Christiana

by Jim Pappas

  So the old gentleman blushed a bit and said, "Well, yes, I am. I only hope my life shall measure up to my good name. That's what I hope. But tell me, how did you manage to figure me out so quickly?"

  "Because only those who 'will to do His will', the honest in heart, can learn of the Master's teaching. Especially is this true of the town of Stupidity. From that town only the honest and steadfast ever escape."

  "Hmmm. I suppose you must be right," nodded the old fellow, "for few there are along this way who hail from my town. Aye, few indeed. Few indeed."

  "Why is that so, do you suppose?" asked Great-heart.

  "Mmmm, I really don't know. We are a tad bit farther from the sun than most, which tends to make us a bit cold and senseless. Whatever the reason, sure it is that few in the town of Stupidity ever awake to their true condition. Aye, aye. Few indeed. Few indeed."

  "But you have, Mr. Honest," said Matthew. "How come?"

  "Hmmm, yes, I suppose I have, haven't I?" responded Old-honest, stroking his long gray beard thoughtfully. "I wonder why? Perhaps it is because of my family name. A man from the tribe of Honesty may be born into the heart of an iceberg; but, heh, heh, heh, just you let one small ray from the Son of Righteousness shine into his heart and he will feel a thawing. At least that's the way it was with me. It was with me. Indeed it was."

  "I believe it, Father Honest," agreed Great-heart, "for I know the thing to be true."

  "And who are these fair ones, friend Great-heart?"

  "Ah! These fine pilgrims are Christiana and her four sons."

  "Christiana, do you say?"

  "Aye. Have you heard the name?"

  "Oh, to be sure! To be sure indeed. I have heard much of your husband's exploits and trials, Madam. Yea, be comforted to know, M'lady, that your husband's name is spoken and echoed all over these parts."

  "Verily!"

  "Oh, indeed, Ma'am. Yes indeed. Indeed yes. His faith, his courage, his endurance and sincerity under trial have made his name immortal in these parts!"

  "Ah! What a blessed report," said she gratefully.

  "Hip, hip . . ."

  "Hurrah!" shouted the four boys proudly.

  "And who is this strong young man that shouts with so much gusto?" asked Honest, pointing to Matthew.

  "Matthew, sir," answered he, taking a proud step forward and snapping to attention.

  "Hmmm, Matthew, Matthew. Good name. Good name. May you be like Matthew, the publican; not in his early vices, but in his latter virtues. At ease, lad. And this chap?" said he, pointing to Samuel.

  "Samuel, sir," he answered with a forward step and a crisp salute.

  "Ah, Samuel, Sa-mu-el. Be thou like Samuel, the prophet - a man of faith and prayer from your childhood. You may step back. And this youth here?" he asked, addressing Joseph.

  "Joseph, sir."

  "Joseph, do you say! Ah, Joseph, Joseph. You must determine to be like Joseph in Potiphar's house - chaste and quick to flee from temptation. At ease. And who is this youth here?"

  "I'm James, sir," answered James, snapping to attention in an exaggerated imitation of his elder brothers.

  "Hmmm. James, do you say? Then you must be like James, the just, and like James, the brother of our Lord. At ease, lad. And who is this fair one here?" he asked, addressing Mercy with a smile.

  "My name is Mercy, sir," said she with a curtsy.

  "Mercy, do you say!"

  "Yes, sir."

  "She has left all that she has, to come with us on pilgrimage," offered Christiana.

  "Hmmm. Is that so?" said he with a wink towards Matthew, who seemed to be beaming just a bit more proudly than his siblings.

  "Yes, sir," she answered.

  "By mercy shall you be sustained and carried through all those difficulties that shall assault thee in the way. Yea, mercy shall carry you to the very gates of the City! There you shall look upon the face of He who is the fountain of mercy."

  "Yes, sir," she said, looking down shyly. But then, gathering up her courage she asked the question that lay heavy upon her heart. "Sir?"

  "Yes, Miss Mercy?

  "Did you perchance know the duke and duchess of your town?"

  "Why but of course! Why do you ask?"

  "Because the duchess is a very dear friend of mine whom I carry heavy upon my heart."

  "Hmmm. Marianna is your friend do you say? Well keep up your prayers, my dear. Heaven know she needs them; what with her drunken husband and her band of bratlings. 'T will be a miracle if she ever steps foot in the narrow way, I assure you. A miracle indeed."

  "As it was for all of us," commented Christiana.

  "Yes, I suppose you are right," admitted he. "Right I suppose you are."

  At the end of introductions Great-heart smiled upon his new friend and suggested that he join their happy band. This, you may be sure, Old-honest was most willing to do. So they marched on and the boys gathered round him in anticipation of some lively conversation. And so it proved to be; for they had not marched far before their guide asked the old gentleman if he might perhaps know a pilgrim named Mr. Fearing.

