The life and writings of the eminent John Bunyan still continue to be of absorbing interest to many, though it is almost 300 years since the first of his volumes left the printing press.
In “Grace Abounding”, the remarkable record of his own deep spiritual experience, he often refers to “holy Mr Gifford” as one who had manifestly a great influence on him. When he first visited him, being under deep soul concern at the time, little did he realise that he was meeting one who also himself had “walked according to the course of this world” as Bunyan had, both men being destined to show wondrously in their lives the truth that “where sin abounded, grace did much more abound”. (Romans 5: 20).
John Gifford was born in Kent, and evidently received a liberal education. During the civil war in England between Crown and Parliament in the time of Cromwell, Gifford fought on the King’s side with the rank of major at Maidstone, was taken prisoner, and condemned to the gallows by Fairfax, the Parliamentary General. Cast into the town gaol, he awaited his doom. “But, ye night before he was to dye,” says a contemporary record, “Gifford’s sister found the sentinels asleep, and her brother’s fellow-prisoners too drunk to comprehend.”
So she stealthily led her brother out into the open, and to freedom. For three days Gifford lay hid in a ditch, with only water to live on. However, he made his escape from a felon’s death, as, later, he was destined to escape from “the wrath to come”. He subsequently went to live at Bedford, where he established himself as an apothecary, the only profession which an ex-officer in those days might enter.
He had ever been, and continued to be, an evil liver. “Reckless and profligate, a great drinker and gambler, and oaths came from his lips with habitual profaneness,” says Robert Southey.
He seems to have hated the Puritans, and had actually thoughts of slaying one of them, Anthony Harrington, for no other reason than that he was one of their leaders in Bedford.
Frenzy over a heavy gambling loss dared Gifford to “utter words against God, and to foster dark thoughts”. He was at his worst when a book by a Puritan writer, Robert Bolton (1572-1631), Fellow of Brasenose College, Oxford, came into his hands, on the “Foure last things, Death, Judgment, Hell and Heaven”.
As Gifford ponders over the life and very features of Bolton, and even more as he proceeds with the subject matter of the book (for does not the learned scholar of Brasenose College tell of death, of judgment and hell?) his pulse quickens; and how such words as Bolton’s speak to the brain inflamed profligate as he reads!
“Consider, that to dye, is but to be done once, and if we erre in that one action, we are undone everlastingly. And therefore have thine end ever in thine eie — that thou maist look upon thy last bed to be full sorely, terribly assaulted by the King of feare . . . by the fearfull sight of all thy former sinnes . . . and the very powder-plot of the Prince of Hell . . . Consider that thou must presently passe to an impartiall strict; the highest and last tribunal, which can never be appealed from, or repealed; for every thought of thine heart, every word of thy mouth, every glance of thine eye, every moment of thy time . . .”
Enough! Gifford remembered that he himself had barely escaped from the penalty of man’s law, through the intervention of a sister’s love; he also remembered that, in his profession, he had often tended the dying — has he not ALSO attempted to “make havoc of the church, breathing out threatenings against the disciples of the LORD”, and especially poor Anthony Harrington? But he reads on, “Consider the privation of God’s glorious presence, and eternal separation from those everlasting joys”. The book falls from his hands; it was as if the solemn words, “Thou art the man” had sounded in his ears—he falls on his knees, a guilty hell-deserving sinner, his cry now like the Philippian gaoler, “What must I do to be saved?” When his tears cease, John Gifford again picks up the volume, and now, with a quickened interest, he reads on: “Oh, then, having yet a price in thine hand to get wisdom, to go to heaven, lay it out with all holy eagerness, while it is called today, for the spirituall and eternall good of thy soul . . . Heaven, the place which God and all His blessed ones inhabit eternally — where we shall see Him face to face.”
This was the turning-point in Gifford’s life. Subsequently, when he went to tell the good news to the Puritans of Bedford, whom hitherto he had so grievously persecuted, “they were all afraid of him, and believed not that he was a disciple.” However, he persisted in joining them at worship, and eventually gained their confidence.
John Gifford was heard at first in a private way, and then publicly. He exercised a remarkable ministry. The hand of the Lord was upon him. Himself and those with him made diligent search of the scriptures and gave themselves to prayer. This exercise of faith in seeking guidance led to the foundation of a gospel church in Bedford, in the year 1650, John Gifford being appointed pastor; he accepted the charge, gave himself to the Lord, and to His people, to walk with, and watch over them, in HIM.
Bunyan’s deep soul conflict is well-known to all who are familiar with “Grace Abounding”. Suffice to say, that under the Lord’s hand, Gifford’s influence, in private conferences and in public preaching, proved a great blessing to the tinker. Once, in particular, Gifford preached on the words in the Song of Solomon, “Behold, thou art fair, my love, behold thou art fair”, bringing out these conclusions: (1) That the Church, and so every saved soul, is Christ’s love, when loveless; (2) Christ’s love, without a cause; (3) Christ’s love, when hated by the world, is Christ’s love, when under temptation and desertion; (4) Christ’s love, from first to last.
John Gifford was not the man to lead his people into a false peace by unsound doctrine. He bade them not take the opinion of man, but to seek by earnest prayer, the illumination of God’s Holy Spirit upon His word, “because,” said Mr Gifford, “if you have done otherwise, you will find that, when you are strongly tempted, the strength to resist which you expected to find within you is lacking.”
His ministry was destined to be short. In September 1655, after showing signs of failing health previously, his condition worsened, and his beloved flock, though offering many prayers on his behalf, resigned themselves to what was manifestly the will of the Lord. He was about to call His servant home. The dying man, wondrously, was able to dictate a last epistle, which for many years after was read to the congregation each New Year’s day. The following were some of his statements:—
“Every one of you are as much bound to walk with the Church in all love, and the ordinances of Jesus Christ our Lord, as when I was with you.”
“Union with Christ is the foundation of all saints’ communion.”
“When you are met as a Church there’s neither rich nor poor, bond or free, in Christ Jesus.”
“Spend much time before the Lord about choosing a pastor.”
“Let the promises made to be accomplished in the latter days be often urged before the Lord in your coming together.”
“Forget not your brethren in bonds.”
“Finally, brethren, be all of one mind, walk in love one to another, as Christ Jesus hath loved you.”
Then Gifford raises his hands in benediction, and those around his bed bow their heads as he whispers:—
“Now the God of peace, who raised up our Lord Jesus Christ from the dead, multiply His peace upon you, and preserve you to His heavenly kingdom, by Jesus Christ.”
Then in a stronger voice he says: “Stand fast, the Lord is at hand.” One thing more remains to be done, he must sign the document, which he does — though quiveringly — the name beloved by them all, JOHN GIFFORD — then he draws a long deep breath, his head sinks back on the pillow, and “holy Mr Gifford” has gone to his rest.
His remains were laid to rest in St. John’s Churchyard by his sorrowing flock. His life, since the day he surrendered himself to God, was such as befitted one called into the service of his Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, and was enabled, by grace, to keep his garments clean.
“Mark thou the perfect, and behold,
The man of uprightness.
Because that surely of that man,
The latter end is peace.”
No record (for was he not an Intruder?) tells of John Gifford’s ministry at St. John’s, and no mark denotes his place of burial. He had “gone to be with Christ, which is far better.”
Note: This account was taken from “Life of John Bunyan” (by Frank M. Harrison) by H.S., Edinburgh.