blessed. This question stirred a deep longing in me to know the truth, but I didn’t know how to find it. Finally, I asked my father about it. He told me, “No, we are not.” My hopes sank, and I let the matter rest.

19.                 All this time, I remained unaware of the danger and evil of sin. I didn’t realize that sin would condemn me, no matter what religion I followed, unless I was found in Christ. Honestly, I never even thought about Him or whether such a person existed. So, like a blind man, I wandered aimlessly, exhausting myself with empty pursuits, not knowing the way to the city of God, Ecclesiastes 10:15.

The Holy Sabbath

20.                 One day, among all the sermons our pastor preached, he spoke about the Sabbath day and the wrongness of breaking it through work, sports, or other activities. Now, despite my religious practices, I was someone who took great pleasure in all kinds of sin, and the Sabbath was the day I especially indulged myself. So, as I listened to his sermon, my conscience was struck, and I was convinced he had preached it specifically to expose my wrongdoing. For the first time I could recall, I felt the weight of guilt. When the sermon ended, I went home with a heavy burden on my heart.

21.                 That moment dulled the joy of my favorite pleasures and made my former delights bitter to me. But this feeling didn’t last. Before I had even finished my meal, the burden began to lift from my mind, and my heart slipped back into its old ways. Oh, how relieved I was that the guilt had left me and the fire of conviction had been put out, so I could sin freely again! So, after satisfying my hunger with food, I pushed the sermon out of my thoughts and returned with great eagerness to my old habits of sports and gaming.

22.                 That same day, while I was in the middle of a game of Cat and had just struck the ball once from the hole, as I was about to strike it again, a voice suddenly pierced my soul from heaven. It said, “Will you turn from your sins and go to heaven, or keep your sins and go to hell?” I was utterly stunned by this. Leaving the cat on the ground, I looked up to heaven. It was as if, with the eyes of my understanding, I saw the Lord Jesus gazing down at me, deeply displeased with me, as though He was threatening me with severe punishment for these and other sinful actions.

23.                 No sooner had this thought entered my mind than another conviction gripped my heart—for the earlier voice had brought my sins vividly before me—that I was a great and terrible sinner, and that it was now too late for me to seek heaven, for Christ would not forgive me or pardon my wrongs. I began to dwell on this thought. As I pondered it, gripped by fear that it might be true, my heart sank into despair, convinced that it was indeed too late. So I resolved in my mind to continue in sin. I thought, “If this is true, then my situation is hopeless—hopeless if I abandon my sins, and just as hopeless if I keep them. I can only be condemned, and if that’s my fate, I might as well be condemned for many sins as for a few.”

24.                 So I stood there in the middle of my game, surrounded by everyone watching, but I didn’t say a word to them. Having reached this conclusion, I threw myself back into my sport with reckless abandon. I clearly remember that soon after, this despair so consumed my soul that I was convinced I could never find comfort except in sin. Heaven was already lost to me, so I shouldn’t even think about it. This drove me to crave more sin, eagerly seeking out whatever sins I hadn’t yet committed, wanting to taste their pleasures. I rushed to indulge in them, as if afraid I might die before satisfying my desires, which I greatly feared. I declare before God, I am not lying or exaggerating—these were truly my desires, with all my heart. May the merciful Lord, whose grace is beyond measure, forgive my sins!

25.                 I am certain that this temptation from the devil is more common among struggling souls than many realize, overwhelming their hearts with a corrupted and hardened spirit and a dulled conscience. The devil subtly fills us with such despair that, even if guilt doesn’t weigh heavily on these souls, they constantly carry a hidden belief that there is no hope for them. Because they have loved their sins, Jeremiah 2:25, they will chase after them, Jeremiah 18:12.

Outward Reformation

26.                 So I continued to sin eagerly, always frustrated that I couldn’t find as much satisfaction in it as I wanted. This went on for about a month or more. But one day, as I stood at a neighbor’s shop window, cursing and swearing and carrying on as usual, the woman of the house was inside and overheard me. Though she herself was far from godly, she was shocked and said that my swearing and cursing were so extreme that they made her tremble. She told me I was the worst person for swearing she had ever heard in her life and that, by my behavior, I could ruin all the young people in town if they spent time with me.

27.                 Her rebuke silenced me and filled me with quiet shame, especially since I felt it was in the presence of the God of heaven. As I stood there, head bowed, I wished with all my heart that I could be a little child again, so my father could teach me to speak without this wicked habit of swearing. I thought I was so used to it that trying to change seemed hopeless-I believed it could never happen.

28.                 But somehow, I don’t know how, from that moment on, I stopped swearing, and it amazed me to notice it. Before, I couldn’t speak without adding an oath before and after to give my words weight. Now, I could speak better and more pleasantly than ever before, without any oaths. Yet, all this time, I still didn’t know Jesus Christ, nor did I give up my sports and games.

29.                 Soon after this, I met a poor man who claimed to follow God. To me, he spoke compellingly about the Scriptures and matters of faith. I grew fond of his words and began to enjoy them, so I started reading my Bible, taking great pleasure in it, especially the historical parts. But as for Paul’s letters and similar Scriptures, I couldn’t understand them, since I was still unaware of my sinful nature or the need and value of Jesus Christ to save me.

30.                 So I began to make some outward changes in my speech and behavior, setting the commandments before me as my path to heaven. I worked hard to keep them, thinking that if I followed them well enough at times, I would find comfort. Yet every now and then, I would break one, and my conscience would trouble me. Then I would repent, express sorrow for it, promise God to do better next time, and find some relief. I thought I was pleasing God as much as anyone in England, Hebrews 11:5.

31.                 I lived this way for about a year, and during that time, my neighbors considered me a very godly person, a new and devout man. They were amazed to see such a dramatic change in my life and behavior. And it was true, there was a change, though I still didn’t know Christ, His grace, faith, or hope. Looking back, I now see clearly that if I had died then, my condition would have been truly dreadful.

32.                 My neighbors were astonished at my dramatic transformation, from extreme wickedness to something resembling a moral life. And truly, they had good reason to be amazed, for this change was as striking as if a raving madman had become sensible. So they began to praise and commend me, speaking well of me both to my face and behind my back. They called me “godly” and said I had become a truly upright man. But oh, when I heard their words and opinions about me, I was deeply pleased! Though I was still nothing but a hollow pretender, I loved being seen as someone truly godly. I took pride in my so-called godliness, and honestly, everything I did was either to be noticed or to be well-spoken of by others. I lived this way for about a year or more.

Fear of Death

33.                 You should know that before this, I had taken great pleasure in ringing the church bells. But as my conscience began to grow sensitive, I thought this practice was meaningless, so I forced myself to stop. Yet I still longed for it, so I would go to the church steeple and watch, though I didn’t dare ring the bells. But I thought even this wasn’t fitting for a religious life. Still, I kept going to watch. Soon after, I began to worry, What if one of the bells falls? So I chose to stand under a large beam that stretched across the steeple, thinking I’d be safe there. But then I thought again, If a bell falls with a swing, it might hit the wall first, then bounce back and strike me, even with the beam there. This fear drove me to stand in the steeple doorway instead. I thought, Now I’m safe enough. If a bell falls, I can slip out behind these thick walls and be protected.

34.                 After that, I would still go to watch the bell-ringing, but I stayed no farther than the steeple doorway. Then a new fear struck me: What if the entire steeple collapses? As I stood there watching, I thought, It could happen, for all I know. My mind was so shaken that I could no longer stand in the doorway. I had to flee, terrified that the steeple might come crashing down on my head.

35.                 Another thing was my dancing. It took a full year before I could completely give that up. Yet all this time, whenever I thought I was keeping this or that commandment or doing something good in word or deed, my conscience felt at peace. I would say to myself, Surely God must be pleased with me now. Honestly, in my own mind, I thought no one in England could please God better than I did.

36.                 But what a wretched soul I was! All this time, I was ignorant of Jesus Christ. I was trying to establish my own righteousness, Romans 10:3. I would have been lost in this effort if God, in His mercy, had not revealed more to me about my sinful nature.

Four Poor Women

37.                 One day, by God’s good providence, I was called to Bedford to work in my trade. As I walked through one of the town’s streets, I came upon three or four poor women sitting at a doorstep in the sunlight, talking about the things of God. Eager to hear their conversation, I drew closer, since I was quite talkative about religious matters myself. But though I listened, I didn’t truly understand, for their words were far beyond my grasp. They spoke of being born again, of God’s work in their hearts, and how they had come to see their wretched condition by nature. They shared how God had touched their souls with His love through the Lord Jesus, and how His words and promises had refreshed, comforted, and strengthened them against the devil’s temptations. They also discussed specific ways Satan tempted them, sharing which attacks they had faced and how they had been sustained through his assaults. They spoke openly about their own sinful hearts and unbelief, and they rejected and despised their own righteousness as worthless and inadequate for their salvation.

38.                 It seemed to me that they spoke out of pure joy. Their words flowed with the beauty of Scripture and carried such grace that it was as if they had discovered a new world—as if they were a people set apart, not to be counted among their neighbors, Numbers 23:9.

39.                 At this, my heart began to tremble, and I started to doubt my own condition, realizing it was empty. I saw that in all my thoughts about religion and salvation, I had never considered the new birth. I knew nothing of the comfort found in God’s Word and promises, nor did I understand the deceitfulness and treachery of my own wicked heart. I had never paid attention to secret thoughts, nor did I know what Satan’s temptations were or how to resist and overcome them.

40.                 After listening to and reflecting on what these women said, I went back to my work. But their words and conversation stayed with me; my heart lingered on them, for I was deeply moved by what they shared. Their words convinced me that I lacked the true signs of a godly person and also showed me the joyful and blessed state of someone who truly followed God.

41.                 So I made it my purpose to seek out these poor people again and again, unable to stay away. The more time I spent with them, the more I questioned my own spiritual condition. As I recall, I soon noticed two things in myself that surprised me, especially considering what a blind, ignorant, and ungodly wretch I had been before. First, my heart grew soft and tender, causing me to feel convicted by the truths they supported with Scripture. Second, I felt a strong pull to constantly think about Scripture and other good things I heard or read about.

42.                 These experiences so transformed my mind that it clung to spiritual matters like a leech to a vein, always crying out, “More, more!” Proverbs 30:15. My thoughts were fixed on eternity and the things of God’s kingdom—at least as far as I understood, though, God knows, I understood very little then. Neither pleasures, profits, persuasions, nor threats could loosen my mind’s grip on these things. Though I say it with shame, it’s the honest truth: back then, it would have been as hard for me to shift my thoughts from heaven to earth as I have often found it since to turn them from earth back to heaven.

43.                 I must not leave out one thing: There was a young man in our town to whom I had been especially close. But because he was so wicked—full of cursing, swearing, and immorality—I distanced myself and stopped spending time with him. About three months after I had left him, I met him in a lane and asked how he was doing. In his usual crude and wild way, he said he was fine. “But, Harry,” I asked, “why do you curse and swear like this? What will happen to you if you die in this state?” He snapped back angrily, “What would the devil do for company if it weren’t for people like me?”

The Ranters^[1]

44.                 Around this time, I came across some books by the Ranters, written by some of our countrymen. These books were highly regarded by several older believers. I read some of them but couldn’t form a clear opinion about them. As I read and thought about their teachings, realizing I wasn’t able to discern truth from error, I turned to earnest prayer like this:

·      Lord, I am foolish and unable to tell truth from falsehood. Lord, don’t leave me to my own blindness to either accept or reject this teaching. If it comes from You, let me not reject it; if it comes from the devil, let me not embrace it. Lord, I place my soul in Your hands alone in this matter. Please, I beg You, don’t let me be deceived.

45.                 I had one close religious friend during this time, the poor man I mentioned earlier. But around this time, he turned into a wicked Ranter, giving himself over to all kinds of sin, especially impurity. He even denied the existence of God, angels, or spirits and mocked any call to live soberly. When I tried to confront his wickedness, he laughed even harder, claiming he had tried all religions and couldn’t find the right one until now. He also said that soon I would see all believers turn to the Ranters’ ways. Hating those dangerous beliefs, I immediately cut off contact with him, becoming as distant from him as I had once been close.

46.                 This man wasn’t the only temptation I faced. Since my work took me into the countryside, I met several people who, though once strict in their faith, had been swept away by the Ranters. They would talk to me about their beliefs, calling me legalistic and unenlightened, claiming they alone had reached perfection and could do whatever they wanted without sinning. Oh, these temptations appealed to my flesh, since I was young and my desires were strong. But God, who I hoped had better plans for me, kept me in reverence for His name and didn’t let me accept such harmful beliefs. Praise God, who put it in my heart to pray for His protection and guidance, always distrusting my own understanding. I’ve since seen the fruit of that prayer in how He preserved me not only from the Ranters’ errors but also from other false teachings that have arisen since. The Bible was precious to me in those days.

A New Perspective on Scripture

47.                 A New Perspective on ScriptureAt this time, I began to read the Bible with fresh eyes, approaching it in a way I never had before. The letters of the apostle Paul were especially precious and delightful to me. I was constantly engaged with the Bible, either reading it or reflecting on it, always praying fervently to God that I might know the truth and the path to heaven and glory.

48.                 As I read, I came across the passage, “To one person the Spirit gives the gift of wisdom; to another the same Spirit gives the gift of knowledge; to another faith,” 1 Corinthians 12:8–9. Though I later understood that this Scripture refers specifically to extraordinary gifts, at the time, it struck me with conviction that I lacked even the ordinary gifts—like the understanding and wisdom other Christians had. I kept thinking about this passage, especially the word faith, which troubled me deeply. I couldn’t help but wonder whether I had any faith at all. I feared this lack might cut me off from the blessings God gave to other believers. Yet I was reluctant to conclude that I had no faith, for if I did, I thought I would truly be a hopeless outcast.

49.                 “No,” I told myself. Though I was convinced I was an ignorant fool, lacking the blessed gifts of knowledge and understanding that other believers had, I decided to believe, at least tentatively, that I wasn’t entirely without faith, even though I didn’t understand what faith was. It was suggested to me—and I later saw this came from Satan—that those who believe they have no faith find no peace or rest in their souls. I was desperate to avoid falling into complete despair.

50.                 For a while, this fear of lacking faith troubled me. But God wouldn’t let me destroy my soul with such thoughts. Despite my blind and gloomy conclusions, He kept stirring new ideas in me, making me restless until I could know for certain whether I had faith or not. These questions kept running through my mind: What if you truly lack faith? How can you know if you have it? And I was certain that if I didn’t have faith, I would surely be lost forever.

51.                 At first, I tried to avoid thinking about faith altogether, but soon, after reflecting more deeply, I was willing to examine myself to see if I had faith. But oh, poor wretch that I was! I was so ignorant and clueless that I had no more idea how to test my faith than I knew how to create a rare and intricate work of art I had never seen or studied.

52.   Proof of Faith

53.                 As I wrestled with these thoughts, deeply troubled—for I hadn’t shared my struggles with anyone, only listened and reflected—the tempter came with a deception: the only way to know I had faith was to perform a miracle. He pressed Scriptures that seemed to support this idea, strengthening his temptation. One day, as I walked between Elstow and Bedford, this temptation overwhelmed me, urging me to test my faith with a miracle. The miracle was to say to the puddles in the horse paddocks, “Be dry,” and to the dry ground, “Be puddles.” I was on the verge of speaking these words. But just as I was about to, a thought stopped me: Go under that hedge and pray first, asking God to give you the ability. After deciding to pray, another thought struck me hard: If you pray, return, try it, and nothing happens, then you surely have no faith and are a hopeless outcast. So I thought, If that’s the case, I won’t try yet; I’ll wait a little longer.

54.                 I remained in great confusion. I thought that if only those who could do such amazing things had faith, then I didn’t have it now and likely never would. I was tossed back and forth between the devil’s lies and my own ignorance, so perplexed at times that I didn’t know what to do.

55.                 Around this time, the condition and joy of those poor people in Bedford came to me like a vision. I saw them as if they were on the sunny side of a high mountain, basking in the warm rays of the sun, while I shivered in the cold, tormented by frost, snow, and dark clouds. I also saw a wall between me and them, encircling the mountain. My soul longed desperately to pass through that wall, believing that if I could, I would join them in the heart of their group and find comfort in the warmth of their sun.

56.                 I kept circling the wall, searching again and again for some way or passage to get through. For a long time, I found nothing. At last, I noticed what seemed like a narrow gap, like a small doorway in the wall, and I tried to pass through it. The passage was so tight and narrow that I struggled repeatedly to get in, but all my efforts failed until I was nearly exhausted. Finally, with great effort, I managed to get my head through, and then, by twisting and turning, my shoulders and eventually my whole body. I was overjoyed! I went and sat among them, finding comfort in the light and warmth of their sun.

57.                 This mountain and wall were explained to me like this: The mountain represented the church of the living God; the sun shining on it was the comforting light of His merciful face on those within; the wall, I believed, was the Word of God that separated Christians from the world; and the narrow gap in the wall was Jesus Christ, the way to God the Father, John 14:6; Matthew 7:14. Because the passage was so incredibly narrow, requiring such difficulty to enter, it showed me that only those who were truly earnest and who left the sinful world behind could enter into life. There was only room for body and soul, but no space for sin.

58.                 This vision stayed with me for many days, during which I saw myself in a lonely and sorrowful state. Yet it stirred in me a burning hunger and desire to be among those who sat in the sunlight. I began to pray constantly, whether I was at home or out, in the house or in the fields. Often, lifting my heart, I would sing the words from Psalm 5:1, “O Lord, hear my cry for help,” for I still didn’t know where I stood.

Two Temptations (i.e., testings)

59.                 Still, I couldn’t find any comforting assurance that I had faith in Christ. Instead of gaining peace, my soul was attacked by new doubts about my eternal destiny, especially questions like: Am I chosen by God? What if the time of grace has passed me by?

60.                 These two questions troubled and unsettled me greatly, sometimes one, sometimes the other. First, about doubting my election, I found that even though I was passionately determined to find the path to heaven and glory, and nothing could turn me away, this question so discouraged and overwhelmed me that, at times, it felt as if it drained the very strength from my body. This Scripture especially seemed to crush all my hopes: “It is not by human desire or effort, but by God’s mercy,” Romans 9:16.