  CHAPTER XVIII

  Mr. Fearing

  "Mr. Fearing, do you say? Oh, yes. I know the man quite well, heh heh. He hails from one of the suburbs of Stupidity. Actually he is a relative of mine, which explains his honest heart. But I must add that he was surely one of the most troublesome pilgrims I have ever met with in all my days. In all my days!"

  "Ah, yes. I perceive that you know him well indeed, for you have described him to a 'T'," answered Great-heart. "When did you first make his acquaintance?"

  "Oh, I knew him from a child."

  "So early on?"

  "Oh, yes. But 't was when we first became aware of the destruction headed our way that we began to spend more time together."

  "You both saw it coming?" asked Great-heart.

  "Why, of course. Who could help but see it!" answered Old-honest. "One doesn't need to be a Leonardo Da Vinci to read the signs of these times."

  "What were some of the signs you saw, Mr. Honest?" asked Christiana.

  "Oh, probably the same as you saw in the City of Destruction, Ma'am," replied he. "The breakup of the family; the drunkenness of fathers and the violence of the youth; the corruptions of government and the licensing of wickedness. Oh, I could go on and on, but you saw it too, I am sure. But tell me, Mr. Great-heart, when did you meet my cousin Fearing?"

  "I was his guide from my Master's house to the gates of the City."

  "Aha! To the City do you say?"

  "Oh, yes. He finally made it. Whew!"

  "Hmmm. I hear by the tone of your voice that you found him to be quite the trial."

  "Hmmph. To say the least!"

  "Then do tell us his story, Mr. Great-heart; for surely, if cousin chicken-heart could make it to the City, there is hope for all of us."

  "Well . . . I . . ."

  "Yes, do!" urged James. "We have many miles before we rest tonight and it will improve the time."

  "Christiana?" asked Great-heart. "Do you have any other lessons planned for school today?"

  "I was hoping you might share one of the great stories of Scriptures. But this Fearing fellow sounds as though he might encourage us some as well."

  "As you wish it," began the guide. "I first heard reports of him while he stood hesitating at the Slough of Despond. I hear tell he waited there over a month."

  "A month!" exclaimed Christiana. "A whole month?"

  "Yes. We had dozens of pilgrims tell us about some whimpery wisp of a man who stood pacing to and fro at the edge of the Slough."

  Now as Great-heart began his narration, I beheld in my dream the subject of their discussion. He was indeed a frail wisp of a fellow who spent entire days pacing to and fro along the edge of the Slough. I could tell he had been there for some time by the smooth path he had worn into the sod. As he came to one end of his well-trod path, he would say (to no one in particular), "Oh, me! Oh, my! How shall I ever get over?" Then he would r
etrace his steps to the other end of his trail and repeat again, "How shall I ever get over? Oh, me! Oh, my!"

  Now upon this particular day there came striding up, all brisk as a spring breeze and whistling a merry tune, a bright young man named Mr. Trust - the sort of fellow upon whose word you could hang your life. Upon seeing Mr. Fearing, he stopped in his tracks and heard him say for the thousand and first time, "Oh, me! Oh, my! How shall I ever get over?" This he heard not once, nor twice, but thrice. Upon the third repetition, he discerned that Mr. Fearing was one who would never cross over Despond without help. Therefore, determining that he should be that help, he planted himself at the near end of the beaten path and waited. "Oh me! Oh, my!" said Fearing as he turned and started back. "How shall I ever get . . . " Now when his downcast eyes beheld someone's boots standing on his trail, he came to a halt and slowly raised his eyes. When their eyes met, Trust put out his hand, smiled broadly and said, "Hello there! Going over?"

  "Over? Oh, over. Uh, why, I, uh . . . well, yes. Yes, I think I should maybe like to, someday, perhaps."

  "Well good!" exclaimed Trust. "So am I. Shall we travel together?"

  "Now wait, wait, wait! Just one moment, please. Not so fast!" exclaimed Fearing, raising his hands and backing off a bit. "Who are you?"

  "Trust be my name," said he, wearing a cheerful smile over his outstretched hand. "People call me Trust. And you?"

  "Fearing."

  "Hmmm. Fearing, did you say?"

  "Yes. I'm afraid so."

  "Hmmm. Interesting name. And what is your given name?"

  "Alwaysbe."

  "Alwaysbe. Alwaysbe-Fearing. Hmmm. Can't say I've ever met anyone by that name before. Although the two names do seem to flow together. Alwaysbe-Fearing. Sort of has a ring to it."

  "Yes, I'm afraid so."

  "Well, shall we cross over?"

  "Cross over?"

  "Yes. Over the slough. Are you ready?"

  "Today?"

  "Sure. Let's go!"

  "Now?"

  "Of course now. What other time is there?"

  "What about later?"

  "Nay, chap. There is no such thing. When 'later' gets here it changes its name to 'now'. Therefore, come."

  "How about 'tomorrow'?"

  "'Tomorrow'! Ha! 'Tomorrow' has stolen more lives than 'later' ever dreamed of. There are millions waiting for a 'tomorrow' that never comes. Therefore, off with us!"

