by Annie Wald
Peter whirled around. When he saw the club in her hand, he took out his to strike back. Celeste managed to block his first blow, but the second one grazed her arm.
In my dream, I feared for the worst. Fortunately, Celeste lost her grip on her club, and it dropped to the ground. At that, Peter put his club away too—but he refused to speak to Celeste for the rest of the day.
Their cords began to chafe their wrists, and the swamp became so spongy it could not support them both. Each thought it would be easier if they began to choose separate paths. Peter, with his long legs, could jump across a large tract of mud to reach a section of beach grass, while Celeste could walk on slender fallen logs that couldn’t support Peter’s weight. So they decided to go their own way for a while and meet up again.
Once Celeste tripped and landed in the muck. “Don’t you care about me?” she shouted to Peter. “I’ve fallen, and it’s all your fault. You’re going too fast for me.” Peter just kept on going and when Celeste came to a small island of firm ground, she decided to rest awhile.
Celeste watched Peter labor across the swamp until other travelers came to the island. Soon she was having so much fun talking and playing games, she didn’t miss Peter at all. Late in the afternoon, she finally looked to see how far he had gotten. In the distance she saw he had become stuck in the Quagmire of Self-Pity, but she stayed on the island. Why should she do anything nice for him after he had been so mean and uncaring to her? If he was so determined to go his own way, he could figure out how to get out of the quagmire himself. Besides, he had enough of his dull rations and his guidebook to keep him happy.
Although Peter hadn’t minded going off on his own through the swamp, when he got trapped in the quagmire, he felt hurt that Celeste didn’t come to help him. She had started the battle with their clubs, and now she didn’t care that he was stuck. He struggled to get out, but before long he felt so neglected that he let himself sink deeper and deeper until the gooey mud was past his knees.
He discovered the mud was soothing on his sore muscles, and rather than trying to fight his way out, he leaned against the edge of the quagmire and settled in for the night. The next day he decided that he liked the quagmire’s peace and quiet. He could get up as soon as the sun rose, go to bed early, and spend all the time he wanted reading the guidebook. No one ever interrupted him. He thought maybe he would just stay there.
Meanwhile, Celeste waited on the island for Peter. She didn’t mind the stalemate; she enjoyed talking with the travelers who passed by, and her wound from the snapping turtle began to heal. Then one day two travelers reached the island and collapsed in exhaustion from fighting their way through the swamp.
“What are we going to do?” the woman said. “We can’t go on like this.”
“We don’t have a choice,” her partner said.
“But don’t you remember?”
“Remember what?”
“Remember the gathering hut and the songs we sang and the vision of the King’s City?”
“Look around. There is nothing but swamp, so get used to it.”
Celeste went over to the man. “Don’t you care?” she said. “Your partner is hurting. Look at all her wounds.” She pointed to his wife, who was covered with leeches, dirt, and scratches. “If you really loved her, you would do whatever you could to get out of this swamp.”
“But what about me?”
“Did you decide to become partners just so she could care for you? You’re supposed to serve each other.”
“You’re one to talk,” the man said. “Your partner isn’t even with you. Where did he go?”
Celeste felt her cheeks turn hot. She was resting comfortably on the island while Peter was stuck in the Quagmire of Self-Pity.
She returned to her spot on the island and pondered what to do. It had been a long time since she had talked with the King or read her guidebook. She took it from the bottom of her pack and looked up a passage she had read when she began her journey. In it, the Servant said, “If any of you wants to be My follower, you must turn from your selfish ways, take up your cross daily, and follow Me. If you try to hang on to your life, you will lose it. But if you give up your life for My sake, you will save it.”
She had never considered how it applied to her partnership with Peter, but now she understood she needed to sacrifice her comfort on the island and go help Peter out of the mess he was in. She hesitated a moment, then she heard the King speak to her: “Do not worry, Celeste. You have been loved. Now it is your turn.”
“But how can I? It seems too hard.”
“You will need the same attitude the Servant had. He did not consider being King a privilege to hold on to. Instead, He gave it up and came to the world as a humble Servant to live a life of love. He was obedient even though He was put to death for something He didn’t do.”
“But He was really the King, and I’m just a traveler. I’m not strong enough.”
“I will be working in you as you go, helping you to want the same thing I want—and then helping you to do it,” the King said. “Truly, I will be with you always.”
The Breath of the King came and filled Celeste, giving her strength as she made her way through the swamp to Peter. She had to struggle mightily through the mud, and by the time she reached Peter she was completely dirty and wet, just like Peter in the quagmire.