61.                 I didn’t know what to make of this verse. It was clear to me that unless the great God, in His infinite grace and generosity, had freely chosen me to receive His mercy, all my longing, striving, and even breaking my heart with effort would do no good. So this question kept haunting me: How can you know if you’re chosen? What if you’re not? What then?

62.                 O Lord, I thought, what if I’m truly not chosen? The Tempter whispered, “Maybe you’re not one of the elect.” “It might really be so,” I thought. “Then,” said Satan, “you should give up and stop striving. If you’re not chosen by God, there’s no point talking about salvation. For it is not by human desire or effort, but by God’s mercy.”

63.                 These thoughts drove me to the edge of despair, and I didn’t know how to respond or counter these temptations. I barely realized it was Satan attacking me; instead, I thought it was my own reasoning raising these doubts. I firmly believed, without question, that only the elect would receive eternal life. But whether I was one of them—that was the heart of my struggle.

64.                 For several days, I was deeply troubled and confused. As I walked, I often felt my mind so weak that I could barely keep going. But one day, after weeks of being weighed down and crushed, just as I was on the verge of giving up all hope of ever finding life, this verse struck my heart with great force: “Look at the generations past—has anyone who trusted in the Lord ever been put to shame?”

65.                 This verse lifted my spirits and filled my soul with encouragement. At that very moment, it was as if the meaning opened up to me: Start at the beginning of Genesis and read through to the end of Revelation, and see if you can find anyone who trusted in the Lord and was put to shame. When I got home, I eagerly opened my Bible to find this verse, confident I would locate it quickly, for it was so vivid in my mind and brought such strength and comfort, as if it had spoken directly to me.

66.                 But I searched and couldn’t find it. Still, the verse stayed with me. I asked one godly person, then another, if they knew where it was, but they didn’t know of any such passage. I was amazed that a verse could come to me so suddenly, with such comfort and power, and stay so firmly in my heart, yet no one could find it. I was certain it was in the Holy Scriptures.

67.                 For over a year, I kept searching but couldn’t find the verse. Finally, I came across it in the Apocrypha, in Ecclesiasticus 2:10. At first, this discovery unsettled me. But by then, I had grown in my experience of God’s love and kindness, so it troubled me less. I realized that, even though this verse wasn’t in the books we call holy and canonical, it captured the essence of many of God’s promises. So I felt it was my duty to take comfort in it. I thank God for that word, for it came from Him to me. Even now, that verse often shines brightly in my heart.

68.                 After this, another doubt gripped me with force: What if the time of grace has passed? What if you’ve missed the opportunity for mercy? I remember one day, as I walked in the countryside, I was consumed with this thought: What if the day of grace is over? To make my distress worse, the Tempter brought to mind those godly people in Bedford, suggesting that they were already converted and were the only ones God would save in that area—that I had arrived too late, and they had received the blessing before I came.

69.                 This threw me into great anguish, as I feared it might truly be so. I wandered about, grieving over my miserable state, feeling far worse than a thousand fools for delaying so long and wasting years in sin. I kept crying out, “Oh, why didn’t I turn sooner? Oh, if only I had turned seven years ago!” I was angry with myself for being so foolish as to squander my time until my soul and heaven seemed lost.

70.                 After being tormented by this fear for a long time, barely able to take another step, right around the same place where I had received my earlier encouragement, these words broke into my mind: “Compel them to come in, so my house may be filled; and yet there is still room,” Luke 14:22–23. These words, especially “and yet there is still room,” were sweet to me. I truly believed they showed there was still space in heaven for me. What’s more, I felt that when the Lord Jesus spoke these words, He had me in mind, knowing that a time would come when I would fear there was no place left for me in His heart. So He spoke this word and left it in Scripture to help me overcome this terrible temptation. This I firmly believed at that moment.

71.                 With the light and encouragement of this verse, I carried on for quite a while. My comfort grew even stronger when I thought that the Lord Jesus had me in mind so long ago and spoke those words specifically for my sake. I truly believed He said them to give me hope and strength.

72.                 But I wasn’t free from temptations to turn back—temptations from Satan, my own heart, and worldly friends. Yet, thank God, these were overcome by a deep awareness of death and the coming day of judgment, which stayed constantly in my mind. I often thought of Nebuchadnezzar, to whom God had given all the kingdoms of the earth, Daniel 5:18–19. Yet I realized that if this great man had all his reward in this world, one hour in hellfire would make him forget it all. This thought was a great help to me.

73.                 Around this time, I began to understand something about the clean and unclean animals described by Moses. I saw these animals as symbols of people: the clean ones represented God’s people, while the unclean ones stood for those under the power of evil. I read that clean animals chewed the cud, which I thought meant we must feed on God’s Word. They also had split hooves, which I believed showed we must separate from the ways of ungodly people to be saved. As I read further, I saw that even if we chewed the cud like a hare^[2] but walked with claws like a dog, or had split hooves like a pig but didn’t chew the cud like a sheep, we were still unclean. To me, the hare symbolized those who talk about God’s Word but live in sin, and the pig represented those who abandon outward sins but lack faith in God’s Word, without which no one can be saved, no matter how devout they seem, Deuteronomy 14:1–8.

74.                 Later, as I studied the Scriptures, I learned that those who will share in Christ’s glory in the next world must be called by Him in this one—called to embrace His Word, His righteousness, and the comfort and firstfruits of His Spirit, and to have a special share in the heavenly blessings that prepare the soul for the rest and glorious home in heaven above.

75.                 This brought me to a standstill, unsure of what to do, fearing I hadn’t been called. I thought, If I’m not called, what good can anything do for me? Only those who are truly called will inherit the kingdom of heaven. Oh, how I cherished the words in Scripture about a Christian’s calling! Like when the Lord said to one, “Follow me,” and to another, “Come, follow me.” Oh, how I longed for Him to say those words to me, and how eagerly I would have run after Him!

76.                 I can’t fully express the deep yearning and longing in my soul as I cried out to Christ to call me. For a time, I was consumed with a burning desire to be converted to Jesus Christ. I saw such glory in a converted life that I couldn’t rest without being part of it. Gold! If conversion could have been bought with gold, I would have given anything for it. If I owned the whole world, I would have traded it ten thousand times over just to know my soul was truly converted.

77.                 How beautiful everyone seemed to me who I believed were truly converted men and women! They shone with a radiance, as if they carried the very seal of heaven with them. Oh, I saw that their portion was in delightful places, and they had a wonderful inheritance, Psalm 16:6. But what troubled me deeply was Christ’s words in Mark: “He went up on a mountain and called to Himself those He wanted, and they came to Him,” Mark 3:13.

78.                 This verse made me weak with fear, yet it also sparked a fire in my soul. What frightened me was the thought that Christ might not want me, for He called whomever He chose. But oh, the glory I saw in the lives of those who were called so captivated my heart that whenever I read about anyone Christ called, I couldn’t help but wish I had been in their place. If only I had been Peter or John, or standing nearby when He called them, I would have cried out, “Lord, call me too!” But I was afraid He wouldn’t call me.

79.                 The Lord let me wrestle with this for many months, without showing me whether I was already called or would be called in the future. But at last, after much time and many heartfelt prayers to God that I might share in His holy and heavenly calling, this verse came to me: “I will cleanse their blood that has not been cleansed, for the Lord lives in Zion,” Joel 3:21. I believed these words were sent to encourage me to keep seeking God, suggesting that even if I wasn’t yet converted, the time might come when I would truly belong to Christ.

Public Confession of Sin

80.                 Around this time, I began to open up to the poor people in Bedford, sharing my spiritual struggles with them. When they heard me, they told Mr. Gifford about me, and he took the opportunity to speak with me. He seemed inclined to think well of me, though I believe he had little reason to. He invited me to his house, where I listened to him discuss with others how God had worked in their souls. These conversations brought me even more conviction. From then on, I began to see the emptiness and deep sinfulness of my wicked heart, something I hadn’t fully grasped before. Now it was being revealed to me, stirring within me like never before. I noticed sinful desires and corrupt thoughts rising up in me, things I hadn’t paid attention to earlier. My longing for heaven and life began to fade. Where once my soul was full of desire for God, now it chased after every foolish distraction. My heart refused to focus on what was good; it grew careless about my soul and heaven. It dragged me back from every spiritual duty, like a weight tied to a bird’s leg, keeping it from flying.

81.                 I thought, Now I’m getting worse and worse. I’m further from conversion than ever before. This realization caused my soul to sink deeply, filling my heart with such discouragement that I felt as low as hell itself. Even if I had been burned at the stake, I couldn’t have believed that Christ loved me. Oh, I could neither hear Him, see Him, feel Him, nor care for anything about Him. I was swept along as if by a storm. My heart remained impure, and sinful desires, like the Canaanites, seemed to dwell in my soul.

82.                 Sometimes I shared my struggles with God’s people. When they heard me, they pitied me and spoke of God’s promises. But their words felt as impossible as being told to touch the sun with my finger. Relying on the promises seemed just as out of reach. All my senses and feelings were against me. I saw that my heart was bent on sin and lived under a law that would condemn it.

83.                 These struggles often reminded me of the child whose father brought him to Jesus. While he was still approaching, the devil threw him down, tearing and convulsing him until he lay writhing and foaming at the mouth, Luke 9:42; Mark 9:20.

84.                 During this time, I found my heart closing itself off to the Lord and His holy Word. My unbelief seemed to push back against Him, like a shoulder braced against a door to keep Him out. This was true even as I cried out with many bitter sighs, “Good Lord, break it open! Lord, shatter these gates of bronze and cut through these iron bars!” Psalm 107:16. Yet, amidst this, one verse sometimes brought a moment of peace to my heart: “I equipped you, though you did not know Me,” Isaiah 45:5.

85.                 All this time, when it came to actual sinning, I was more sensitive than ever. My conscience was raw and tender. I couldn’t bear even the smallest accusation, no bigger than a straw, without it stinging deeply. I was so careful about how I spoke, afraid of saying the wrong thing. Oh, how cautiously I moved in everything I did or said! I felt like I was standing on a shaky, muddy bog that trembled with every step. It seemed as if God, Christ, the Spirit, and all good things had left me there alone.

86.                 I noticed that, even though I was such a great sinner before my conversion, God never held me accountable for the sins I committed in ignorance. Instead, He showed me that I was lost without Christ because I had sinned. I saw that I needed a perfect righteousness to stand blameless before God, and this righteousness could only be found in the person of Jesus Christ.

87.                 But my deepest struggle was my inner corruption—that was my plague and torment. It kept rising up within me at an alarming rate, filling me with guilt and shock. Because of it, I felt more loathsome than a toad in my own eyes, and I thought God saw me the same way. Sin and corruption seemed to flow from my heart as naturally as water from a spring. I believed everyone else had a better heart than mine; I would have traded mine with anyone. I thought only the devil himself could match the wickedness and pollution in my mind. This realization plunged me into deep despair, as I concluded that my condition couldn’t possibly coexist with a state of grace. Surely, I thought, God has abandoned me. Surely I’ve been handed over to the devil and a corrupt mind. I remained in this state for a long time, even for years.

88.                 While I was tormented by fears of my own damnation, two things puzzled me. First, I saw older people chasing after the things of this world as if they would live forever. Second, I noticed that some who professed faith in Christ were deeply distressed when they lost earthly things, like a husband, wife, or child. I thought, What a fuss over such small matters! Some were so consumed with pursuing worldly things, while others wept over their loss. If they put so much effort and shed so many tears for the things of this life, how much more should I be pitied and prayed for! My soul was dying, my soul was facing condemnation. If only my soul were in a right state, and if I could be sure of it, oh, how rich I would feel, even if I had nothing but bread and water! I would see those as minor troubles and bear them lightly. But who can endure a wounded spirit? Proverbs 18:14.

Though I was deeply troubled, tossed about, and tormented by the awareness and terror of my own sinfulness, I was afraid to let go of this sense of guilt completely. I realized that unless the guilt of conscience was removed the right way—through the blood of Christ—a person would become worse, not better, by losing their sense of conviction. So, when my guilt weighed heavily on me, I would cry out for the blood of Christ to take it away. But sometimes, when the sense of sin seemed to fade on its own, as if it might vanish entirely, I would strive to bring it back by reminding myself of the punishment for sin in hellfire. I would pray, “Lord, don’t let this guilt leave me except through the right way—by the blood of Christ and Your mercy applied to my soul.” The verse weighed heavily on me: “Without the shedding of blood, there is no forgiveness,” Hebrews 9:22. What increased my fear was seeing others who, under the weight of a guilty conscience, would cry and pray, but they sought only quick relief from their distress rather than true forgiveness for their sins. They didn’t care how they lost their guilt, as long as it was gone. But because they got rid of it the wrong way, it didn’t purify them. Instead, they became harder, blinder, and more wicked afterward. This terrified me and drove me to cry out to God even more, pleading that this wouldn’t happen to me.

Now I was sorry that God had made me human, for I feared I was doomed to rejection. I saw unconverted people as the most pitiful of all creatures. Tormented and tossed about by my miserable condition, I felt utterly alone and more cursed than most.

Yes, I thought it impossible to ever have enough goodness in my heart to thank God for making me human. By creation, humans are the noblest of all visible creatures, but through sin, we’ve become the most shameful. I envied the condition of beasts, birds, fish, and other creatures, for they didn’t have a sinful nature. They weren’t subject to God’s wrath or destined for hellfire after death. I could have rejoiced if my condition had been like theirs.

The Call of Heaven

89. I remained in that condition for quite a while. But when a season of comfort finally came, I heard someone preach a sermon on these words from Song of Solomon 4:1: “Behold, you are beautiful, my love; behold, you are beautiful.”
He focused on those two words — my love — and made them the heart of his message. After briefly explaining the passage, he drew out several truths:

1. The church, and therefore every soul that is saved, is Christ’s love — even when it seems unlovable.
2. Christ’s love has no cause but Himself.
3. Christ’s love remains even when the world hates it.
4. Christ’s love endures when the soul is tempted and feels forsaken.
5. Christ’s love is constant from beginning to end.

90. At first, I received nothing from what he said. But when he began to apply the fourth point, these words struck me deeply:
“If this is true — that the saved soul is Christ’s love even while under temptation and feeling deserted — then, poor tempted soul, when you are attacked and afflicted by temptations, and when God seems to hide His face, still hold fast to these two words: My love.”

91. As I walked home, those words kept returning to my thoughts. I remember saying in my heart, “What will I gain by thinking on these two words?” But no sooner had that thought passed through my mind than these words began to burn within my spirit: You are my love, you are my love — repeated again and again, twenty times or more.
The more they echoed in my mind, the stronger and warmer they grew, until they lifted my heart upward. Yet, caught between hope and fear, I still asked within myself, “But is it true? Is it truly so?”
Then this verse came to me suddenly: ‘He did not know that what was done by the angel was true’ (Acts 12:9).

92. After that, I began to yield to the word that kept sounding with power in my soul: “You are my love, you are my love, and nothing shall separate you from my love.”
With that, my heart overflowed with comfort and hope, and I could now believe that my sins would be forgiven. I was so overwhelmed by the love and mercy of God that I hardly knew what to do with myself until I reached home. I even thought I could have spoken of His love and told of His mercy to the crows feeding on the ploughed field before me — if only they could understand me!
So I said joyfully within my soul, “If only I had a pen and ink here, I would write this down before going any further, for surely I will never forget this — not even forty years from now.”
But, alas! In less than forty days, I began to question it all again — and that led me to question still further.

93. Yet even after that, I was sometimes helped to believe that this had truly been a revelation of God’s grace to my soul, though much of the sweetness and liveliness of it had faded.
Then, about a week or two later, this scripture began to pursue me earnestly: “Simon, Simon, behold, Satan has desired to have you” (Luke 22:31).
Sometimes it sounded so loudly within me — so powerfully calling after me — that once, above all the rest, I turned my head over my shoulder, thinking someone behind me had actually called my name. I thought he must have shouted so loudly because he was far away.
Now I believe it was sent to stir me up to prayer and watchfulness — to warn me that a cloud and storm were about to break over me. But at the time, I did not understand it.

94. As I recall, that time when the words sounded so loudly was the last time I ever heard them that way. Yet I think I still hear, even now, how powerfully those words — “Simon, Simon” — echoed in my ears.
Truly, as I have said, I thought someone behind me had called out from half a mile away. And although Simon was not my name, it made me look behind me suddenly, believing that whoever called so loudly must have meant me.

95. But I was foolish and ignorant and did not grasp the reason for that voice. As I later came to see and feel, it had been sent from heaven as an alarm — a warning to awaken me to prepare for what was coming.
All I could do at the time was to wonder and muse within myself why that scripture should sound so often and so powerfully in my ears. But, as I said before, I soon afterward understood God’s purpose in it.

Authority of Scripture

96.
About a month later, a great storm of temptation fell upon me — one that tormented me twenty times worse than anything I had ever faced before. It came upon me little by little, one blow after another. First, every trace of comfort was taken from me. Then deep darkness settled over my soul. After that, whole floods of blasphemous thoughts — against God, against Christ, and against the Scriptures — poured violently into my mind, leaving me in utter confusion and dread.
These thoughts questioned even the very being of God and His beloved Son. They whispered, “Is there truly a God? Is there truly a Christ? Are the Holy Scriptures not merely a fable — a clever invention rather than the pure, holy Word of God?”

97.
The tempter also attacked me with arguments like these: “How do you know that the Turks don’t have scriptures as good as yours, proving that Mahomet is their savior, just as you claim Jesus is yours? How can you think that so many tens of thousands of people across so many nations would live and die without the right knowledge of the way to heaven — if there really is a heaven? Would only you, living in a small corner of the earth, be blessed with the truth? Everyone believes their own religion is the right one — Jews, Muslims, and pagans alike! What if your faith, your Christ, and your Scriptures are nothing more than a ‘think so’ too?”

98.
Sometimes I tried to fight back against these suggestions, setting before them the words of the blessed Apostle Paul. But alas, whenever I did, new arguments would rise up within me: “You make so much of Paul and his writings, but how do you know that he — being a clever and persuasive man — did not choose to deceive others with powerful delusions, taking great pains to lead his fellows astray?”

