A Matter Of Days (Resolving A Creation Controversy) Order Printed Copy
- Author: Hugh Ross
- Size: 5.13MB | 236 pages
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About the Book
"A Matter of Days" by Hugh Ross is a book that explores the creation controversy from a scientific and biblical perspective. Ross argues that the days of creation are not necessarily 24-hour periods, but could be longer periods of time based on the interpretation of the Hebrew text. He addresses common questions and challenges surrounding this issue, ultimately advocating for a harmonious view of science and faith.
John Bunyan
"I saw a man clothed with rags … a book in his hand and a great burden upon his back."
Successful English writers were, in John Bunyan's day, nearly synonymous with wealth. Men like Richard Baxter and John Milton could afford to write because they didn't need to earn a living. But Bunyan, a traveling tinker like his father, was nearly penniless before becoming England's most famous author. His wife was also destitute, bringing only two Puritan books as a dowry.
"We came together as poor as poor might be," Bunyan wrote, "not having so much household-stuff as a dish or spoon betwixt us both."
What allowed Bunyan to become the bestselling author of one of the most beloved books in the English language was when things actually got worse: an imprisonment of 12 years.
Early temptations
>Born in Elstow, Bedfordshire, Bunyan married at age 21. Those books his wife brought to the marriage began a process of conversion. Gradually, he gave up recreations like dancing, bell ringing, and sports; he began attending church and fought off temptations. "One morning as I did lie in bed," he wrote in his autobiography, "I was, as at other times, most fiercely assaulted with this temptation, to sell and part with Christ; the wicked suggestion still running in my mind, Sell him, sell him, sell him, sell him, sell him, as fast as a man could speak."
Bunyan was drawn to the Christian fellowship he saw among "three or four poor women sitting at a door ... talking abut the things of God." He was also befriended by John Gifford, minister at a Separatist church in Bedford.
The tinker joined the church and within four years was drawing crowds "from all parts" as a lay minister. "I went myself in chains to preach to them in chains," he said, "and carried that fire in my own conscience that I persuaded them to beware of."
Prison: a mixed blessing
>Bunyan's rise as a popular preacher coincided with the Restoration of Charles II. The freedom of worship Separatists had enjoyed for 20 years was quickly ended; those not conforming with the Church of England would be arrested. By January 1661, Bunyan sat imprisoned in the county jail.
The worst punishment, for Bunyan, was being separated from his second wife (his first had died in 1658) and four children. "The parting ... hath oft been to me in this place as the pulling the flesh from my bones," he wrote. He tried to support his family making "many hundred gross of long tagg'd [shoe] laces" while imprisoned, but he mainly depended on "the charity of good people" for their well-being.
Bunyan could have freed himself by promising not to preach but refused. He told local magistrates he would rather remain in prison until moss grew on his eyelids than fail to do what God commanded.
Still, the imprisonment wasn't as bad as some have imagined. He was permitted visitors, spent some nights at home, and even traveled once to London. The jailer allowed him occasionally to preach to "unlawful assemblies" gathered in secret. More importantly, the imprisonment gave him the incentive and opportunity to write. He penned at least nine books between 1660 and 1672 (he wrote three others—two against Quakers and the other an expository work—before his arrest).
Profitable Mediations, Christian Behavior (a manual on good relationships), and The Holy City (an interpretation of Revelation) were followed by Grace Abounding to the Chief of Sinners, considered the greatest Puritan autobiography. But from 1667 to 1672, Bunyan probably spent most of his time on his greatest legacy, The Pilgrim's Progress.
Pilgrim's success
>Charles II eventually relented in 1672, issuing the Declaration of Indulgence. Bunyan was freed, licensed as a Congregational minister, and called to be pastor of the Bedford church. When persecution was renewed, Bunyan was again imprisoned for six months. After his second release, Pilgrim's Progress was published.
"I saw a man clothed with rags ... a book in his hand and a great burden upon his back." So begins the allegorical tale that describes Bunyan's own conversion process. Pilgrim, like Bunyan, is a tinker. He wanders from the City of Destruction to the Celestial City, a pilgrimage made difficult by the burden of sin (an anvil on his back), the Slough of Despond, Vanity Fair, and other such allegorical waystations.
The book was instantly popular with every social class. His first editor, Charles Doe, noted that 100,000 copies were already in print by 1692. Samuel Taylor Coleridge called it, "the best Summa Theologicae Evangelicae ever produced by a writer not miraculously inspired." Every English household that owned a Bible also owned the famous allegory. Eventually, it became the bestselling book (apart from the Bible) in publishing history.
The book brought Bunyan great fame, and though he continued to pastor the Bedford church, he also regularly preached in London. He continued to write. The Life and Death of Mr. Badman (1680) has been called the first English novel (since it is less of an allegory than Pilgrim's Progress), and was followed by another allegory, The Holy War. He also published several doctrinal and controversial works, a book of verse, and a children's book.
