Christiana

by Jim Pappas

  "Down you go, Mr. Fearing."

  "Thank you. My! That was certainly easy enough."

  "Of course!"

  "But why?"

  "Because for fearful lambs, God smooths the way; for trusting rams, God gives added strength. In either case, the crossing is easy. Come now. Off to the wicket gate with us."

  "Oh, I don't know. I can hardly believe we are really over."

  "Well, look!"

  "Yes, I can see my trail on the far side."

  "And look ahead!"

  "Yes, yonder stands the wicket gate."

  "Can you read what it says over the gate?"

  "Uh, yes, I think I can. Does it say, 'Knock, and it shall be opened unto you'?"

  "Yes! So would you like me to carry you?"

  "Oh, no! Maybe I should probably try to go it on my own from here."

  "Very well. But remember, when you come to the gate, knock and it shall be opened unto you. Don't you go wearing a trail outside the gate. Farewell, Mr. Fearing."

  "Yes, yes. Thank you. Adieu. Adieu"

  Now I beheld in my dream that, as Great-heart was relating the story of Mr. Fearing, all his auditors were held spellbound. At this point in the narrative, James broke in and said, "And how long was he at the gate, Mr. Great-heart? Five years?"

  Mr. Fearing at the Wicket Gate afraid to knock

  "Oh, no, Sonny. Not quite

  that long. But he did hang about the gate for a few days. Why, I'll wager that you could still find his path in the grass."

  "But did not the example of others inspire him with hope?" asked Mr. Honest.

  "Nay, but the reverse. To see pilgrims march right up and knock forthwith only made him the more ashamed that he was not so bold. Finally, however, when he thought no one was watching, he managed to give a tiny tippity-tap of a rap or two. But I'll tell you, were it not for the sharp ears of He who hears all, he would be waiting yet."

  Then I saw in my dream that when Mr. Fearing tapped, the Doorkeeper Himself asked one of His companions, "Did I hear knocking?"

  "I heard nothing, my Lord," answered his companion.

  "I think I just heard the faintest knock that has ever been knocked at heaven's door."

  "Shall we wait and listen more carefully?"

  "Nay, for one who knocks so feebly as that may never knock again. Open the door!"

  And so they opened. Upon seeing the door open before him, Mr. Fearing, rather than entering in, fell to the ground in fear.

  "Oh, me!" he cried.

  Seeing this, the Doorkeeper knelt tenderly beside him and said, "Dear friend, fall not to the ground in fear. This place is provided for your comfort."

  "Indeed?" answered Fearing, encouraged enough to look into his Benefactor's kind face. "Even for such a chicken-heart as I am?"

  "But of course! The kingdom of heaven is as much for the weakest child as for the boldest warrior. 'Tis the meek that shall inherit the earth. Therefore stand thee up and enter in; for 'I have set before thee an open door and no man can shut it'."

  Then I saw the Gatekeeper tenderly help Mr. Fearing to his feet and guide him towards the open gate. But when he saw the beauties within and all of those who would welcome him, he grew faint of heart and said, "Are you sure that such a fearful one as I may enter here?"

  "Did I not say 'come in'?"

  "Yes, but if . . . "

  "There are no 'ifs' in the kingdom of God, friend Fearful. 'Come in' is what was said and 'come in' is what was meant."

  "But it came not from the King."

  "How do you know?"

  "Eh?"

  "How do you know that?"

  "Well, because I can see you are not the King."

  "How do you know?"

  "Well, I, er, uh . . . Well, you don't look like the King."

  "What does the King look like?"

  "Well He . . . uh . . . uh . . . are you the King?"

  "What does it matter? Don't you know that a messenger from the King has all the authority of the King? Therefore, if by voice or pen or by His Little Book He says, 'Come', then come is what you best do. You don't want to call God's word a mistake, do you?"

  "Oh, no! Certainly not! God makes no mistakes."

  "Or a God a liar?"

  "Oh, no! God cannot lie!"

  "Then best you accept His message through His messenger and enter in."

  "Uh, yes, sir."

  So Mr. Fearing screwed up his courage and walked timidly in. There he was surrounded by those who love to make the timid feel as if they were royalty (which is indeed the case). Thus was he quickly refreshed with all the comforts and conveniences of that place.

  Then I saw that Old-honest marveled and said, "Oh, how slow of heart to believe God's great love. But do tell, Great-heart. Did he learn his lesson at the wicket gate?"

  "Nay," answered he with a sigh, "for the thoughts of a lifetime are not changed in a moment. But he tried his best and there was some change."

  "Well, what about when he came to the Interpreter's house?"

  "Same story. He came to our door but was afraid to knock. Yea, even though the nights were growing crisp, he lingered without until he was like to have froze to death. And this, even though he had to step aside to allow many a pilgrim to enter right in!"

  "What! Again?"

