The first time I read PP (a few decades ago now) I was terrified by the portrayal of the man in the iron cage in the Interpreter's house, in particular the statement "God hath denied me repentance". I think the edition I was reading referenced Heb. 12:17 for that point, which sounded (in the AV) like Esau was not permitted to repent because of his sin. It was many years before I came to see that verse in a different - and I hope more accurate - light: that Esau could find no repentance, no change of mind, in his father, Isaac. (Actually, the ASV adds 'in his father' to that clause which I think is warranted). That this wasn't about his final state, that he had committed a sin from which there was no way back (I wrote a piece on my 'stack a few years ago that suggests seeing Esau in a different light, through the lens of the parable of the Prodigal son - https://thewaitingcountry.substack.com/p/written-off?utm_source=publication-search).
Actually, that section in PP makes a lot of the warnings in Hebrews where I think I would also disagree with Bunyan's (and others') interpretation. Hebrews has several warning passages, all drawn from OT examples, which seem to me to be written for the church community in its present communal life, not warnings regarding the eternal fate of individuals within the community. When in theological college training for ministry I was really helped by a paper on Hebrews 6 in a theological journal that suggested the background for that passage was Isaiah 5 and emphasised the communal and temporal aspect - I then traced that through the letter and found the idea essentially holds for all the warnings. Well, to my mind at least!
(Karen, my apologies for the length of this comment!)
Wow! That is a valuable, insightful, and helpful seminary class in a comment! Thank you for it, Richard. That was some hard won understanding and I’m glad you are here to share it. Thank you for linking to your writing on it.
It’s a good reminder that even the good Bunyan was reading in an interpretive community that had its own tendencies and practices that were not infallible. It is up to us to make the best of what his allegory and interpretation offer.
Thank you, Karen. Yes, definitely hard won! I'm thankful for the struggle, though, it's allowed me to feel with others who have been wrestling in their deep waters and, I hope, here and there to encourage them in/through those times. That point re our interpretative communities is really humbling isn't it - to remember that it applies as much to us as to others makes for far more charity in our judgements and interactions.
Richard, great insight about Esau and the passages in Hebrews. Esau was not faithful but Jacob, through many trials and pains, kept the covenant in mind. But Esau and Jacob reconcile and we find Esau no longer murderous but loving his bro. Close parallels with Judah--wants to murder Joseph, lives a wicked life, yet, ends up reconciled with Joseph and Jacob. Elder bros can be messed up. And parallel to Hebrews. Those who killed Jesus had the opportunity to repent and many did. Peter preaches "this Jesus you crucified God has made both Lord and Christ"... thousands from that crowd redeemed. The warnings in the book of Hebrews I think too are meant for those who continued to reject the Messiah in that day.
Richard, as I have mentioned, I and others think Bunyan suffered from religious scrupulousity, a form of OCD, as he describes such familiar symptoms in his autobiography. I too suffered - and still have occasional episodes - from the same symptoms.
When I was young, I didn't think that much about the man in the cage, but once my symptoms started he terrified me - but so did those passages in Hebrews, and of course, those passages in the Gospel on the unforgivable sin. Every account of someone who started out professing faith and wandered away was a fresh source of fear.
There is undoubtedly sternness to the non-conformist Christian culture of the 17 century. It was, after all, a dark and violent time. But what I see now in Pilgrim's Progress is how the interior of my mind has often looked.
Those symptoms can be so debilitating can't they - when I was younger I suffered with OCD for a couple of desperately hard and almost life-ending years. In God's mercy it was becoming a Christian that brought that episode to an end (I hesitate to use miracle language, for a variety of reasons, but it felt like that). But it leaves its scars and weaknesses, as I'm sure you can appreciate, Holly.
I really value the period of Christian history that Bunyan was part of but entirely agree aspects of it were far from helpful and can be rightly challenged. In particular, normalising the 'Slough of Despond' type experience as necessary for genuine conversion seem very unwise to me and not good Biblical theology.
I became a Christian as a very young child and grew up with Christian parents. So the testimonies of adult converts like Bunyan, with pre-conversion trials like the Slough of Despond, actually made me question if my conversion was real, especially during those times I thought I might be the man in the cage.
But I think that misunderstanding wasn't Bunyan's fault. He was writing an allegory of his own experience, which, to him, was full of all these terrible pitfalls. As he relates in his autobiography, when he confided anything of his inner struggles to other Christians he knew, they offered him very little comfort, even confirmed his idea that he was condemned. It was only through reading Luther's commentary on Galatians that he found hope that he wasn't alone in his struggles.
I too, found very little help for my adolescent struggles in my fundamentalist Christian environment. I was part of a legalistic homeschooling program that used Edward's 'Sinners in the Hands on an Angry God' and Finney's 'Break Up Your Fallow Ground' as reading exercises. Mental illness was viewed as spiritual failure. And Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress was the only recommended work of fiction, as novels were condemned. I was primed to view Bunyan's book, not as ths beautiful work of literature it is, written out of one man's own painful experience, but as a spiritual guide. So the man in the cage seemed real to me, not a symbol. It wasn't until I discovered Bunyan had the exact same fears I did that I realized he wasn't dictating how the Christian life should be, he was telling what it was like for him.