99.
These suggestions, along with many others too dreadful for me to express in speech or writing, seized hold of my spirit with such strength that they overwhelmed my heart completely — both by their number, their persistence, and their fiery force. From morning until night, my mind was filled with nothing else. It seemed as if there was no room in me for any other thought.
I concluded that God, in His wrath against my soul, had given me up to these torments — to be swept away by them like a leaf caught in a violent whirlwind.

100.
Only by the deep disgust they caused in my spirit did I sense that something within me refused to embrace them. But even that small resistance I could only perceive when God mercifully allowed me a moment’s quiet — as it were, when He let me “swallow my own spit.” Otherwise, the noise, power, and fury of these temptations would drown and bury every thought of hope or holiness.
During this dark season, I often felt suddenly driven to curse and swear, or to speak some grievous word against God, Christ His Son, or the Scriptures themselves.

101.
Then I thought, Surely I am possessed by the devil! At other times, I feared I was losing my sanity. For instead of joining others in praising and magnifying the Lord, whenever I heard His name mentioned, some most horrible and blasphemous thought would rush out from my heart against Him. Whether I believed God existed or doubted His very being, I could find no love, no peace, no trace of grace within me.

102.
These things drove me into the depths of despair. I concluded that such thoughts could never be found in those who truly love God. When these temptations pressed hardest on me, I felt like a child being carried off by a gypsy — snatched up by force and taken far from home and family.
Sometimes I kicked, I screamed, I cried — but still I was bound fast in the wings of temptation, swept away by its violent wind.
I also thought often of King Saul, and of the evil spirit that tormented him (1 Samuel 16:14), and I feared that my own condition was the same as his.

The Unpardonable Sin

103.
During this season, whenever I heard others speak about the sin against the Holy Spirit, the tempter would stir me with a violent urge to commit that very sin. It was as if I could not, must not, and should not be quiet until I had done it. No other sin would do — only that one. If it could be committed by uttering a single word, it seemed as though my mouth would force itself to speak it, whether I wanted to or not. The temptation was so fierce that many times I clapped my hand under my chin to keep my mouth from opening. At other times, I even thought of plunging headfirst into some filthy pit, just to stop myself from speaking such a word.

104.
Once again I looked upon the dog and the toad, and thought their condition far better than mine. I envied every creature God had made. Yes, I would gladly have traded places with a dog or a horse, for they had no souls to perish under the everlasting weight of sin and hell as I feared mine would. Yet, though I saw this and felt it deeply — though my heart was crushed by it — what added to my misery was that I could not find in myself a full desire to be delivered. That scripture tormented me continually: “The wicked are like the troubled sea when it cannot rest, whose waters cast up mire and dirt. There is no peace,” says my God, “for the wicked.” — Isaiah 57:20–21.

105.
At times my heart grew exceedingly hard. If I had been offered a thousand pounds for a single tear, I could not have shed one — nor even, at times, truly wished to shed one. This grieved me deeply. I saw others mourn over their sins; others rejoicing in Christ and blessing God for His mercy; others calmly speaking of the Scriptures and delighting in their promises. But I alone was in the tempest. This thought crushed me — that my condition seemed utterly solitary. I mourned my hard heart, but I could not break free from it.

106.
This temptation lasted for about a year, during which I could scarcely attend any of God’s ordinances without deep suffering. Whenever I heard the Word preached, I was assaulted with unclean, blasphemous, and despairing thoughts. When I read the Scriptures, I would suddenly be tempted to question everything I read. At other times, my mind was so violently snatched away and filled with other distractions that I could not even remember the sentence I had just read.

107.
Prayer too became a place of torment. Often I felt as though the tempter were behind me, tugging at my clothes, urging me to stop — “You’ve prayed enough, make haste, be done!” — and constantly drawing my mind away. Sometimes, even in prayer, wicked thoughts would flash into my mind — as though I must pray to him or for him! I thought then of those terrible words, “Fall down and worship me.” — Matthew 4:9.

108.
And when I tried to settle my mind and fix it upon God, the enemy would labor with great power to distract and confuse me. He would flash strange images into my thoughts — the picture of a bush, a bull, a broom, or something else — as if I were to pray to those things. He would so fix my mind upon them that sometimes it seemed I could think of nothing, or pray to nothing, but those foolish forms.

109.
Yet sometimes, by God’s mercy, I would have strong and heartfelt glimpses of His reality and of the truth of His gospel. Oh, how my heart would then cry out with unutterable groanings! My whole soul was poured out in every word, begging God to be merciful to me. But soon after, the tempter would whisper again: “God mocks your prayers. He says to the angels, ‘Look at this poor fool who imagines I would show mercy to such a one as he!’” Then I thought, Surely He laughs at me! Surely His mercy is not for such a wretch as I am!

110.
At such times, the tempter would come with other taunts: “You burn with zeal now, but I’ll cool you. This fire won’t last. Many before you have been just as fervent — and I have quenched them all. See those who fell away? You’ll follow them soon enough.”
Then fear would seize me — What if that happens to me too? But even in that fear, I thought, At least I am warned — I will watch carefully and take heed.
Then he would sneer, “Watch as much as you please — I’ll still be too strong for you. I’ll cool you slowly, bit by bit. What do I care if it takes seven years, so long as I succeed in the end? Just as steady rocking puts a crying child to sleep, I’ll rock your soul to slumber until the fire goes out. You may be burning now, but I’ll make you cold soon enough.”

111.
These things brought me into great distress. I felt unfit to die, yet feared that the longer I lived, the worse I would become. Time, I thought, would only dull my sense of sin, blur my memory of heaven, and make me forget my desperate need for Christ’s cleansing blood. Yet I thank the Lord Jesus Christ — these fears did not make me give up crying out to Him. Rather, they drove me to pray even more earnestly, like the woman in Deuteronomy 22:27 who cried out for rescue.
And after I had endured these things a while, this precious word brought comfort to my soul: “I am convinced that neither death nor life… shall be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” — Romans 8:38–39.Then I began to hope that long life would not destroy me, nor keep me from heaven.

112.
Even in this fierce trial, I had some small helps — though at the time I doubted them all. One passage from Jeremiah 3gave me some comfort, especially verse 4, which says that though we have done all the evil we can, yet we may still cry to God, “My Father, You are the Guide of my youth,” and we may return to Him again.

Unworthy to be Saved

113. Once, I caught a sweet glimpse of that verse in 2 Corinthians 5:21 — “For He has made Him to be sin for us, who knew no sin, that we might be made the righteousness of God in Him.” I remember sitting one day in a neighbour’s house, feeling deeply troubled as I thought about my many blasphemies. In my mind, I asked myself, “How could someone as vile and abominable as I ever hope to inherit eternal life?”

Then suddenly, this verse came to me: “What shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us?”(Romans 8:31). Another followed: “Because I live, you also will live” (John 14:19). These words gave me a brief and precious comfort—sweet while they lasted, but fleeting. Like Peter’s vision of the sheet in Acts 10:16, they were soon taken back up to heaven again.

114. Later, however, the Lord revealed Himself to me more fully and graciously. He not only freed me from the guilt that weighed so heavily on my conscience, but also from the very filth of those sins. The temptation was lifted, and I found myself restored to a sound and peaceful mind, like other believers.
115. I remember another time, while traveling through the countryside, I was thinking about the wickedness of my heart—the blasphemies that had once filled it—and how much hostility there had been in me toward God. Then this scripture came to mind: “Having made peace through the blood of His cross” (Colossians 1:20). Again and again, I was made to see that God and my soul had been reconciled through the blood of Christ. I saw that the justice of God and my sinful soul could meet and embrace each other through His blood. That was a good day for me—one I pray I never forget.
116. On another occasion, as I sat by the fire in my house, reflecting on my wretchedness, the Lord made this verse especially precious: “Since the children share in flesh and blood, He Himself likewise took part of the same, that through death He might destroy him who had the power of death—that is, the devil—and deliver those who through fear of death were all their lifetime subject to bondage” (Hebrews 2:14–15). The glory of those words overwhelmed me so much that I nearly fainted—not from sorrow or fear, but from solid joy and deep peace.
117. Around this time, I was also sitting under the ministry of the godly Mr. Gifford, whose preaching, by God’s grace, greatly strengthened me. He often urged us not to accept any truth merely on human authority—not because this man or that man said it—but to cry earnestly to God that He Himself would convince us of its reality and settle it in our hearts by His Spirit through the Word. He said, “If you do not do this, when strong temptations come, you’ll find that what you thought you believed will give you no strength to stand.”
118. His words came to me like rain in a dry season, for I had already learned by painful experience that they were true. Indeed, I had found that “no one can say that Jesus Christ is Lord except by the Holy Spirit” (1 Corinthians 12:3). So, by God’s grace, my heart gladly received this teaching. I began to pray that in all matters concerning God’s glory and my own eternal happiness, He would never allow me to rest until I had received His confirmation from heaven.

Now I clearly saw the vast difference between ideas that come from human reasoning and truths revealed by the Spirit of God. There is also a great difference between the kind of faith that is merely man-made and the faith that comes by being born of God (Matthew 16:17; 1 John 5:1).

119. Oh, how my soul was led from one truth to another by God! He guided me to understand the whole story—from the birth and cradle of the Son of God, to His ascension and His coming again to judge the world.
120. Truly, I saw that the great God was exceedingly good to me. To my memory, there was nothing I asked Him to make known to me about the gospel of Christ that He did not graciously reveal in due order. It was as though I saw the life of Jesus unfold before me—from His conception and birth, through His ministry on earth, and up to His crucifixion, resurrection, and second coming. I felt as if I had watched Him grow, walk, and willingly give Himself to be nailed to the cross for my sins.

As I meditated on all this, a phrase came powerfully to my spirit: “He was ordained for the slaughter” (1 Peter 1:19–20).

121. When I thought about His resurrection, and remembered the words, “Do not hold on to Me, Mary” (John 20:17), it was as if I saw Him spring from the tomb for joy—triumphant over death and all our dreadful foes. In spirit, I have also seen Him as a man at the right hand of God the Father, interceding for me; and I have seen, by faith, the manner of His glorious return to judge the world. These truths were confirmed to me by the Scriptures—Acts 1:9–10; 7:56; 10:42; Hebrews 7:24; 9:28; Revelation 1:18; 1 Thessalonians 4:17–18.
122. Sound Doctrine
     122. There was a time when I was deeply troubled, wanting to be sure that the Lord Jesus was truly both God and man—fully man and fully God. In those days, no matter what anyone said, unless I received clear assurance from heaven, I could not rest. I didn’t consider myself settled in any truth until I had that inner confirmation. I wrestled long with this question and didn’t know how to resolve it.
     Then one day, the verse in Revelation 5:6 came to mind:
     “And I beheld, and lo, in the midst of the throne and of the four living creatures, and in the midst of the elders, stood a Lamb as though it had been slain.”
     I thought, “In the midst of the throne”—there is His Godhead. “In the midst of the elders”—there is His manhood. Oh, how that truth sparkled in my heart! It was a glorious insight, and it gave me deep satisfaction. Another verse confirmed it even more:
     “For unto us a Child is born, unto us a Son is given… and His name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, the Mighty God, the Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace” (Isaiah 9:6).
     123. In addition to what the Lord showed me through Scripture, He used two things to strengthen my conviction about this truth: the errors of the Quakers and my own sense of sin. As the Quakers denied this doctrine, God confirmed it all the more to me—leading me through the Scriptures that upheld it so clearly.
     124. The Quakers in those days taught many dangerous errors, such as:
     That the Holy Scriptures are not the Word of God.
     That every person has within them the Spirit of Christ, grace, and faith.
     That Jesus Christ, who died on the cross sixteen hundred years ago, did not satisfy divine justice for sin.
     That Christ’s flesh and blood are within believers in a literal sense.
     That the bodies of the dead will not rise again.
     That the resurrection is already past for good men.
     That the man Jesus who was crucified at Calvary has not ascended above the heavens.
     That this same Jesus will not return bodily at the last day to judge all nations.
     125. Many other vile and abominable doctrines they spread in those times. Because of them, I was driven to study the Scriptures more closely, and through that, I gained greater light, comfort, and confirmation in the truth. My own guilt over sin also helped me greatly—for whenever guilt pressed heavily on me, the blood of Christ took it away again and again, just as the Scriptures declare.
     Oh, friends! Cry out to God to reveal Jesus Christ to you! There is no teacher like Him.
     126. It would take too long to tell how God firmly established me in every truth concerning Christ—how He led me into His Word, opened it before me, made it shine upon me, dwell with me, speak to me, and comfort me repeatedly. He confirmed to me the reality of His own being, the being of His Son, of His Spirit, of His Word, and of His gospel.
     127. Let me say only this: the Lord was pleased to deal with me in this particular way—first allowing me to struggle with temptations and doubts, and then revealing His truth to me. Often I would lie crushed under the weight of sin, and then He would show me the death of Christ so clearly that my conscience would be sprinkled with His blood. Before I was even aware, that same conscience—where just moments before the law had thundered and condemned—was now filled with peace and the love of God through Christ.
     128. Now, I felt that I had a witness from heaven—assurance of salvation sealed with many golden seals, all hanging before my eyes. I could look back with joy on each manifestation of grace and long for the day when I would see Christ face to face. I often wished the final day had come, that I might be forever enflamed with love and joy in the presence of the One whose head was crowned with thorns, whose face was spit upon, whose body was broken, and whose soul was made an offering for my sins.
     Once, I trembled continually at the very gates of hell; but now I felt that I had been brought so far from there that when I looked back, I could scarcely see it. Oh! I thought, if I were eighty years old, I would gladly die soon, that my soul might go to its rest.

Christian Experiences (Modernized)

129. Before I had come this far in overcoming my temptations, I found myself longing deeply to read the experiences of some godly man who had lived centuries before me. I wanted to know what saints of old had felt in their walk with God. Those who wrote in my own day — I confess it now with regret — seemed to me to write secondhand things. I thought they described only what others had experienced, or else wrote from their intellect and imagination, crafting answers to doubts they had never truly suffered themselves.

But one day, by the gracious providence of God — who directs both our days and our steps — I came across an old, worn copy of Martin Luther’s Commentary on the Epistle to the Galatians. The book was so aged that the pages nearly fell apart when I turned them. Yet I was filled with delight to find such an ancient treasure.

When I began to read it, I was astonished — for I found my very condition described there with such depth and accuracy that it seemed as if Luther had written straight out of my own heart. I marveled greatly, thinking, How could this man, who lived so long ago, know the very struggles I face now? Surely he must have written from the same Spirit who works in all believers in every age.

130. In that book, Luther powerfully explained the source of temptations like blasphemy, despair, and spiritual terror — showing that the law of Moses, as well as the devil, death, and hell, all play a part in producing such anguish in the soul. At first this seemed strange to me, but with time and reflection, I found it to be true.

I will not go into further detail here, but I cannot refrain from saying this much: I esteem Luther’s Commentary on the Galatians above all other books I have ever read — except the Holy Scriptures themselves — for it is the most fitting book I know for a wounded conscience.

131. After this discovery, I felt as though my heart was full of love for Christ. I thought my soul clung to Him; my affections burned like fire. I felt I could never part from Him. Like Job, I said in my heart, “I shall die in my nest”(Job 29:18).

But I soon learned that my love was not as great as I imagined. The same heart that thought it loved Jesus passionately could let Him go for a mere trifle. God knows how to humble the proud (Daniel 4:37), and He can hide pride from man (Job 33:17). Before long, my love was tested — and tested thoroughly.

132. For after the Lord had so graciously delivered me from my great temptations, established me in the faith of the gospel, and given me sweet assurance of His love in Christ, the tempter returned again — this time with a fiercer and more dreadful assault than before.

133. The temptation was this: to sell and part with my blessed Christ — to give Him up for the things of this life, for anything at all. This dreadful thought clung to me for about a year. It haunted me daily, hardly leaving me for even one full day in a month, and sometimes not even for an hour — except when I was asleep.

134. In my mind, I was still convinced that those who are truly united with Christ can never lose Him forever — for, as God said, “The land shall not be sold forever, for the land is Mine” (Leviticus 25:23). Yet I was tormented by the very fact that such a thought could exist within me at all — that I, who had received such mercy, could even imagine betraying the One who had done so much for me. And still, during that season, I found almost no thoughts in my heart except those dreadful, blasphemous ones.

Selling Christ 

135. It wasn’t my dislike of the thought, or any effort to resist it, that made it fade or lose its power. No — it kept returning again and again, forcing itself into nearly everything I did. Whatever I thought about, it would find its way in. I couldn’t eat, bend down to pick something up, cut a piece of wood, or even glance around without hearing it whispering in my mind: Sell Christ for this. Sell Him for that. Sell Him, sell Him.

136. Sometimes it repeated in my head a hundred times in a row — Sell Him, sell Him, sell Him. For hours at a time, I’d stand against it, straining my heart and mind as if leaning with all my might, just to resist the thought. I feared that, if I wasn’t careful, some wicked agreement might slip into my heart before I even noticed. And then the tempter would whisper that I had already given in — that I’d already sold Christ. When that happened, it felt like being stretched on a rack of torment for days at a time.

137. The fear of giving in was so intense that I physically fought it off. My mind battled so hard that my body joined in — I’d push or jerk with my hands or elbows as though I could shove the thought away. Every time that voice said, Sell Him, I’d answer out loud, I will not. I will not. I will not — no, not for thousands, thousands, thousands of worlds! I was terrified that even for a moment I might value Him too lightly. The struggle was so fierce I often lost all sense of myself and could hardly calm down again.

138. Even mealtimes offered no peace. The tempter wouldn’t let me eat in quiet. When I sat down to eat, the thought came: You must stop and go pray right now. The voice sounded pious — as if it came from God Himself. I’d say, Let me finish my meal first. But it would answer, No, you must go now, or you’ll displease God and dishonor Christ. These thoughts tormented me. Because of my sinful confusion, I sometimes mistook the devil’s urgings for God’s commands. Then, when I refused to obey them, I’d feel just as guilty — as if I’d disobeyed God Himself.

Let Him Go, If He Will

139. One morning, as I lay in bed, I was attacked more fiercely than ever by the temptation to sell and abandon Christ. The wicked thought kept rushing through my mind — Sell Him, sell Him, sell Him, sell Him— as quickly as a man could speak.

Each time, I resisted with all my strength, answering again and again, No! No! Not for thousands, thousands, thousands of worlds! I must have said it at least twenty times in a row. But after a long and exhausting struggle — until I was almost out of breath — this thought suddenly slipped into my heart: Let Him go, if He will.

