2, Worldly Wiseman
The Gentle Whisper That Obstructs the Truth
My childhood was not comfortable or abundant.
Life today is far richer than in those days,
yet I do not believe happiness has increased.
If anything, I often sigh when I see how easily
we turn away from one another’s suffering—my own included.
Along this pilgrim road called life,
I frequently encountered those who were overly self-assured,
convinced of their own brilliance.
Armed with the knowledge and logic of the world,
they tried to drag me into the Slough of Despair.
The only reason I did not collapse on that road
was because God sent, at the right moments,
people like Evangelist—
those who led me back to the narrow path
whenever I had wandered away.
Obstinacy and Pliable
When Christian left the City of Destruction,
someone followed him.
His name was Obstinacy.
He asked Christian,
“Why have you abandoned your home and begun this wandering?”
Christian pointed to the book in his hand and answered,
“I am seeking an inheritance kept in heaven—imperishable and undefiled.
According to this Book, if I do not turn back now, we shall all perish.”
At this, Obstinacy flushed with anger,
laughed loudly,
and without even looking back,
returned to the City of Destruction.
His heart was like the seed sown on the path (Matt. 13:4)—
there was no room for the Word to enter.
Beside him stood Pliable.
Christian’s words stirred something in him,
and he declared,
“I will go with Christian and share his destiny!”
But the resolve did not last long.
Soon they reached a deep, miry bog called
the Slough of Despair.
Pliable flailed and shouted,
“Is this miserable path the blessed journey you promised?
This is what you call a pilgrimage?”
And without another word,
he turned back the way he came.
Fig. 2-1: The three travelers—Christian, Obstinacy, and PliableBefore the truth,
human beings divide themselves into two groups:
those who reject from the beginning like Obstinacy,
and those who are moved briefly
yet collapse at the first sign of hardship like Pliable.
Both figures still hide deep within our own hearts.
Helping Hand
As Christian struggled helplessly in the bog,
a man approached him.
His name was Help.
He said,
“This slough cannot be repaired.
Whenever a sinner realizes the despair of his own condition, fear, anxiety, shame, and discouragement flow into this placeand make the mire deeper.”
Help extended his hand
and lifted Christian out of the mud.
Only by grasping that hand
could Christian continue his journey.
Fig. 2-2: Christian rescued by Help, while Pliable returns the way he cameGod’s grace is the hand that reaches us first
at the very place where we collapse.
It is grace that lifts us
out of our own Slough of Despair.
The Evangelist on My Pilgrim Journey
I, too, had an Evangelist in my life—
Elder Yong-gi Kim,
founder of the Canaan Farmers’ School.
With the words,
“If anyone will not work, neither shall he eat”
(2 Thess. 3:10),
he taught diligence and self-reliance
to a Korea devastated by war.
His teaching later became
the seed of the Saemaeul (New Village) Movement.
From him I learned
that faith must not remain in the mind—
it must be lived.
The Miracle of the Five Loaves and Two Fish
The feeding of the five thousand
was far more than the solving of hunger.
It was a revelation that
God brings great grace through small things.
Even today, God uses
small hands and small offerings.
Fig. 2-3: Jesus performing the miracle of the five loaves and two fishSmall Acts, Living Faith
One day I met a homeless man
selling magazines at a subway entrance.
I was told that half the proceeds would be his,
so whenever a new issue was released,
I tried to stop by and buy one.
But another day,
a mother and daughter wearing long black coats
stood in the same spot,
selling socks.
Yet I did not help them.
On my way home,
seeing my empty hands,
I realized how hollow my faith had been.
“What good is it, my brothers,
if someone claims to have faith but has no deeds?”
(James 2:14)
Faith is not words—
it is action.
And through even the smallest acts of sharing,
God still works the miracle
of the five loaves and two fish.
Worldly Wiseman and the Village of Morality
Fig. 2-4: Christian on the hill of MoralityAt the entrance of the pilgrimage road,
Christian met a courteous, well-mannered gentleman
named Worldly Wiseman.
With a calm and persuasive tone, he asked,
“Where are you going with such a weary face
and such a heavy burden on your back?”
Christian answered,
“I am heading toward the Wicket Gate
as Evangelist instructed me, for only there can I be rid of this burden.”
Worldly Wiseman nodded slowly,
as though concerned.
“That road is dangerous and harsh.
Why insist on going there? Nearby is the Village of Morality.There, Mr. Legality and his son Civilitycan help relieve you of that burden.”
His words sounded reasonable, even religious.
Yet hidden within them was a subtle whisper:
Choose morality, not the Gospel.
Seek salvation through personal virtue, not grace.
Christian, swayed by the suggestion,
turned toward the Village of Morality.
But the hill was steeper than it seemed.
His burden grew heavier with each step.
The sky darkened,
and fire flashed atop the mountain.
In that moment he understood—
Morality looked beautiful,
but it held no Cross.
It was not the road to salvation,
but a hill leading toward destruction.
The Worldly-Wise Man of Today
The worldly-wise man still stands by the roadside today,
laying hold of the traveler’s steps.
His face is not sharp, and his voice is always gentle.
“Is not that path too harsh?”
