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About the Book
"A Stone For A Pillow" is a spiritual memoir by Madeleine L'Engle that explores her journey through faith, doubt, and personal growth. L'Engle reflects on her experiences with God and the challenges she faced in life, offering insights on prayer, love, and finding purpose in the midst of uncertainty. This book offers a candid and intimate look at L'Engle's spiritual beliefs and the ways in which her faith shaped her identity and relationships.
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.
What Is Life’s Ultimate Good
Dear Dan, I agree; any view that has God as the foundation of morality — like the Christian view I described in my last letter — will have further, serious issues to address. In fact, your two objections get at the most central ones. Let me respond to both. What Makes God’s Laws Good? Your first objection has a great pedigree and can be traced all the way back to Plato. Namely, what makes God’s moral laws — his moral values — good? Does he like these laws because they are good? Or are they good because he likes them? Either way seems to spell trouble for Christianity. Take the first option. Are God’s laws good because they meet some separate standard of good, one “outside” of God? If so, God has to defer to — is beholden to — some higher authority. And that’s impossible, according to Christianity. But the alternative seems just as bad. If God’s laws are good because he likes them, it makes morality seem arbitrary, dependent merely on his personal tastes or whims. After all, what if he had preferred things like murder, rape, and torture? Would these therefore be good? Do we really want to define “good” as “what God likes,” similar to the way “coolness” is just whatever the cool kids like? Wouldn’t this rob statements like “God is good” of all significance, reducing them to saying merely that “God is the way he is”? Again, neither choice looks very promising. So, which horn of the dilemma should the Christian choose? Goodness Is Godness I think the second option is the right one: God’s laws are good because he likes them. That is, anything that God likes or values is good by definition. Goodness just is Godness. So then, is the phrase “God is good” nothing but an empty tautology, saying no more than “God is God”? “Anything that God likes or values is good by definition. Goodness just is Godness.” Well, no. In this specific context, where we’re defining “good,” “God is good” tells us something informative — namely, that God’s values are what make things morally good. But in most other contexts, when we say, “God is good” we can generally take for granted which properties or characteristics go on the “good” list. In these ordinary cases, “God is good” expresses something different — for example, “Here’s what God is like: he hates lying, murder, stealing — things we all agree are bad.” But then, if goodness is defined as whatever God likes, doesn’t my view mean that murder and rape would have been good if God had liked them? In a sense, perhaps; at least their advocacy would have been included in his moral laws. But remember that we’re currently defining “good,” and I think some of the rhetorical force of the wouldn’t-rape-therefore-be-good objection comes from ignoring this context. After all, it seems that regardless of what we say ultimately “makes” something good, if that “good-maker” were different, good would be different. And in any case, the traditional Christian view of God holds that he couldn’t have liked these things, that it’s logically impossible for God to be different than he is, just as a square couldn’t fail to have four equal sides. It turns out, therefore, that things aren’t as nearly as bad as the objection initially implied. Why Follow God’s Moral Law? Then there’s your second objection: why should we follow God’s laws? Is it because, if we don’t, he’ll submit us to everlasting punishment? Should we follow God’s laws simply to avoid pain? Does it turn out, after all, that morality is merely a matter of might makes right? Well, I think Christians should acknowledge that avoiding pain and suffering is a good reason to follow God’s moral laws. Moreover, I concede that this would be a genuine problem — if this were the only reason for obeying God. And as I said, even this reason isn’t without its virtues. After all, if we think of God as a parent — which the Bible encourages us to do — it’s a perfectly good reason, morally as well as rationally. As children we often obeyed our parents, in part, to avoid discipline. In fact, this was the reason for discipline in the first place — to help motivate us to obey. But of course, our obedience wasn’t merely motivated by a fear of discipline. We also obeyed our parents because we loved and trusted them. We knew that their requirements were an integral part of their deep love and affection for us, that they gave us these rules to benefit us. Their laws were evidence of our parents’ love. This interweaving of love and law, this close relation between our love for our parents, their love for us, and their moral values (that is, their moral loves) usually resulted in us adopting their morals; their values naturally became our values. We liked these values. And it didn’t stop with moral values; we sometimes adopted our parents’ values about sports teams, movies, and music — again, sometimes simply because we loved them. So, according to my view, we ought to follow God’s laws because, ultimately, we want to — and the main reason we want to is that we love him. In this way, morality is ultimately personal and grounded in what we love. Meaning of Life The personal aspect of value isn’t limited to moral value; it’s a component of all value, including life’s ultimate value. What we might call life’s ultimate meaning or purpose is perhaps the most important topic of all. So, what is our ultimate value, meaning, purpose, or goal in life? Well, suppose you’re right that there’s no God. The meaning of life, then, would be like all value in a godless cosmos: subjective and relative. And because each person has his own values, there would be as many meanings of life as there are persons. In such a world, there would be no objective meaning that life has. But according to Christianity, humans have been made for something, for a purpose. Moreover, this purpose does not depend on us, and so, in this sense, it’s objective, human-independent. And because we were designed for a specific purpose, humans will only truly flourish and thrive by fulfilling this purpose. Fulfilling God’s purpose for us is life’s ultimate meaning. That doesn’t mean that, in a world without God, humans could not find some measure of meaning or value in things like family, work, art, gardening, or whatever. But unless these individual goods are put into the context of the much larger, overall purpose, they will never be as meaningful (to us) as they could be. Only by fulfilling this ultimate purpose is our meaning of life maximized. What Are Humans For? What is this larger context or purpose? What were we made for? We find a hint by noticing that, for many of us, relationships and community are what we most value, where we find our greatest fulfillment. We flourish best in community with people we love. And this fact is entirely in line with the Christian view that our ultimate purpose is to know and love the ultimate Person, God himself. Christianity is of one voice on this. As one famous confession says, our ultimate purpose “is to glorify God and enjoy him forever.” Indeed, God is a loving relationship, as odd as that sounds. The mysterious doctrine of the Trinity says that the Godhead is an intimate community of three (divine) persons. That’s what he is. (This is one reason why monistic religions can’t truly make sense of the view that God is love: Who was God loving before he created persons other than himself? Such a being couldn’t essentially be love; at best, he would need creatures in order to love.) “Our ultimate purpose is to know and love the ultimate Person, God himself.” Notice that the centrality of relationships is also evident when Jesus sums up all of God’s laws in just two: love God and love your neighbor. The moral law — and, not coincidentally, life’s ultimate meaning — is about relationships, both human and divine. God, then, created humans for his own purpose. Our purpose — the meaning of life — is also importantly objective, just as morality is: it is human-independent. Yet it’s obvious that we can and do reject God’s purpose for us. In fact, the gospel message — and the entire Bible — is predicated on such rejection. But God has given us another chance to truly flourish, to find ultimate meaning through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. He has made this possible at an immense cost to himself. Dan, I get why you would reject Christianity, viewing it as you do from the outside. I hope you’ll continue to consider all this and at least begin to sense that genuine atheism might be a lot different from your current “kinder, gentler” version. I also hope that in the process you’ll reconsider Christianity’s claims — in particular, Jesus’s offering of himself and the relationship you were made for. Article by Mitch Stokes