And in that dreadful moment, I felt as though my heart had agreed to it. Oh, how diligent Satan is! Oh, how desperate and deceitful the human heart can be!

140. The battle was over — and I fell, like a bird shot from the top of a tree, into a pit of guilt and despair. Getting out of bed, I wandered into the field with a heart so heavy I thought no man could bear it. For about two hours, I walked as one who had lost all hope — feeling as if I was beyond recovery and already condemned to eternal punishment.

Esau Sold His Birthright

141. Then that scripture seized upon my soul:

“Or like Esau, who for a single meal sold his birthright. You know that afterward, when he wanted to inherit the blessing, he was rejected. He found no place for repentance, though he sought it with tears.”
— Hebrews 12:16–17

142. I felt completely bound, as though locked away until Judgment Day. For two whole years, nothing stayed with me except the constant expectation of damnation. Only at rare moments did I feel a small sense of relief — as you will read later.

143. Those words were like heavy chains around my soul, and for months I walked under their sound. But one day, about ten or eleven o’clock in the morning, as I walked sorrowfully under a hedge — weighed down by guilt and misery — a sentence suddenly rushed into my heart: “The blood of Christ removes all guilt.”

At that, I stopped in my tracks. Then another scripture followed close behind:

“The blood of Jesus Christ, His Son, cleanses us from all sin.”
— 1 John 1:7

144. At that moment, I began to feel peace rising in my soul. I thought I saw the tempter turn away, ashamed of what he had done. Then I seemed to see my sin and the blood of Christ side by side — and I understood that my sin, compared to His blood, was no more than a small clod of dirt lying before me compared to the vast and open field stretching out before my eyes.

This gave me strong encouragement for two or three precious hours. During that time, I thought I could see — by faith — the Son of God suffering for my sins. But when that comfort faded, I sank again into guilt and despair.

145. What crushed me most was that passage about Esau. It echoed in my mind all day, all week, all year:

“Afterward, when he wanted to inherit the blessing, he was rejected; he found no place for repentance, though he sought it carefully with tears.”
— Hebrews 12:17

That verse haunted me without end. When I tried to look to other scriptures for comfort, it still rang in my heart, drowning out every word of hope.

146. Sometimes, I would briefly remember what Jesus said to Peter: “I have prayed for you, that your faith may not fail.” (Luke 22:31). But the comfort would not stay. When I looked at my condition, I could find no reason to believe that such grace belonged to me — not after the sin I had committed.

And so, for many days together, I lived torn apart and weighed down with unspeakable heaviness of spirit.

The Unpardonable Sin

147. With a heavy and troubled heart, I began to reflect deeply on the nature and seriousness of my sin. I searched the Word of God, hoping to find even one verse of promise or encouragement that might offer me relief. Then I came across Mark 3:28 — “I tell you the truth, all sin and blasphemy can be forgiven.”

At first glance, that verse seemed to hold a broad and glorious promise — forgiveness for even the worst offences. But the more I studied it, the more I feared it didn’t apply to me. I thought it referred to those who sinned while still in a natural, unconverted state — not to someone like me, who had received both light and mercy, and yet afterward had so grievously despised and betrayed Christ.

148. I began to fear that my sin was that unpardonable sin spoken of in the next verse: “Anyone who blasphemes the Holy Spirit will never be forgiven. This is a sin with eternal consequences” (Mark 3:29). My heart sank even further when I remembered Hebrews 12:17 — “You know that afterward, when Esau wanted his father’s blessing, he was rejected. It was too late for repentance, even though he sought it with tears.” Those words haunted me without mercy.

149. I became both a burden and a terror to myself. Never before had I truly understood what it meant to be weary of life and yet afraid to die. Oh, how I wished I could be anyone but myself — anything but human, in any state but my own! For nothing pressed upon my mind more often than this dreadful thought: It is impossible for me to be forgiven — impossible to escape the coming wrath.

150. longed to go back in time — to that very moment of temptation — so that I could resist it with all my strength. A thousand times over I wished I could face it again and choose differently. In my bitterness, I vowed that if such a temptation ever came again, I would rather be torn to pieces than give in. But alas! These resolutions came too late. I thought, God has let me go — and I have fallen. Oh, how I wished it were with me as it once had been, “as in the days when God watched over me” (Job 29:2).

151. Still unwilling to perish, I began comparing my sin to those of others who had found mercy. I thought of David — his adultery and murder — dreadful crimes indeed, and ones committed even after he had received light and grace. But when I considered them more carefully, I saw that David’s sins were against the law of Moses, from which Christ could deliver him. Mine, however, was against the gospel itself — against the very Mediator of it. I had not merely broken a law; I had sold my Savior.

152. These thoughts tormented me like being stretched on a rack. I wondered in horror, Could this be the very sin that cannot be forgiven — the great transgression? (Psalm 19:13). Could it be that wicked one has truly touched my soul? (1 John 5:18). Oh, how those scriptures pierced me!

153. I said to myself, Is there truly only one sin that cannot be forgiven — and must I be guilty of that one? Out of millions of sins, must I commit the very one that shuts the soul out from God’s mercy? Oh, miserable sin! Oh, wretched man that I am! These thoughts crushed and confused me until I felt as though I might lose my mind. And to make it worse, that dreadful verse still echoed in my spirit: “You know that afterward, when he wanted to inherit the blessing, he was rejected.”

No one but God knows the terror of those days.

Denial or Betrayal? Peter or Judas?

154. After this, I began to consider Peter’s sin — the one he committed in denying his Master. Indeed, this seemed closest to mine of any that I could find. For he had denied his Saviour, just as I did, after receiving light and mercy. Yes, and that too was after he had been warned. I also noted that he denied Him both once and twice — with time between to reflect. But though I gathered all these circumstances together, hoping to find some help, I could not escape this thought: Peter’s was only a denial of his Master, while mine was a selling of my Saviour. Therefore, I concluded that I was closer to Judas than to either David or Peter.

155. At this, my torment flamed up again and crushed me into despair. It was agony to think of how God had preserved others, while I had fallen into the snare. For in comparing my sin with that of other men, I clearly saw that God kept them from becoming sons of perdition, while He had let me fall, as He did Judas (John 17:12).

156. Oh, how my soul at this time prized the preservation that God gave to His people! How safely I saw them walk, whom God had hedged in! They were under His care, His protection, and His special providence — even though they were by nature as bad as I was. Yet, because He loved them, He did not allow them to fall beyond mercy’s reach. But as for me, I thought, I was gone. I had done it. He would not preserve me nor keep me, but had left me to fall, because I was a reprobate. Now those blessed Scriptures that speak of God’s keeping His people shone before me like the sun — not to comfort me, but to show me the blessed state and heritage of those whom the Lord had chosen.

157. Then I saw that, just as God had His hand in all the providences and dealings that befell His elect, so also He had His hand in all their temptations to sin. This was not to encourage them in wickedness, but to appoint even their trials and troubles — leaving them, for a season only, to such sins as would not destroy them but humble them; not to cast them away, but to lay them in the path of renewed mercy. Oh, what love, what care, what kindness I now saw mingled even with the most severe and dreadful of all God’s ways toward His people! He would let David, Hezekiah, Solomon, Peter, and others fall — but never into unpardonable sin, nor into hell for their sin.

Oh, I thought, these are the men God has loved! These are the ones He keeps in safety, even while He chastises them — those who abide under the shadow of the Almighty. But every thought added sorrow, grief, and horror to me. Whatever I considered was death to my soul. If I thought of God’s keeping of His own, that was killing to me; if I thought of my own fall, that too was killing. For as all things work together for good to those who love God (Romans 8:28), I thought that all things worked together for mydestruction and eternal ruin.

158. Then again I began to compare my sin with that of Judas, hoping, if possible, to find even the smallest difference between mine and his — for if it differed but a hair’s breadth, how happy would my soul be! Considering it closely, I observed that Judas sinned with deliberate intent, while mine was against my prayers and strivings. His was done with full deliberation; mine, in fearful haste and sudden panic. Yet all the while I was tossed to and fro like a locust — driven from trouble to sorrow — always hearing in my soul the dreadful echo of Esau’s fall and its fearful consequences.

159. Still, this reflection on Judas brought me a brief moment of relief. For I saw that, in its circumstances, my sin was not quite so full and deliberate as his. But this comfort quickly faded, for I thought — might there not be more than one way to commit the unpardonable sin? Might there not be degreesof it, just as there are degrees of other sins? And so, for all I could tell, my iniquity might yet be one that could never be forgiven.

160. I was often deeply ashamed that I should be so much like such a vile man as Judas. I thought how loathsome I would appear to all the saints on the day of judgment. Indeed, I could hardly bear to be near any good man — anyone whose conscience I believed was clear — without trembling within me. Oh, now I saw the glory of walking with God, and what a precious mercy it is to have a good conscience before Him.

No Place to Hide

161. Around this time, I was sorely tempted to comfort myself with false beliefs — ideas such as: maybe there is no final judgment; maybe the dead will not rise again; maybe sin isn’t so serious after all. The tempter whispered: “If these things aren’t true, why torment yourself? If you must perish, then at least don’t make your life miserable beforehand. Ease your mind — believe what the atheists and free-thinkers believe. They quiet their fears this way; why shouldn’t you?”

162. But oh! Whenever such thoughts passed through my heart, it was as though death and judgment stood right before me. I could almost see the Judge at the door — it felt as if the day had already come. So I could not entertain those thoughts for long. I learned through this that Satan will use any means to keep a soul from Christ. He cannot bear an awakened spirit. Spiritual blindness, false security, and error — these are the very kingdom and dwelling place of the evil one.

163. I found it almost impossible to pray during this season, for despair swallowed me whole. I felt as if a storm had driven me away from God. Whenever I cried out for mercy, a dark voice within would say: It’s too late. You’re lost. God has let you fall — not for correction, but for condemnation. Your sin is unpardonable.

It was then I came across the dreadful story of Francis Spira, that miserable soul who died in despair. To my troubled spirit, that book was like salt rubbed into an open wound. Every line, every groan, every cry from that poor man — his tears, his prayers, his gnashing of teeth, his wringing of hands, his twisting in anguish under the mighty hand of God — cut me like a knife. One sentence haunted me especially:

“Man knows the beginning of sin, but who can set bounds to its consequences?”

Then that terrible verse from Hebrews 12 returned like a thunderbolt to my conscience:

“For you know that afterward, when he desired to inherit the blessing, he was rejected; for he found no place for repentance, though he sought it carefully with tears.”

164. At such times, I would tremble so violently that both my body and mind shook for days. The thought of God’s dreadful judgment upon those who have sinned the unpardonable sin filled me with terror. I often felt a burning heaviness in my chest, as though my breastbone would split apart. Then the verse about Judas would flash before me:

“He fell headlong, burst open in the middle, and all his bowels gushed out” (Acts 1:18).

165. I feared that the mark which God set upon Cain was also upon me — a continual fear and trembling under the unbearable weight of guilt. My heart twisted and writhed beneath that burden; I could not stand, walk, rest, or sleep in peace.

166. Yet sometimes that verse would return to my mind:

“He has received gifts for the rebellious” (Psalm 68:18).

“The rebellious!” I thought — that must mean those who were once loyal to their King, but later rose up against Him. And isn’t that my very case? I once loved Him, feared Him, served Him — but now I’ve rebelled. I’ve sold Him. I’ve said, Let Him go, if He will. Still, if He has gifts even for rebels — why not for me?

167. At times I clung to that thought and tried to find some comfort in it, if only a small one. But even that hope would slip away. I was carried past it, as a condemned man being led to his execution, passing by the very place where he would gladly hide — but is not permitted to.

Am I Worse Than Other Saints?

168. After comparing my sin with the sins of the saints one by one, I found mine far greater. Then I thought to myself, What if I put all their sins together — and then set mine alone against them? Perhaps then I might find some hope. For if my sin, though enormous, could only be equal to all theirs combined, then there might still be mercy for me. The same blood that was powerful enough to wash away all their sins surely had power enough to cleanse mine — even if my one sin was as great as all of theirs together.

So again, I thought of David, Solomon, Manasseh, Peter, and others who had fallen grievously. I examined their sins carefully, even enlarging and magnifying them in my mind, trying to see if I might find comfort in their forgiveness.

169. I remembered how David shed innocent blood to hide his adultery — a deliberate and cold-blooded act, planned over time. Surely that was terrible beyond words. But then came this thought that cut me to the heart: Yes, but David’s sin was against the Law — and God sent Jesus to save sinners from the Law’s curse. Your sin is different. Yours is against the Saviour Himself. Who can save you from that?

170. Then I turned to Solomon. He loved foreign women, worshipped their idols, and built temples for them — even after receiving light, wisdom, and mercy from God. He did this in his old age, when he should have known better. Yet again that same dreadful conclusion came: These were sins against the Law, for which God provided a remedy. But you — you have sold the Saviour Himself. There remains no more sacrifice for sin (Hebrews 10:26).

171. Then I thought of Manasseh. He built altars to idols inside the Lord’s temple. He practiced witchcraft, consulted spirits, became a wizard himself, sacrificed his own children to demons, and filled Jerusalem with innocent blood. “Surely,” I said, “these are sins of the darkest kind.” Yet the thought returned again like a sword: None of them sinned as you have. They defiled the temple, but you betrayed the Lord of the temple. You have sold your Saviour.

172. This thought crushed me every time — that my sin was directly and deliberately against Jesus Himself. I had, in my heart, said of Him, Let Him go if He will. Oh, I thought, this sin is greater than the sins of a nation, of a kingdom, of the whole world! No other sin, nor all sins together, seemed equal to mine. Mine, I felt, outdid them all.

173. In this torment, my heart longed to flee from God — to hide from the face of the Judge. Yet my misery was that I could not escape His hand. It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God (Hebrews 10:31). But blessed be His mercy — even in my fleeing, this Scripture would sometimes follow me, calling softly after me:

“I have blotted out your transgressions like a thick cloud,
and your sins like the morning mist.
Return to Me, for I have redeemed you.”
(Isaiah 44:22)

That word “Return to Me” would echo in my soul as I fled. I would stop a moment, look over my shoulder, as though to see whether the God of grace was following me with a pardon in His hand.

But almost at once the darkness returned — that dreadful voice repeating, “For you know that afterward, when he desired to inherit the blessing, he was rejected; for he found no place for repentance, though he sought it with tears.”

And so I would run again — the promise crying after me, “Return, return,”while the fear of rejection drove me further away. I dared not trust the invitation, lest it be false, for still that verse thundered in my conscience: “He was rejected.”

A Rushing Wind

174. One day, while walking back and forth in the workshop of a godly man, I was deeply grieved and miserable. I loathed myself for the wicked and ungodly thoughts that had crossed my mind. I mourned that I could fall into such a great sin, and I trembled at the thought that perhaps I could never be forgiven.

As I prayed silently, I begged the Lord to show me whether this sin of mine was different from that unpardonable sin — the sin against the Holy Spirit. Just as I was about to be overwhelmed with fear, there suddenly came a sound — as if a wind had rushed through the window — but it was a pleasant sound.

And then, as if a voice spoke to my heart, I seemed to hear these words:
“Did you ever refuse to be justified by the blood of Christ?”

At that moment, the whole story of my Christian life flashed before me, and I saw clearly that, by deliberate choice, I had never refused His grace. My heart groaned out the answer, “No.”

Then the word of God came to me with great power:
“See that you do not refuse Him who speaks.” — Hebrews 12:25

That word struck me deeply. It brought light into my soul and quieted all the raging, tormenting thoughts that had been roaring like wild, masterless hounds inside me. It made me see that Jesus Christ still had a word of mercy for me — that He had not abandoned or cast away my soul.

It was, in a sense, both a rebuke for my despair and a warning — that if I did not, despite my sins, throw myself once again upon the mercy of the Son of God, I would perish.

Yet, as for what exactly that strange experience was — whether it came by divine means or some other — I cannot say. Even after twenty years, I still cannot fully explain it. I only know that it felt as if an angel had come upon me with a rushing wind.

But I will leave both the experience and its meaning for the day of judgment. I only say this: it brought a great calm to my soul. It gave me hope. It helped me see what the unpardonable sin truly was — and that I had not committed it. It reassured me that I could still flee to Jesus Christ for mercy.

For about three or four days, the sweetness of that experience remained with me. But soon afterward, I began again to doubt and despair.

The Hard Work of Prayer

175. My life still hung in uncertainty. I did not know which way I would fall. Yet my soul longed for one thing — to throw itself before God’s throne of grace in prayer.

But oh, how hard it was to pray to the very Christ I had so grievously offended! It was painful even to lift my eyes toward Him, for shame covered me like a heavy cloak. I thought, “How can I now ask mercy from the One whom I treated so lightly not long ago?”

Still, I saw that there was no other way. I had to go to Him. I had to humble myself, confess my sin, and plead that in His wonderful mercy, He would take pity on my wretched soul.

Presumptuous Sin

176. When the tempter saw that I still tried to pray, he fiercely attacked me with another lie. He whispered that prayer was not for people like me — that it would do me no good. “You have rejected the Mediator,” he said, “the very One through whom all prayers are accepted by God. Without Christ, no prayer can ever reach God’s presence. To pray now is only to heap sin upon sin. And if you dare to pray after God has cast you off, you will only make Him angrier than before.”

177. The devil added, “God has been weary of you for years, for you were never truly His. Your cries have been nothing but noise in His ears. That’s why He let you fall into this sin — to cut you off completely. And will you still pray?” Then he brought to mind that story in Numbers 14, where God refused to let the Israelites enter the promised land after they rebelled — even though they prayed and wept for mercy (Num. 14:36–37).

178. He also reminded me of Exodus 21:14: “If a man acts presumptuously, take him even from my altar, that he may die.” And how Joab, though he clung to the altar for safety, was taken from it by order of King Solomon and slain (1 Kings 2:28). These passages pierced me deeply.

Yet I reasoned within myself, My case is desperate anyway — I can only die once. And so I resolved, If I must die, let it be said that I died at the feet of Christ, praying for mercy. I did pray, but with great difficulty, God knows. For even as I prayed, the story of Esau haunted me like a flaming sword, blocking the way to the tree of life — as though it were saying, “You shall not enter in.” Oh, how hard it was for me to come before God in prayer!

