Walk With Me (28 page)

Sometimes she had to stop because the path was almost vertical and gravity pulled her backward.

Humility joined her as she struggled on. “Fix your eyes on the Servant. For the joy set before Him, He endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of the King.”

Her pack weighed her down so she couldn’t look up to the top. But as she looked at the ground, she thought of the Servant who had been shamed and broken. She thought of the scars from His wounds, the stripes from lashes, the cross He had carried through the streets of the Chosen City. Drawing strength from His example and fueled by the Breath of the King, she was able to reach the top of Skull Hill.

The summit was bare except for a fire burning in a pit. The flames blazed strong as a wind howled in the trees below, and Celeste shivered. Weak from carrying the case and the club up the hill, she stumbled as she made her way forward. When she reached the pit, for once she did not hesitate. She wanted to be free of the burden of resentment and anger. Gathering all her strength, she thrust the club and the case into the fire.

The flames roared up. As she watched them, she thought of one more thing she must do. She took out the paper on which she had kept account of the debts Peter owed her. Then she crumpled the list and threw it into the fire. It was saturated with hostility and resentment, and the flames blazed so hot that Celeste had to take a step back. The ground began to throb with a deep harmonic
resonance, and Celeste heard a large choir singing: “And hope does not disappoint us, because the King has poured out His love into our hearts through His Breath.” A great cloud of witnesses had been watching as she had made her sacrifice. Now their song turned into cheering. Humility came alongside Celeste, and together they started down the other side of Skull Hill.

As they walked, Humility counseled Celeste. “Do not assume Peter will be different because of what you have just done. Most likely, you will find him just the same. But you are free now to love him without expectation and to give without hope of return. Care for him as you would want him to care for you. Desire what is best for him, loving him as you have been loved.”

At the bottom of Skull Hill, they came to the path that led to a bridge of forgiveness. Celeste was filled with dread; she did not know if she could love as the King had loved her. “It’s too soon to cross the bridge,” she told Humility, thinking of the narrow plank and slender rope stretched across the chasm. “I’m not ready.”

“If not now, when?” Humility said.

So with Humility beside her, Celeste headed down the path. When they reached the bridge, Humility took the rag of compassion and tended to Celeste’s wounds. As she did this, she told Celeste about an old couple she had once met. In their younger days, they had done much for the King. The husband had been very gifted at blazing new trails for the King, and the wife was bright and quick, always eager to help. As they traveled together, she enabled him to do great things for the King. But then she grew old faster than she should have. She lost her ability to remember and speak, and even to think and dream and plan.
Sometimes she would wander away by herself, drooling and muttering. The husband could not take care of her and continue his work for the King. So he gave it up.”

Celeste wondered about the husband’s decision. “But think of all the good things he could have done without her.”

“Do you remember the friend of the Servant who complained about perfume being wasted on the Servant’s feet? He said the money could have been given to the poor, and that was true. But the King’s economy is not like ours. Many travelers think that serving the King dutifully is the most important thing on the way to the King’s City, but they often look no different than the people in the Orchard of Earthly Delights or Slouching City or Upright Village. If you are going to stay on the King’s path, you cannot put serving the King ahead of loving the King.”

“But this man wasted his life caring for his partner.”

“It is never a waste to love or to take the Servant’s path to Skull Hill. This husband had vowed to care for his partner no matter what happened, and he did as he promised.”

Celeste knew it was time for her to cross the bridge. Although the list of Peter’s debts lay in ashes on Skull Hill, she still could recite all the ways Peter had failed her. He had closed himself off from her, he had not listened to her, he had gone off with the honey woman, he had been cold and callous, he had refused to stop for her….

“Release, let go,” Humility whispered. “Cancel the debt. Remember you too have been forgiven. Follow the Servant’s footsteps.”

“All right, I’ll go,” she said. She threw back her shoulders and walked quickly onto the bridge, her eyes fixed on the other side. She had gone a quarter of the way when she made the mistake of looking down into the black, endless chasm. A wave of dizziness came over her. But she forced herself to press on.

Pardon was waiting on the other side, and when Celeste reached the end, the guide held out his hand to help Celeste off the bridge. Celeste looked at him expectantly, thinking he would congratulate her. But all Pardon said was, “Do not be fooled into thinking that you will not have to do that again.”

“But I crossed the bridge. I’ve forgiven Peter.”

Pardon shook his head. “There will be other chasms ahead of you, and each time you will need to walk over a bridge.”

“How many more times will I have to walk over it?” She was about to add, “And what about Peter; when will it be his turn to walk across it?”

“That is what everyone always wants to know,” Pardon said. “But there is no magic formula. And there will never come a time when you will be able to say to Peter, ‘I won’t forgive you again because you’ve used up all of your chances.’” Pardon looked at Celeste with understanding. “Think of some small sin you do every day. Multiply it by the number of days you have walked. How many times in all is that?”

Celeste shook her head.

