Christian at the Wicket Gate from a 1778 English edition. (Thanks, Wikipedia)

There’s one particular idea from Bunyan’s The Pilgrim’s Progress that has stuck with me since I reread it last semester.  Early in the story, Christian is told to go to the wicket gate, that he will receive further instructions there.  After much struggle, he arrives there and receives what is necessary: it is the beginning point of the Narrow Way, the King’s Highway.  Later on, he meets a man named Ignorance, who has decided to go his own way.  Their conversation:

“You may have some difficulty there getting in the Gate.”

“As other good people do,” answered Ignorance.

“But what rolled certificate do you have to show at the [Celestial] Gate?”

“I know my Lord’s will,” replied Ignorance.  “I have lived a good life.  I pay my debts.  I pray, fast, pay tithes, give alms.  And I have left my country for the Celestial City.”

“But you didn’t come in at the wicket gate that is at the head of the way,” worried Christian.  “I fear you will not get into the City.  Instead you will be charged ‘a thief and a robber.'”

“Gentlemen, you are utter strangers to me.  I don’t know you.  Be content to follow the religion of your country, and I will follow the religion of mine.  I hope all will be well, and as for the wicket gate that you talk of, all the world knows it is a great way off.  I cannot think that any men in all our parts do so much as know the way to it.  Nor need it matter whether they do or not, since we have, as you see, a fine pleasant green lane that comes down from our country the way into it.”

For all intents and purposes of Bunyan’s story, you could come from anywhere in the wide world, from any far-off location, to make your way to the road to the heavenly City.  But your journey in earnest had to start at the Wicket Gate.  And while that is true of salvation, it is true of other things for believers by implication.  In our attempts to accommodate the diversity of faith journeys in our Christian communities, we can easily forget the need to reiterate the assertion that for all of our different places of departure, we come by the Narrow Way, the way to and of the Cross, and that’s more than just a devotional truth.  At some point our journeys have joined, the road has become a shared one, and because of that the journey is different.  What we see and how we see are different.  We cringe at the thought of any kind of lock-step faith, as if it destroys our sacred sense of individuality.  But if the way is narrow and we are changed, then so be it and thank God.  Rather we learn to walk it together now than to be astonished when we arrive at our destination but are not allowed entrance because we chose instead to go our own ways (like Ignorance, who was anything but).  That is true of faith and church, in our institutions and our relationships.  All of them (and our work in them) begin in earnest when we start “at the head of the way.”

____________________________________________________

Text from the 2010 Barbour Publishing edition.