179. I even longed for others to pray for me, yet I feared that God would not let them. I trembled at the thought that one of them might soon tell me that God had said of me what He once said to the prophet about Israel: “Do not pray for this people, for I have rejected them”(Jeremiah 11:14). I feared that He had already whispered those dreadful words to some of them, though they dared not tell me. And I dared not ask, for fear that it might be true — and that knowledge would have driven me to madness. Truly, as Spira once said, “A man knows the beginning of sin, but who can set a limit to its consequences?”

180. Around this time, I opened my heart to an older Christian and told him everything. I confessed my fear that I had committed the unpardonable sin against the Holy Spirit. To my grief, he told me he feared it might be so. His words gave me little comfort. Yet as I spoke further with him, I realized that though he was a sincere and godly man, he had not wrestled much with the devil’s assaults as I had. So, despite his words, I went back to God again, as best I could, still pleading for mercy.

181. Then the tempter mocked me in my misery. “You have parted with Christ,” he sneered. “You have provoked Him to anger — and who will now stand between you and the fire of judgment? There is only one thing left for you: pray that God the Father Himself might become a Mediator between His Son and you, that somehow you might be reconciled again!”

182. But then that scripture fell upon my soul: “He is of one mind, and who can turn Him?” (Job 23:13). I saw that it would be as easy to persuade God to create a new world, or to write a new Bible, as to pray for such a thing. For to ask that was to suggest that His plan of salvation through Christ was foolish and needed to be changed. Then another verse struck me with terrible force: “There is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved” (Acts 4:12).

183. Now, even the most gracious words of the gospel became torment to me. The very thought of Jesus Christ — His name, His love, His kindness — cut me like a sword. Every reminder of His mercy only deepened my sense of loss and guilt. I would think:

Yes, this is Jesus — the loving Savior, the Son of God — whom you have rejected and despised. This is the only Redeemer who loved sinners enough to wash them in His own blood. But you have no part in Him now. You cast Him away and said, “Let Him go if He will.” You have severed yourself from Him forever.

Oh, what anguish filled my soul! To see the goodness of the Lord and know that I had no share in it! I thought, What have I lost! What have I thrown away! How have I ruined my poor soul!

To perish, not by wrath but by grace itself — to have the Lamb turn Lion — this was unbearable (Revelation 6:16).

I trembled even at the sight of godly men and women, especially those who loved the Lord deeply and walked closely with Him. Their words, their holy conduct, their tender fear of sin — all of it condemned me. They reminded me of what I had been and what I had lost. I trembled before them as the people once trembled before Samuel (1 Samuel 16:4).

Christ may pity, but not save me

184. Around this time, the tempter renewed his attack in a different way. He told me that Christ indeed pitied my situation and felt sorrow for my ruin — but that He could not help me. He whispered that I had sinned in a way different from the sins of those for whom Christ died. My sin, he said, was not included in what Jesus bore on the cross. Therefore, unless Christ came down from heaven and died again — which He would never do — I could not receive any benefit from Him.

To anyone else, these thoughts might sound absurd. But to me, they were deeply tormenting. It crushed me to think that Jesus could love me enough to pity me, yet not save me. And I did not think this was due to any weakness in Christ’s merit — but because His faithfulness to His own warnings would not allow Him to extend mercy to me.

I believed my sin lay outside the promise of pardon. And if that were true, then it was easier for heaven and earth to pass away than for me to have eternal life. My fear came from a strong belief in God’s Word — and from being misled about the true nature of my sin.

185. Oh, how it increased my misery to think that I had committed a sin for which Christ did not die! These thoughts tied up my mind so tightly that I could not find faith. I would think, If only Christ could come down again! If only the work of redemption were still to be done! I would beg Him to include this sin among those He bore on the cross.

But then Romans 6:9 crushed that hope: “Christ, being raised from the dead, dies no more.”

186. Under these strange and violent assaults, my soul was like a broken ship blown by fierce winds — thrown sometimes into despair, sometimes back to the covenant of works, sometimes wishing the new covenant could be changed just for me. But in every direction I turned, I was shattered further, like a vessel dashed against the rocks.

The terrors, imaginations, and overwhelming fears that come from guilt mixed with despair — only those who have stood at that brink can understand. It is like the man who lived among the tombs, crying out and cutting himself (Mark 5:1–3).

Yet all my attempts at self-rescue were useless. Despair could not comfort me. The old covenant could not save me. And the gospel would not change to suit my fears. Heaven and earth would sooner pass away than one word of God fail.

Yet through all of this, I gained one thing — a deeper conviction of the truth of Scripture and the certainty of salvation as God has ordained it. I saw that Christ is immovable, the Rock of salvation. What He has done cannot be undone, altered, or added to. I realized that the soul may indeed be driven beyond Christ into the unpardonable sin — and that those who go there are shut out by the very Word they once heard.

187. In this miserable condition, sinking whichever way I turned, I once walked to a nearby town. I sat on a bench in the street, overwhelmed by the hopelessness my sin had brought me into. After long reflection, I lifted my head — and it seemed to me as though even the sun in the sky begrudged me its light. It felt as if the stones in the street and the tiles on the houses were set against me, rejecting me from the world.

I imagined that creation itself despised me — for everything else held its place before God, while I was fallen and lost. Oh, how blessed every creature seemed compared to me! They kept their place, but I had ruined mine.

188. In deep agony, I sighed and said, “How can God ever comfort someone as wretched as I am?”

No sooner had I said it than a sentence came into my mind, almost like an echo: “This sin is not unto death.”

The words struck me like life returning to a corpse. I cried out, “Lord, how did You find such a word for me?” The timing, the precision, the unexpected mercy, and the light and sweetness that came with it — all amazed me.

I was, for the moment, free from the terror that had held me for so long. My greatest fear had been that my sin was unpardonable — that I had no right to pray or repent, or that doing so would be useless. But now I thought:

If this sin is not unto death, then it is pardonable.

Therefore I had reason to come to God through Christ, and reason to believe the promise of forgiveness stood open not only for others, but also for me. This brought great relief. It released me from the chains of despair and sheltered me from the storm that had beaten upon me day and night. For the first time, I felt that I stood on equal ground with other sinners — with a right to pray and seek mercy like any of them.

189. Now hope revived in me — that my sin was not unpardonable, and that forgiveness might still be found. But oh! how Satan now tried to drag me down again. Yet for that whole day and most of the next, he could not do it. The good sentence stood behind me like a solid pillar, holding me up.

But by the next evening, I felt the sweetness of that word begin to fade — its support slowly withdrawing from my heart. And so my old fears crept back in. Yet this time, they returned grudgingly, for I hated the thought of falling again into despair. Even so, my faith could not long keep hold of that life-giving word.

His Everlasting Love

190. The next evening, overwhelmed with many fears, I went again to seek the Lord. As I prayed, I cried out from the depths of my soul, “O Lord, I beg You — show me that You have loved me with an everlasting love” (Jer. 31:3). I had scarcely spoken the words when, with extraordinary sweetness, this answer came back to me like an echo: “I have loved you with an everlasting love.”

I went to bed in peace that night. And when I awoke the next morning, the same words were fresh upon my soul — and I believed them.

191. But the tempter did not leave me alone. I don’t think it was less than a hundred times that day that he attempted to shatter my peace. The inner battles I fought were intense. Each time I tried to hold onto this promise, the story of Esau would flash into my mind like lightning. I felt myself rise and fall twenty times within an hour.

Yet God upheld me, keeping my heart anchored to that word. For several days, it filled me with great sweetness and hopeful confidence that I was pardoned. It was as if God Himself spoke to me: “I loved you while you were committing this sin; I loved you before; I love you still; and I will love you forever.”

192. Still, I saw my sin as horrendous — brutal, shameful, and filthy. I could not deny, and confessed with deep shame, that I had grievously mistreated the holy Son of God. This made my heart overflow with love and pity for Christ; my compassion toward Him was stirred deeply.

For I saw that He remained my friend, returning good for my evil. The love burning inside me for my Lord and Saviour grew so strong and passionate that, to speak honestly as I then felt, if I had had a thousand gallons of blood in my veins, I would gladly have poured it all out at His feet in revenge against myself for the wrong I had done Him.

193. While meditating on these things and considering how I might show my love to the Lord, this Scripture came powerfully to mind: “If You, Lord, should mark iniquities, O Lord, who could stand? But there is forgiveness with You, that You may be feared” (Ps. 130:3–4).

These words were precious to me — especially the part saying there is forgiveness with God so that He may be feared, that is, loved and reverenced. It was made clear to me that God values the love of His poor creatures so highly that He would rather forgive their sins than go without their love.

194. Then another Scripture was fulfilled in me, bringing deep refreshment: “That you may remember and be confounded, and never open your mouth again because of your shame, when I am pacified toward you for all that you have done,”says the Lord God (Ezek. 16:63).

At that moment, my soul felt — and I thought it would remain so forever — completely free from the guilt and terror that had previously tormented me.

195. But within a few weeks, I began to sink again into fear, worrying that despite all I had experienced, I might still be deceived and perish in the end. A powerful thought took hold of me: that no matter what comfort or peace I felt from the promises of life, unless my experience truly aligned with Scripture, then no matter how firmly I held onto my feelings, I would eventually discover they were nothing — for “the Scripture cannot be broken” (John 10:35).

No Sacrifice Remains

196. My heart began aching again, fearing that in the end I might still be disappointed. So I examined my former comforts with deep seriousness, asking myself whether someone who had sinned as I had could truly rely on the faithfulness of God expressed in those promises that once gave me hope.

But now these scriptures struck me with dreadful force: “It is impossible for those who were once enlightened, who have tasted the heavenly gift, shared in the Holy Spirit, and tasted God’s good word and the powers of the coming age — if they fall away, to restore them again to repentance” (Heb. 6:4–6). And again: “If we deliberately keep on sinning after receiving the knowledge of the truth, there remains no more sacrifice for sins, but only a fearful expectation of judgment and blazing fire” (Heb. 10:26–27).

And like Esau, who sold his birthright for a single meal — “afterward, when he wanted to inherit the blessing, he was rejected; he found no chance for repentance, though he sought it with tears” (Heb. 12:16–17).

These texts fell on me like thunder.

197. Now the promises of the gospel were forcibly torn away from my soul. I could find no encouragement, no refuge for myself anywhere in Scripture. And this verse tormented me: “Do not rejoice, O Israel, as other nations do” (Hos. 9:1).

For I clearly saw that those who held firmly to Christ had every reason to rejoice — but I, by my sin, had cut myself off. I had lost every foothold and support that the precious Word of life provides.

198. I felt myself sinking into a deep pit, like a house collapsing when its foundation is destroyed. I compared myself to a child who had fallen into a mill well: he might struggle and splash for a time, but without anything to grasp, he must finally drown.

As soon as this new assault fastened itself to my soul, this scripture came to me: “This is for many days” (Dan. 10:14). And indeed it proved true — I remained in this distress without relief for nearly two and a half years.

So although the verse itself sounded discouraging, to me — who feared this misery would be eternal — it sometimes brought a strange kind of comfort.

199. I reasoned with myself: “Many days are not forever. Many days must eventually end.” So although I would be afflicted for many days, I thanked God it was not forever.

At times this thought helped me. When the verse first came to me, I knew my trouble would be long. Yet even this small comfort was not constant. Some days I could not recall it; other days recalling it brought no help at all.

200. Meanwhile, the Scriptures lay before me, continually condemning me, and laying my sin before my door again and again. Yet that verse in Luke 18:1 — “men ought always to pray and not lose heart” — together with others, encouraged me to pray.

But then the tempter attacked harder than ever, insisting that neither God’s mercy nor Christ’s blood had anything to do with me; that my sin put me beyond their reach; and therefore prayer was useless.

Still I said to myself, I will pray.
“But your sin is unpardonable,” he said.
Still, I will pray.
“It is pointless.”
Nevertheless, I will pray.

So I prayed. And in that prayer, I said something like:
“Lord, Satan tells me that neither Your mercy nor Christ’s blood is enough to save my soul. Lord, will You be more honoured if I believe You can and will save me — or if I believe Satan, that You neither can nor will? Lord, I long to honour You by believing You.”

201. While I was praying, this scripture suddenly fastened itself to my heart: “O woman, great is your faith” (Matt. 15:28) — as if someone had clapped me on the back while I was kneeling.

Yet I could not believe, for nearly six months afterward, that this was truly a word spoken to a prayer of faith. I felt sure I had no faith at all. How could I, when I couldn’t even see a promise I dared apply to myself? So I remained stuck in the jaws of despair, wandering about in deep sadness.

202. More than anything, I longed to be free from doubt. I pleaded to know whether there was any real hope for me. Then these words came flooding into my mind:

“Will the Lord reject forever? Will He never again show favour? Has His mercy completely vanished? Has His promise failed forever? Has God forgotten to be gracious? Has He in anger shut up His tender mercies?” (Ps. 77:7–9).

As these questions ran through my mind, it seemed as though the answer whispered back: “It is a question — and perhaps the answer is no.”

These questions themselves seemed to imply that He had not rejected forever, that His promise had not failed, that He had not forgotten to be gracious. Something else — which I cannot now recall — also fell on my heart at that moment, and together with this passage, it sweetened my spirit and made me hope that His mercy was not gone after all.

203. Another time I was again overwhelmed by the question: Is the blood of Christ truly sufficient to save me? I wrestled with this from morning until about seven or eight in the evening.

At last, utterly worn out with fear that Christ’s blood might not reach me, these words suddenly rang in my heart with great force: “He is able.”

I thought the word able was spoken aloud to me — it appeared so large, as if written in great capital letters. It struck my fear and doubt with such power — for the short time it remained, about a day — as nothing else ever had, before or after (Heb. 7:25).

204. Then one morning as I prayed again, trembling at the thought that no scripture could help me, a fragment of a verse shot into my heart: “My grace is sufficient.”

I felt a small measure of hope — a sense that perhaps there truly was mercy for me.

What amazed me most was this: about two weeks earlier, I had looked at that very verse and concluded it could never comfort me. I had thrown my Bible down in annoyance, thinking the promise was far too small for someone like me.

But now it seemed as if that same promise stretched out its arms wide — wide enough not only to embrace me, but many others like me besides.

Weighing in the Scales

205. I was upheld by these words, but not without intense struggles for about seven or eight weeks. My peace constantly rose and fell—sometimes twenty times a day. First comfort, then trouble; peace now, and before I had walked a furlong, I was as full of fear and guilt as a heart could hold. This was not occasional, but the pattern of the entire seven weeks. The verse about the sufficiency of God’s grace and the warning about Esau parting with his birthright felt like a set of scales in my mind. Sometimes one side rose, then the other. My peace or distress depended on which side seemed heavier.

206. Because of this, I prayed continually that God would press that scripture more fully upon my heart—that is, that He would help me apply the whole sentence, because so far I could not. Whatever He gave me, I embraced, but I couldn’t go beyond what He supplied. Up to this point, the verse only helped me hope that there might be mercy for me: “My grace is sufficient.” And though it did not come with the full assurance I wanted, it still answered my earlier question—whether there was hope. Yet because the words “for you” were missing from what I felt in my soul, I was not satisfied. I prayed earnestly for this also.

So one day, while I was in a gathering of God’s people, overwhelmed by sadness and fear—as I thought that my soul was no better and my condition terribly desperate—these words suddenly broke in upon me with great power: “My grace is sufficient for you, My grace is sufficient for you, My grace is sufficient for you,” three times over. And oh! I felt that every word was a mighty word to me—My, grace, sufficient, for you. They were then, and sometimes still are, much larger and weightier to my soul than other words.

207. At that moment my understanding was so enlightened that it felt as though I saw the Lord Jesus looking down from heaven directly upon me, directing these words to me. It broke my heart, filled me with joy, and humbled me to the dust. But the strength of this comfort did not stay long in that intensity, though it remained with me for several weeks and encouraged me to hope. Yet as soon as its powerful influence faded, the passage about Esau returned as before. My soul was again like a pair of scales—now lifted in peace, now dropped into terror.

208. And so I continued for many weeks—sometimes comforted, sometimes tormented. At some times, my torment was extremely bitter. For all those scriptures in Hebrews would stand before me as if they were the only verses that barred me from heaven. Then again I would regret that such a thought had ever crossed my mind. I would say to myself, “How many scriptures are actually against me? Only three or four—and cannot God overlook them and save me despite them?” Sometimes again I would think, “Oh, if not for these three or four verses, how comforted I might now be!” At times, I could hardly resist wishing they were not in the Bible.

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The City of Refuge

209. Then it seemed to me as though Peter, Paul, John, and all the other biblical writers looked upon me with scorn, as if saying, “All our words are true; every verse stands with as much force as any other. We did not cut you off—you cast yourself away. These are the verses you must take hold of: ‘It is impossible’ (Heb. 6:4). ‘There remains no more sacrifice for sin’ (Heb. 10:26). ‘It would have been better for them not to have known the way of righteousness’ (2 Pet. 2:21). For the Scripture cannot be broken (John 10:35).”

210. These scriptures, like the elders of the city of refuge, seemed to stand as judges over my soul while I trembled at their gate, the avenger of blood at my heels. With a thousand fears and doubts, I was terrified that they would shut me out forever (Josh. 20:3–4).

211. Thus I was confounded, not knowing what to do or how to settle the question: Could the scriptures agree in my salvation? I trembled before the apostles; I knew their words were true and must stand forever.

212. I remember one day being in various states of mind, observing that each state corresponded to the nature of the scripture that came to me. If the verse of grace came, I was at peace; if the verse about Esau came, I was tormented. “Lord,” I thought, “if both scriptures should come upon me at once, I wonder which would prevail?” I found myself actually longing for both to come together—and I prayed that they would.

213. About two or three days later, they did indeed come upon me at the same moment. They wrestled within me a long while. At last, the passage about Esau’s birthright began to weaken and withdraw, and the verse about the sufficiency of grace prevailed, bringing peace and joy. As I pondered this, the scripture came to me: “Mercy triumphs over judgment”(James 2:13).

214. This amazed me, and I am persuaded it was of God. For the word of law and wrath must yield to the word of life and grace. Though the word of condemnation is glorious, the word of life and salvation far exceeds it in glory (2 Cor. 3:8–11). Moses and Elijah must both withdraw and leave Christ and His saints alone (Matt. 17:8).