  "Aye. And that, even though he had a special letter from the King. A letter instructing us to bed him in the finest room and feed him with delicacies from the King's own table."

  "A special letter, do you say?" asked Christiana with interest. "Was it writ all in gold?"

  "Aye."

  "And still he was afraid?"

  "Aye. For all I know he might still be out there except that I chanced to see him come to the door, raise his hand to knock, and then lower it. This warmup to a knock he must have repeated a dozen times. But never did the knuckle meet the wood."

  "Poor man!" sympathized Mercy.

  "Aye. Indeed," agreed Great-heart. "Finally I told the Interpreter about him, who forthwith sent me out to fetch him in. But I must tell you that even then I had a hard time of it."

  "Oh? In what way?" asked Old-honest.

  "In that no matter what I told him about the love and willingness of God to have him in, he continued to speak of his unworthiness. Finally, by showing him the King's seal on his letter, and by taking him firmly by the arm, I was able to draw him in."

  "And when he was once in, how did he do?" queried Christiana.

  "Oh, he was much encouraged by the place."

  "Did he enjoy the lessons there?"

  "Well, frankly, I think most of them flew clean over his head. But he did as best he could. And after a few days, when he had recovered his strength, he and I set out."

  "And was he cheered up by then?" asked Christiana.

  "Not overly. He was such a chronic chicken-heart that nearly everything made him afraid. But there was one place that made him as near to cheerful as ever he got."

  "Where?"

  "That was at the cross and the sepulcher. As soon as we got there, he seemed deeply moved and asked permission to tarry there a good long time. As he looked upon his Lord hanging in his place, the water stood in his eyes and he seemed more hopeful and confident than ever I saw him - before - or after. As we left the place he kept looking back at the sepulcher and running his arms over his shoulders."

  "Probably looking for his great burden," surmised Matthew.

  "Aye. No doubt."

  "And what happened at the Hill Difficulty, Great-heart?" asked James. "Did he poop out like me."

  Nay. He complained not a bit about the steepness of the place but forged straight ahead with scarce a pause for breath."

  "And when he came to the lions?" continued the young man. "Did he quake and quiver for a week or two?"

  "You won't believe this, Sonny, but he walked straight on through them without a hitch."

  "Ah! So he finally began to pluck up a bit of courage," observed Matthew.

  "I think he had it
all along, Matthew. I gradually came to see that his fears were not of things external such as lions and giants, but rather of things internal such as his evil heart."

  "That sounds like a good trait to me," commented Christiana, "'for the heart is desperately wicked and deceitful above all things'."

  "It is a good thing, Christiana," answered the guide. "But when once God takes away our stony heart and gives us a heart of flesh, we are to go forward in newness of life. We are to let Him that 'hath begun a good work in us' complete it. Mr. Fearing made the way much harder by not believing the promises of God."

  "So how did he do at the house Beautiful?" asked Matthew.

  "Well, as you can imagine, Matthew, he was a bit shy around all the beautiful damsels and seemed to prefer being alone. But whenever there was good conversation upon godly subjects, you could count on finding Mr. Fearing lingering about somewhere. We would often see his long feet sticking out from under the drapes, or behold his skinny shadow just outside a door ajar. Other times we would see his hat jutting up just under an open window - anywhere he thought he could listen without being seen."

  "Ha, ha, ha! That's funny," quipped James. "He sure wouldn't make much of a spy."

  "So it seems that he enjoyed it there," observed Christiana.

  "Oh, yes. Both the house Beautiful and the house of the Interpreter were his favorite places. In fact, he later confided to me that he would liked to have tarried a great deal longer at both of them."

  "Why didn't he?" asked Christiana. "There are no limits to the length of our welcome."

  "Because he was afraid to ask. He didn't realize that 'it is a part of God's plan to grant us, in answer to the prayer of faith, that which He would not otherwise bestow'."

  "Poor man."

  "Aye. But he did carry away many wonderful lessons. And while there, he spent endless hours in the museums and archives studying God's heroes. And do you know, I think beholding those things changed him some."

  "How did it go for him in the Valley of Humiliation?" asked Mercy.

  "You won't believe it, Mercy, but he went down into Humility as smoothly as any man I ever saw. He seemed to be made for the place. The whole time we were there he would rise before dawn and wander about until long after sunset. Why, sometimes he would even lie down and kiss the earth!"

  Great-heart: "Why, sometimes Mr. Fearing would even lie down and kiss the earth"

  "Oh!" exclaimed she. "I am happy for the man."

  "As well you might be, for I never saw him so cheerful. Yea, it was a sad day when we left the place."

  "What next?" asked Joseph.

  "Why, the Valley of The Shadow of Death, of course. My! I thought for sure I would lose him there."

  "Why? Did he want to turn back?"

  "Oh, no, Joseph. Turning back was never a temptation for him. But he had such a fear of the hobgoblins that I began to fear for my own life."

