Book Report: The Pilgrim’s Progress by John Bunyan

It’s the second most important Christian book ever written, next to the Bible. Why?

“Read the classics,” an old professor once told me.

As far as classics go, John Bunyan’s The Pilgrim’s Progress is up there. Thought to be the first genuine English novel, it was written in 1678 in two parts. Part 1 tells the story of a man named Christian, and his journey from the City of Destruction to the Celestial City. Part 2 (a genuine sequel before Hollywood knew of such things) continues the tale as Christian’s wife, Christiana, feels the guilt of ignoring her husband’s desperate pleas to leave their doomed village together. With some angelic prodding, she hauls her four boys through the wicket gate and along the same route as her mate, battling many of the same dangers and, eventually, arriving at the same celestial destination.

The book has frequently been called the most important piece of Christian literature next to the Bible itself. (People who think that have clearly not read my seminary dissertation. Their loss, I say.) Why, though? What about The Pilgrim’s Progress can possibly elevate it to such Biblical, stratospheric heights?

It could be the language. John Bunyan is a poet’s poet, who intersperses his tale with verse that is lucid and musical. Even though written in 17th-century English, it’s fun to read.

Or it could be the allegory. Progress is pure allegory, in which everything represents something else. Bunyan doesn’t even try to hide it. I mean, sheesh, the character’s names are “Christian” and “Christiana.” They meet companions whose names are their characters: “Great-heart” is courageous, “Talkative” is, well, talkative. Even the locations—the town of “Stupidity” or the marketplace called “Vanity Fair”—have clear referents in the real world. Part of the fun of the book is making all the many allegorical associations.

But probably the long-lasting, resonant popularity of Bunyan’s work comes mostly from its spiritual truth. Faith is a journey. Even though we might not travel that much, life in God is a pilgrimage of a thousand miles. It is a pilgrimage we must take with many companions who have many names: Faithful, Hope and Prudence. Along the way we may find respite in the Enchanted Ground, where we can recline but dare not fall asleep lest we stay forever and abandon the trip. We may suffer productively in the Valley of Humiliation. We will battle sin-monsters like Apollyon and must use the weapons of prayer and truth to defeat the beast. And finally, we will cross the river of death, where the riverbed ‘neath our feet will rise or fall according to the depth of our convictions.

The book is not perfect. It’s theology of leaving earth for heaven ignores the fact that Scripture says God intends to recreate the earth, not abandon it. Also, I was underwhelmed by Part 2. Not only does it lack the dramatic urgency of the first book, but it’s a stark reminder that in Bunyan’s England, women were still regarded as the weaklings we know they are not. Christian’s wife Christiana depends on strong, heroic male guides to get her to the gate. I know too many courageous women of faith who are too far ahead of me in the journey to think that Bunyan has it right, here.

But it was 17th century England, so I get it. And for we who are on the long, twisty, narrow road toward the Celestial City, The Pilgrim’s Progress gets it right far more than not. John Bunyan himself was clearly on the road, and well-acquainted with the dangers. The nuance and dynamics of the trip are too well-described for this to be anything but an intimate, first-person account.

And his account is still as true as ever. Even centuries (or millennia!) later, the general contours of the road of Christian faith have not changed. The monsters, companions, distractions, and pitfalls are the same—as is the initial call, and the final destination.

If anything, then, The Pilgrim’s Progress is more map than story. It’s the guidebook left behind by countless pilgrims who have traveled before us, and care too much for our sakes to leave us on the road by ourselves, wondering which way to go. The journey is ours, of course, and we must make it with our own two feet. With companions and guides we can make it all the way, even as we sometimes have to sheepishly double-back after taking the occasional wrong turn. But it does help to know what lies before us, so we may finish the journey where others did not. And one of the many lessons of the story is that it doesn’t always matter how fast we go, as long as we’re moving forward more or less. As Mr. Feeble-Mind (one of the weaker members of the party) explains to Mr. Great-Heart in Book 2, “This I have resolved on, to wit, to run when I can, to go when I cannot run, and to creep when I cannot go.”

Sometimes in the pilgrimage of faith all you can do is creep forward, inch by inch, step by step—not unlike our Lord on his final ascent to Calvary.

But progress is progress. For pilgrims like us, Christian, Christiana, Mr. Feeble-Mind and John Bunyan himself, even creeping counts.

MRH (May 19, 2019)