Christiana

by Jim Pappas

  "Indeed," agreed Christiana. "Now I see that there can be no excuse for not setting out on pilgrimage."

  "I'm sorry," said Mr. Feeble-mind, "but I do not catch your drift."

  "What we mean," explained Christiana, "is that if our hearts are honest, God will see to it that we find Him. Yea, no matter what the state of mind or body, God will provide for all our needs."

  "Indeed," agreed Great-heart. "For the strong, there are trials and challenges enough to put every nerve to the stretch. But for the feeble, there is help enough to guarantee victory over any weakness. All who will, may enter in."

  "Oh, my, yes," agreed Feeble-mind. "I believe 'tis true. And so I have resolved that when the road is easy, I shall run. Where I cannot run, I shall walk, and where I cannot walk, I shall creep. But come hell or high water, I am resolved that when I die, my body shall fall towards the City."

  "Hip, hip, hurrah!" shouted the boys as all the others broke into a round of applause .

  "Well spoken, Mr. Feeble-mind," said Great-heart proudly.

  "'Tis a gift from my Lord," answered he, "and I thank Him. By His grace my course is fixed. My heart is beyond the river that has no bridge, though I am but of a feeble mind."

  "How have other pilgrims done by thee, dear Mr. Feeble?" inquired Phoebe.

  "Ah, they have been kind. Yea, most kind. They have shared food and drink and kind words. And although none of them would slow down to my pace, they did their best to speed me up to theirs."

  "Tell us about the giant," urged James.

  At this, Feeble-mind involuntarily shuddered, hesitated a moment, and then answered. "Well, when I came up to Assault Lane, he pounced onto the pathway and bade me make ready for battle. 'A battle,' thought I. 'Dear me! I am more in need of a tonic than ready for a battle.' When he saw me looking confused and fearful, he lowered his club and snatched me up by the scruff of my neck."

  "And did you prepare yourself to die at that time?" asked James.

  "Oh, my, no! Nay! Nay, nay, nay!"

  "And why not?

  "Because I knew that I should live."

  "But how could you know that?"

  "Why, because I was carried off against my will."

  "So?"

  "Well, the minstrel told me that if a pilgrim keeps his heart in God's hands - and is then taken captive against his will - he will not be allowed to die by the hand of sin. Am I not correct, Mr. Gaius?"

  "Aye," agreed the host. "'There is nothing apparently more helpless, yet really more invincible than the soul that feels its nothingness and relies totally upon God'."

  "And does not falling into the hands of a wicked giant come under the same rules as falling into the hands of sin; if we fell against our will?"

  "Aye," agreed Gaius again.

  "Therefore it was that I knew myself to be free."

  "Even when he was warming the pot to cook you in?"

  "Aye. Although I did break down and ask for mercy, which one must never expect from a demon. I did expect to be robbed, and robbed I was. But, as you see, I have escaped with my life. And I thank God for commanding it thus. And I thank you as his instruments. God bless thee. God bless thee all."

  "Uh, Mr. Feeble," said Mr. Honest. "Tell us more about your friendship with Mr. Fearing."

  "Ah, Mr. Fearing. Dear Mr. Fearing," answered he wistfully. "Yes, I am well acquainted with him. He came from the town of Stupidity which lies four degrees to the north of the city of Destruction. My birth town lies farther north by four degrees more. I know him well for he is my uncle."

  "Indeed?"

  "Yes, sir. My father's brother. We were both of us of nearly the same mind . . . or lack thereof (Hee, hee, hee!) as the case may be."

  At this the little group chuckled along with Mr. Feeble-mind's joke. Then said Mr. Honest, "Yes, yes. I can see the resemblance now. You both have a pale complexion; you both look down more than up, and you both have the same accent."

  "'Tis true no doubt, sir. Others have said the same. We are both sorry specimens of humanity, to be sure. But I'll warrant you this, my friend. When we come to the Celestial City, he and I shall both sing the praises of the King as loudly as any of you!"

  "Hear! Hear!" answered all.

  Now as they were thus talking there came a messenger rushing in who announced, "News from without! News from without! The body of giant Slay-good has been found this morning robbed of its head and being plucked clean by the buzzards. Also, about a mile and a half off there is a pilgrim named Mr. Not-right who has been struck dead by lightning."

  Upon hearing this, Gaius gave the man a pence for his trouble and said, "My! Struck by lightning in these parts? How very odd."

  "Alas!" mourned Feeble-mind. "Is he indeed slain? Oh, me."

  "Do you know the man, Mr. Feeble?" asked Gaius.

  "Oh, yes. Quite well. He caught up with me many days ago and slowed to my pace. He was with me when Slay-good accosted us; but, being stronger and more nimble of foot, he made good his escape. But how very odd it is."

  "What is?" asked Gaius.

  "That he in his strength escaped to die, while I in my weakness was captured to live. Mysterious to me are the ways of this pilgrimage. Mysterious indeed. Let me speak of it in a verse, if I may:

  "What, one would think, doth seek to slay outright,

  Oft times delivers from the saddest plight;

  That very Providence, whose face is death,

  Doth oft times to the lowly life bequeath.

