The Pilgrim’s Progress VII: The Road Opens Before Christiana
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Last week, Christiana, her children, and Mercy received what every pilgrim soon learns to prize: a faithful guide.
They had reached the Interpreter’s House. They had been welcomed, instructed, refreshed, and clothed. Then, as they prepared to continue, the Interpreter called for one of his servants:
“Then said the Interpreter to one of his servants, Take sword, and helmet, and shield; and take these my daughters, and conduct them to the house called Beautiful.”
And so Bunyan gives us Mr. Great-heart.
“So he took his weapons, and went before them; and the Interpreter said, God speed.”
That is enough for Bunyan. No long explanation. No sermon on guidance. No doctrine abstracted from the scene. A man takes up sword, helmet, and shield, and goes before the pilgrims.
The story itself tells us what we need to know.
Christiana and Mercy are not sent forward alone. The children are not left to find the way by guesswork. The King has provided a guide who knows the road, carries weapons, and walks ahead.
“Come, My Good Children, Let Us Be Going”
As they leave the Interpreter’s House, Christiana speaks first not like a lecturer, but like a mother on pilgrimage.
“Come, my good children, let us be going.”
There is tenderness in that line. She does not say, “You must go.” She says, “Let us be going.” She is not sending them toward the Celestial City while remaining behind. She is going with them.
And the children answer in a way that tells us they have begun to understand the seriousness of the road:
“So they went on their way, and the weather was comfortable to them.”
Bunyan allows them a gentle beginning. Not every step is storm. There are comfortable stretches on the pilgrim road. There are moments when the air is clear, the guide is near, and the company is glad to be together.
But the road soon remembers where it is.
For they come to the place where Christian, years before, had lost his burden.
“Now I saw in my dream, that they went on, and Great-heart went before them: so they went and came to the place where Christian’s burden fell off his back, and tumbled into a sepulchre.”
Here Christiana sees the place that had changed her husband forever.
This is not merely a landmark. It is a testimony in the ground.
Christian had come this way bent beneath a load he could not remove. He had climbed toward the Cross. He had seen One hanging there. And his burden had fallen from his back into the sepulchre, to be seen no more.
Now his wife stands in that same place.
“The Cross and the Sepulchre”
Bunyan lets Christiana respond as a pilgrim, a widow, and a believer:
“Then said Christiana, O, I remember that my husband told me of this place, and how he lost his burden here.”
Memory is doing holy work in her now. Once, Christian’s words had sounded strange to her. Now she stands where his words are confirmed.
She continues:
“Here then they made a pause; and here also they blessed God.”
That is all Bunyan says.
They paused.
They blessed God.
Sometimes the truest response to grace is not analysis but holy stillness. Christiana does not improve upon the Cross with many words. She stands where mercy met her husband, and she blesses God.
The children are there too. They hear the story. They stand where their father’s burden fell. The place becomes part of their inheritance.
And Mercy, whose name fits every step of her journey, is there as well. She had feared she might not be admitted at the gate. She had trembled over whether mercy could include her. Now she stands at the Cross and sees where burdens go.
The guide does not hurry them past it.
Great-heart knows that pilgrims must learn the road by remembering what God has done there.
Simple, Sloth, and Presumption
But the way does not remain still. Soon they come upon three men.
“Now they had not gone far, but they espied three men fast asleep, with fetters upon their heels.”
Their names are Simple, Sloth, and Presumption.
Bunyan has already shown us these men in Christian’s journey. They are still there. The road changes pilgrims, but the dangers along it remain strangely familiar.
Great-heart sees them and asks:
“What is the reason that you lie here?”
They answer with the indifference of souls accustomed to danger:
“We see no danger.”
It is one of the most frightening lines in the book.
Not because danger is absent, but because they cannot see it.
They are asleep. They are fettered. They are lying in the path. Yet they say, “We see no danger.”
Great-heart does not leave them unwarned. He cries out:
“You are like them that sleep on the top of a mast, for the Dead Sea is under you, a gulf that hath no bottom.”
Still they do not rise.
Bunyan lets them speak in their own ruinous way. They are not violent enemies. They are not roaring lions. They are men who prefer sleep.
Simple says one thing, Sloth another, Presumption another. But the meaning is the same: not now, not yet, let us alone.
So the pilgrims pass on.
This is one of Bunyan’s hard mercies. Not every warning is received. Not every sleeper wakes. Not every fettered man wants freedom.
