Jeb said. “Yeah, I’ve heard that from a few folks before and I never knew a hyena to change his laugh. Although, if you haven’t changed at all, my ears would be bleeding by now.” Jeb noticed that John was writing something at a desk when his entrance had interrupted him. “What are you writing there?”
John smiled, and said, “I had the most wonderful dream last night. It was like the whole of the Christian journey and I thought I would write it down. I think it might help people to understand how to walk with God.”
Jeb said. “Are you in for being drunk? That’s what I’m in for.”
John said, “No. I am imprisoned for the preaching of the Gospel of God and his Son Jesus. I don’t have a license to preach and I preach from the Bible not from the instruction of the King of England. They’ve offered to let me out if I promise not to preach anymore, but I’m not going to LIE about it after all.”
Jeb said, “Are you sure you haven’t had anything to drink tonight.”
John said, with a smile on his face wider than ever, “No, I haven’t had anything to drink in a long, long time. I know if you don’t understand the promises of God it will be hard for you to realize what little importance pleasure in this life is. The real consequences are in the next. What matters is that you have a savior.”
Jeb said, “I’m more worried about what my wife will think when she’s found out that I’m here.”
John said, “I can certainly understand the importance of your wife, but if some good comes out of your stay, then I hardly think she will be angry at you.”
Jeb said, “What good could come out of it.”
John said, “You can accept Jesus as your savior. If you did that, she would be grateful that you ended up here, wouldn’t she?”
Jeb said, “Now you’re talking nonsense.”
John said, “But of course that’s not the main reason you should. There is coming a judgment, fire and brimstone are coming. That was what me dream was about.”
“What a strange dream this must have been, tell me about it.” Jeb said, seeing an opportunity to change the subject.
John smiled, “There was a man named Christian, he found out that the town he lived in was to be destroyed by fire and brimstone so he tried to convince his wife and children to come with him away from the town, but they would not listen to him. Just as you aren’t listening to me, you see, about the coming judgment.”
Jeb said, “Hey, I’m listening.”
John said, “OK, well they didn’t believe him and wanted to stay in the town, so he left to find the gate that he had to go through to get to the Celestial City, which is of course Heaven. On his back there was a terrible burden which made the journey harder, but when he got to the gate, which was like the cross, the burden fell from his back and he was again as a free man. Along the way he found many others who had wrong ideas, or were proud or just plain wrong. They couldn’t find the path, it wasn’t easy to follow and the Devil came and attacked him, but as luck would have it he had on the amour of faith and the sword of the Gospel and was able to beat him back.”
“Then he had to cross the valley of the shadow of death, it was a horrible place, and, as it is written, the path was very narrow and straight. Demons and dragons looked upon him, and his heart was faint, but for the faith he had. If he had fallen off of the narrow path, then he would have fallen into the bottomless pit with them. But after this a friend was found on the path named Faithful and this made the journey easier. The giant Despair locked them up in the dungeon and was going to kill them, but they were able to escape. Eventually they made it to the city, and they had to cross a deep moat, their faith kept them from drowning. But then they found their city with streets of pure gold, with the only just King, and were attended by angels.”
Jeb scratched his head, “That is an interesting tale. I don’t ever remember having a dream with so many parts to it.”
John said, “And I have left out many details in my current telling. There are many people who they meet; each has an excuse for their not wanting to go to Heaven, or by not listening to the right way to get there.”
Jeb said, “Yes you mentioned something about that.”
John said, “You know by my former reputation that I had an awful tongue. A lady from town, who also I should mention wasn’t a believer, was shocked by my ability to weave out a tapestry of lurid curses and blasphemies. This embarrassed me greatly, so before I was truly saved I started to get the want of religion after being ashamed of my own tongue, but afterwards I was still the wretch that I always was, just one that didn’t swear.”
Jeb said, “Still am improvement I think.”