“It’s a lot to forgive, isn’t it? Yet the King has forgiven you that many times, and will still forgive you even if you commit this one sin a hundred times a day, every day, until you reach His city. That’s how many times you should be prepared to cross a bridge
of forgiveness. We have been given grace without measure, yet we would parcel it out in drops to someone else.” Pardon sighed. “The King is very patient. You must be patient too. We hope Peter will respond to the grace you give him, as you have responded to the King’s. But there is no guarantee. You must continue to love, without rules, without conditions, without expecting anything in return.”

Celeste continued on the path and soon found Peter and the little travelers napping in a grove near the chasm. Peter woke up and looked at her without smiling.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” she said.

“What do you mean? We just got here an hour ago. It took me days to find a way around the chasm.”

“So you didn’t walk over the bridge?”

“How could I do that after you walked off and left me with the little travelers? Anyway, it’s time to go. Let’s not waste the rest of the day.”

Celeste quickly woke up the little travelers and got their bags ready. Before they all started off again, she went to Peter. “Will you walk with me?” she asked.

A faint smile came to his face.

The path took them into woodlands interspersed with pastures, all showing the first signs of spring. The bare branches were tipped with green buds, and the first tiny wildflowers blossomed in the hollows. Celeste felt a sweetness carry her along as she walked. In spite of Humility’s warning, she was confident that after her sacrifice at Skull Hill and crossing the bridge of forgiveness, their path would take them on to the Highlands. She worked
hard to keep up with Peter without a single grumble, and often she hummed one of the King’s songs to herself.

But Peter was so used to her complaints, he still heard them in his head. Once he turned around and said, “Oh stop complaining, will you?”

Celeste looked at him bewildered, and then replied calmly. “I wasn’t saying anything.” She was determined to keep answering him with tenderness, hoping that soon he would start to show signs of change.

Peter kept to his pace even when the track became rocky and then turned slippery after a gentle mist. He still wanted the campsite neat and orderly, even if they stayed for only a night. Food was still scarce, and he had to leave Celeste alone with the little travelers for long periods while he searched for something to eat. Soon her old bitterness and resentment returned. Didn’t she deserve an easier journey after what she had sacrificed?

One day when he snapped at her, she snapped back. “I’ve been so patient with you, why can’t you be nice for once?”

But he only scowled and said he didn’t know what she was talking about.

Just then a strong wind came up. Turning around, she saw Skull Hill behind her with a fire blazing on top. She remembered the death she had died, and she gave a little sob.

There was no way around it; she really had to love Peter without expecting anything in return.

She started to spend time alone with the King every morning before setting off. During the day when she felt too weak to give, she asked the King for what she needed—again and again.
“I do this to please the King and no one else,” she told herself. “As I die the Servant’s death, I will reveal the Servant’s life. And I trust the King to love me.”

She worked hard to keep up with Peter. And as she yielded to Peter, her muscles became stronger and she found the walking easier. Although the path was still very rugged, she was able to scramble up the direct, rocky paths Peter loved to take. She let Peter have the biggest log to sit on when they stopped to rest; she gave up asking him to help her with the little travelers when he was tired. Instead of cutting Peter down with unkind words, she complimented him on his stride and thanked him for the warm fire he made every night. She told him how much she appreciated the way he repaired their packs and gathered food for them.

Peter was still judgmental and rigid, but as she looked on him with the King’s eyes, her love covered over his sins.

One day she fell and sprained her ankle. She limped on as best she could, not wanting to slow Peter down.

Peter noticed her grimacing. “What’s wrong?”

“I twisted my ankle.”

He carefully bound it up and carried her bags. Celeste was amazed at his kindness. She walked on behind him—and remembered other times he had cared for her. He had helped her out of the Sand Dunes of Foolishness and gone down the path of co-heirs and waited for her at Submission Pond. She thought of how he played with the little travelers. Though he had gone astray with the honey woman, he had not shared the chalice with her, and he had come back to Celeste with remorse. Celeste thanked the King for Peter.

The days were getting warmer and food easier to find, but Peter still liked to take his time when he looked for provisions. Often he would leave first thing in the morning and not return to Celeste and the little travelers until sunset. But he did not spend the whole day searching for food. Instead he would go off and hike to overlooks, as he had before he became partners with Celeste. Then one day he walked quite far to climb a steep peak that overlooked one of the chasms. When he got to the top, the sun was already low and he decided to take a shorter route down the other side. As he descended, the air turned colder with a sharp wind, and he thought how nice it would be to get back to a warm fire. Much to his surprise, Celeste had become an expert fire builder, and he was certain she had already started one back at their campsite.

But when he reached the bottom, he discovered a rock slide blocked the way back to the main path. The sun had almost set. He didn’t think it would be safe to retrace his steps or find a way through the wilderness that lay behind it, and he didn’t like the idea of spending a cold night alone. The only other option was to cross a bridge of forgiveness he could see just a little ways down the chasm. When he got to the bridge and looked at the single narrow plank, he shook his head. How could the King expect him to cross such a dangerous bridge? He stood in the growing dark, feeling colder and colder while he wondered what to do.