That is why I think we should go to the second part. Bunyan doubted his own salvation. He didn't doubt the salvation of his fellow believers. So Christiana's story is less distorted by the fears that plague part one.
That’s a great perspective on the second part and its importance. Thank you, Holly. I’m so glad you are here and can share such good insights drawn from some not-so-easy experiences.
I had never thought before that there was ‘a plain style ‘ but I’d course there is. Would Willa Cather have been influenced by the plain style of the puritan writings of the seventeenth century?
That’s a good question. The plain style existed in a context reacting sort of against the baroque style (which was more like Milton’s). Bunyan and other Puritans helped bring about the novel form which uses more ordinary prose across a range of styles. Meanwhile, both prose and poetry become more minimalist and sparer in the modernist period and that is where Cather enters in. I think it’s better to say that writing across the centuries grows increasingly spare (generally) from Milton to Eliot to Hemingway to now. Very generally.
Is anyone else hearing echoes of Dante's Divine Comedy? The long walk, the guide(s), sin and its consequences, the physicality and weight of human, earthly living, the hope of the glory to come?
Also, the dreaming man acts as the narrator, and as such he keeps the story moving forward. A very helpful writing technique, I think.
I wish I had you in university. My English literature teacher was obsessed with Pilgrim's Progress but it was the kind of obsession where the poor woman was so adept at it that she thought we were stupid.
It probably wasn’t as much her fault as I remember. I was a Southern Baptist Fundamentalist back then (already at a disadvantage to nuance) and it’s the nature of the education system that we couldn’t take the proper time for the full meaning of a text like the Pilgrims Progress to entirely dawn on us, and so we attempted to write what we thought she wanted to hear—I did not do well in that class. Her despair with us was likely deserved, though a little patience with us would have gone a long way. It was one of the last classes I took in university before running out of money and my spirit was already broken. God bless her, that college doesn’t even exist any more.
Oh wow. So much lies beneath the surface of that story. So many cultural and social points of convergence. I’m just really glad you are here to read this work and about it today. 🙏
The very first paper I wrote in seminary was on Psalm 1. Whenever I read that Psalm, I envision myself on a journey toward God, ending with me standing solid and firm in the truth of Jesus Christ. Reading these first few pages of PP gave me the same feeling. I worked at reading it plainly, to take it for what it is. The essence of it so far is really beautiful. It feels a lot like Psalm 1.
I think there are some potential pitfalls in this for people who grew up highly religious and have tried to "break free." Particularly activating in this section is the sense that "Evangelist" is like a moral guide. This may feel unwelcome for modern readers, as they may have memories of Evangelists coming to a church who provoked artificial responses or turned out to be bad people. Then the man in the cage, many of us who grew up with fundamentalist faith were made to feel like we were that man, that all our bad "sins" (not praying or reading the Bible enough, not obeying enough, wearing revealing clothing) made us into that man. But truly, "nothing can separate us from God's love." I believe that now.
I truly liked the image of sweeping the dust away. I understand this in a way that Bunyan may not have yet, or could not at the time. Who knows?
I was frustrated that "passion" was portrayed as a negative thing. However, it makes sense, given that this is from a Puritan perspective. I get what he was trying to convey, but as a passionate person who was often told to quiet that side, it's frustrating when it is spoken of like a vice.
Overall, though, when you read this plainly, try not to read into it too much, and simply take it for what it is, the message in its simple form is very tender.
Mel, your thoughts on this reading journey are so valuable and helpful. Thank you for reading and sharing your reflections with us. They really help me think through this work in some different ways.
I’ve just reread Karen‘s chapter on Pilgrim’s Progress in her book “On Reading Well.” The chapter is titled “Diligence” as PP teaches us about this virtue. It was a great refresher for me on PP as well as a wonderful complement to the weekly posts for this read and the comments.
Karin, there is so much to absorb in your most recent post. While you gave your own apology for covering so much ground as did Bunyan for publishing his little book, I’m so glad you did and look forward to the next post. I’m really enjoying our read together and all of the comments.
Apologies abound! 😄 Thank you for the encouragement. This week’s post will be a guest post that will delight and move. Can’t wait to share it with you! Thank you so much for joining in.
"Then was Christian glad and lightsome, and said, with a
merry heart, "He hath given me rest by his sorrow, and life by his
death." Then he stood still awhile to look and wonder; for it was
very surprising to him, that the sight of the cross should thus
ease him of his burden. He looked therefore, and looked again,
even till the springs that were in his head sent the waters down
his cheeks. [Zech. 12:10] Now, as he stood looking and weeping,
behold three Shining Ones came to him and saluted him with "Peace
be unto thee". So the first said to him, "Thy sins be forgiven
thee" [Mark 2:5]; the second stripped him of his rags, and clothed
him with change of raiment [Zech. 3:4]; the third also set a mark
on his forehead, and gave him a roll with a seal upon it, which he
bade him look on as he ran, and that he should give it in at the
Celestial Gate. [Eph. 1:13] So they went their way."
There are certain works in the Western canon of literature that cause us to wonder at their import. One such example is "Pilgrim's Progress." This work has had an effect on Anglo-American Christianity that has rendered it quite foreign to Lutherans.