John said, “When I first was called I was playing the game called tip cat, I am sure you are familiar with it.”
Jeb said, “It has been a long time since I have played. I seem to remember the cat was a piece of wood with sharpened ends, and you had to have another piece of wood to strike it.”
John said, “You are right friend, and the object was to hit the cat as far as you could.”
Jeb said, “What’s wrong with the game?”
John said, “I have to explain that it was Sunday and that it is not considered right in my circles to play these games on the Sabbath. I heard a voice call out from Heaven, ‘Wilt thou leave thy sins and go to Heaven or have thy sins and go to Hell?’”
Jeb said, “You must have been very frightened.”
John said, “Most certainly indeed. I tried by all of my own effort to save myself. The only result was to be more certain of my own sinful ways.”
Jeb said, “I am confused by this. Wasn’t this the proper thing to do, it seems the right way to me?”
John said, “I overheard some ladies that were members of my church as they were mentioning that the way to salvation is to trust Jesus to do the work and the saving. This is very hard to do and against out natural inclinations, but I have found nothing more profitable.”
Jeb said, “I can see that it has worked on your imagination as well. I think the story to be an agreeable one. I think it will get published if you can write it nearly as good as you can tell it.”
John said, “Have I convinced you to forsake sin and put your trust in Jesus to heal your spiritual wounds?”
Jeb said, “I don’t think I’m ready to give up the pubs yet. I am willing to listen to more. Tomorrow though, as I am quite spent tonight.”
John said, “Certainly, you can come to my Sunday service.”
Jeb said, “You have a Sunday service when they threw you in here for preaching?”
John said, “Well certainly. I’m already in prison, what else can they do to me?”
Jeb said, “I am astonished. I have thought that most preachers do so to gain riches, I am inclined to listen to you more closely than to most, seeing that you earnestly believe what you are teaching me.”
John said, “Ah, but I do do it for the riches, the riches I will get in Heaven. What prize can a man put on seeing a friend there?”
Jeb said, “You are a rock of faith preacher.”
John said, “No there is only one rock, Jesus is his name.”
Notes
John Bunyon wrote Pilgrim’s Progress, which was the second bestselling book, next only the Bible, during the last of the seventeen century. His conversion, previous swearing, and writing the book in gaol based on a dream are all recorded history. He did, despite being locked in prison, continue to preach, and was given every opportunity to leave gaol if he would promise not to preach anymore.
Ironically, the Church of England, who was responsible for his imprisonment, has now made him a saint and he was a lesser festival on Aug 30th. The man he was talking to was fictional, but if there were such a man, John Buynon would have tried to tell him the Gospel, it is sure.
Telemachus
The old monk sat in the small uncomfortable chair in the priest’s office. Candles lit the small office of the priest and shown light on the many books and scrolls on the shelves
and desk. Despite the many shadows the candles produced, the room created the immediate impression of order and cleanliness. From the worn out look in the gray-speckled blue eyes, the chair provided no rest or comfort to the man. His skin had wrinkled like the bark of a tree that had seen too many winters.
The priest wore a simple outfit of black; a gold ring adorned his hand, and a golden cross hung by a golden chain around his neck. The priest said, “I understand that your plans have changed quite a bit since you came to Rome.”
The monk said, “Yes, I came here to establish a rule for my order and have it approved by the Vatican.” The dark brown robe that the monk wore showed signs of age; mended tears and thin patches indicated his proposed rule would emphasize poverty, and thus charity.
“Well then, “the priest said, “Tell me your story.”
The Monk’s Story
I have striven for many years to perfect the imitation of Christ through the establishment of rules in a monastic order, but here in Rome, when I was supposed to present my rule to be accepted, I have witnessed an example of perfection that cannot be obtained by any rule of man.
I am in charge of a small monastic community in Asia Minor, and, after many years of adjustments, I had put down on paper this rule. I wanted to travel here to have papal approval of the rule. I had received word that I could present it, so I made arrangements to come.
