The Interpreter lived in a house that looked quite ordinary. Someone was hanging out washing by the door, and someone else was wiping a table by the window. When Chris knocked, a gray cat was dozing on the step. He carefully walked around it, afraid of stepping on its tail.
The master of the house came to welcome him. Chris expected the Interpreter to open a thick book at once and explain many things he could not understand. Instead, he picked up a lamp. “Come and look with me first.”
A picture hung in the first room. The person in it held a book and looked toward the people in front of him. Many fine things were piled behind him, but he did not turn around. “You will meet many people on the road who say they can guide you,” the Interpreter said. “Don’t just listen to how clever they say they are. Look at whether they lead people toward the light, or toward their own moneybags.”
The second room was full of dust. Someone brought a broom and began sweeping hard. Dust flew into the air at once. Chris covered his mouth and coughed until he could hardly straighten up. The Interpreter asked a young woman to bring a bucket of clean water and sprinkle it gently over the floor. The dust settled. When the broom passed over it again, the floor’s true color began to show.
“What do you think happened just now?” the Interpreter asked.
“He wanted to make it clean. But the harder he tried, the less anyone could see.”
“That can happen inside us too. Knowing what is wrong matters. But if all people hear is ‘Don’t do wrong,’ they may grow more and more frightened, busy hiding things and making excuses. God’s grace helps them dare to show who they really are, and then learn to change.”
Chris looked at the wooden floorboards, still wet. “So I don’t have to get everything right before I can ask for help?”
The Interpreter nodded and handed him a cloth. Chris crouched down and wiped up the water left in a corner. He worked slowly, but this time he did not hurry to blame himself for being too slow.
In the next room were two children, Passion and Patience. Passion kept slapping his chair. “Give it to me now! I want it now!” Someone set a bag of treasures at his feet. He shouted with delight and immediately traded them for toys, snacks, and whistles that made a piercing noise.
Patience looked at the treasures too. His fingers moved a little on the chair, but he stayed seated. Chris asked quietly, “Doesn’t he like them?”
“He does,” the Interpreter said. “But his master has promised a better gift. He is willing to wait.”
Passion soon spent everything in his bag. His whistle cracked, and he lost several toys. Looking at the empty bag, he suddenly stopped laughing at Patience.
Chris did not say he would always be able to wait quietly from now on. He knew that with his family in danger, he would still feel anxious. But remembering the mountain, he began to understand how wanting an answer right away could make him trust anyone who promised him one.
Outside the room, the Interpreter asked what he most wanted to learn. Chris thought for a moment. “When I’m in a hurry, to look where I’m putting my feet first.” The master smiled and lifted his lamp a little higher. There were still several doors ahead, waiting for them to enter.