By age 59 Bunyan was one of England's most famous writers. He carried out his pastoring duties and was nicknamed "Bishop Bunyan." In August 1688, he rode through heavy rain to reconcile a father and son, became ill, and died.
the bride satan loves to insult
My Dear Globdrop, I’ve had the misfortune of receiving the protestation you called a letter. My favorite line was when you asked how we  (your superiors) could expect you  (a mere afterthought) to damn souls with all those bombs exploding night and day outside your barracks? You assume Glubgore and our Cannon Battalion are engaged in endless target practice. This, your great error, is somewhat understandable. Headquarters may have, I admit, exaggerated our current position in the war. They did not want to unsettle morale, you see, and thus their reports these past centuries make it perhaps unthinkable that the unpleasant tremor at our gates could be, in reality, the Enemy’s troops firing upon us. But so it is. The humans, though mostly harmless, can make a great deal of noise. They press at the door; their cannons knock. Now, you mustn’t lose your nerve, nephew. I remember my initial discomfort when Screwtape allowed me my first gaze over the wall, writing, “we see her spread out through all time and space and rooted in eternity, terrible as an army with banners .” “That,” Screwtape confessed, “is a spectacle which makes our boldest tempters uneasy .” Although you might assume that we stand in a defensive  position, two thousand years have passed, nephew, and our flag still flies firmly overhead. And firm overhead it shall always fly. The Enemy shall not advance; noise is all we need fear. Why? Screwtape alluded to one of the main reasons in his very next sentence: “But fortunately it is quite invisible  to these humans.” They cannot see themselves as we do. Where might we be if they did? The Church (Invisible) When the humans look about them in the pews, what do they see? Do they see what we see: handfuls of saints dressed in their Enemy’s blinding armor — golden helmets, shields, and swords — a horror which makes even our boldest tempters tense? When they gather, what do they hear? You complain of all the blasts and screams of warfare — but do they? Do they hear that cloud of witnesses behind them, the living saints beside them, their dreadful Commander before them urging them onwards? May it never be! They mean to take up that barren banner, The Church Triumphant , but we must show them other, more accurate, slogans. The Church Insignificant Even their best soldiers can be deceived into looking at his clumsy comrades with unimpressed glances. As he looks about the congregation at our bitterest foes, show him the Arnett family sneaking into church late (once again); let him catch a whiff of silly Mr. Jones who always smells of his cats; amplify the joyful noise  of always-out-of-tune Mrs. Johnson upon him; extinguish any belief that he could possibly be in the presence of anything grand. Wonder loud enough for him to overhear: How could this  group possibly be a threat to all that is wrong with the world? The Enemy, in his matchless arrogance, helps us on this point by choosing mostly the weak, lowly, despised of the world. He wages his warfare with the ducks and squirrels, leaving us the lions and bears. By fighting with these blunt spoons, of course, he means to make fools of us. The Church Impotent Periodically, place upon your man’s mind doubt as to how these people’s bumbling prayers, their simple faith, their small acts of love, and ordinary obedience — spurred on somehow by something like that  man’s preaching — could really make any difference at all in the world. Ask him how could this ragtag assembly of misfit toys really be the grand temple of the Spirit of the living God? Is this really God’s great response to evil? Old widow Ortiz cannot even see the words in her Bible anymore — should she  have anything to do with our  undoing? Highlight all the real  (worldly) movements for change happening outside the narrow confines of the so-called “buttress of truth.” Enflame the itch to bring about real  change, and allow him to recognize the impotence of the church to engage in anything of real  importance. Make him clamor to combat the earthly darkness with more of the same, never the cosmic powers behind it. The Church Dying Next, you must show the church severely wounded. Show her dying out. Of course, to our shame, she has been “dying” now for centuries, and yet never “dead.” The humans, unversed in history, do not consider how vexing this has been to us. The more we have mauled her in the Roman Coliseum, or burned her to light the streets, or cut off heads on foreign beaches, the larger she grew. When we persecute her most violently, our gates begin to shake most forcefully. She is never fiercer, we almost discovered too late, than when covered in her own blood. We contend with a warrior, nephew, who gains more arms, ears, and eyes with each swipe at her. Even when the age of our persecution is bloodiest, she seems the healthier for it in the end. Who is this that grows stronger when wounded? The humans must never know. The Church Hideous Make it sport — especially among the most spiritual — to insult the church. Call her a whore in as many ways as you can devise. The Enemy, as pointless as it was, claims to have given himself up for her to dress her in the finest clothes and beautify her completely. He claims her as his family , his own body, his bride, and boasts to have “filled her with his Spirit,” “reformed her ways of life,” and “made her precious to him” (all Enemy propaganda, of course). We cannot allow these lies to take hold. Don’t let them think well of her. The church, with all her reported crusades, abuses, divorces, racism, pornography, adultery, and deformity (this among the “professed” church, of course) is to be apologized for profusely. Suggest, and this constantly, that there is not an actual  difference from those who belong to the Enemy and those who belong to us. Don’t let them see that sickening splendor, that horrid stateliness, that perverse potency, that actual transformation in them that has stood despite all our missiles throughout the ages. Play the Devil Globdrop, though this army has proven an inconvenience for us, though it may appear we fight with our backs temporarily against the wall, to guarantee our campaign, we must keep their blood from stirring at a sight of themselves as eternity sees them. Veil who they are and the effect of what they accomplish while continuing to unveil the oddities, the annoyances, the awful mundaneness of the day-to-day and the week-to-week. Assure your man that this mission is small, the stakes smaller, and those with him the smallest of all — hardly anything to take too seriously. Nothing of value transpires during their prayers, their sermons, their evangelism, their gatherings — at least, nothing to outweigh the afternoon sports game. Your Concerned Uncle, Grimgod