  "Why? Have you not been through that Valley many times?"

  "Yes. But demons have a sense about them that attracts them to the fearful. He kept crying out in a loud voice, 'Oh, the hobgoblins will have me! The hobgoblins will have me!' Why, I expected at any second to be surrounded all sides by hoards of hairy demons. But do you know, the Valley was as quiet as ever I have known it."

  "Why?" asked James.

  "I believe our Lord must have sent extra legions of angels to hold the demons in check," answered the guide.

  "Why?"

  "Because the Lord lets no temptation come to us that is greater than we can bear. Apparently one hobgoblin would have been too much for Mr. Fearing."

  "What a merciful God we serve," observed Christiana. "Oh, how I do love Him! And how did he do at Vanity Faire?"

  "You would not believe it, Christiana. He was not a bit attracted to their foolish temptations and said so in no uncertain terms. Yea, he condemned their wickedness so boldly that I feared he was going to get us both knocked on the head. But God was merciful and for the most part they simply ignored us. When we came to the Enchanted Ground where most men grow drowsy, he was wide awake. In fact, the rest of the journey was easy - until he came to the River that has no bridge."

  "Who can blame him for being fearful at that place?" observed Christiana. "I must confess that I have some doubts about it myself."

  "Nearly everyone does. But he was more fearful than most. I can still see him standing there all in a tremble."

  "Tell us about it, Great-heart," urged James.

  "Well, I could, if the rest of you . . ."

  "Oh, but of course," said Christiana.

  "Well," continued Great-heart, "when he came to the bank of the river and saw the angry waters of death, he stopped short and began to be very heavy of heart Said he, 'Ah! Such a fierce river! Woe is me! Woe, woe, woe.'"

  "Why bemoan thee so sadly, Mr. Fearing?" said I.

  "Look for yourself, dear Mr. Great-heart. There is no bridge."

  "Aye. No one has crossed on a bridge except Enoch and Elijah. Nor shall any other until the 144,000 shall meet their Lord in the air. But rest assured, dear Alwaysbe, you shall come to the far shore just the same as they."

  "No. Not I. I shall be drowned forever and never more see life. I have traveled all these many miles to see my Lord's face and now - and now I shall not see it. Oh, woe is me."

  "Yes, you shall. He eagerly awaits your coming. Come. 'Tis time to go over."

  "Now?"

  "Yea. Right now."

  "But is there no one to attend me? Must I make the worst part of my journey alone?"

  "You need not be alone. I shall attend thee as far as you need. Besides all that, there shall come shining ones to meet you half way."

  "Oh. Oh, me."

  "Come. Let us take the first step."

  "But the waters are raging. I shall be swept away!"

  "Nay. He who walked on the sea shall temper the flow of these waters to suit thy strength, Mr. Fearing. If you be fearless and bold, the waters will tax thy courage to the utmost. If you be fearful . . . "

  "I am fearful, Mr. Great-heart. You know that. I was born fearful. Fearing is my family name."

  "Very well, Mr. Fearing. Then for you, the waters may run a bit more slowly. But you will never know till your toe touches the water. Ready?"

  "No."

  "No matter. Now is when you have come to the river and now is when you must cross over. Come, I will take your hand."

  "Oh! Oh, me! Oh, my!"

  "So did he ever go over?" asked Matthew.

  "Yes, Matthew. Finally. But do you know, the instant his toes touched the edge of the water the torrents began to abate. Each step he took seemed to force the river back more and more. Why, by the time he reached the middle, the river was standing in a heap on one side and lower than I have ever seen it on the other. The man made it across with scarcely a drop above his shoes."

  "Ah, what a merciful God we serve," said Christiana.

  "Aye."

  "And how did he end up?" asked Old-honest.

  "Well, when he came out the other side and was beginning to ascend up the hill towards the City, I said, 'I must leave thee now, dear Mr. Fearing.'"

  "'Then goodbye, Mr. Great-heart,' answered he as he looked me straight in the eye and gave me a firm handshake. 'Thank you for all your patience, dear guide.'"

  "'It was only my duty, sir. I hope that you fare well when you come to the gate.'"

  "'I shall, Great-heart. Indeed I shall. Adieu.' Then, without a moment's hesitation or backward glance, he took his certificate in his hand and marched him straight up towards the gate."

  "So. He was victorious at the end!" said Old-honest.

  "Oh, aye," answered Great-heart with a proud smile. "He came off more than conqueror - which I knew he would, for I never doubted his heart."

  "Nor I," commented Old-honest. "'Tis just too bad that he did not take hold on the promises sooner. If he had, he could have traveled his entire journey on the sunny side of the cross."

  "So I tried t
o tell him," said Great-heart, with a touch of sadness to his voice. "I urged him to behold Christ instead of his mistakes and failings, but he was never quite able to do so."

  "Hmmm," murmured Old-honest. "I wonder why?"