Pilgrim's Progress - Special Edition

by Chris Wright

  Evangelist seemed less stern now, and he even smiled. "Yes, the King will always forgive you. Believe me, Christian, no one has ever been able to climb Law Mountain. That is why the King's Son made a Way that starts at the Wicket Gate."

  "And can I still go through it, or will the man who guards it turn me away and send me home again?"

  "Oh, Christian, you still don't understand. The King's Son doesn't turn anyone away. You have only to knock, and the Gate will be opened for you. Keep close to me, and I'll lead you safely away from this mountain."

  It felt good to be walking with Evangelist, and be led back into the fields. Law Mountain with its terrible overhanging rocks was soon left behind, and I could once again see the light above the Wicket Gate.

  "If you hurry," Evangelist told me, "you'll reach the Wicket Gate before dark. You can stay safely inside it and rest until the morning."

  Then with a smile he said goodbye, and I started once more on my journey -- in the right direction this time.

  CHAPTER 8

  The Wicket Gate

  I walked quickly, for I certainly had no wish to be out in the fields after dark. By this time I felt so tired that it was a great relief to see the Gate, just as the sun was setting.

  It was exactly as Evangelist had described it: a small door let into a massive one, in a high wall. The large door, that Evangelist said could never be opened, stood in a beautiful stone archway, and over it hung the lamp that was burning so brightly that I'd been able to see it from my city, even when the sun was shining. Round the top of the arch I noticed some words carved into the stone. I looked up at them.

  KNOCK, AND THE DOOR WILL BE OPENED TO YOU

  "That's what Evangelist told me," I said to myself.

  I could see a small hammer hanging by the Wicket Gate, so I used it to knock gently. I listened, but couldn't hear anyone coming, so I lifted the hammer higher and knocked harder, again and again. Then the Wicket Gate was opened by someone who had the kindest face I'd ever seen. It's impossible to describe my feelings.

  He smiled. "Who are you?"

  I could sense the man already knew my name. Knew all about me. "My name is Christian. Who are you?"

  "I am Goodwill. Are you from the City of Destruction?"

  "I am." In spite of these questions, I felt sure Goodwill was going to let me in. "I want to go to the King," I added.

  Goodwill opened the Wicket Gate wide, and took me by the arm. As I was stepping in, he gave me a sudden pull on my arm.

  "Why did you do that?" I asked in surprise.

  Goodwill looked serious. "The evil prince has built a castle near this Gate. Sometimes, when he sees anyone entering my Gate, he orders his soldiers to shoot arrows at them, to try to hurt them before they can enter."

  I looked out and saw several arrows sticking in the ground, and was relieved when Goodwill closed the Gate firmly behind me.

  "Now I'm safe," I thought, and hoped I was.

  Goodwill led me into the house, and made me sit down to rest while he prepared some food.

  "Who told you how to come here?" Goodwill called from the kitchen.

  "Evangelist," I answered, "and he said you'll tell me the Way to the Celestial City."

  "Yes, I'll tell you. But why are you alone? Have you not brought any friends or family with you??"

  "My mother is already with the King," I said. "And my father has so much to do at work that he can't spare the time. My friends only laugh at me and call me stupid. So I've come by myself."

  "Did no one want to go with you?"

  "Two friends called Obstinate and Pliable ran after me," I explained, "but Obstinate was angry. Pliable said he'd like to go with me, but we fell into the Slough of Despond and he was frightened. So he went back to the City of Destruction. I thought I'd never get out, but Help came just in time."

  "And what then?"

  I felt my face turn red, for I was as bad as Pliable. I also had a strong feeling that Goodwill knew exactly what had happened to me, but I still wanted to tell him about it. "When I met young Worldly-Wiseman I listened to him," I explained. "That's why I wanted to go to his village called Respectability. The road up Law Mountain is dreadful, and I was afraid the rocks were going to fall on me."