She could hear him muttering in a pitiful voice, “Nobody loves me, everybody hates me, but who cares, who cares?”
“Peter,” Celeste said from the edge of the quagmire. “I’ve come to help you.”
But Peter paid no attention to her.
“Peter!” she shouted.
When Peter finally heard Celeste, he turned his face away from her.
She found an old branch and poked it toward him in the quagmire. “Peter, stop being so silly. Take hold of the branch.”
“It’s no use. You’re not strong enough.”
“We can do this together with the King’s strength. Now grab on.” Celeste dug in her heels, and once again the Breath of the King blew through her and gave her strength. She pulled and tugged, and tugged and pulled, until Peter was out of the muck. Then Celeste started to pull off all the leeches that had attached to him. It was a vile job, and several times she thought she would be sick. By the time she removed the last leech, she was worn out. Helping Peter escape his misery was the hardest thing she had ever done.
“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner,” she said. “Let’s stay together from now on. I promise I’ll go faster.”
But they were in the thickest, stickiest part of the swamp and their progress was slow. Though they cared for each other as best they could, they were always exhausted from their journey and they had no time to enjoy each other or drink from the chalice.
BENEATH THE BURDENS OF THEIR BAGS
Finally the ground grew firmer in places. They still had to make their way around quagmires, but they were able to pick up their pace. Then ahead of them, just past another quagmire, they saw a couple sitting on the ground, so weighed down by their heavy packs that they couldn’t continue.
“I wonder what the trouble is,” Celeste said. “The King’s gifts wouldn’t push them down like that.”
“They must not have learned one of the most important rules of the journey: travel light.”
“Can you help us get up?” the man called out.
“Why don’t you take some things out of your packs?” Peter asked.
“Why would we do that?”
“Because they’re weighing you down too much.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the man said. “Our bags are just fine.”
“You don’t see how your wife’s pack is so heavy, she can’t walk?”
“She’s had all those things ever since we set off. But for some reason our packs seem to have gotten heavier as we’ve journeyed.”
Celeste turned to the woman. “What exactly is in your pack?”
“Only some child
hood treasures,” the woman said, “and a few family heirlooms that have been passed down through the generations.”
“Why do you keep carrying them if they are so heavy?”
“They’re too precious to leave behind.”
“But you aren’t able to walk.”
“If we could just get to a firmer path I think we’d be fine.”
“Unless you get rid of these things that weigh you down,” Peter said, “you’ll never be able to go on.”
“When I decided to go to the King’s City, I left everything from my past behind,” the man said, though his pack was bulging. “It’s gone. Finished. Kaput.”
Peter took one of the man’s arms and Celeste took the other. Leaning back, they tried to pull the man up, but he wouldn’t budge. They had no more success in moving the woman.
“Some travelers told us there is a guide who might be able to help us up,” the woman said. “If you see him, can you tell him to come?”
Celeste and Peter promised they would and set off. But the couple called after them. “Wait, wait.”
“What is it?”
“You’re fine ones to talk about our packs,” the man said, “when you’re both carrying large ones yourselves.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Peter said.
The man chuckled. “That’s exactly what I said.”
Peter thought the man was joking. “Mine is very light. It never bothers me.”
A few days later, Peter and Celeste found the guide, Truth, sitting beside a large pile of junk.
“Hello, dear ones,” Truth said. “You’ve come to the right place with packs like yours.”
“No, you don’t understand,” Peter said. “We’re not the ones who need help. There’s a couple back there whose packs weigh so much, they can’t move at all.”
Truth shook his head. “You have been carrying many burdens, and you haven’t even known how they have weighed you down and made the hard paths even more difficult. I have seen many travelers with heavy packs like yours. Some can’t stop griping about how tough the journey is. But when I tell them I want to help them lighten their load, they refuse. ‘Oh no,’ they say, ‘the King suffered, and so I must suffer too. It is my cross to bear.’ They don’t understand that is not the kind of cross the King asked them to carry. He wants to give His travelers easy, light bags so they don’t feel weary and burdened as they go.”
He went to Celeste, opened her pack, and lifted out a few things.
Celeste was stunned at how much lighter she felt. “It’s amazing, Peter.”
Truth turned to Peter. “Let me take something out of your pack, too.”
“You’re mistaken,” Peter said. “We don’t have a problem. We were sent by the couple back there. They are the ones who can’t even walk.”
“Denying your burdens does not make them disappear. In fact, it will be too difficult for you to get through the swamp unless you lighten your load. You have spent years accumulating these burdens. Carrying them has given you bad backs and dreadful sores. The King asks sick people, ‘Do you want to get well?’ That is my question to you. Do you want to get better?”
