Good morning folks! Below is a piece I wrote months ago, inspired by John Bunyan’s The Pilgrim’s Progress. I wrote this story based on my own personal experiences, and the general challenges that followers of Christ experience across the board.
Note: You’ll notice the pronouns they and them used throughout the text – I used these so that any reader could relate to the story, whether male or female.
I hope you enjoy…
Running through a dense thicket, the young Saint dodges the thoughts of regret, passions of the flesh, and memories of past mistakes. Branches of shame, fear, and lack of self-control tear at their arms. As the Saint clears the first trail, they trip over roots of loss, mistakes, and hidden images.
Time passes out of recollection—clouds of time drift by, chased quickly by the winds of old memories. The Saint lies in a bed of consequences, like a covering of dense fog. The Saint attempts to move their legs, but each effort at freedom from the roots cuts deep into memory.
Time—what is time?
Is there any true reference that brings relief? You think that tomorrow will come… What do you know of tomorrow? Please, tell me about your knowledge of time and its relevance to the Saint. I marvel at man’s ability to wish for more time, and yet plan for the future. Oh, the irony! Can you escape the roots of despair, the burdens of past faults and mistakes? Try to escape the cutting, binding demands of a temporary existence on your own. Oh! Turn from your blindness and despair.
Ignore your own attempts at success—look now to the sky.
Who created the heavens? Was it not I?
Who gave birds the ability to fly? It was I, the King of the universe.
I control what was, what is, and what is to come.
We now see our Saint, tangled in a web of roots, enticements, and unholy habits. As the consequences of life cover them—wait! What is that in the sky? A beam of light piercing through the clouds of time, separating the winds of old memories. A light of pure and holy sanctification, rupturing the branches of shame, fear, and lack of self-control. As the wood begins to crackle and break, the Saint feels their skin heal from the scrapes and cuts. The Saint looks to the roots and—Lo! They are burning and searing with the intense holiness of purity.
SAINT! Hearken to me!
Do you feel as you once did? Do you not sense the intense transformation taking place?
Can you see it? The fog is lifting. Consequences—where are you now, in the light of Christ? The blanket is lifting.
Look! Do you sense the dawn? It follows the light of Christ. Dawn! Oh, feel the renewing, transforming power of Christ!
Our Saint has left the forest, the Thicket of Despair, and has crossed over into the redeeming, refreshing, and reassuring land of the King.
“Welcome, my good and faithful servant.”
Christian
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The Eason Clan 