Christian begins his journey not due to encountering Jesus’ promises, but due to dissatisfaction with his current state and his desire for paradise. Many people start their Christian journey in a state of dissatisfaction, but they eventually encounter Christ. Christian, however, must continually strive to achieve salvation by staying on the straight and narrow. This grates on the nerves of Lutherans, who find it insensitive to the spiritual welfare of others and self-righteous for one to believe that salvation can be earned and lost. This is what the roll represents.
One of the most telling episodes in "Pilgrim's Progress" occurs when Christian falls asleep at a pleasant arbor and loses his roll—the document representing his assurance of salvation. Upon waking and resuming his journey, he eventually realizes his roll is missing:
"But as he was about to lie down to sleep, he felt in his pocket for his roll, that he might read it, and take comfort; but he found it not. Now he began to be much perplexed, and knew not what to do... 'O unhappy man that I am, that I have slept in the daytime! that I have slept in the midst of difficulty! that I have done so, and yet have nigh lost my evidence of heaven!'"
Christian's response to this loss is telling—he weeps bitterly and condemns himself, fearing that without the roll, his entire pilgrimage may be in vain. He must retrace his steps, find the roll where he negligently left it, and only then can he continue toward salvation. This portrayal subtly suggests that salvation, once received, can be jeopardized or lost through moments of spiritual carelessness.
It is here that we should present four theological challenges to Bunyan's vision of lost salvation:
1. Sola Gratia, Sola Fide: Salvation as God's Unconditional Gift
Luther's insight was that salvation comes sola gratia (by grace alone) and sola fide (by faith alone). In his exposition of Romans, Luther emphasizes that righteousness before God is "passive righteousness"—not something achieved or maintained through human action, but received as a gift through faith in Christ's finished work.
This principle directly contradicts the implication in Christian's lost roll episode, where his salvation appears contingent on his ability to stay vigilant. Christian's fear that he has "nigh lost my evidence of heaven" through a moment of negligence suggests a conditional salvation dependent on human performance rather than God's unchanging grace.
Lutheran theology would insist that while Christian's assurance (the roll) might be temporarily misplaced, the underlying reality of his justification remains unaltered—resting solely on God's grace received through faith in Christ. The roll represents Christian's subjective experience of salvation, not the objective reality of God's saving act.
2. Assurance as Consequence, Not Prerequisite
In Luther's theology, assurance flows from faith; it is not a separate document that must be carefully preserved as a ticket to heaven. In his commentary on Galatians, Luther writes, "Faith... is a sure confidence of the heart, and a firm consent whereby Christ is apprehended." This apprehension of Christ through faith is the foundation; feelings of assurance are its fruit.
The allegory's portrayal of the roll as something that can be lost through negligence creates an artificial separation between salvation and assurance. Luther would argue that while believers may experience periods of doubt or spiritual dryness, these do not negate the reality of their justification. Christian's panic at losing his roll reveals an inadequate understanding of the unbreakable nature of God's promise to those who believe.
Put another way, faith is not an extrinsic totem which one misplaces; but rather the core of how they see the world. We have faith that the things in our life should work a particular way; if they don't, it doesn't mean we disbelieve them but rather that something is need of repair. Christian's faith is an extrinsic object and is not really Christian's at all but rather something he is holding onto. This may appeal to consumerist American thinking, but it doesn't seem to align with a Lutheran reading of the Bible.
3. Works and Vigilance as Fruits, Not Foundations
Perhaps most importantly, Luther insisted that good works—including spiritual vigilance—are the natural outgrowth of faith, not the means of maintaining salvation. In "The Freedom of a Christian," Luther famously declares, "Good works do not make a good man, but a good man does good works."
Perhaps no one in Christendom had a higher view of the law than Luther because unlike so many he was unwilling to accept the fact that his transgressions could be so easily dismissed. He was known for being hated at the monastery during public confessions as he would drone on and on about all the minor infractions he had committed. He didn't do this because he was a prude; but because he was able to look facts right in eye and realize that every sin was a separation from God. His private confessor, Johann von Staupitz, once grew so frustrated with Luther, that he said, "Stop bringing me these puppy dog sins!" Luther was only free of the Law when he accepted how radical grace was.
Christian's self-condemnation for his momentary lapse (falling asleep) suggests that his salvation depends on his perfect performance rather than God's perfect grace. A Lutheran reading would reinterpret Christian's distress and his renewed effort to find the roll not as necessary steps to regain salvation, but as evidence of a living faith responding to grace already received. In which case, the first act of contrition was enough for him to realized his salvation was already present with him. Though admittedly, this makes for less dynamic reading.
4. God's Faithfulness Over Human Failure
The lost roll episode places enormous weight on Christian's actions—both his failure (sleeping) and his corrective measures (retracing steps)—while minimizing God's unfailing faithfulness. Luther consistently redirected believers' focus away from their own spiritual accomplishments or failures and toward Christ's all-sufficient sacrifice.