  "That mountain has been the end of many people who have tried to find the Celestial City," Goodwill said. "Sadly, there are people still trying to reach the City that way, but if they make even the smallest of mistakes on their climb, they never reach the top. And so far, no one has managed it. Why did you make up your mind not to climb?"

  "I was already starting up the mountain when Evangelist found me," I explained. "He showed me the way here, and told me never to try climbing Law Mountain again."

  Goodwill smiled. "Well, you've entered my Gate, and that means you're one of my pilgrims. Tonight you must sleep here, and tomorrow I'll show you the Way to the Celestial City where my Father lives."

  CHAPTER 9

  Interpreter

  When morning came, I felt rested and ready for another day's journey. Goodwill took me outside and showed me a narrow pathway that seemed to go in a straight line across the open countryside. There was a wall on one side, which made it even easier to keep to the path.

  "Are there any turnings?" I asked. "Only I won't know what to do if I come to a place where there are two roads."

  "The Way of the King is always straight," Goodwill told me, "and any paths leading out of it are crooked."

  "But is the right path always obvious?" I was afraid of going wrong again.

  "Well," Goodwill said, "the wrong paths are usually wide, while the right path is the narrow one. If you look carefully, you'll not mistake it. But don't walk too close to the wall. It marks the boundary of the evil prince's land, and don't eat any fruit from the trees hanging over the wall. It's extremely poisonous."

  I had no intention of eating any fruit. All I wanted to do was get rid of my burden as soon as possible. "Do you think you could help me off with it?" I asked, pointing to my back. "I'll be able to walk much better without this great load."

  "You must carry it until you come to a special place where it will fall off," Goodwill said, "and then you will never see it again. I want you to understand where your burden has gone, and why."

  "I'll certainly be glad when it's gone," I said with a sigh. "Is the place far?"

  "Not too far."

  That didn't sound too close either. Somewhere along the Way I'd probably need to rest. "Will I pass any houses?"

  "About the middle of the day you will come to a large house that belongs to a man called Interpreter. Knock on his door and he will show you many wonderful things, and explain their meaning to you."

  The morning seemed bright and pleasant, and I enjoyed my walk. Everything around me seemed new, and the air felt so fresh that it seemed to take away the weariness that had been with me since leaving the City of Destruction.

  "Well, there's nothing to hurt me here," I told myself. "Young Worldly-Wiseman didn't speak the truth when he said I'd be frightened. That mountain was the frightening place."

  The words that Goodwill spoke to me were running round in my mind. He had said entered my Gate, become my pilgrim? The man who had welcomed me into the Way must be the King's Son, and that was why the Wicket Gate was the only place to start. I remembered Evangelist showing me some words in my Book, spoken by the King's Son. I am the way, and the truth, and the life; no one comes to the Father but through Me. Oh, how I wished I'd taken more notice of Goodwill at the time!

  Just when I was beginning to think I'd like to take a rest, I saw a large house near the road. I decided it must be the house of Interpreter, so I went up to the door and knocked. But no one came. I kept knocking until I heard the latch being drawn back. When the door opened, an elderly servant asked me what I wanted.

  "Does Interpreter live here?" I asked.

  The man said he did.

  "I'm a pilgrim," I explained, and I noticed a friendly smile on the servant's fac
e. "I'm on my way to the Celestial City. I stayed with Goodwill last night, and he told me the owner of this house is his friend. May I speak to him?"

  The servant went back and called his master, and soon Interpreter came out and put his hand on my shoulder. "What can I do for you?"

  "I've been told you can show me some special things in your house, if I ask," I said. My voice sounded quiet, for I couldn't help thinking that although Interpreter would be pleased to have older pilgrims calling, young ones might be in the way. "Goodwill told me I could come to see you," I added, just to make sure there was no misunderstanding about why I was here.

  Interpreter smiled. "I can see you're one of the King's pilgrims. Come in, and we'll find some things that you'll like to see."

  He led me into the hall where the elderly servant was still waiting. Interpreter asked for a lamp, then he opened the door to a large room.