Peter looked away, but Celeste said, “Truth is right. Maybe you are strong enough to walk with your pack stuffed full of unnecessary things, but I don’t think I can go much farther.”
“All right then, let’s see what you have.” Truth turned over Celeste’s pack and dumped everything on the ground. A cloud of mold and dust, accompanied by a stale smell, rose from the pile. “Whew, it doesn’t look like you’ve gone through your treasures in a long time.”
Celeste winced. “I thought I left all the ugliness from my past behind.”
Truth looked through the pile and shook his head. “When you took the King’s path, you left much of your past, but there are still some remnants—and a fistful of chains from unconfessed sin.” Then Truth picked up a large, rough stone.
When Celeste saw it in his hands, she quickly turned away and began to weep.
Truth put his arm on her shoulder. “You have been carrying many Hurting Stones that other people have tossed at you,” he said gently. “In some ways these are the heaviest burdens of all because you had no choice in them.”
He turned to Peter. “I’d like to look at your pack now.”
“All right, go ahead.” Peter was sure his would not be anywhere near as awful as Celeste’s. But when Truth opened Peter’s pack, a putrid puff of self-righteousness came out and Peter could see his was no better than hers.
Truth glanced at the contents. “So you grew up hearing about the King.”
Peter smiled. “Yes, indeed.”
“That has spared you from much harm. Do you see how your burdens are not at all like your wife’s?” Indeed the stones Truth took from Peter’s pack were not rough like Celeste’s, but smoothly polished, some with delicate fossils imprinted in them. “A nice set of family heirlooms, but feel how heavy these are.” Truth gave one to Peter. “This must be very precious to carry it with you all the way.”
Peter stroked the smooth fossil. “This is one of my favorite traditions,” he said. “I could never part with it.”
Truth pulled out an old scroll. “And what is this?”
“My genealogy,” Peter said.
“Ah, yes, I see.” Truth moved his lips as he read it to himself. “Very impressive. Five generations in Upright Village, and such faithfulness and strictness in observing the law.”
Peter smiled.
“It reminds me of a guide who said, ‘If anyone else thinks he has reasons to put confidence in the flesh, I have more: circumcised on the eighth day, of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews; in regard to the law, a Pharisee; as for zeal, persecuting the church; as for legalistic righteousness, faultless.’ But Paul came to realize those credentials were worth nothing compared to the joy of walking on the Servant’s path.”
Truth looked at both of them. “Now do you understand? As you walked, you became accustomed to the weight of these so-called treasures—even though they slowed you down and became heavier as you went. Some of these burdens you didn’t even know you had in your packs when you set out. You thought others were harmless and light. In any case, you need to talk about your hurts and your treasures in the redemptive light of the King, so they will lose their heaviness. It will take a long time because you have carried them for so long. But it will make your way much easier. When I get back from dealing with the other couple, I will be happy to help you.”
“How long does it take to deal with them?”
“Three weeks, maybe more.”
“Three weeks? Just talking about them?” Peter asked. “Thank you all the same, but we’ve lost a lot of time in the swamp, and we really must be on our way.”
Celeste, alarmed at the prospect of giving up her childhood treasures, didn’t argue.
“I am sorry for you,” Truth said, “for these burdens will not become lighter. You need to get rid of them if you want to walk more nimbly on your journey. But if you will not wait for me to deal with all of them, at least pick out a few things for the junk pile—the heaviest and ugliest burdens, I suggest.”
So before Peter and Celeste went on, they sorted through their bags. As they spoke the truth in love to one another, they were each able to leave behind a few treasures. They continued making their way through the swamp. They discovered that with lighter bags they didn’t sink down as much, and they had more energy to help each other. When Peter saw Celeste shivering, he took his sheepskin of humility and put it around her. And Celeste went back to singing as she walked, often choosing Peter’s favorite songs.
THE LITTLE TRAVELER JOINS THE JOURNEY
Eventually they left the swamp behind them and followed a path into a deep forest of tall oaks, maples, and elms. They could no longer see the Mountains of Maturity that had towered over the swamp, and they hoped the path would lead them away from it. Some days they had time to explore the
other paths that laced through the woods like they used to when they first met in the grove. They kicked pebbles and hunted for berries and often stopped to read the guidebook together. Celeste was encouraged that Peter had not turned away when Truth held up her hurting stones, and she was growing more secure in his love. Celeste thought she would be willing to give up any hope of seeing another glimpse of the King’s City again if only she and Peter could walk on like this.
One night by the fire, they sang a song from the guidebook to celebrate making it through the swamp:
I called to the King for help,