215. Another scripture visited me sweetly: “The one who comes to Me I will by no means cast out” (John 6:37). Oh, what comfort I drew from the phrase “by no means!” As if Christ were saying, “No, not at all—for he has done nothing that can prevent Me from receiving him.” But Satan worked hard to take this promise from me, insisting that Christ did not mean me but only lesser sinners. But I answered, “Satan, there is no such exception here. It says whoever comes. Whoever comes to Me, I will never cast out.”

I still recall that of all the tricks Satan ever used to rob me of a scripture, he never once suggested: “But are you coming rightly?” I believe he avoided this because he knew I understood very well what it meant. To come rightly meant to come as I was: a vile sinner, throwing myself at the feet of mercy, condemning myself for sin. Oh, how we wrestled—Satan pulling one way, I the other. But God be praised, I prevailed, and gained sweetness from this promise.

216. Even with such comforts, the passage about Esau still troubled my conscience at times. I could not fully escape it. So I decided to examine the nature of the blasphemous thought that had once terrified me—to take the words in their full meaning. When I did, I realized that, taken honestly, the words amounted to this: that I had freely left it to Christ whether He would be my Saviour or not—“Let Him go, if He will.” Then this scripture gave me hope: “I will never leave you nor forsake you” (Heb. 13:5). “O Lord,” I said, “but I left You.” And the answer seemed to return: “But I will not leave you.” For this, I thank God.

217. Yet I was terribly afraid He might forsake me, and found it hard to trust Him, seeing how I had offended Him. I wished the thought had never crossed my mind, for then I would have leaned upon His grace more freely. I felt like Joseph’s brothers, whose guilt constantly made them fear that their brother would finally reject them (Gen. 50:15–16).

218. Yet of all the scriptures I considered, the one in Joshua 20 brought me the greatest comfort. It speaks of the manslayer who flees to the city of refuge. If the avenger of blood pursues him, Moses says, the elders of the city must not deliver him up, because he killed unintentionally and did not hate the victim beforehand. Oh, blessed be God for this word! I saw clearly that I was the manslayer, and I felt the avenger of blood pursuing me. All that remained was to ask whether I had a right to enter the city.

I saw that the one who lay in wait to shed blood—the deliberate murderer—had no right. Only the one who killed without premeditation, without hatred, could enter.

219. And I genuinely believed that this described me. I had struck my Neighbor unwittingly—I had not hated Him beforehand. I had prayed to Him. I had been cautious about sinning against Him. I had resisted this wicked temptation for twelve months. And even when the awful thought passed through my heart, it forced itself in against all my resistance. For these reasons I believed I had a right to enter the city of refuge; the elders—the apostles—would not deliver me up. This gave me great comfort and strong grounds for hope.

Reconsidering the Charges

220. Yet because my suffering had made me extremely cautious, I became very critical in examining myself—I felt nothing was solid ground unless I tested it thoroughly. One question especially troubled my soul, and I longed for an answer: Is it possible for someone who has committed the unpardonable sin to receive even the slightest true spiritual comfort from God through Christ? After long consideration, I concluded the answer must be No. And for these reasons:

221. First, those who commit that sin are cut off from any share in Christ’s blood. Having no part in that, they have no foundation for hope, and therefore no spiritual comfort. For them there remains no more sacrifice for sin (Heb. 10:26–27).
Secondly, they are denied any share in the promise of eternal life; they shall never be forgiven, either in this world or in the world to come (Matt. 12:32).
Thirdly, the Son of God excludes them from His intercession, being forever ashamed to confess them before His Father and the angels (Mark 8:38).

222. After examining this matter carefully, and realizing that the Lord had comforted me—and that even after my dreadful sin—I found courage at last to return to those terrifying scriptures that had frightened me so deeply. I could hardly bear to look at them before. I had struggled a hundred times to avoid wishing them out of the Bible, thinking they would be my ruin. But now I felt encouraged to look closely at them, to read them calmly, and to consider their meaning and purpose.

223. When I did this, I found that their appearance had changed; they no longer looked as terrifying as before. I began with Hebrews 6, still trembling lest it condemn me. But when I considered it carefully, I found:
First, the “falling away” described there meant a total falling away—an absolute rejection and denial of the gospel and its message of forgiveness through Christ. This is clear from the apostle’s reasoning in verses 1–4.
Second, this falling away must be public, done openly before the world, bringing Christ to open shame.
Third, those described there are shut up by God in permanent blindness, hardness, and impenitence: It is impossible to renew them again to repentance.

By all this I saw—praise be to God forever—that my sin was not the sin described in that passage.
First, I confessed that I had fallen, but not fallen away—not from the profession of faith in Christ unto eternal life.
Second, I had indeed brought shame to Christ by my sin, but not open shame; I had not denied Him publicly nor declared Him worthless before the world.
Third, I could not deny that God had allowed me to come to Him in sorrow and repentance, though the work was very hard. Blessed be God for His unsearchable grace!

224. Then I turned to Hebrews 10 and found that the “wilful sin” mentioned there is not every deliberate sin, but specifically the sin of rejecting Christ and then rejecting His commands as well.
Second, this must also be done openly, before two or three witnesses according to the law (verse 28).
Third, this sin cannot be committed without a deliberate and contemptuous insult toward the Spirit of Grace—despising His warnings and resisting His pleadings.

But the Lord knows—though my sin was devilish—it did not rise to this level.

225. As for the passage in Hebrews 12 about Esau selling his birthright—though it had pierced me like a spear—I now considered:
First, Esau’s sin was not a sudden thought against the constant effort of his mind; rather, it was a thought he agreed with and acted upon deliberately (Gen. 25).
Second, it was a public act—done openly before his brother, and likely before others. This made it far more serious.
Third, he continued to despise his birthright. He ate, drank, got up, and went on his way. Thus Esau despised his birthright. And even twenty years later he still despised it, saying, “I have enough, my brother; keep what you have to yourself” (Gen. 33:9).

226. As for the statement that Esau “found no place for repentance,” I reasoned this way:
First, he was seeking repentance not for the birthright, but for the blessing—as both the apostle and Esau himself distinguish: “He took away my birthright… and now he has taken away my blessing” (Gen. 27:36).
Second, considering this distinction, I returned to the apostle to understand God’s mind in a New Testament sense. It seemed to me that the birthright symbolizes regeneration, and the blessing symbolizes the eternal inheritance. This fits the apostle’s warning: Lest there be any profane person like Esau, who for a single meal sold his birthright—as if saying, “Lest anyone among you despise the beginnings of God’s gracious work in you, and afterward be rejected when you seek the inheritance.”

227. For many in the day of mercy despise the inward beginnings of grace—the true birthright of heaven—yet when the day of decision comes, they will cry out as loudly as Esau, “Lord, Lord, open to us!” But just as Isaac did not revoke the blessing he gave to Jacob, neither will God the Father. He will say, “I have blessed these, and they shall be blessed” (Gen. 27:33). But to the rest He will say, Depart, you workers of iniquity (Luke 13:25–27).

228. After considering these scriptures and seeing that this understanding did not contradict other scriptures but agreed with them, I gained even more comfort and encouragement. This struck a heavy blow against the fear that the Scriptures could not agree in the salvation of my soul. Now only the tail end of the storm remained. The thunder had passed beyond me, and only a few drops still fell here and there. Yet because my former fears and agonies had been so intense, it often happened—as with someone burned by fire—that every sound seemed like “Fire! Fire!” and every small touch wounded my overly tender conscience.

Righteousness in Christ

229. One day, as I was walking through a field—troubled again in my conscience and afraid things were still not right—suddenly a sentence fell upon my soul: “Your righteousness is in heaven.” And immediately, with the eyes of my soul, I seemed to see Jesus Christ Himself at God’s right hand. There was my righteousness. So no matter where I was or what I was doing, God could never say of me, “He lacks My righteousness,” because my righteousness was right before Him in heaven. And I saw that neither a good spiritual frame made this righteousness better, nor a bad spiritual frame made it worse, because my righteousness was Jesus Christ Himself—“the same yesterday, today, and forever” (Heb. 13:8).

230. At that moment, the chains truly fell off my legs. I was released from my afflictions and prison-irons. My temptations fled away. From then on, those dreadful scriptures that had tormented me ceased troubling me. I returned home rejoicing in the grace and love of God. But when I arrived, I searched to see whether that sentence—Your righteousness is in heaven—was actually written in Scripture, and I could not find those exact words. My heart began to sink again—until this verse came to mind: “Christ Jesus, who has become for us wisdom from God—that is, our righteousness, sanctification, and redemption” (1 Cor. 1:30). By that Scripture I knew the other sentence had been true in its meaning.

231. From this Scripture I saw that the man Christ Jesus—distinct from us in His bodily presence—is, before God, ourrighteousness and sanctification. So for a while I lived in a sweet and peaceful enjoyment of God through Christ. Oh, how my heart cried, “Christ! Christ!” He was all that I could see. I no longer looked at His benefits one by one—His blood, His burial, His resurrection—but at Christ as a whole, the One in whom all His virtues, offices, and works are united. And I saw Him exalted at God’s right hand.

232. It was glorious to behold His exaltation and the power of all His benefits—especially because I could now look away from myself and look to Him. I understood that all the graces presently growing in me were like the loose coins a wealthy man carries in his pocket, while his gold is safely stored in his trunk at home. I realized that my gold—my true treasure—was stored up in Christ my Lord and Savior. Christ was now everything to me: my wisdom, my righteousness, my sanctification, and my redemption.

233. The Lord also led me into the mystery of my union with the Son of God—that I was joined to Him, “bone of His bone and flesh of His flesh” (Eph. 5:30). That truth became very sweet to me. It strengthened my faith just as it confirmed my righteousness. For if He and I were one, then His righteousness was mine, His merits mine, His victory mine as well. I saw that I was, in a sense, in heaven and on earth at the same time: in heaven through Christ my Head, my righteousness, and my life; on earth through my body.

234. I now understood that Christ Jesus is regarded by God—and should be regarded by us—as the public representativeof all His elect. In Him, God considers and counts the whole body of believers. We fulfilled the law in Him, died in Him, rose in Him, and triumphed over sin, death, the devil, and hell in Him. When He died, we died; when He rose, we rose. As Scripture says: “Your dead shall live; together with My dead body they shall arise” (Isa. 26:19) and “After two days He will revive us; on the third day He will raise us up, that we may live in His presence” (Hos. 6:2). And this is fulfilled now that the Son of Man is seated at the right hand of God, as Paul writes: “God raised us up with Christ and seated us with Him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus” (Eph. 2:6).

235. These blessed truths and Scriptures shone brightly before my eyes in those days. And so I must say: Praise the Lord! Praise God in His sanctuary; praise Him in His mighty heavens. Praise Him for His acts of power; praise Him for His surpassing greatness (Ps. 150:1–2).

Two Causes of Temptation

236. In a few words, I have given you a glimpse of the sorrow and suffering my soul endured because of the guilt and terror brought on by my sinful thoughts. I have also shown you how God delivered me from that misery, and the sweet, blessed comfort that followed afterward. That comfort stayed with my heart for about twelve months, to my indescribable amazement. Before I go any further, I will now—God willing—briefly explain what I believe caused this temptation, and afterward, what eventual benefit it brought to my soul.

1. Prayerlessness

237. As for the causes, I came to see clearly that there were chiefly two, and I was deeply convinced of them the whole time this trouble was upon me. The first was this: when God delivered me from the earlier temptation, I did not continue praying that He would also keep me from future temptations. Although, in truth, my soul had been very much in prayer before that trial overtook me, afterward I prayed mostly—if not only—for the removal of my present trouble and for fresh assurances of His love in Christ. Later I saw that this was not enough. I should also have prayed that the great God would keep me from the evil that was still to come.

238. I was made painfully aware of this by the prayer of holy David, who, even while enjoying present mercy, still prayed that God would restrain him from sin and from future temptation. He says, “Then I shall be upright, and I shall be innocent from the great transgression” (Ps. 19:13). This very verse stung and condemned me throughout that long, difficult temptation.

239. There was another Scripture that strongly rebuked me for this neglect—Hebrews 4:16: “Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.” I had not done this. Therefore, I was permitted to fall into sin and to suffer, just as it is written, “Watch and pray, that you do not enter into temptation” (Matt. 26:41). To this day, this realization weighs heavily on me, so that when I kneel before the Lord, I dare not rise until I have pleaded with Him for help and mercy against whatever temptations may come. And I beg you, reader, learn from my negligence—learn from the sorrow and affliction I endured for days, months, and years because I failed in this duty.

2. Tempting God

240. Another cause of this temptation was that I had tempted God, and I did so in this manner: At the time my wife was heavily pregnant—before her due date—she suddenly experienced sharp, intense pains, like those of a woman in full labour, as if she were about to deliver prematurely. It was during this very time that I had been strongly tempted to question whether God even existed. So as my wife lay crying beside me, I said secretly within my heart — so secretly that no one on earth could have known — “Lord, if You will now remove this painful distress from my wife, and cause her to be troubled no more tonight”—and her labour pains were right upon her—“then I will know that You can see the most secret thoughts of the heart.”

241. I had scarcely finished saying this in my heart when her pains suddenly left her, and she fell into a deep sleep, in which she remained until morning. I was amazed, not knowing what to make of it. After I had lain awake for a while and heard no more cries from her, I too fell asleep. When I woke in the morning, the words I had spoken in my heart the night before came back to me — and with them, the realization that God had shown me He knew my most secret thoughts. This left me in deep astonishment for several weeks.

242. Well, about a year and a half later, that wicked thought I described earlier — “Let Christ go, if He will” — shot through my heart. And when I came under heavy guilt for that sin, the memory of my earlier secret thought, and how God had answered it, came back to me with this rebuking reminder: “Now you see that God truly knows the secret thoughts of the heart.”

243. And along with that memory, the story of the Lord’s dealings with Gideon came strongly to my mind — how, because Gideon tested God with the fleece, both wet and dry, when he should simply have believed God’s word and acted on it, the Lord later tested him by sending him against an innumerable host of enemies, seemingly without strength or support (Judg. 6–7). In the same way, God dealt with me — and He did so justly. For I should have trusted His Word and not put an “if” on the all-seeing God.

Advantages of Temptation

244. Now let me show you some of the advantages I gained through this temptation. First, it gave me a continual, awe-filled sense of both the majesty and glory of God, and of His beloved Son. In the earlier temptation, my soul had been overwhelmed with unbelief, blasphemous thoughts, hardness of heart, and doubts about the very existence of God, of Christ, of Scripture, and of the world to come. I was assaulted and tormented with atheism. But now the situation was different. Now God and Christ were constantly before me — not in comfort, but in overwhelming dread and holy terror. The glory of God’s holiness crushed me, and the compassion of Christ broke me like a wheel breaks a man’s bones. For I could think of Christ only as One I had lost and rejected — and that memory felt like my bones were being snapped every hour.

245. The Scriptures also became astonishing to me in this season. I saw that their truth and absolute reliability were like the keys of the kingdom of heaven. Those whom Scripture favours will inherit eternal life; but those whom Scripture condemns must perish forever. Oh, how that statement, “the Scripture cannot be broken,” tore open my heart! And so did this one: “Whose sins you forgive, they are forgiven; whose sins you retain, they are retained” (John 20:23). I now saw the apostles as the elders of the city of refuge (Joshua 20:4). Those they welcomed were safe for life; those they shut out were left to the avenger of blood.

246. Oh! One single sentence of Scripture — especially one that seemed to stand against me — would terrify me more than an army of forty thousand soldiers marching toward me. Woe to the person against whom Scripture sets itself!

247. Through this temptation, I came to understand the nature of God’s promises more deeply than ever before. While trembling continually under God’s mighty hand, struck again and again by the thunder of His justice, I searched every verse carefully, turning every page with a trembling heart and watchful eye, weighing every sentence with great seriousness and fear.

248. This temptation also cured me of my former foolish habit of avoiding the promises whenever they came into my mind. Previously, if I did not immediately feel comfort from a promise, I would push it aside. But now, like a drowning man clutching at anything that floats, I grabbed hold of every promise I saw. Now was not the time to be selective — the avenger of blood was too close on my heels.

249. So now I was glad to seize even those promises which I feared I had no right to claim, and to throw myself into the arms of the very promises I feared had shut their hearts against me. I tried to take God’s Word exactly as He had spoken it, not weakening a single syllable of its natural strength. Oh, what I began to see in that blessed sixth chapter of John: “Whoever comes to Me, I will never cast out.” I realized that God has a far greater mouth to speak with than I have a heart to understand. I began to think to myself that He never speaks hastily or carelessly, but with infinite wisdom, judgment, truth, and faithfulness.

250. In those days, during my greatest anguish, I would fling myself toward the promise like a horse trying to leap toward solid ground — yet often sinking back into the mire. Still, half-beside myself with fear, I would say, “I will rest on this promise and leave the fulfilment of it to God who spoke it.” Oh! How many fierce struggles my heart had with Satan over that sixth chapter of John. I was not then mainly seeking comfort — though how precious it would have been! — but a single word, any word I could lay a weary soul upon so it would not sink forever. That was what I hunted for.

251. Many times, when I approached a promise, it felt as though the Lord Himself would thrust me away forever — as if I were running straight onto spear-points, or as if a flaming sword barred my way. Then I would think of Esther, who went to petition the king even though it was against the law (Esther 4:16). I thought of Ben-hadad’s servants who sought mercy from their enemy with ropes on their heads (1 Kings 20:31). I also found great encouragement in the Canaanite woman who refused to be discouraged, even when Christ called her a dog (Matthew 15:22–28), and in the man who knocked at midnight to borrow bread (Luke 11:5–8).

252. Never in my life had I seen such heights and depths in God’s grace, love, and mercy as I saw after this temptation. Great sins draw out great grace; and where guilt is most terrifying, God’s mercy in Christ shines the brightest.When Job’s trial ended, God gave him twice as much as before (Job 42:10). Blessed be God for Jesus Christ our Lord. I could say more, but I will be brief for now. I pray that my suffering may make others fear to sin, lest they too bear the iron yoke as I did.

Two or three times, around the time of my deliverance from this temptation, I had such overwhelming visions of God’s grace that I could hardly stand under them. They were so astonishing that, had they lasted long, they would have made me unfit for ordinary life and work.