  "I taken was, he did escape and flee;

  Hands crossed give death to him, and life to me."

  Now there came the day when the pilgrims began to feel an itching in their bones to be on their way. So Mr. Gaius made them a great feast where they all did eat, drink and praise God for all His blessings. Yea, their songs and triumphant testimonies helped put to rest the villainous rumor that the pilgrim's way is full of sorrow and heaviness. Now when the morning of their departure came, Great-heart and Christiana came forth asking for an account of their expenses that they might settle the bill. Then Gaius got a puzzled look about him and said:

  "Owe me? Great-heart, have you not told this dear woman that no pay is accepted at the King's inns?"

  "Aye, dear Gaius," said he. "Tell her I did. But she would not believe it unless it should come from you."

  "Is it really true, Mr. Gaius?" asked Christiana. "You have kept us, lo, all these many months. Surely there are some charges."

  "Madam, if there were, do you think you could afford them?"

  "Well . . . "

  "We put Mr. Feeble-mind in the best room and fed him with special foods. Do you think he can afford such fine accommodations?"

  "No. Neither of us could."

  "My lord has said to me, 'Gaius, freely you have received, freely give'. Therefore your debt has been paid by He who owns the cattle on a thousand hills. And if I chance to overspend His allowance, He shall repay with interest."

  "Bless Him! And bless you," answered Christiana with a bit of water in her eye. "Thou shalt by no means lose thy reward. Fare thee well, dear Mr. Gaius."

  "And I wish the same for you, dear Christiana. Be thou faithful unto death and you shall soon look thy husband in the eye. Thou art a true mother in Israel, and you shall see all your little flock in the kingdom some sweet day. Till then, fare thee very, very well."

  "Goodbye, Mr. Gaius," said Mercy, eyes a-swim with tears.

  "Ah, Mercy. Dear Mercy," said the distinguished innkeeper with a catch in his throat. "I thank thee for thy fine ministry to the poor in these parts. There is many a mother and child who will sleep warm this winter on account of you. Blessed art thou among women."

  "Thank you," said she as she reluctantly turned to go.

  "I expect to hear reports of many children," Gaius called after her.

  "As many as God shall send," she answered from within the circle of Matthew's strong right arm.

  Then came Phoebe to take her last farewell of father and home.

&nb
sp; "Ah, Phoebe," said Gaius through misty eyes. "How I shall miss thee."

  "And I thee, Father," she answered with a choked voice and tear-streaked face.

  "Stay close to your new mother. Learn of wisdom and service from she and Mercy."

  "I shall, father."

  "And now, goodbye, my daughter. You have been a joy to our home from your earliest hour. Thank you. Fare thee well. Fare thee very, very well."

  Then was there a last, long, clinging embrace. Finally, Phoebe and her father reluctantly loosed their hold on each other and Gaius guided her into the waiting arms of James, saying, "Take good care of her for me, James. She is a rare jewel."

  "Oh, aye! Indeed!" answered the proud, young husband. "That I could see from the first moment. And care for her I shall, for she is everything to me."

  "Matthew, Samuel, Joseph, Mr. Honest, Mr. Great-heart, and especially you, Mr. Feeble-mind. God speed. God speed thee right well. Farewell."

  Now as they were going out the gate, Mr. Feeble-mind turned out of the way as if he would linger behind. Seeing this, Great-heart came back and said, "Come, Mr. Feeble-mind. Fall not back so soon. I have been appointed to be your conductor and will see that you come to the gate not one step behind the rest of us."

  "Nay," answered Feeble-mind with downcast eyes.

  "What! Why the long face so suddenly?"

  "Because I lack a suitable companion."

  "What's wrong with us?"

  "What's wrong? Why, look at you all! Even the old man and fair maids are lusty and strong. Therefore, let me limp along at my own pace lest my many infirmities be a burden to you."

  "Nay! I will not hear of it."

  "Oh, please, sir. As I said, I am a man of weak and feeble mind."

  "No matter. If there come something difficult to understand, I shall explain it to you."

  "No, sir. You do not understand yet. I am weak in faith as well as in mind and body. I am likely to take offense and to be made weak at things which others may consider a trifle. I shall like no laughing. I shall like no colorful clothing. I shall like no unprofitable questions or debates."

  "Hmmm."

  "Do you see? I am so weak a man as to be offended by that which others have a perfect liberty to enjoy. I am a very ignorant Christian man and know only a little of the truth."

  "Hmmm."

  "Why, sometimes, if I hear one of you rejoice in the Lord with gusto, it troubles me because I cannot do the same. I am a sickling among the well; a weak lamb among strong sheep."

  "But brother, I am commissioned to comfort the feeble-minded and to support the weak. You are the very one I am sent for."

  "But I am so slow."

  "We will wait for you. We will lend you our help. We will deny ourselves of our own opinions and habits for your sake. Neither will we enter into doubtful disputations in your presence. We will be made all things to you, rather than that you shall be left behind."