“Must you really carry such a heavy burden?”
“Is it not enough to live uprightly and harm no one?”
“Though the mountains differ, do not all paths lead to the same summit?”
His words are clothed in reason and masked with wisdom.
Yet in the direction he points, the cross is never in sight.
He urges the pilgrim to avoid the Hill of Difficulty
and instead offers a plain
where one may rest comfortably with the burden still upon his back.
That road is smooth and wide.
The feet do not ache, and questions are few.
But at its end, the image of the Lord is nowhere to be found.
There is religion without redemption,
morality without the shedding of blood.
The whispers of the worldly-wise man
I too once lingered in such a village.
It was during my middle school years,
within the gates of a private school founded on Buddhist tradition.
No faith was forced upon us,
yet the air of that place closely resembled the Village of Morality
from The Pilgrim’s Progress.
There it was taught that
by piling up good deeds one would reach paradise after death,
and that according to the weight of one’s actions
one would wander through the six realms,
never escaping the turning wheel of samsara.
The cross was removed from the road.
Repentance became an unnecessary word.
Sin was reduced to a burden to be managed,
and salvation became a wage to be earned.
The world today is no different.
Many villages erect a faith without the cross
and fashion images, calling them “helps.”
They kneel before what human hands have carved
while striving not to name them idols.
Yet the voice of God, heard along the way, is always clear.
Even in villages of compromise,
even amid the whispers of the worldly-wise man,
that word does not fade.
“You shall have no other gods before Me.
You shall not make for yourself a carved image.
You shall not bow down to them.”
This word is the pilgrim’s compass,
the one voice that turns him away from the broad road
and leads him toward the narrow gate.
Passing beyond the path of the worldly-wise man,
the pilgrim once again sets his steps toward the cross.
Before the Gate of Learning, with the Worldly-Wise Man
As I, the pilgrim, continued along the road,
it gradually widened, and the ground grew firm beneath my feet.
The dust lessened, and walking became easier.
Then a man stood before the gate of learning
and called out to the pilgrim.
People called him the worldly-wise man.
After a while, the worldly-wise man led the pilgrim
to the very gate of learning.
There he wore yet another garment—
this time, a scholar’s robe.
“Unless you pass through this gate, you cannot be called enlightened,”
he said, pointing to the words of Darwin.
“There is no need for a Creator here.
The world explains itself.”
Then he produced the language of Dawkins.
“God is merely a hypothesis.
Prayer is nothing more than psychological comfort.
Faith is a garment of childhood,
meant to be cast off with maturity.”
The worldly-wise man remained quiet.
He did not snatch the Bible away.
He merely coaxed it gently from the pilgrim’s hands
and placed instead thick textbooks and tables of statistics.
“This path is safer.”
“This is the path most people walk.”
“This is the road that leads to the future.”
But as the pilgrim walked further along that road,
he sensed a strange silence.
The Creator was no longer named,
the Redeemer became an unexplainable figure,
and the signposts marked Sin and Grace
quietly vanished within the forest of learning.
Fig 2-5: Worldly thinkers in academia—Darwin clothing evolution in the garments of ‘scientific truth,’ and Dawkins adorning atheism with the language of intellect.
Nature as Teacher, or the Creator as Teacher?
Charles Darwin tells us:
“Human beings are merely products of evolution.
Through natural selection, species have slowly changedover long periods of time.
Those selected by nature are the living beings of today.”
But Scripture speaks otherwise:
“When God created man,
He made him in the likeness of God.” (Genesis 5:1)
God is invisible,
yet utterly real.
The image of God does not refer to outward form,
but to moral and spiritual character
and the dignity of existence itself.
Humans as Mere Carriers of Genes
Richard Dawkins argues that even love and altruism
are nothing more than strategic expressions
of the Selfish Gene.
According to him,
love exists only to increase the likelihood of survival,
and human beings are not noble creatures
but mere carriers—vehicles transporting genes.
Dawkins goes further still:
he declares that God never existed to begin with,
and that believing in Him is nothing more than
a delusion—
what he calls “The God Delusion.”
He dresses atheism in the language of intellect.
He labels faith as outdated mythology,
and mocks belief as irrational.
Yet no matter how high his knowledge rises,
his reasoning lacks love,
and therefore lacks life.
God Is Light
1 John 1:5 declares:
“God is light.”
In physics, light is a photon—
a particle that never stops moving.
But in Scripture,
light signifies the essence of God—
holiness and life.
God exists above time;
our tomorrow is already “now” in His sight.
Thus His foreknowledge never violates our freedom.
Miracles are the signs
of the God who transcends time.
When Jesus turned water into wine at Cana,
the laws of time collapsed before Him.
Toward the Narrow Gate
Christian left the Village of Morality
and once again turned toward the Wicket Gate.
The path was still rugged,
the ground still covered with stones,
yet his heart had become lighter.
He had realized:
“The way of truth is long and hard,
but the Cross of the Lord stands at its end.”
I too stand upon that confession.
No matter how alluring the whispers
of worldly wisemen,
I cling today—again—
to the narrow gate.
It is small and humble,
yet within it
shines the light of life.