I thought it would be a good idea to have a traveling companion from one of my thirty-two fellow monks who lived in cells on the side of a mountain. The only real building in our community was a chapel where we held meetings, services, and prayers.
I have striven to lessen our temptations of the flesh by a strict discipline. The effect of this was that most of my fellow monks tended to be people of great religious conviction. The character of my fine monks make me afraid of the sin of pride, for there is the temptation to take credit for the good works of these men, when I know that it is the grace of God that moves them. I can only facilitate it with the limits of a mortal man.
You may be surprised when I tell you about the young monk I decided to take with me, Telemachus. He was a young man whose short dark brown hair framed even darker eyes. Despite the darkness of his eyes, there always shown in them a quick intelligence and a light mood. His large, wide nose matched his large, wide face that was a little darker than the sand on our mountain.
He talked as if he had great faith, but sometimes, to be honest with you, I doubted it. It wasn't like he was mean, or that anyone in the order disliked him, but he seemed to lack seriousness and self-discipline that was usual for the order. He disrupted our quiet contemplations and prayers. I don't think he did it on purpose; it was just how he was. He was rash, very rash. I guess that's why the trouble happened.
I thought bringing him to Rome would be good for him; he would be able to see all of the religious artifacts, wonderful buildings, and churches. I also thought he might use up some of his restlessness on the trip. We were both excited about the trip. Unlike me, he wore a smile upon his face larger than the promises we lived on.
After we said our goodbyes, we headed out to the road. Mist covered the mountains until it was burned away a little before we stopped to eat lunch. The trail was difficult to follow, not many people headed to our monastery, so when we could see the trail it was overgrown with weeds, but for the most part the trail was only in my memories. We saw a lot of rabbits and a few goats.
After a few days of walking I looked around to find a walking stick, I had aged since I had last made a long journey. Sometimes we forget that things change, or forget how long ago things were. It had been over twenty years since I had made the journey here from Rome, the road was not much different, but seemed three times as long.
On the second day early in the afternoon, we heard voices through the trees. We were in a heavily wooded area, not at the main Roman road yet. The road ahead of us curved so that our view of the road ahead was blocked. I was very cautious, the sounds were heard were hard to distinguish, but I thought that there might be robbers ahead, or some other violent commotion. Telemachus didn’t hesitate; he ran forward, I ran behind him, yelling at him to slow down. He didn’t listen, but we discovered a party of five bandits setting on a man and his wife. The bandits wore outfits of black, and their long unkempt beards and hair hung down. The man ware an oyster colored outfit with a blue cloak, his wife was outfitted with a simple blue dress, slightly lighter in shade than his cloak, with maroon trim. The man held his hands up in surrender, they both looked worried.
One of the robbers shouted at him, “Move along monk.” He stood very tall, over six feet tall, his wild hair stopped on a bald spot on his head.
He came back to me, I was relieved because I thought he had come to his senses, but he grabbed my walking stick and thrashed the bandit who had spoken on the head. The bandit stood for a second, stunned at his bravery. The husband, who had been holding his hands up produced a dagger from under his cloak. The balding bandit stepped back, and the other robbers took it as a sign to run. He was confused by his companions’ retreat, but he realized he was now outnumbered and ran.
The man and his wife were very thankful and offered us a reward. Telemachus was going to accept, but I refused a personal reward, but said if they wanted to give thanks it should be to God and not us. They then made a small contribution to our monastery. We continued on with them for three or four days, and then they said goodbye at a small village, really just a few organized sticks in the woods.
The traffic on the road became busier as we got to the Roman road. This road was constructed of metal, and the walking was mostly straight. One day when we were eating lunch a little boy of eight or nine came up to us. He wore an Arabian style robe and his shoes curled up at the end. His whole wardrobe appeared white, except on the bottom and sides of his shoes that were spotted with patches of dirt.