  Now as Mr. Feeble-mind was thus teetering on the edge of decision, who should hap to come hobbling up but a fellow pilgrim named Mr. Ready-to-halt. Then said Feeble-mind, "Why, Mr. Ready-to-halt. How came you hither?"

  Mr. Feeble-mind: "Why Mr. Ready-to-halt. How came you hither?"

  "Oh," said he as he leaned upon his crutches to catch his breath, "one foot in front of the other, same as you."

  "You don't know how glad I am to see you, my good man. I was just complaining to this giant here that I had no suitable companion. But you are an answer to my prayers. Indeed you are."

  "Well, good. Perhaps we can help each other along. I overheard you speaking of lingering behind, but I will not hear of it. Here," said he, handing Feeble-mind one of his crutches.

  "What?"

  "Take it."

  "Your crutch? Do you not need both of them?"

  "'Tis better with two, yes. But I would rather limp to the kingdom with one than have you linger behind."

  "Nay, nay," said Feeble-mind with a shake of his head. "I thank thee for thy good will But I don't want to limp before I am lame."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Aye. But I may borrow one of your sticks against a dog or two along the way."

  "As you wish it. But if there is anything that I or my crutches can do for you, we are both at your command. Just you say the word."

  "Thank you," said Feeble-mind with heart-felt gratitude. "Thank you very much. Well, Mr. Great-heart. With all of this help, what can I do but follow after? Shall we be off?"

  And so they set out without the loss of one. Mr. Great-heart and Mr. Honest led the way, Christiana and her six children came next, and Mr. Feeble-mind and Mr. Ready-to-halt brought up the rear. Now for a time all were lost in private thoughts of gratitude and praise for the many blessings received at the house of Gaius. And indeed justly so, for each had left the inn happier and in some respect richer than when they had entered.

  CHAPTER XXIII

  Vanity Faire

  Now as they traveled on, Old-honest asked Great-heart if he might not recount to them some of the adventures that Christian and Faithful had met with on their journey. So he beguiled the weary miles with tales of Christian coming to sword's point with Apollyon in the Valley of Humility; of demonic oppression in the Valley of the Shadow of Death; of how Faithful was hard put to it by Madam Wanton's daughter, Adam the first, Discontent, Shame and Talkative. Now so expert was Great-heart at telling stories that it seemed but a few moments until they came to a most notable place. Then Great-heart paused and said:

  "Here is the fateful place where Evangelist met Christian and Faithful and prophesied of what would befall them in Vanity Faire."

  "I hear tell it was a hard saying that he opened to them, dear guide," observed Old-honest.

  "So it was," agreed Great-heart. "But with his bitter cup, he also bestowed the courage to drink it down. And what is it that we hear of them?"

  "We hear that they were both brave as lions!" volunteered James proudly.

  "And that they set their faces like flint," offered Samuel.

  "And that they were not the least discouraged by the tortures of the scourge or the shame of the cage," put in Joseph.

  "And that they behaved themselves like true men before Lord Hate-good, the judge," added Matthew. "May we be as bold to do the same."

  "Well, we may have our chance soon, men, for my old ears can catch the sounds of Vanity Faire," declared Old-Honest.

  Old-honest: "My ears can catch the sounds of Vanity Faire."

  "Right you are," said Great-heart. "We shall be there shortly after evening sets in. Let us go forward."

  "Oh, how I do fear this place," said Christiana nervously as they set out again.

  "Why so, Mother?" asked Samuel.

  "Because I hear tell that at night one is easily beguiled by the bright lights and music. I hear, furthermore, that the diseased and drunkards are kept in the back alleys so that all the fruits of sin are hidden away."

  "And do you fear that you will be tempted with all these appeals to your senses?" asked Great-heart.

  "Nay. 'Tis not for myself that I worry," answered she. "I have two unwed sons and I fear for what they shall meet with in this lustful place."

  "Fear not for us, Mother," said Joseph. "Samuel and I have taken upon ourselves the vow of Job."

  "Which vow is that, boys?"

  "'Tis a covenant with our eyes that we shall not look upon a maid to desire her," said Samuel.

  "Or even a painting of her," added Joseph. "Or a statue or carving."

  "Ah, a worthy vow," commented Old-honest. "And one that all we men would do well to take upon us. For as you will one day learn, lustful desires long outlive the ability to fulfill them."

  "But do tell, men," said Great-heart, "do you not fear that such a course will leave you single all your days?"

  "Nay, not at all," answered Joseph confidently. "Seeing God provide such godly wives for Matthew and James assures us that He will do the same for us."

  "And if God cannot find us a suitabl
e companion from among His people, then better to go it alone," added Samuel.

  "Aye," agreed Joseph, "for 'tis better to live alone in the corner of an attic than to live in a house where the shadows are never lifted."

  "Ah, boys!" exclaimed Christiana gratefully. "You have wonderfully warmed your mother's heart by your godly words. But still . . . "