This is the curious problem in contemporary Christianity where it seems as if we are confessing that Christ has freed us from self-justification only to place a new sort of self-justification upon our shoulders. As one Lutheran scholar said in talk I attended, "The goal of the devil in making us break the Law is not the transgression against the Law; but causing us to doubt the efficacy of the cross in covering our sins." Christian is utterly alone here. He is the one who messed up and he is the one who must save himself.
In Luther's theology, our salvation rests not on our grip on God, but on God's grip on us. As he wrote in his explanation of baptism in the Small Catechism, salvation depends on "God's word and promise," not on our perfect vigilance. Christian's fear that everything could be lost through a moment of weakness reflects an inadequate understanding of divine grace.
"Pilgrim's Progress" remains an important insight into the psyche of Anglo-American Christianity; but we would be well to ask if it has introduced, what Paul might dub, "another Gospel" into the hearts and minds of its audience. We should be wary of taking aim at such a noteworthy classic of English literature; but it is more of an artifact of culture than sound doctrine which reflects right theology. The episode of the lost roll particularly illuminates how easily Christians conflate the unchangeable gift of salvation with the variable experience of assurance.
Luther's emphasis on salvation as God's unconditional gift, received through faith alone, offers a necessary corrective to any interpretation that makes our journey contingent on perfect spiritual performance. The pilgrim's path is not about earning or maintaining salvation through vigilance but about living out the implications of a salvation already secured through Christ's perfect work.
As Luther himself declared in his 1535 Galatians commentary: "So we also teach that man must be found either under grace, having his sins forgiven, or under wrath, having his sins retained and laid to his charge. There is no middle ground between these two realms."
In this light, Christian never truly stood in danger of losing his salvation when he misplaced his roll—only of temporarily losing sight of the assurance of what was already his through faith in Christ. This Lutheran perspective liberates believers from the crushing burden of perfect performance and redirects them to rest in the finished work of Christ.
Philip, this is such a thorough and helpful elucidation of the theology in PP — and of the problems with it. Reading this, I come to think that what I find grating about PP is not so much the literary technique as the fruit of the doctrines in it as you describe here. This is so insightful and I will be chewing on it for a while.
My biggest concern is how the popular theology of literature or folk culture can at first become syncretistic and then supplant the doctrines of the church. One theme I haven't been able to fully explore is the way in which Pelagianism has influenced British theology.
I think there is some evidence of this debate in the early English novel at least in terms of how it plays out in “Methodist” vs “anti-Methodist” views seen in Samuel Richardson vs Henry Fielding. Not quite the same category but perhaps some overlap …
Thanks for the link to "I Dreamed a Dream." "Les Miserables" is the only play I ever saw on Broadway. My mother made it happen: I, my sisters, our mom, and both of her sisters! It was September 1987. My mom had studied it beforehand and took notes that would help us enjoy it more thoroughly. When I put those notes in her 80th birthday scrapbook, I called it "Eileen's Guide to Enjoying 'Les Miz'" -- what an unforgettable experience!
Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress remains powerful not merely because it allegorizes the spiritual journey, but because it incarnates it, pressing the abstract into flesh and mud, sweat and trembling. As your essay beautifully draws out, this is no bloodless vision of salvation. The plain style itself becomes a theological gesture... a kind of kenosis, making room for the Word to be heard in the cadence of common life. In this way, Bunyan echoes what I’ve been exploring over at Desert and Fire: that all true theology must become incarnate, or it ceases to be true. The gospel is not just an idea to be assented to, but also a burden to be shouldered, a slough to be crossed. And every dusty parlor, every fearsome hill, every soiled robe becomes not metaphor only - but site of divine encounter. Christ, after all, did not save us from the world, but through it.
It has been many years since I read Pilgrim's Progress, although I read it several times in my youth. I've mentioned how I am now seeing in it the interior world of someone with religious scrupulousity. But other things are striking me differently now too.
I used to think of the Interpreter as a preacher or Bible teacher, but on this reading, I see the instruction given is much more subtle than in a sermon or Bible lesson. I think the Interpreter is a symbol of the work of the Holy Spirit in the life of the believer. I also see some of the painful confounding of his symptoms, as Bunyan includes real spiritual lessons, like the parable of the dusty room, with ones created by his own fears, like the man in the cage.
I also notice how brief the good scenes are, and how long the dark ones are, another feature of living with unalleviated religious scrupulousity. That scene at the Cross and Sepulchre is so beautiful, and so short.
I read this the first time when I was in my 20's. It seemed silly. I read it again in my 50's after years of my own journey with Christ and began to glimpse it's truth. Now my friends, aquaintances, myself (Mr. Worldly Wise is in my own head at times) and the Holy Spirit meet me on every page.
The first time I read PP (a few decades ago now) I was terrified by the portrayal of the man in the iron cage in the Interpreter's house, in particular the statement "God hath denied me repentance". I think the edition I was reading referenced Heb. 12:17 for that point, which sounded (in the AV) like Esau was not permitted to repent because of his sin. It was many years before I came to see that verse in a different - and I hope more accurate - light: that Esau could find no repentance, no change of mind, in his father, Isaac. (Actually, the ASV adds 'in his father' to that clause which I think is warranted). That this wasn't about his final state, that he had committed a sin from which there was no way back (I wrote a piece on my 'stack a few years ago that suggests seeing Esau in a different light, through the lens of the parable of the Prodigal son - https://thewaitingcountry.substack.com/p/written-off?utm_source=publication-search).