  "Today!"

  "Of course. Today is the tomorrow you waited for yesterday. Its here now!"

  "Oh, me! Oh, my!"

  "What are you afraid of?"

  "Oh, I don't know exactly. Probably most of everything and maybe a little bit of nothing, I suppose."

  "But this is 'the way'!"

  "Yes."

  "And if we would reach the City, we must cross over."

  "Yes."

  "And, prompt beginnings mean quick endings."

  "Yes."

  "Then let us begin!"

  "So soon?!"

  "Of course! For now is the appointed time of salvation."

  "Already?"

  "Has not your Lord called you?"

  "Oh, certainly! Yes, to be sure."

  "You're not turning back, are you?"

  "Oh, no! Never. I would die first. It's just that . . ."

  "That what?"

  "That I . . I am so . . . so . . ."

  "Fearful?"

  "Yes! That's it. I'm afraid I'm just a tad fearful."

  "Of what? Don't you believe that He who has begun a good work in you will finish it?"

  "Yes. It's just that I am so. . . so . . . "

  "Tell me, dear Mr. Fearing. How long have you been here?"

  "Here?"

  "Yes, here - making this lovely path along the edge of Despond. How long?"

  "Oh, I am afraid to tell you."

  "As I guessed. But tell me anyway?"

  "Er . . . uh . . . a month."

  "Thirty days!"

  "Yes," confessed Fearing, a bit whimperishly.

  "Well, surely in four weeks you have seen several people cross over."

  "Oh yes. Many."

  "Did any drown?"

  "Oh yes! Several."

  "Who?"

  "Well, there was Mr. Wanna be, Mr. Oughtabe, Mr. Gonnabe, Mr. Trytobe and uh, oh, and Mr. Hopetobe too. These men all did just fine until they tried to turn back - like Pliable. That's when they drowned."

  "I see. But of true pilgrims who kept their eye fixed upon the light. Did any of them drown?"

  "Oh no! Nay! In fact, some of the bolder ones, such as Mr. Confidence, Mr. Belief, and his brother Mr. Depend-on, got over with scarce a splat of mud to spoil the shine on their shoes. And, (sigh) as I look upon thy bright and cheery face, I see it will no doubt go the same with thee, Mr. Trust."

  "Well, today is an exceptionally bright day. The sun is shining so brightly that I think I can even see the steps. Let's go!"

  "Oh, but I don't know how I shall find my way."

  "We don't need to know the details of the way, good man. We only need to know that we are called to the way. After that, we must trust and obey, for there's no other way."

  "Well . . "

  "Look, friend Fearing, I be crossing over now. Here, I'll take your hand."

  "Oh . . . n . . . n . . . n . . . no, no, no!"

  "Not good enough, eh? Well then, shall I carry you?"

  "Carry me? Do you really think you could?"

  "Of course! Trust has carried men over the most difficult places in all the world. All you need to do is let him."

  "How do you know?"

  "The promises of God, good man! The promises! The Word of God is just as powerful now as when it spoke the universe into being. If the Word commands, then the Word enables. Come along now. Up you go!"

  So, before Fearing could squawk out a squeak of protest, Mr. Trust lifted him lightly in his arms, left the well-worn path of doubt, and began to stride fearlessly across the Slough of Despond.

  "Oh! This is all so sudden! Put me down. Please."

  "Why?"

  "Well, . . . I fear I might be too heavy for you."

  "Ha, ha, ha," chuckled Trust merrily. "Too heavy! Dear Mr. Fearing! Don't you understand that all the fears in the world could ride on the back of Trust and burden him not one whit? On we go!"

  "Oh! Oh, my! How do you know the way?"

  "I don't. I've just fixed my eyes on the light."

  "How do you know it's safe to do that?"

  "Because my little book says that 'A man's heart deviseth his way: but the Lord directeth his steps'."

  "Oh, me!"

  "Are you enjoying our progress?"

  "Oh . . . I don't know."

  "Don't know? Can't you see?"

  "My eyes are closed."

  "Closed! That is no way to behold the providence of God. Why, we are nearly over."

  "So quickly? But I have seen some people take hours - even days. In fact I have seen some camp out in the middle of Despond for weeks."

  "That's fine for ordinary folk, Mr. Fearing. But, for such as we, a few moments can be more than enough. Here we are!"

  "Where are we?"

  "Over! Down you go!"

  "What? Wait! In the middle of the slough?"

  "No. I said we are over. Can't you see?"

  "My eyes are still closed."

  "Time to open your eyes. We are both over! And nearly dry- shod at that!"

  "Why . . . I . . . I can hardly believe it. Oh me! Are we truly over?"

  "Yes. More than over! And with scarcely a stain upon either of us."

  "Well, whadaya know."

  "May I put you down now?"

  "Down? Oh, yes. Down. Yes, put me down."

  "You'll need to release your hold on my neck first."

  "Hold? Oh, I'm sorry. Was I choking you? I'm so sorry."