Floods of Blasphemies

“And the Lord said, Simon, Simon, behold, Satan hath desired to have you, that he may sift you as wheat: But I have prayed for thee, that thy faith fail not: and when thou art converted, strengthen thy brethren.” — Luke 22:31-32 (KJV)

A week or two later, a Bible verse began to follow Bunyan around: “Simon, Simon, behold, Satan hath desired to have you.” Once it sounded so loudly that he turned his head, sure someone half a mile behind him was calling his name. Looking back, he believed it was a warning that a storm was coming.

It came about a month later, and he says it “handled me twenty times worse than all I had met with before.” First his comfort went. Then darkness. Then “whole floods of blasphemies, both against God, Christ, and the Scriptures, were poured upon my spirit.” Was there really a God? Was the Bible just a clever story? Muslims had their scriptures too; “how if all our faith, and Christ, and Scriptures, should be but a think-so too?” Thoughts like these filled his mind from morning to night.

Then it got worse. Whenever he heard people talk about the sin against the Holy Spirit, which Jesus says will never be forgiven, he felt a terrible pull to commit it, as if his mouth would say the words whether he wanted to or not. “Often I have been ready to clap my hand under my chin, to hold my mouth from opening.” At times he even thought of throwing himself head first into a hole in a dung heap, just to stop his mouth speaking. When he tried to pray, his mind would flash pictures at him, “a bush, a bull, a besom” (a broom), as if he should pray to those instead. He could hardly cry. He thought he was possessed, or going mad, and he was sure that nobody who loved God could ever have thoughts like his.

But in the middle of it all he noticed one thing. “Only by the distaste that they gave unto my spirit, I felt there was something in me that refused to embrace them.” The thoughts horrified him. He hated them. That hatred was the real Bunyan.

This lasted about a year. Then, slowly, God brought him out. Walking in the country one day, he remembered that Christ “made peace through the blood of his cross,” and saw “that God and my soul were friends by this blood.” Pastor Gifford taught him not to take any truth second-hand but to ask God to make it real to him from the Bible. And he found an old book, Martin Luther's commentary on Galatians, so old it was falling apart, and it described his own experience “as if his book had been written out of my heart.”

Let's be really clear here, because this chapter may be about you. Many people, including many sincere Christians, get sudden, unwanted, horrible thoughts that pop up out of nowhere, often about the very things they care about most: God, the people they love, their own safety. It is very common. Some modern writers have wondered whether Bunyan had what doctors now call OCD; no one can diagnose a man who died in 1688, but his description will sound familiar to many people today. Here is what Bunyan found, and what doctors would tell you too: a thought you hate is not a thought you chose. It is not who you are. Fighting it harder usually makes it louder, and hiding it makes it heavier. Bunyan felt completely alone; you don't have to be. Talk to a pastor, and also to a doctor or counsellor, because people who understand this can genuinely help. And if thoughts of hurting yourself ever come with them, tell a safe person straight away: a parent, a pastor, a teacher, a doctor, or a crisis line where you live.

One thing to do this week: if you have been carrying thoughts like Bunyan's, tell one safe adult this week, a parent, pastor, teacher, doctor or counsellor. You don't have to say the thoughts out loud in detail; “I keep getting horrible thoughts I don't want” is enough to start. If that's not you, pray for someone who might be fighting this silently.