The boy said, “I haven’t seen people like you before.”
Telle answered, “We’re monks. We don’t have fancy clothes because we are Christians who devote ourselves to being closer to God rather than earning money.”
The boy said, “But why haven’t I seen anyone like you before?”
Telle said, “Well you see, what was your name?”
“Sereus.”
Telle said, “Sereus, we burry ourselves in the ground on the side of a mountain and we don’t pop out until spring.”
Sereus said, “But people don’t live in the ground.”
I said, “He’s kidding you son, we don’t live under ground.”
Telle said, “What do you call living in a cave?”
Sereus laughed.
Telle reached in his cloak and produced a piece of candy and gave it to the boy. I didn’t even know he was carrying it. I don’t know if it was the wild story or the candy, but the boy followed us for the next few days. Telle would tell him jokes and stories. Then Sereus’ mother told us that she had bought him the shoes when they had been on a trip to Persia. He had talked about the shoes for days and they had broken down and bought them for him. Luckily his father was trading with the shopkeeper and they got a good price for them. You see, usually they would be the type of shoes a prince would wear, and despite being attractive they were not made for walking long distances.
Telemachus was used to patching his clothes and he repaired the shoes for him once. His father was very happy with Telle for being a friend to his son and patching his shoes, so he invited us to eat with them that night. His wife made us delicious meal the likes of which I hadn’t enjoyed since taking my vows. We ate fish, breads, and pudding, it might not have been much to them, but it was a feast for both of us. We slept a little longer than usual the next morning because we were so full. When I woke I heard Telle yelling for Sereus.
This brought me out of a deep sleep, and I looked around for the boy. I saw his mother and she didn’t appear worried, I asked her, “What is he yelling about?”
She said, “I don’t know. I
’m sure the boy is behind a bush taking care of his business, but when Telle didn’t see him when he woke he assumed something was wrong. Sereus isn’t the type of boy that would run off.”
I looked back at Telle and he was heading down a ridge towards a lake. It did appear that there was a white form in the water. I wasn’t sure if Sereus’ mother was right not to be concerned. Telle jumped into the water, splashed, and yelled. He held up something white, but it wasn’t the boy. It looked like it might have been his clothes, but I was too far away to tell. He dove down into the water, and about that time Sereus came back into camp from the other direction.
I yelled but he wouldn’t listen. I said to Sereus, “I think you might have to go down there so that he can save you.”
The boy laughed and after a few minutes Telle came back, his face flush. We walked faster that day and Sereus was left behind us, Telle was too embarrassed to face the family. In the rashness of the bandits, he was a hero, but now he appeared to be a cad. Honestly this was how his rash decisions usually made him look. But no one will remember him for that now.
The journey was almost over, and as we headed down to Rome the traffic got increasingly busier. We saw a legion of solders headed in the other direction. Their amour glittered in the sun and the bear banner was leading the troop. I was glad I wasn’t a barbarian; even at a march they were organized and looked like they could fight.
We could see the tops of tall buildings over the hill in front of us. I asked Telle if he was exited, he smiled and didn’t answer me. We walked through a valley with a hill on either side and we got our first proper view of the city. The walls surrounded the city and every thirty feet or so guard towers loomed above.
The gate stood open, and guards wearing breastplates with red capes looked through the carts in the line to get into town, and we were waved by them with no concern.
It seemed like the streets were filled with people, carts and horses. The stone buildings climbed up in neat vertical lines. After a few blocks an archway rose over the street covered with relieves of Caesars and their triumphs. There was so much noise, with all of that talking, singing, and the clank of hooves. The only thing I didn’t care for was the smell. You could tell a few thousand people and animals had went to the bathroom within a few blocks despite the relatively good sewers. I grew up in the city and didn’t notice it then, but all the time in my cell on the side of the mountain had made me appreciate fresh air. Perhaps our strict order had a few of the better pleasures in life after all.