Christiana and Mercy must see it. The children must see it. We must see it too.
The road to life is lined not only with open hostility, but with spiritual drowsiness.
The Hill Difficulty
Then comes the hill.
“Then they went on, and came to the foot of the Hill Difficulty.”
Here again Christiana walks where Christian had walked before her. Bunyan brings the earlier journey back into view, but he does not merely repeat it. Christian had faced this hill alone.
Christiana faces it with children, with Mercy, and with Great-heart before them.
At the foot of the hill they find the spring.
“There was a spring at the bottom of the hill, and there they drank and were refreshed.”
Bunyan knows the kindness of God. Before the climb, there is water.
Not after they have proven themselves. Not after they have reached the top. At the bottom, before the hardest ascent, the pilgrims drink.
Then comes the question of the paths.
There are easier ways near the hill. There always are.
Christian had seen them too: Danger and Destruction. They look more manageable than the steep road upward.
But Great-heart knows the way.
The pilgrims do not need novelty here. They need faithfulness. The true road is still the difficult one.
So up they go.
“Now the hill was high, and the way was steep.”
That sentence carries the weight of every honest pilgrimage.
The hill was high.
The way was steep.
Bunyan does not pretend otherwise. He does not soften the road for Christiana because she is a woman, or because she has children, or because Mercy is tender, or because Great-heart is armed. The hill remains the hill.
Yet the company climbs.
“I Had Need of Courage”
As they go upward, the pilgrims begin to feel the labor of it. The children tire. The women need rest. The climb asks more than enthusiasm can give.
Mercy, always honest, speaks from the strain of the way:
“I had need of courage.”
That line belongs to every pilgrim who has discovered that beginning was easier than continuing.
Mercy had courage enough to leave the City of Destruction. Courage enough to knock at the gate. Courage enough to join Christiana. But now she needs courage for the next step, and then the next.
Bunyan does not shame her for this. He lets her say it.
Great-heart is there, but Mercy still needs courage. The guide’s presence does not erase the pilgrim’s need for perseverance.
Christiana also feels the road. A mother’s pilgrimage is never merely private. If she grows weary, she must still think of the children. If she fears, she must not teach them to turn back. If she needs rest, she must rest without quitting.
So they climb, sometimes slowly, but truly.
The Arbor on the Hill
Partway up, they come to the arbor.
Christian had once rested there and lost his roll. His sleep had cost him sorrow.
Now Christiana’s company reaches the same place.
“Then said Great-heart, This is the place where Christian your husband slept, and lost his roll.”
Again the road remembers.
Christiana is not walking through a blank landscape. She is passing through places marked by her husband’s victories and failures. Some places preach comfort. Some places warn.
The Cross said, “Here his burden fell.”
The arbor says, “Here he slept too long.”
Christiana receives both.
This is part of the mercy of Bunyan’s second journey. Christian’s story becomes instruction for those who follow him. His pilgrimage was not wasted. Even his mistakes serve his family now.
The guide tells the story. The pilgrims listen. Then they move on.
“Let Us Go On”
The beautiful thing about Christiana’s company is that they keep going.
They pause, but they do not settle.
They rest, but they do not return.
They remember Christian, but they do not merely admire him from a distance. They walk the same road.
That is the difference between honoring a pilgrim and becoming one.
Christiana could have remained in the City of Destruction and spoken sentimentally of her husband’s convictions. She could have treasured his memory without following his path.
But grace will not let her do only that.
She must go on.
And she does.
The Lions Ahead on the Road
At last they come near the place where Christian had trembled at the lions.
For Christian, the lions had appeared almost enough to stop him. He had not at first seen that they were chained. Fear made them seem free.
Now Christiana’s company approaches the same danger.
The children are there. Mercy is there. Christiana is there. Great-heart is before them.
The lions roar.
Bunyan does not remove the sound. Even chained lions are frightening when they roar.
But Great-heart knows the truth of them. He knows how far they can come. He knows the difference between noise and destruction.
The pilgrims must still pass by. The guide cannot make the roar pleasant. He can only lead them safely through it.
And that is enough.
At the House Beautiful
At length they come to the Porter’s Lodge near the House Beautiful.
This is where Christian had once been welcomed and armed. Now Christiana arrives with a larger company.
The Porter asks who is there, and Great-heart answers for them.