Other Temptations

253. Now I will continue and describe more of the Lord’s dealings with me at various seasons, and the temptations I faced. I will begin with what happened when I first joined in fellowship with the people of God in Bedford. After I told the church that I desired to walk with them in the order and ordinances of Christ, they admitted me. While thinking about that blessed ordinance — Christ’s last supper with His disciples before His death — the Scripture, “Do this in remembrance of Me” (Luke 22:19), became very precious to me. Through it, the Lord came down upon my conscience with a fresh revelation of His death for my sins. I felt as though He plunged me into the power and virtue of that death.
But I had not taken part in the ordinance many times before fierce and sorrowful temptations began to assault me whenever I approached it — temptations both to blaspheme the ordinance and to wish harm upon those who partook of it. So that I might not in any way consent to those wicked thoughts, I was forced the entire time to bend myself in prayer, begging God to keep me from blasphemy and to bless the bread and cup to the others as they passed it from person to person. I have since thought that the reason for this temptation was that I did not at first approach the Lord’s Table with the reverence I should have.

254. This continued for about three-quarters of a year, during which I could find neither rest nor ease. But at last, the Lord visited my soul again through the same Scripture that had comforted me earlier — “Do this.” After that, I have generally found great peace and comfort in partaking of that blessed ordinance. I believe I have truly discerned the Lord’s body in it — broken for my sins — and His precious blood shed for my transgressions.

255. Once, I was inclined toward a serious illness, something like consumption, which came upon me suddenly and violently in the spring. I grew very weak in body and thought I could not live. So I began again to examine myself seriously regarding my spiritual state and my evidence for the blessed world to come. For it has been my usual practice — I bless God for it — always to keep my hope of eternal life clear before my eyes, and especially so in times of affliction.

256. But no sooner had I begun to recall the former experiences of God’s goodness to my soul than an innumerable multitude of my sins rushed into my mind. These troubled me most: my deadness, dullness, and coldness in holy duties; my wandering heart; my weariness in all good things; my lack of love for God, His ways, and His people. Then came the piercing question: Are these the fruits of a Christian? Are these the marks of a blessed man?

257. Under the weight of these thoughts, my sickness doubled — now in my inward man as well as in my body. My soul was clogged with guilt. All former experiences of God’s goodness were hidden from me, as if they had never happened. I found myself trapped between two crushing fears: I must not live; I dare not die. My spirit collapsed, and I felt utterly lost. But as I walked up and down the house in deep distress, a word from God seized my heart: “You are justified freely by His grace through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus” (Romans 3:24). Oh, what a change it made in me!

258. I felt as though someone had awakened me from a terrible dream. As I listened to that heavenly sentence, it seemed to speak to me like this: “Sinner, you think that because of your sins and weaknesses I cannot save you. But behold, My Son is beside Me, and I look upon Him — not upon you — and I will deal with you according to how I am pleased with Him.” At this, my mind was greatly relieved and I understood that God can justify a sinner at any time. It requires only His looking upon Christ and crediting Christ’s righteousness to us — and immediately the work is done.

259. While I was still pondering this, another Scripture came upon my spirit with great power: “Not by works of righteousness which we have done, but according to His mercy He saved us” (Titus 3:5; cf. 2 Timothy 1:9). Now I was lifted up to great heights. I saw myself in the arms of grace and mercy. Earlier, I had been terrified at the thought of death; now I cried out, “Let me die!” Death appeared lovely and beautiful to me, for I saw that we never truly live until we pass into the next world. Oh, how earthly life seemed like a mere slumber compared to the glory above!
At that time, I saw more glory in the words, “Heirs of God” (Romans 8:17), than I will ever be able to express in this life. Heirs of God! God Himself the portion of the saints! I saw it and marvelled — but I cannot describe what I saw.

260. At another time, while I was very ill and weak, the tempter assaulted me fiercely again, trying to hide from me all my former experience of God’s goodness. I have found that Satan especially attacks the soul when it seems to be nearing the grave — for then he sees his opportunity. He set before me the terrors of death and the judgment of God, until I feared that if I died then, I would be eternally lost. It was as if I already felt myself sinking into the pit. I thought within myself, “There is no way but that I must go to hell.”
But just then, in the midst of those fears, the words about the angels carrying Lazarus into Abraham’s bosom flashed into my mind — as if God Himself were saying, “So shall it be with you when you leave this world.” This revived my spirit sweetly and rekindled my hope in God. After I had meditated on this with comfort for a while, another Scripture struck my heart with great force: “O death, where is your sting? O grave, where is your victory?” (1 Corinthians 15:55). Immediately, I became well in both body and mind. My sickness vanished quickly, and I returned to my work for God with renewed joy.

261. Yet at another time, though I had been inwardly cheerful and spiritually refreshed, a great cloud of darkness suddenly fell upon me. It hid from me everything I had known about God and Christ, as if I had never seen or heard of them before. My soul was overwhelmed with a dead, senseless, motionless frame of spirit — unable to stir after grace or life in Christ. It was as if my loins were broken or my hands and feet bound with chains. I also felt physical weakness seize my body, making my spiritual distress even heavier.

262. After living in this condition for three or four days, as I sat by the fire, I suddenly felt these words burst into my heart: “I must go to Jesus.” At that moment, my former darkness and atheism fled, and heavenly things came again into view. Startled, I said, “Wife, is there such a Scripture as ‘I must go to Jesus’?” She said she did not know. So I sat still, trying to recall it. Within two or three minutes, another verse came suddenly into my mind: “And to an innumerable company of angels.” Immediately, Hebrews 12 — the passage about Mount Zion — unfolded before my eyes (Hebrews 12:22–24).

263. With joy I told my wife, “Oh! Now I know, I know!” That night was a precious night to me — one of the few best I have ever had. I longed for the company of God’s people to share with them what the Lord had shown me. Christ was exceedingly precious to my soul that night. I could hardly stay in bed for joy, peace, and triumph in Him.
The intense glory did not remain until morning, but Hebrews 12:22–23 stayed a blessed comfort to me for many days afterward.

264. The words are these:
“You have come to Mount Zion, to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, to an innumerable company of angels, to the general assembly and church of the firstborn who are written in heaven, to God the Judge of all, to the spirits of just men made perfect, to Jesus the Mediator of the new covenant, and to the blood of sprinkling that speaks better things than that of Abel.”
Through this blessed passage, the Lord led me again and again — first to one phrase, then to another — showing me wonderful glory in each. Since then, these words have often greatly refreshed my spirit.
Blessed be God for having mercy on me.

A Brief Account of the Author’s Call to the Work of the Ministry (Modernized)

265. Now, since I have been speaking of my experience, I will say a few words about my beginning to preach the Word, and how God dealt with me in that work. After I had been awakened about five or six years and had been helped to see both the need for and the worth of Jesus Christ, and after I had been enabled to trust my soul to Him, some of the godliest and most experienced among the saints perceived that God had given me some ability to understand and speak His will in Scripture. They believed I had been given some gift of utterance to lay before others for their strengthening. So they urged me, with great earnestness, to be willing sometimes to speak a word of exhortation to the meetings.

266. At first this request overwhelmed and embarrassed me, but because they kept asking, I consented. On two separate occasions, privately and with much weakness and trembling, I attempted to exercise this gift among them. They not only appeared affected, but solemnly testified, before God, that they had been comforted. They praised the Father of mercies for the mercy shown me.

267. After that, when some of them went into the countryside to teach, they sometimes wanted me to go with them. Though I did not yet dare to preach publicly, I would speak a word of admonition in private gatherings among the godly. They received it with joy, saying they were edified.

268. To make a long story short, the church continued to encourage me. After solemn prayer and fasting, I was at last called to a more regular and public ministry of the Word — not only to believers, but to bring the gospel to those who had not yet received it. At that time I felt a secret prompting within me to move forward, not from pride or a desire for glory (for I was, by then, deeply afflicted with doubts about my own standing), but from a quiet inner urging to serve.

269. Yet I could not be content unless I was using the gift I had been given. I was encouraged not only by the continued requests of godly people, but also by Paul’s appeal to the Corinthians: “Now I urge you, brothers, you know the household of Stephanas—they were the first converts in Achaia, and they have devoted themselves to the service of the saints—so be subject to such people and to everyone who works and labors with them” (1 Cor. 16:15–16). This passage kept running through my mind and strengthened me for the work.

270. That Scripture helped me see that the Holy Spirit does not intend gifted people to bury their abilities in the ground, but rather to stir them up to exercise their gifts. He commends those who are ready and willing to serve. The truth of this kept encouraging me—along with other examples in Scripture and the lives of godly men (Acts 8:4; 18:24–25; 1 Pet. 4:10; Rom. 12:6)—that God calls and equips ordinary people to serve.

271. Therefore, though I considered myself the least worthy of the saints, trembling at the sight of my own weakness, I set myself to the task. According to the measure of my gift and the extent of my faith, I preached the gospel that God had showed me in His Word. When the message spread, people came from many places to hear — hundreds would come for various reasons.

272. I thank God that He gave me compassion for souls, which drove me to labor diligently to find words that might, by God’s blessing, seize and awaken consciences. The Lord honored those desires. Not long after I began, some were deeply touched and troubled about the greatness of their sin and their desperate need for Jesus Christ.

273. At first I could hardly believe that God would work through me to reach anyone’s heart; I felt so unworthy. Yet those who were awakened loved me and showed special respect. Though I tried to deflect their praise, they affirmed and testified before the saints that God had used me as an instrument to point them to salvation.

274. Seeing their constancy and earnest pursuit of Christ, rejoicing that God had sent me to them, I began to think it might indeed be so—that God had accepted such a foolish one as I. Then a comforting Scripture came to me with great sweetness: “The blessing of him who was about to perish has come upon me; I caused the widow’s heart to sing for joy”(Job 29:13). This refreshed and encouraged me.

275. Their tears and the fruits of conviction were both solace and encouragement to me. I thought, “Who is it that makes me glad but the one I have made sorrowful?” (2 Cor. 2:2). And again, “If I am not an apostle to others, surely I am to you” — you are the seal of my ministry in the Lord (1 Cor. 9:2). These things were further evidence to me that God had called me to this work.

276. In preaching the Word I made a special point of starting where Scripture begins with sinners: by declaring the guilt of all flesh and opening the case that the curse of the law rests on everyone because of sin. I preached from what I felt in my own conscience—the terror of the law and the weight of my own transgressions—so that I might press home the need for Christ.

277. Truly, I felt like one sent from the dead. I came in chains to preach to people in chains. I carried that burning sense of sin in my conscience and used it to persuade others.

278. I can say honestly that when I went to preach, I often approached the pulpit full of guilt and terror. But once I reached the pulpit door, the burden would lift and I would be set free in my mind until I finished. Yet as soon as I descended, the same terror and guilt would often return. Nevertheless, God kept me and a strong hand carried me on, so neither guilt nor hell could stop me from doing the work.

279. For about two years I cried out against people’s sins and warned them of their fearful condition. After that, the Lord brought solid peace and comfort to my own soul through Christ and revealed much of His blessed grace to me. Consequently, I began to change the emphasis of my preaching—though I continued to preach what I had seen and felt. I labored to present Jesus Christ in all His offices, relations, and benefits; and I worked to expose and remove the false props on which people lean and by which they fall.

280. Later, God led me into some understanding of the mystery of union with Christ, and I explained that to the people as well. After I had labored through these three main points of the Word for about five years, I was seized and cast into prison. There I lay for a long time, a second season of suffering that confirmed the truth as much by suffering as I had previously testified to it by preaching.

281. Whenever I preached, my heart cried out earnestly to God that the Word would be effective for saving souls. I was always troubled that the enemy might steal the Word from people’s hearts and render it unfruitful. So I would strive to speak in such a way that the sin and the sinner might be clearly recognized and made to tremble under the Word.

282. After a sermon I would long and pray that the Word would fall like rain rather than on stone. With all my heart I would pray, “O that those who heard me today might see, as I do, what sin, death, hell, and God’s curse are, and what the grace, love, and mercy of God are in Christ for the estranged!” Indeed, I often told God that if being hanged before them would awaken them, I would willingly accept it.

283. When I preached on life in Christ, apart from works, it often felt as if an angel stood at my back encouraging me. The power and heavenly evidence that rested on my own soul as I unfolded that doctrine made me more than confident—I was compelled to assert it, to press it upon consciences, and I believed it with a certainty that I can hardly put into words.

284. I never liked involving myself in controversies or disputes among the saints, especially over matters of lesser importance. What stirred my heart was contending earnestly for the word of faith and the forgiveness of sins through the death and suffering of Jesus. As for other matters, I chose not to meddle with them, because I saw that they produced strife, and that doing or not doing them did not commend us to God. Besides, I sensed that the work God had called me to ran in a different direction — to preach an awakening word. So I held firmly to that.

285. I never tried, nor dared, to build my ministry on other men’s work or borrow their lines (Rom. 15:18), though I do not condemn all who do. I truly believed — and found by experience — that what Christ taught me through His Word and Spirit could be spoken, defended, and stood upon with a sound and well-established conscience. And though I will not reveal everything I know on this matter, my experience in this area gives me a deeper understanding of Galatians 1:11–12 than many people realize.

286. If anyone awakened by my ministry later fell back (as sadly many did), their fall pierced me more deeply than if one of my own children had died. Truly, nothing ever cut me so close — apart from fear for the salvation of my own soul. I saw their conversions as precious buildings and estates in the places where they were born again. My heart was so caught up in the glory of this work that I counted myself more blessed by it than if God had made me emperor of the Christian world — or lord of all the earthly glory without it. Oh, the sweetness of these words: “Whoever turns a sinner from the error of his way will save a soul from death” (James 5:20); “The fruit of the righteous is a tree of life, and he who wins souls is wise” (Prov. 11:30); “Those who turn many to righteousness will shine like stars forever” (Dan. 12:3); and “You are our glory and joy” (1 Thess. 2:19–20). These and many similar scriptures have refreshed me greatly.

287. I noticed that whenever God had work for me to do in a place, He first stirred my heart with a desire to preach there. I also noticed that certain souls were laid heavily upon my heart, and I longed for their salvation — and afterward, many of those very souls became the fruit of my ministry. I have observed that a word spoken “in passing” has sometimes done more good than the whole sermon. Sometimes when I thought I had done nothing, I did the most; and other times, when I thought I had caught them, I caught nothing at all.

288. I also noticed that when God intended to work upon sinners, the devil often began roaring in their hearts — and through the mouths of his servants. Many times, when the world raged most fiercely, souls were awakened under the Word. I could give many examples, but I will refrain.

289. My great desire in ministry was to go into the darkest parts of the country — among those farthest from the gospel. It was not because I feared the light, for I was willing to preach the gospel before anyone. Rather, my spirit leaned strongly toward awakening and converting work, and the Word given to me leaned that way as well. So I tried to preach where Christ had not yet been named, so that I would not build on another man’s foundation (Rom. 15:20).

290. When preaching, I felt as if I were in travail — laboring to bring spiritual children into the world. I could not be content unless I saw some fruit from my work. If I bore no fruit, it did not matter who praised me; if I was fruitful, it did not matter who criticized me. I often thought of the words: “Children are a heritage from the Lord… Happy is the man who has his quiver full of them” (Ps. 127:3–5).

291. It never pleased me to see people eagerly take up mere opinions while remaining ignorant of Jesus Christ. What delighted me was when they became deeply aware of their sin — especially the sin of unbelief — and were set on fire to be saved by Christ, longing for a truly sanctified soul. Those were the souls I counted truly blessed.

292. But in this work, as in all others, I met with many kinds of temptations. At times I was assaulted with deep discouragement, fearing that I would be unable to speak anything helpful — or even anything sensible at all. When this happened, such weakness and faintness sometimes seized my body that my legs could hardly carry me to the pulpit.

293. At other times, while preaching, I was violently assaulted with blasphemous thoughts and tempted to utter them publicly. Sometimes I began preaching with great clarity and freedom, only to become suddenly confused, estranged from my own message, and restricted in speech — as though my head were inside a bag the entire time.

294. Again, when preparing to preach a sharp and searching scripture, the tempter would whisper, “What! Will you preach this? This condemns you. You are guilty of the very thing you’re about to preach. Better not preach it at all. Or at least soften it, so you can escape its blow — otherwise you’ll awaken your own conscience and never get out from under it.”

295. But thanks be to God, I never consented to such horrible suggestions. Instead, like Samson, I bowed myself with all my might to strike at sin wherever I found it — even if it added guilt to my own conscience (Judg. 16:29–30). I thought, Let me die with the Philistines, rather than corrupt the Word of God. “You who teach another, do you not teach yourself?”(Rom. 2:21). It is far better to judge yourself through honest preaching than to hide the truth in unrighteousness to protect yourself (Rom. 1:18). Blessed be God for helping me in this.

296. In this blessed work, I was also often tempted to pride and self-exaltation. Though I cannot say I was untouched by it, yet the Lord, in mercy, constantly kept me aware of my own heart’s evil. I saw so many corruptions and infirmities in myself that they forced me to hang my head under all my gifts. This “thorn in the flesh” was God’s mercy to me (2 Cor. 12:7–9).

297. Alongside this, God often brought certain sharp scriptures before my eyes — passages warning that a person may have great gifts and abilities and yet perish without love. One that helped me greatly was: “Though I speak with the tongues of men and angels, and have not love, I am nothing but a sounding brass or a clanging cymbal” (1 Cor. 13:1–2).

298. A clanging cymbal is an instrument that, when played skillfully, can produce music so stirring that listeners can hardly keep from dancing. Yet the cymbal itself has no life — the music comes from the player. When the playing stops, the cymbal is nothing. In the same way, a gifted person without grace may stir many hearts and yet be spiritually dead.

299. I saw that Christ can use gifted people like David used cymbals in worship — to move the hearts of His people. But when the work is done, He may set aside the instrument, lifeless, even though great music was once made through it.

300. This thought was like a hammer smashing pride and the desire for glory. “Shall I be proud,” I thought, “because I am only a sounding brass? Is it such a thing to be a fiddle? Doesn’t the smallest living creature have more of God’s nature in it than a musical instrument?” I saw clearly that gifts will pass away, but love never fails. So I concluded that a little grace, a little love, a little true fear of God, is better than all the gifts. I am convinced that some people with very little ability to speak may have a thousand times more grace — and far greater favor with God — than others who can speak like angels.