  I couldn't believe what I was seeing. The house was such a smart building, almost like a palace. Yet here was a room that was thick with dust. Interpreter called for a man to come and sweep the floor. As soon as the man started using the broom, clouds of dust rose up and we all started to choke. Interpreter then called for the elderly servant.

  The servant carried a huge jug of water, and splashed it over floor. Immediately the dust stopped rising and the dirt was washed away, leaving the room clean. I asked what was happening.

  "The room is like our hearts," Interpreter explained. "There is no way we can clean them ourselves. The more we try, the more mess we make. The water is like the healing touch of the King's Son. He is the only one who can make our hearts clean."

  It was only later that I began to understand the meaning of Interpreter's words. In the next room curtains covered the windows, but the light from Interpreter's lamp filled the whole room with a dazzling brightness. On the wall opposite the door was a picture, and when I saw it I stopped and stared.

  It was the picture of a Shepherd, and he looked like Goodwill who kept the Wicket Gate. He was walking over a mountain path. All around him, amongst the rocks, were briars and thorns that had torn his clothing. His feet were bleeding where the rough stones had cut them. In his arms the Shepherd carried a sheep.

  "Was the sheep lost?" I asked, although I suppose that was obvious from the picture.

  "Yes," Interpreter told me, "lost and almost dead. Can you see how tired it looks, and how its fleece is torn and soiled? But the Shepherd heard its cry, and he never rested until he found it. Then he carried it home in his arms."

  "It must have been a hard path," I said. "The stones have cut the Shepherd's feet."

  "It was a hard path, but the Shepherd didn't mind that, because he loved that sheep."

  "Who is he?" I asked. "Is he Goodwill?"

  Interpreter held the lamp high so I could see the picture even more clearly. "The Good Shepherd is our King's own Son and, yes, he let you in at the Gate. Just as the Shepherd loves his flock, so the King's Son loves us. The pilgrims are like that sheep. You must always remember who is watching over you."

  "I'm a pilgrim," I said suddenly, looking up at Interpreter. "I was lost, just like that sheep."

  "A pilgrim, and a young sheep in the flock of the Good Shepherd. Now I'll take you to see something else."

  CHAPTER 10

  Passion and Patience

  Interpreter took me upstairs to a room where two small boys were sitting, each in his own chair. One of them seemed quiet and happy, but the other was crying, looking cross and discontented.

  "These two boys are staying here for a time," Interpreter said. "The one crying is called Passion, and his brother's name is Patience."

  "What's the matter with Passion?" I asked.

  "He's a foolish boy," Interpreter explained. "There are some beautiful gifts coming from the King, and the children are each to have their share. Patience is willing to wait, but Passion is upset because he can't enjoy everything now. He wants to have his pleasure today, instead of at the proper time."

  Just then the door opened, and a man came in carrying some books and toys. Patience stayed calm, but Passion immediately called out for them, banging impatiently on the table. The man then spread everything on the table in front of Passion. The boy looked pleased, and wiping away his tears began to look at his treasures. Among them were some bags filled with gold coins. When Passion saw these he held them up in his hands, and laughed at Patience who had nothing.

  "Passion is happy now," Interpreter said.

  "Are the King's gifts better than these?" I asked in surprise.

  "Far better. They are treasures that cannot be spoiled, and Patience is wise to wait for them."

  "Passion's laughing now," I said, starting to understand what was happening, "but I imagine Patience will be happier in the end. Am I right?"

  Interpreter nodded. "You must remember that everything I show you is meant to teach you something. I want you to learn that it's not wise to wish too eagerly for pleasant things, until the King sends them. Watch carefully."

  As I watched, all Passion's treasures turned to dust, and his fine clothes turned to rags.

  "You see," Interpreter said, "the King knows exactly what is good for each of us, and he will always give us what will make us really happy. If we behave like Passion and try to be happy in our own way, we are sure to be disappointed."

  In another room we saw a fire burning brightly in the grate. An unpleasant-looking man kept throwing water onto the flames, but instead of water putting the fire out, it burnt even more brightly. I shielded my eyes against the heat and asked why the fire stayed burning.