“It is Christiana, the wife of Christian, that famous pilgrim, who some time ago did travel this way; and these are his four children.”
What a moment.
The name of Christian is remembered. His journey had left a testimony behind. The household he once could not persuade has now come to the same door.
The Porter rejoices:
“Then the Porter rang his bell, as at such times he is wont.”
Soon the maidens of the house come out. They know what this arrival means. Christiana is not treated as an intrusion, nor Mercy as an extra, nor the children as a burden. They are welcomed as pilgrims.
And when Christiana is recognized, the house itself seems to remember Christian.
“So they went in, and were had into a very large room, where they were bidden to sit down.”
There is room for them.
Room for the widow.
Room for the children.
Room for Mercy.
Room for those who came later.
Room for those who once refused.
Bunyan’s house is large because grace is large.
“This Is the Woman”
The household rejoices over Christiana’s arrival.
They say:
“This is the woman that was so unwilling to leave the City of Destruction.”
That could have been spoken as accusation. But in this house, it becomes wonder.
Yes, this is the woman.
The one who once stayed behind.
The one who dismissed Christian’s urgency.
The one who had to be awakened after sorrow.
The one who came late.
And now she is here.
The characters do not let us turn Christiana into an abstraction.
She is not “delayed obedience” as an idea. She is a woman at the door, with children beside her, receiving welcome.
Her past is not denied. But neither is it allowed to define the end of her story.4
Supper and Remembrance
At the House Beautiful, the pilgrims are fed, and their conversation turns naturally to Christian.
They ask Christiana about him. They remember him. They speak of his journey.
There is a holy continuity here. Christian’s pilgrimage and Christiana’s pilgrimage are not the same, but they belong to one story.
His faithfulness did not end with his arrival at the Celestial City. It bore fruit behind him.
And yet Christiana must now have her own experience of the road. She cannot live forever on Christian’s memory. She can be encouraged by it, instructed by it, and strengthened by it, but she must walk.
Bunyan lets the old testimony and the new pilgrimage meet at the table.
That is often how faith is handed down: at tables, in stories, through remembered mercies, among people who say, “This is where he passed,” and “This is what God did,” and “Now you must go on.”
Letting the Characters Speak
If we listen to this part of the story, we hear no single speech dominating the rest. Instead, we hear a chorus.
Christiana says, in effect: I was late, but I am coming now.
Mercy says: I am afraid, but I will go.
The children say: We are little, but we are on the road.
Great-heart says: I will go before you.
The Cross says: Burdens fall here.
The sleeping men say: We see no danger.
The hill says: The way is steep.
The spring says: Drink before you climb.
The arbor says: Rest, but do not forget.
The lions say: Fear us.
The chains say: They can come no farther.
The House Beautiful says: Come in; there is room.
And Bunyan, wisely, mostly steps aside.
He lets the road preach by being the road.He lets the pilgrims teach by walking.He lets danger warn by appearing.He lets mercy comfort by opening the door.
Christiana’s journey continues not because she is strong, but because she is guided. Not because the road is easy, but because the King has made provision along it. Not because she fully understands every danger, but because she follows one who knows the way.
And so the company rests for a while at the House Beautiful.
The road is not finished.
But they have climbed the hill.They have passed the lions.They have been welcomed in.
For today, that is enough.
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Thank You, Lord Jesus, for this wonderful story. Be with me on mmy journey to the Celestial City. I long to be in the place You are preparing for me. Amen
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Jesus will walk with me down thru the valley,
Jesus will walk with me over the plain;
When in the shadow or when in the sunshine,
If He goes with me I shall not complain.
Refrain
Jesus will walk with me,
He will talk with me;
He will walk with me;
In joy or in sorrow, today and tomorrow,
I know He will walk with me.
Jesus will walk with me when I am tempted,
Giving me strength as my need may demand;
When in affliction His presence is near me,
I am upheld by His almighty hand.
Refrain
Jesus will walk with me, guarding me ever,
Giving me victory thru storm and thru strife;
He is my Comforter, Counselor, Leader,
Over the uneven journey of life.
Refrain
Jesus will walk with me in life’s fair morning,
And when the shadows of evening must come;
Living or dying, He will not forsake me.
Jesus will walk with me all the way home.
Refrain
Haldor Lillenas, 1922
But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship one with another, and the blood of Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth us from all sin. 1 John 1:7
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