301. I learned that gifts, though good and useful for building up others, are powerless to save the one who possesses them if they stand alone. They are not signs of a person’s salvation. They are a stewardship from God, for which we must give an account when “a little love” will be the only thing that matters.

302. I also saw that gifts by themselves are dangerous, not because of the gifts, but because of the pride, vanity, and self-conceit that easily attach to them — especially when unwise Christians heap praise and applause upon the gifted. Such things expose a person to the very condemnation of the devil.

303. Therefore I saw that those who have gifts must be shown the true nature of them — that they fall short of placing a man in a saved condition — so that they do not rest in them and fall short of the grace of God.

304. He also has every reason to walk humbly with God, to think little of himself, and to remember that his gifts are not his personal property but belong to the church. By these gifts he is made a servant to the church. And in the end, he must give an account of his stewardship to the Lord Jesus — and to give a good account will be a blessed thing.

305. Let everyone therefore value even a little, when it comes with the fear of the Lord. Gifts are indeed desirable, but great grace with small gifts is better than great gifts without grace. Scripture does not say, “The Lord gives gifts and glory,” but rather, “The Lord gives grace and glory” (Psalm 84:11). And blessed is the one to whom the Lord gives grace — true grace — for it is a sure forerunner of glory.

306. But when Satan realized that tempting and attacking me in this way would not accomplish his purpose — namely, to overturn my ministry and make it ineffective — he tried another approach. He stirred up ignorant and malicious people to load me with slanders and reproaches. Truly, whatever the devil could invent, and whatever his instruments could devise, was spread all over the country against me, all with the intent of making me abandon my ministry.

307. It began to be widely rumoured that I was a witch, a Jesuit, a highwayman, and similar nonsense.

308. To all of this I will simply say: God knows that I am innocent. As for my accusers, let them prepare to meet me before the tribunal of the Son of God, where they will answer for these things along with all their other iniquities — unless God grants them repentance, which I pray for with all my heart.

309. But the slander spread with the greatest confidence was that I kept mistresses, committed fornication, had illegitimate children — even that I had two wives at once — and similar wicked lies. Now, I glory in these slanders along with the rest, because they are lies — foolish and wicked falsehoods cast upon me by the devil and his followers. And if the world did not treat me so unjustly, I would lack one of the marks of a saint and a child of God. “Blessed are you,” said the Lord Jesus, “when men revile you and persecute you, and say all sorts of evil against you falsely for My sake. Rejoice and be exceedingly glad, for great is your reward in heaven, for so they persecuted the prophets who were before you” (Matthew 5:11–12).

310. Therefore, these accusations do not trouble me — even if they were twenty times worse. My conscience is clear. Though they slander me as an evildoer, those who falsely accuse my good conduct in Christ will be put to shame.

311. So what shall I say to those who have smeared me with such accusations? Should I threaten them? Rebuke them? Flatter them? Beg them to be silent? No, not I. If not for the fact that these lies make their authors ripe for damnation, I would tell them: Report more of it, for it will only increase my glory.

312. Therefore, I wear these lies and slanders like an ornament. It is part of the Christian profession to be despised, slandered, reproached, and reviled. And since this is nothing but that — as God and my conscience testify — I rejoice in reproaches for Christ’s sake.

313. I also call those fools or knaves who have made it their business to affirm any of these things about me — that I have behaved immorally with women or anything of the sort — when they have used all their efforts and made every inquiry possible to find even one woman, in heaven or on earth or in hell, who can truthfully say that I ever attempted anything improper with her at any time, in any place, by day or by night. Shall I plead with my enemies to think well of me? No, not I. I will beg belief from no one. Believe me or do not — it is all the same to me.

314. My enemies have missed their target in shooting at me this way. I am not the man they imagine. I wish they themselves were guiltless. If every fornicator and adulterer in England were hanged until dead, John Bunyan — the target of their envy — would still be alive and well. I do not know of any woman under the whole heaven — not by appearance, nor by children, nor by common talk — except my wife.

315. And in this I admire the wisdom of God: that from the very time of my conversion until now, He made me shy and reserved toward women. Those who have known me closely can testify that it is rare to see me behave in a familiar manner with a woman. I dislike the common habit of men greeting women excessively; it is offensive to me when I see it. I avoid being alone with women, and I rarely even take a woman by the hand, for I consider such things unbefitting for me. When I have seen good men kiss women they visited, or who visited them, I have sometimes objected. When they said it was only a gesture of civility, I answered that it was not a pleasant sight. Some argued the “holy kiss” — but then I asked why they avoided some women and kissed only the attractive ones. So, although such customs may be acceptable to others, they have always seemed improper to me.

316. And to conclude this matter, I call not only men but angels to witness whether I am guilty of anything carnal with any woman except my wife. Nor am I afraid to repeat this — knowing that it cannot offend the Lord to call Him as witness to my innocence. It is not because of any goodness in me, more than in others, that I have been kept from sin, but because God has been merciful to me. I pray that He will continue to keep me — not only from this sin, but from every evil way and work, and preserve me for His heavenly kingdom. Amen.

317. Now, just as Satan tried through slanders and reproaches to make me contemptible among my countrymen so that my preaching might lose its effect, so he added to this a long and exhausting imprisonment, hoping to frighten me away from my service to Christ, and to make the world afraid to hear me preach. I will give a brief account of this in the next part.

A Brief Account of the Author’s Imprisonment

318. After professing the glorious gospel of Christ for many years, and preaching it for about five, I was arrested at a meeting of sincere believers in the countryside. If they had left me alone, I would have preached that day. But they pulled me away from the gathering and brought me before a justice. Even though I offered security to appear at the next sessions, he still committed me to custody because my sureties refused to promise that I would stop preaching.

319. At the sessions I was indicted as one who upheld and maintained unlawful assemblies and conventicles, and for failing to conform to the national worship of the Church of England. After some discussion, the justices treated my plain and honest replies as a “confession” of the charges and sentenced me to perpetual banishment because I refused to conform. I was handed back to the jailer and sent to prison, where I have now been for twelve full years, waiting to see what God will allow these men to do with me.

320. I have remained here with much contentment, by God’s grace, though I have experienced many inward struggles — from the Lord, from Satan, and from my own corruptions. Through all these things — glory be to Jesus Christ — I have received much conviction, instruction, and understanding. I will not speak of all of it here. I will only offer a few hints, so that the godly may be moved to bless God, to pray for me, and to take courage should such a trial ever become theirs — that they may not fear what man can do to them.

321. Never in my life did I have such an opening into the Word of God as I have had in this place. Passages of Scripture that once seemed empty now shone with light. Jesus Christ has never been more real and present to me than here. In this prison I have truly seen and felt Him. Oh, that word: “We have not followed cunningly devised fables” (2 Pet. 1:16) — and again, “God raised Christ from the dead and gave Him glory, so that your faith and hope might be in God” (1 Pet. 1:21) — these were blessed words to me in my confinement.

322. Several other passages have been great refreshment to me in this condition: John 14:1–4; John 16:33; Colossians 3:3–4; and Hebrews 12:22–24. At times, while savoring these scriptures, I have been able to laugh at destruction and fear neither the horse nor its rider (Ex. 15:1). Here I have had sweet assurances of the forgiveness of my sins and of being with Jesus in the world to come. Mount Zion, the heavenly Jerusalem, the innumerable company of angels, God the Judge of all, the spirits of the just made perfect, and Jesus Himself — these have been sweet to me in this place. I have seen truths here that I am convinced I will never fully express in this life. I have found this scripture to be true: “Whom having not seen you love; in whom, though now you see Him not, yet believing, you rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory” (1 Pet. 1:8).

323. Never did I know what it meant for God to stand by me at every turn, and at every attempt of Satan to afflict me, as I have found it since I came here. As quickly as fears have risen, so quickly have supports and encouragements come. Yes, even when I trembled at nothing more than a shadow, God — being very tender toward me — did not allow me to be overwhelmed but strengthened me with one scripture after another. So much so that I have often said, if it were lawful, I could pray for greater trouble, for the sake of the greater comfort that follows (Eccl. 7:14; 2 Cor. 1:5).

324. Before I came to prison, I saw that trouble was coming. Two considerations especially rested on my heart. First, how I might be able to face death, if that were to be my portion. For this, Colossians 1:11 was a great help to me — instructing me to pray that God would strengthen me with all might, according to His glorious power, so that I might endure all patience and long-suffering with joy. I could scarcely pray at all without this petition pressing itself upon me. For nearly a year before my imprisonment, this scripture urged itself upon my mind, persuading me that if I were to endure long-suffering rightly, I must have all patience — especially if I were to endure it joyfully.

325. The second consideration was grounded in this scripture: “We had the sentence of death in ourselves, so that we should not trust in ourselves, but in God who raises the dead” (2 Cor. 1:9). By this I saw that if I were to suffer rightly, I must first pass a sentence of death upon everything in this life — even counting myself, my wife, my children, my health, my comforts, my possessions — all as dead to me, and myself as dead to them.

326. The next lesson was to live upon God, who is invisible. As Paul says, the way not to faint is to look not at what is seen but at what is unseen; for what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal (2 Cor. 4:18). So I reasoned with myself: If I prepare only for prison, then the whip will catch me unawares — and so will the pillory. If I prepare only for those, then I will not be ready for banishment. And if I think banishment is the worst, then I will be surprised by death. So the best way to go through suffering is to trust in God through Christ concerning the world to come, and to regard this world as already in the grave — to make my bed in darkness, to call corruption my father and the worm my mother and sister. That is, to make these things familiar to my mind.

327. Yet even with these helps, I found myself a man surrounded by weaknesses. Leaving my wife and poor children has often felt like tearing the flesh from my bones. That is not only because I am too fond of these precious mercies, but because I often thought of the hardships and wants my family would suffer if I were taken from them — especially my poor blind child, who lies closest to my heart. Oh, the thought of what she might face would break my heart to pieces.

328. Poor child! I thought, what sorrow awaits you in this world! You may be beaten, forced to beg, suffer hunger, cold, nakedness, and countless miseries — though at this moment I cannot bear to imagine even the wind blowing upon you. Yet I reminded myself that I must entrust them all to God, though it pierced me to do so. I felt like a man pulling down his own house on the heads of his wife and children — and yet I thought, “I must do it, I must do it.” I was reminded of the two milk cows that carried the ark of God to another land while leaving their calves behind them (1 Sam. 6:10–12).

329. Several considerations helped me in this temptation. I will mention three here. First were these scriptures: “Leave your fatherless children; I will preserve them alive. And let your widows trust in Me” (Jer. 49.11). And again, “The Lord said, Truly it shall be well with your remnant; truly I will cause the enemy to treat you well in the time of evil and affliction” (Jer. 15:11).

330. I also considered this: if I chose to risk everything for God now, then I was effectively committing God to care for all my concerns. But if I abandoned Him or His ways out of fear of trouble that might come to me or my family, then I would be denying my own profession of faith. I would also be implying that my affairs were safer in my own hands — even if that meant denying God’s way — than they would be if I left them at His feet while remaining faithful to His name. This thought was deeply painful and acted like sharp spurs to my flesh. That scripture — where Christ prophetically prays against Judas, asking God to frustrate his selfish, treacherous intentions — pressed these truths even more firmly upon me. Read it carefully: Psalm 109:6–20.

331. Another thing I considered was the dreadfulness of the torments of hell, which I knew awaited all who shrink back from their profession of Christ, His words, and His laws, out of fear of the cross. I also thought of the glory God has prepared for those who, in faith, love, and patience, remain steadfast in His ways before the world. These thoughts helped me whenever I was troubled by fears of the miseries that my family or I might suffer for the sake of my calling.

332. When I seriously thought I might be banished for my profession, I reflected on this scripture: “They were stoned, sawn in two, tempted, slain with the sword. They wandered about in sheepskins and goatskins, destitute, afflicted, tormented — of whom the world was not worthy” (Heb. 11:37–38). These were people whom the world judged too unworthy to live among them. I also remembered Paul’s words: “The Holy Spirit testifies in every city that bonds and afflictions await me” (Acts 20:23). My soul and my profession would sometimes reason together over the harsh realities of banishment — hunger, cold, dangers, nakedness, enemies, and countless sufferings — perhaps even dying alone in a ditch like a forsaken sheep. But I thank God that none of these delicate reasonings ever moved me. Instead, they strengthened my resolve before God.

333. Let me tell you something striking. Once — more than at any other time — I fell into a very low and troubled condition that lasted for many weeks. Being a young prisoner and unfamiliar with the law, I was haunted by the thought that my imprisonment might end in execution. At that point Satan attacked me fiercely, suggesting: “But what if, when the time comes for you to die, you feel just as spiritually dead as you do now? What if you have no sense of God, no evidence in your soul of a better life to come?” For indeed, at that time, all spiritual things were hidden from me.

334. When these thoughts first came, they troubled me greatly. For I believed that in my present condition I was not fit to die — neither ready for death nor capable of bearing it. I also feared that if I did manage to climb the ladder to the gallows, my trembling and fainting might give enemies an excuse to mock God’s cause and His people. This burden weighed heavily on me, for I was ashamed at the thought of facing death with a pale face and shaking knees in a cause like this.

335. So I prayed that God would comfort me and give me strength to do and suffer whatever He might call me to. But no comfort came; everything remained hidden. I was so overwhelmed by thoughts of death that it often felt as if I were already on the ladder with the rope around my neck. One thing, however, did encourage me: I thought I might have one last opportunity to speak to a great crowd that would come to watch me die. And I thought, “If God would convert even one soul through my final words, then my life would not have been wasted.”

336. Yet still the things of God remained hidden, and the tempter pressed me relentlessly: “Where will you go when you die? What will become of you? What evidence do you have that heaven is yours, or that you have an inheritance among the sanctified?” I was tossed like this for many weeks, not knowing what to do. At last, a powerful thought struck me: that I was suffering for the Word and way of God. Therefore, I was duty-bound not to retreat even one hair’s breadth.

337. I also realized that God could choose whether to give me comfort now or only at the hour of death. Therefore, I had no right to choose whether I would hold to my profession; I was bound, but He was free. Yes, it was my duty to stand firm on His Word, whether He ever gave me comfort or saved me in the end. So I resolved — comfort or no comfort — to continue in His way and trust my eternal state to Christ. I thought, “If God does not bring relief, I will leap off the ladder blindfolded into eternity — sink or swim, heaven or hell. Lord Jesus, if You will catch me, do so; if not, I will still venture everything for Your name.”

338. No sooner had I reached this resolution than this scripture fell upon me: “Does Job serve God for nothing?” It was as though the accuser was saying, “Job is not sincere; he only serves You because You bless him. Remove the hedge, and he will curse You to Your face” (Job 1:9–11). I thought, “Is this what marks an upright soul — to serve God even when everything is taken from him? Is a godly man the one who will serve God for nothing rather than give up?” Blessed be God, then! For I hoped this meant that my heart was upright, since I was resolved — God helping me — never to deny my profession, even if I received nothing at all for it. And as I meditated on this, Psalm 44:12 and the following verses came to mind.

339. At this point my heart was filled with comfort, for I hoped its sincerity was proved. I would not trade this trial for anything. I am encouraged every time I remember it, and I trust I will bless God forever for what He taught me through it. I could tell of many more of God’s dealings with me, but I have dedicated these — taken as spoils from battle — to support the house of God (1 Chron. 26:27).

The Conclusion
1. Of all the temptations I have ever faced, the worst — and the hardest to bear — is the temptation to question the existence of God and the truth of His gospel. When this temptation comes, it feels as though my belt has been taken off and the very ground has been removed from beneath me. Oh, how often I have thought of the words, “Have your loins girded about with truth” (Eph. 6:14), and, “When the foundations are destroyed, what can the righteous do?” (Ps. 11:3).
2. Sometimes, after I have sinned and expected severe discipline from God, the very next thing He has given me has been a fresh revelation of His grace. At times, when I have been comforted, I have called myself a fool for sinking so deeply under trouble. Then again, when I have been discouraged, I have thought myself unwise for letting comfort carry so much weight with me. Both of these emotional extremes have pressed heavily upon me.
3. I have often marveled at this: that even when God has visited my soul with the most blessed revelations of Himself, soon afterward I have entered seasons so dark that I could not even recall what that comfort was, or what that God was like who had just refreshed me.
4. At times, I have seen so much in a single line of Scripture that I could hardly bear the weight of it. Yet at other times, the entire Bible has felt as dry as a stick — or rather, my heart has been so dead and dry toward it that I could not taste any comfort from it, even if I read it from beginning to end.
5. Of all tears, the best are those produced by the blood of Christ. And of all joy, the sweetest is the joy mingled with sorrow over Christ. Oh, it is a blessed thing to kneel before God with Christ held closely in our arms. I hope I know something of this experience.
6. To this day, I find seven abominations alive in my heart:
A tendency toward unbelief.
Quickly forgetting the love and mercy that Christ shows me.
Leaning toward the works of the law.
Wandering thoughts and coldness in prayer.
Forgetting to watch for God’s answers to my prayers.
A readiness to complain that I do not have more, while being just as ready to misuse what I do have.
The constant intrusion of corruption into everything God commands me to do — “When I would do good, evil is present with me” (Rom. 7:21).
7. These things I continually see and feel, and they trouble and burden me. Yet God, in His wisdom, uses them for my good.
They cause me to despise my own sinfulness.
They keep me from trusting my own heart.
They convince me that all inward righteousness is insufficient.
They show me how necessary it is to flee to Jesus.
They drive me to prayer.
They show me how much I need to watch and stay sober-minded.
They stir me up to ask God, through Christ, to help me and carry me safely through this world.
Amen.

^[1] The Ranters were a radical, loose collection of Antinomian and pantheistic Protestants in 17th-century England, active during the English Civil War and Commonwealth period. They believed in the presence of God in everyone and everything, denying the need for religious authorities, scripture, and even the concept of sin. Accused of shocking behaviors like «lewdness» and «blasphemy», they were suppressed by Parliament and often confused with Quakers.

^[2] 16 Lev 11.6. What rabbits and hares do is called “refection” or “coprophagy.” They re-digest food after it passes out of the body. Rabbits also constantly move their mouths, similar to the chewing motion of cows and other ruminants.