THE CROSS IN THE VALLEY.
It was with grief that the band of pilgrims watched Amer out of sight
as his path diverged from theirs.
"But," they said, "we could not expect to have his company long. The
King has other plans for him than to help and lead such a small band of
pilgrims."
"Have you noticed," said one of them, "that his advice has not been of
late so ready for us, that he has grown graver and sadder?"
"Yes," answered his companion, "he seemed to lose his zeal and his
assurance, and to be weary."
"It is tiring climbing to the heights," said a third, "as for me I
would rather be led through the valleys. I like lowly paths best."
"Anyhow," said another, "we are saved the enemies that often attack
those whose path leads them to the peaks. We are not so strong and
brave as Amer, and would not be able to overcome them as he has done."
But Amer himself, as he began to descend into the valley through which
his path lay, was filled with sadness.
Depression walked by his side, while the family of Morbids held fast
hold of his ankles so that his footsteps dragged heavily. He had no
courage to fight them or to resist them. So far away seemed the Radiant
City and his King that he felt it was almost impossible to look up, and
his path lay down, down, down, into the Valley of Humiliation.
He began now to remember how that good soldier, Heman, had shrunk away
from anything in the form of praise, how he would never talk about
himself, and was always on the watch against the enemy Pride.
He remembered how on the occasion when Belthiah had been asked the
secret of her peaceful aspect, Heman had hastily looked around him in
search of the enemy, warning her that he was listening for her answer.
He remembered too how, when imprisoned in the cave belonging to
Spiritual Pride, he had read the rules that were to be followed by his
soldiers, and that one of them was to persuade the man they were in
league against, to talk of himself.
He recognized, too, the fact, that all the time he had been deceiving
himself into believing that he was praising his King he was praising
himself, and he recollected the words of the old pilgrim which at the
time they were spoken had filled him with vexation: "Disappoint not our
King."
And had he not disappointed Him? Ah! how much!
As Amer descended into the valley, filled with these thoughts, a great
hunger took possession of him, a hunger for the Presence of his King
and for His approbation. After all, what did the flattery of man matter
in comparison with one word of praise from his King. All those who had
hung upon his lips, listening to his advice and to his experiences, had
probably by now forgotten him: while the King, Whom he had neglected,
was still loving him and thinking of him.
In the old days, Amer might have fancied that his sin had robbed him
of the love of his King. But he knew his King better now, and he had
read in his Guide Book, that "'neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor
principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor
height, nor depth, nor any other creature'" could separate him from
the love of his King. So he knew that He must be still looking down
in love and pity upon him; although his sins had come as a cloud to
hide Him from his sight. And at the thought of His love, of His tender
compassion, of His patience with him, notwithstanding his many falls,
and the constant disappointments he had caused Him, a great longing
took possession of his soul, and he cried out in the words of the Guide
Book,
"'My soul thirsteth for Thee, my flesh longeth for Thee in a dry and
thirsty land, where no water is.' 'As the hart panteth after the water
brooks, so panteth my soul after Thee, O God.'"
At last, as he reached the bottom of the valley, he perceived a cross
standing in the midst of the path along which he had to tread, and with
a cry of gratitude he flung himself beneath its shadow, and a great
peace stole in upon him; the peace of sin forgiven.
Spiritual Pride's soldiers, who had been following at a distance,
hoping for an opportunity of wounding him again, and anxious lest
Amer should altogether escape them, at the sight of the cross and
of the prostrate figure of the young soldier at its foot, felt that
their power was almost gone, and leaving only one to keep watch at his
elbow, and to give them a warning should a likely chance occur again of
wounding him, turned back to worry and annoy some other poor traveller.
But the man they had left behind felt his post to be a discouraging
one, as Amer, on rising to continue his journey again, was on the
watch, so that Spiritual Pride's emissary could not get near him.
Once however while Amer was resting on his journey, the enemy managed
to gain his ear for a moment.
"How changed you are," he whispered, "you are greater than you have
been before, because you are humbler. You never talk of yourself to the
passers-by, but always manage to turn the conversation when it is about
you. You are getting as humble as Heman."
Amer was rather drowsy when these thoughts entered his mind, but
suddenly he recognised the source from which they came, and rising,
fully awake again, he dealt such a blow at the enemy that he fell at
his feet, dead.
Amer's love for his King had so grown, that now his one great longing
and aim was to please Him, and remembering his King's words to the
young girl who had tended the little boy across the dark river, and
finding them written in his Guide Book, he looked out for the weakest
and smallest of the pilgrims that came across his path, to help and to
succour them. The people whom others passed by and neglected, became
now dear to his heart as he recognised that in serving them he was
serving the Great King.
And these did not often happen to be the noblest, the bravest, or the
most interesting among the pilgrims, but just the reverse. Many of them
would have been wholly uninteresting to Amer, had it not been for the
fact that they belonged to his King, and were dear to Him.
"Amer has changed," said one of his friends who had listened with such
rapt attention to his words of advice before he had trodden the Valley
of Humiliation. "He does not attract crowds around him as formerly;
do you not remember how they would walk by his side to catch every
word that fell from his lips, even the noblest and the greatest of the
pilgrims felt they could learn from him, and followed him."
"You are right," answered the person addressed, "he certainly has not
such an audience as formerly, and is not so popular; that is to say
people are not drawn to him as they used to be, but I am not sure that
they are not drawn more to their King after talking with him."
"Do you think so?" said the former speaker questioningly.
"I have noticed," answered the other, "that many, after talking with
him, soon leave him, but go away with their lips moving in prayer, and
their eyes raised to Heaven."
"So that in thinking less of him, you believe they think more of their
King?"
"I am sure of it: I happened to walk beside him a short part of the
journey not long ago, and I was struck, not by what he said, but by
what he did. He never seemed to think of himself, but was always on the
look-out to help others, but in such a quiet way that had I not been
watching him closely, I should never have noticed it. It had the effect
of making me go and try and do likewise."