Actually, that section in PP makes a lot of the warnings in Hebrews where I think I would also disagree with Bunyan's (and others') interpretation. Hebrews has several warning passages, all drawn from OT examples, which seem to me to be written for the church community in its present communal life, not warnings regarding the eternal fate of individuals within the community. When in theological college training for ministry I was really helped by a paper on Hebrews 6 in a theological journal that suggested the background for that passage was Isaiah 5 and emphasised the communal and temporal aspect - I then traced that through the letter and found the idea essentially holds for all the warnings. Well, to my mind at least!
(Karen, my apologies for the length of this comment!)
Wow! That is a valuable, insightful, and helpful seminary class in a comment! Thank you for it, Richard. That was some hard won understanding and I’m glad you are here to share it. Thank you for linking to your writing on it.
It’s a good reminder that even the good Bunyan was reading in an interpretive community that had its own tendencies and practices that were not infallible. It is up to us to make the best of what his allegory and interpretation offer.
Thank you, Karen. Yes, definitely hard won! I'm thankful for the struggle, though, it's allowed me to feel with others who have been wrestling in their deep waters and, I hope, here and there to encourage them in/through those times. That point re our interpretative communities is really humbling isn't it - to remember that it applies as much to us as to others makes for far more charity in our judgements and interactions.
Yes! Humility and charity do seem to go together.
Richard, great insight about Esau and the passages in Hebrews. Esau was not faithful but Jacob, through many trials and pains, kept the covenant in mind. But Esau and Jacob reconcile and we find Esau no longer murderous but loving his bro. Close parallels with Judah--wants to murder Joseph, lives a wicked life, yet, ends up reconciled with Joseph and Jacob. Elder bros can be messed up. And parallel to Hebrews. Those who killed Jesus had the opportunity to repent and many did. Peter preaches "this Jesus you crucified God has made both Lord and Christ"... thousands from that crowd redeemed. The warnings in the book of Hebrews I think too are meant for those who continued to reject the Messiah in that day.
"Elder bros can be messed up" but ultimately reconciled - love that, Jim!
I saw this on Facebook this morning:
The apostle Paul entered heaven hearing the cheers of those he martyred.
That’s how the gospel works.
Very powerful.
Richard, as I have mentioned, I and others think Bunyan suffered from religious scrupulousity, a form of OCD, as he describes such familiar symptoms in his autobiography. I too suffered - and still have occasional episodes - from the same symptoms.
When I was young, I didn't think that much about the man in the cage, but once my symptoms started he terrified me - but so did those passages in Hebrews, and of course, those passages in the Gospel on the unforgivable sin. Every account of someone who started out professing faith and wandered away was a fresh source of fear.
There is undoubtedly sternness to the non-conformist Christian culture of the 17 century. It was, after all, a dark and violent time. But what I see now in Pilgrim's Progress is how the interior of my mind has often looked.
Those symptoms can be so debilitating can't they - when I was younger I suffered with OCD for a couple of desperately hard and almost life-ending years. In God's mercy it was becoming a Christian that brought that episode to an end (I hesitate to use miracle language, for a variety of reasons, but it felt like that). But it leaves its scars and weaknesses, as I'm sure you can appreciate, Holly.
I really value the period of Christian history that Bunyan was part of but entirely agree aspects of it were far from helpful and can be rightly challenged. In particular, normalising the 'Slough of Despond' type experience as necessary for genuine conversion seem very unwise to me and not good Biblical theology.
This is why church history is so important. Many riches to glean and pitfalls to avoid.
I became a Christian as a very young child and grew up with Christian parents. So the testimonies of adult converts like Bunyan, with pre-conversion trials like the Slough of Despond, actually made me question if my conversion was real, especially during those times I thought I might be the man in the cage.
But I think that misunderstanding wasn't Bunyan's fault. He was writing an allegory of his own experience, which, to him, was full of all these terrible pitfalls. As he relates in his autobiography, when he confided anything of his inner struggles to other Christians he knew, they offered him very little comfort, even confirmed his idea that he was condemned. It was only through reading Luther's commentary on Galatians that he found hope that he wasn't alone in his struggles.
I too, found very little help for my adolescent struggles in my fundamentalist Christian environment. I was part of a legalistic homeschooling program that used Edward's 'Sinners in the Hands on an Angry God' and Finney's 'Break Up Your Fallow Ground' as reading exercises. Mental illness was viewed as spiritual failure. And Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress was the only recommended work of fiction, as novels were condemned. I was primed to view Bunyan's book, not as ths beautiful work of literature it is, written out of one man's own painful experience, but as a spiritual guide. So the man in the cage seemed real to me, not a symbol. It wasn't until I discovered Bunyan had the exact same fears I did that I realized he wasn't dictating how the Christian life should be, he was telling what it was like for him.
That is why I think we should go to the second part. Bunyan doubted his own salvation. He didn't doubt the salvation of his fellow believers. So Christiana's story is less distorted by the fears that plague part one.
That’s a great perspective on the second part and its importance. Thank you, Holly. I’m so glad you are here and can share such good insights drawn from some not-so-easy experiences.