  Interpreter smiled. "You cannot see beyond the flames," he said. "If you could, you would see the King's Son pouring oil on the fire to make it burn more brightly. The man with the water is the King's enemy, but however hard he tries to extinguish the flames, he can never put them out. So it is with us. If the King's Son is in control of our lives, we need never fear what the enemy can do. Like the fire, we will always burn brightly for the King. Now, I have one more thing to show you today."

  Interpreter took me out of the house, and we saw a beautiful palace. On its flat roof people were walking about, all clothed in gold.

  "Is this one of the King's palaces?" I asked.

  "Yes, but it's not easy for anyone to enter it."

  Just inside the door a man sat at a table with a book in which he wrote the name of anyone who went into the palace. I could see a crowd of people outside. They looked as if they wanted to go in but were afraid. Then I noticed some guards holding swords standing in the doorway, and the people who were outside were unwilling to go past them.

  Presently a man wearing armour like a soldier came out from the crowd and went towards the table near the doorway. The man at the table wrote his name in the book, and then the soldier put on his helmet and drew his sword and rushed at the guards. He fought with them for a long time, and although he received many wounds, he got into the palace at last. Then all the people on the palace roof started to shout and sing with joy.

  I thought I could get the point of that picture too. "Does that mean we're not to be frightened, because the King will help us and take us safely into his City?"

  "Yes," Interpreter told me. "I knew you'd understand it for yourself. It's getting late now. You must eat here and stay the night."

  CHAPTER 11

  The Cross

  I don't think I slept very well that night. I was too excited to think that at long last I really was on my way to see the King.

  After an early breakfast, Interpreter saw me on my way. Beyond the large house, the Way of the King was still easy to find, for the high wall continued along the side of the road. "Be sure to keep to the straight path," Interpreter warned me. "As long as you do that, you'll be safe. But remember, the high wall belongs to the land of the evil prince."

  I had almost forgotten my burden while I was with Interpreter, but as I hurried along, and the morning began to grow hot, I felt its weight again and wished mo
re than ever I could get rid of it.

  "Goodwill told me I'd come to a place where it would fall away," I said to myself. "I hope it's not much farther."

  Presently I came to a small hill by the side of the road, with a Cross on the top. As I began to climb the path to look at it, just for a moment I imagined I could see the King's Son who had once hung on it, his hands and feet bleeding. As I looked, I felt the bands fastening my burden break. It fell from my shoulders and tumbled its way to the bottom of the hill. I turned to see what had become of it, but it had fallen into a deep pit and was out of sight.

  At first I was so surprised I could scarcely believe that the man who had been on the Cross had caused me to lose the burden, for it had been such a trouble to me.

  "I must be dreaming," I said to myself, but although I stood still for a few minutes, and rubbed my eyes, the burden didn't come back. The King's Son had taken the weight from my shoulders for ever. It was such a wonderful feeling. I knew I would never see that burden again. The King's Son would make sure of that.

  "Now I can walk as quickly as I like," I said to myself, but although the Cross was empty, I stayed looking at it for a long time with my heart full of joy and thankfulness.

  I remembered reading in my Book how the King's Son had once come to live in the City of Destruction, and in the towns and cities round about. Although he was loving and good, some of the people hated him. At last they seized him and put him to death by nailing him to a wooden cross. But death couldn't hold him, and he came alive again. This must be the Cross where the King's Son had been punished instead of me, so the King would no longer be angry. As I stood below the Cross, I could understand why Evangelist and the other visitors never grew tired of talking about him.

  "Perhaps they all carried burdens like mine," I said aloud. "And when they came here to the Cross they lost them, just as I have done." As I looked up, tears came into my eyes.

  Just then I heard voices behind me, saying, "We bring you peace."

  I turned round quickly and saw three figures in robes that shone so brightly that the light hurt my eyes, and I had to look away. "Christian, you have often displeased the King," the first one said, "but I have come to tell you that you are forgiven, and the wrong things you have done will not be remembered any more."