That's such a helpful comment, thank you Holly.
I had never thought before that there was ‘a plain style ‘ but I’d course there is. Would Willa Cather have been influenced by the plain style of the puritan writings of the seventeenth century?
That’s a good question. The plain style existed in a context reacting sort of against the baroque style (which was more like Milton’s). Bunyan and other Puritans helped bring about the novel form which uses more ordinary prose across a range of styles. Meanwhile, both prose and poetry become more minimalist and sparer in the modernist period and that is where Cather enters in. I think it’s better to say that writing across the centuries grows increasingly spare (generally) from Milton to Eliot to Hemingway to now. Very generally.
Is anyone else hearing echoes of Dante's Divine Comedy? The long walk, the guide(s), sin and its consequences, the physicality and weight of human, earthly living, the hope of the glory to come?
Also, the dreaming man acts as the narrator, and as such he keeps the story moving forward. A very helpful writing technique, I think.
Yes! Both are dream visions so these similarities are striking as are the techniques.
Binging this series at the moment. Love it.
I wish I had you in university. My English literature teacher was obsessed with Pilgrim's Progress but it was the kind of obsession where the poor woman was so adept at it that she thought we were stupid.
Aw, I lament those sorts of teachers. I am so glad you are enjoying this series now! She likely prepared you for it! 🙂
It probably wasn’t as much her fault as I remember. I was a Southern Baptist Fundamentalist back then (already at a disadvantage to nuance) and it’s the nature of the education system that we couldn’t take the proper time for the full meaning of a text like the Pilgrims Progress to entirely dawn on us, and so we attempted to write what we thought she wanted to hear—I did not do well in that class. Her despair with us was likely deserved, though a little patience with us would have gone a long way. It was one of the last classes I took in university before running out of money and my spirit was already broken. God bless her, that college doesn’t even exist any more.
Oh wow. So much lies beneath the surface of that story. So many cultural and social points of convergence. I’m just really glad you are here to read this work and about it today. 🙏
Coming in rather late here, but hoping to catch up. The last few weeks of the semester were brutal
Glad to be back!
Welcome back! 😃
Thank you! I've missed it.
The very first paper I wrote in seminary was on Psalm 1. Whenever I read that Psalm, I envision myself on a journey toward God, ending with me standing solid and firm in the truth of Jesus Christ. Reading these first few pages of PP gave me the same feeling. I worked at reading it plainly, to take it for what it is. The essence of it so far is really beautiful. It feels a lot like Psalm 1.
I think there are some potential pitfalls in this for people who grew up highly religious and have tried to "break free." Particularly activating in this section is the sense that "Evangelist" is like a moral guide. This may feel unwelcome for modern readers, as they may have memories of Evangelists coming to a church who provoked artificial responses or turned out to be bad people. Then the man in the cage, many of us who grew up with fundamentalist faith were made to feel like we were that man, that all our bad "sins" (not praying or reading the Bible enough, not obeying enough, wearing revealing clothing) made us into that man. But truly, "nothing can separate us from God's love." I believe that now.
I truly liked the image of sweeping the dust away. I understand this in a way that Bunyan may not have yet, or could not at the time. Who knows?
I was frustrated that "passion" was portrayed as a negative thing. However, it makes sense, given that this is from a Puritan perspective. I get what he was trying to convey, but as a passionate person who was often told to quiet that side, it's frustrating when it is spoken of like a vice.
Overall, though, when you read this plainly, try not to read into it too much, and simply take it for what it is, the message in its simple form is very tender.
Mel, your thoughts on this reading journey are so valuable and helpful. Thank you for reading and sharing your reflections with us. They really help me think through this work in some different ways.
I’ve just reread Karen‘s chapter on Pilgrim’s Progress in her book “On Reading Well.” The chapter is titled “Diligence” as PP teaches us about this virtue. It was a great refresher for me on PP as well as a wonderful complement to the weekly posts for this read and the comments.
Oh, I’m glad that was a helpful refresher! Writing that chapter really helped me read the work more deeply than I ever had before.
*Karen!
Karin, there is so much to absorb in your most recent post. While you gave your own apology for covering so much ground as did Bunyan for publishing his little book, I’m so glad you did and look forward to the next post. I’m really enjoying our read together and all of the comments.
Apologies abound! 😄 Thank you for the encouragement. This week’s post will be a guest post that will delight and move. Can’t wait to share it with you! Thank you so much for joining in.
TRIGGER WARNING!
"Then was Christian glad and lightsome, and said, with a
merry heart, "He hath given me rest by his sorrow, and life by his
death." Then he stood still awhile to look and wonder; for it was
very surprising to him, that the sight of the cross should thus
ease him of his burden. He looked therefore, and looked again,
even till the springs that were in his head sent the waters down
his cheeks. [Zech. 12:10] Now, as he stood looking and weeping,
behold three Shining Ones came to him and saluted him with "Peace
be unto thee". So the first said to him, "Thy sins be forgiven
thee" [Mark 2:5]; the second stripped him of his rags, and clothed
him with change of raiment [Zech. 3:4]; the third also set a mark
on his forehead, and gave him a roll with a seal upon it, which he
bade him look on as he ran, and that he should give it in at the
Celestial Gate. [Eph. 1:13] So they went their way."
There are certain works in the Western canon of literature that cause us to wonder at their import. One such example is "Pilgrim's Progress." This work has had an effect on Anglo-American Christianity that has rendered it quite foreign to Lutherans.
Christian begins his journey not due to encountering Jesus’ promises, but due to dissatisfaction with his current state and his desire for paradise. Many people start their Christian journey in a state of dissatisfaction, but they eventually encounter Christ. Christian, however, must continually strive to achieve salvation by staying on the straight and narrow. This grates on the nerves of Lutherans, who find it insensitive to the spiritual welfare of others and self-righteous for one to believe that salvation can be earned and lost. This is what the roll represents.
One of the most telling episodes in "Pilgrim's Progress" occurs when Christian falls asleep at a pleasant arbor and loses his roll—the document representing his assurance of salvation. Upon waking and resuming his journey, he eventually realizes his roll is missing:
"But as he was about to lie down to sleep, he felt in his pocket for his roll, that he might read it, and take comfort; but he found it not. Now he began to be much perplexed, and knew not what to do... 'O unhappy man that I am, that I have slept in the daytime! that I have slept in the midst of difficulty! that I have done so, and yet have nigh lost my evidence of heaven!'"
Christian's response to this loss is telling—he weeps bitterly and condemns himself, fearing that without the roll, his entire pilgrimage may be in vain. He must retrace his steps, find the roll where he negligently left it, and only then can he continue toward salvation. This portrayal subtly suggests that salvation, once received, can be jeopardized or lost through moments of spiritual carelessness.
It is here that we should present four theological challenges to Bunyan's vision of lost salvation:
1. Sola Gratia, Sola Fide: Salvation as God's Unconditional Gift
Luther's insight was that salvation comes sola gratia (by grace alone) and sola fide (by faith alone). In his exposition of Romans, Luther emphasizes that righteousness before God is "passive righteousness"—not something achieved or maintained through human action, but received as a gift through faith in Christ's finished work.
This principle directly contradicts the implication in Christian's lost roll episode, where his salvation appears contingent on his ability to stay vigilant. Christian's fear that he has "nigh lost my evidence of heaven" through a moment of negligence suggests a conditional salvation dependent on human performance rather than God's unchanging grace.
Lutheran theology would insist that while Christian's assurance (the roll) might be temporarily misplaced, the underlying reality of his justification remains unaltered—resting solely on God's grace received through faith in Christ. The roll represents Christian's subjective experience of salvation, not the objective reality of God's saving act.
2. Assurance as Consequence, Not Prerequisite
In Luther's theology, assurance flows from faith; it is not a separate document that must be carefully preserved as a ticket to heaven. In his commentary on Galatians, Luther writes, "Faith... is a sure confidence of the heart, and a firm consent whereby Christ is apprehended." This apprehension of Christ through faith is the foundation; feelings of assurance are its fruit.
The allegory's portrayal of the roll as something that can be lost through negligence creates an artificial separation between salvation and assurance. Luther would argue that while believers may experience periods of doubt or spiritual dryness, these do not negate the reality of their justification. Christian's panic at losing his roll reveals an inadequate understanding of the unbreakable nature of God's promise to those who believe.
Put another way, faith is not an extrinsic totem which one misplaces; but rather the core of how they see the world. We have faith that the things in our life should work a particular way; if they don't, it doesn't mean we disbelieve them but rather that something is need of repair. Christian's faith is an extrinsic object and is not really Christian's at all but rather something he is holding onto. This may appeal to consumerist American thinking, but it doesn't seem to align with a Lutheran reading of the Bible.
3. Works and Vigilance as Fruits, Not Foundations
Perhaps most importantly, Luther insisted that good works—including spiritual vigilance—are the natural outgrowth of faith, not the means of maintaining salvation. In "The Freedom of a Christian," Luther famously declares, "Good works do not make a good man, but a good man does good works."
Perhaps no one in Christendom had a higher view of the law than Luther because unlike so many he was unwilling to accept the fact that his transgressions could be so easily dismissed. He was known for being hated at the monastery during public confessions as he would drone on and on about all the minor infractions he had committed. He didn't do this because he was a prude; but because he was able to look facts right in eye and realize that every sin was a separation from God. His private confessor, Johann von Staupitz, once grew so frustrated with Luther, that he said, "Stop bringing me these puppy dog sins!" Luther was only free of the Law when he accepted how radical grace was.
Christian's self-condemnation for his momentary lapse (falling asleep) suggests that his salvation depends on his perfect performance rather than God's perfect grace. A Lutheran reading would reinterpret Christian's distress and his renewed effort to find the roll not as necessary steps to regain salvation, but as evidence of a living faith responding to grace already received. In which case, the first act of contrition was enough for him to realized his salvation was already present with him. Though admittedly, this makes for less dynamic reading.
4. God's Faithfulness Over Human Failure
The lost roll episode places enormous weight on Christian's actions—both his failure (sleeping) and his corrective measures (retracing steps)—while minimizing God's unfailing faithfulness. Luther consistently redirected believers' focus away from their own spiritual accomplishments or failures and toward Christ's all-sufficient sacrifice.
This is the curious problem in contemporary Christianity where it seems as if we are confessing that Christ has freed us from self-justification only to place a new sort of self-justification upon our shoulders. As one Lutheran scholar said in talk I attended, "The goal of the devil in making us break the Law is not the transgression against the Law; but causing us to doubt the efficacy of the cross in covering our sins." Christian is utterly alone here. He is the one who messed up and he is the one who must save himself.
In Luther's theology, our salvation rests not on our grip on God, but on God's grip on us. As he wrote in his explanation of baptism in the Small Catechism, salvation depends on "God's word and promise," not on our perfect vigilance. Christian's fear that everything could be lost through a moment of weakness reflects an inadequate understanding of divine grace.
"Pilgrim's Progress" remains an important insight into the psyche of Anglo-American Christianity; but we would be well to ask if it has introduced, what Paul might dub, "another Gospel" into the hearts and minds of its audience. We should be wary of taking aim at such a noteworthy classic of English literature; but it is more of an artifact of culture than sound doctrine which reflects right theology. The episode of the lost roll particularly illuminates how easily Christians conflate the unchangeable gift of salvation with the variable experience of assurance.
Luther's emphasis on salvation as God's unconditional gift, received through faith alone, offers a necessary corrective to any interpretation that makes our journey contingent on perfect spiritual performance. The pilgrim's path is not about earning or maintaining salvation through vigilance but about living out the implications of a salvation already secured through Christ's perfect work.
As Luther himself declared in his 1535 Galatians commentary: "So we also teach that man must be found either under grace, having his sins forgiven, or under wrath, having his sins retained and laid to his charge. There is no middle ground between these two realms."
In this light, Christian never truly stood in danger of losing his salvation when he misplaced his roll—only of temporarily losing sight of the assurance of what was already his through faith in Christ. This Lutheran perspective liberates believers from the crushing burden of perfect performance and redirects them to rest in the finished work of Christ.
Philip, this is such a thorough and helpful elucidation of the theology in PP — and of the problems with it. Reading this, I come to think that what I find grating about PP is not so much the literary technique as the fruit of the doctrines in it as you describe here. This is so insightful and I will be chewing on it for a while.
My biggest concern is how the popular theology of literature or folk culture can at first become syncretistic and then supplant the doctrines of the church. One theme I haven't been able to fully explore is the way in which Pelagianism has influenced British theology.
I think there is some evidence of this debate in the early English novel at least in terms of how it plays out in “Methodist” vs “anti-Methodist” views seen in Samuel Richardson vs Henry Fielding. Not quite the same category but perhaps some overlap …
That sweeping scene in the Interpreter's House is going to get a mention in the thing I'm working on.
Oh, good!
Karen asked me to post the link to the video she referred to in footnote 3:
https://www.facebook.com/watch/?v=288872378808301
Thank you! I must have missed putting the link in the footnote and I’m traveling without my laptop!
Thanks for the link to "I Dreamed a Dream." "Les Miserables" is the only play I ever saw on Broadway. My mother made it happen: I, my sisters, our mom, and both of her sisters! It was September 1987. My mom had studied it beforehand and took notes that would help us enjoy it more thoroughly. When I put those notes in her 80th birthday scrapbook, I called it "Eileen's Guide to Enjoying 'Les Miz'" -- what an unforgettable experience!
I saw it on Broadway too and it was the experience of a lifetime!
Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress remains powerful not merely because it allegorizes the spiritual journey, but because it incarnates it, pressing the abstract into flesh and mud, sweat and trembling. As your essay beautifully draws out, this is no bloodless vision of salvation. The plain style itself becomes a theological gesture... a kind of kenosis, making room for the Word to be heard in the cadence of common life. In this way, Bunyan echoes what I’ve been exploring over at Desert and Fire: that all true theology must become incarnate, or it ceases to be true. The gospel is not just an idea to be assented to, but also a burden to be shouldered, a slough to be crossed. And every dusty parlor, every fearsome hill, every soiled robe becomes not metaphor only - but site of divine encounter. Christ, after all, did not save us from the world, but through it.
It has been many years since I read Pilgrim's Progress, although I read it several times in my youth. I've mentioned how I am now seeing in it the interior world of someone with religious scrupulousity. But other things are striking me differently now too.
I used to think of the Interpreter as a preacher or Bible teacher, but on this reading, I see the instruction given is much more subtle than in a sermon or Bible lesson. I think the Interpreter is a symbol of the work of the Holy Spirit in the life of the believer. I also see some of the painful confounding of his symptoms, as Bunyan includes real spiritual lessons, like the parable of the dusty room, with ones created by his own fears, like the man in the cage.
I also notice how brief the good scenes are, and how long the dark ones are, another feature of living with unalleviated religious scrupulousity. That scene at the Cross and Sepulchre is so beautiful, and so short.
I read this the first time when I was in my 20's. It seemed silly. I read it again in my 50's after years of my own journey with Christ and began to glimpse it's truth. Now my friends, aquaintances, myself (Mr. Worldly Wise is in my own head at times) and the Holy Spirit meet me on every page.