I don’t have any tattoos, but if I did, one would picture a man charging a group of soldiers, with this caption: “Set down my name, Sir.” John Bunyan shows us the scene in his classic allegory, The Pilgrim’s Progress (33–34). I hope Bunyan will tattoo the phrase on your mind as well.

Before Christian stood a palace, “a stately palace, beautiful to behold.” Atop this citadel, the inhabitants walked, clad in gold. How did anyone enter that palace? A little distance from the door sat a scribe, ready to write down anyone’s name who would attempt to enter. But Christian saw that none dared to give their name and approach the door. Outside the palace doors, in fact, stood a great company of men who desired to enter but didn’t. Not one of these many men would give their names and advance.

Why not? In the doorway of that palace stood a small army of soldiers, ready to batter and bludgeon any who drew near. These were “resolved to do the men that would enter what hurt and mischief they could.” The palace itself, any sane man would enter; the palace protected by a small army, only a madman would attempt. And then we see it:

At last, when every man started back for fear of the armed men, Christian saw a man of a very stout countenance come up to the man that sat there to write, saying, “Set down my name, Sir.”

Among his shrinking, retreating peers, one man among them seeks glory, honor, and immortality (Romans 2:6–7). He’ll go forth against the foe, come what may. He tells the scribe, “Write down my name, Sir. Sign me up.”

Once his name was recorded, Christian “saw the man draw his sword, and put a helmet upon his head, and rush toward the door upon the armed men, who laid upon him with deadly force: but the man, not at all discouraged, fell to cutting and hacking most fiercely.” Opposed but undiscouraged, he cuts and hacks most fiercely.

After he had received and given many wounds to those that attempted to keep him out, he cut his way through them all, and pressed forward into the palace, at which there was a pleasant voice heard from those that were within, even of those that walked upon the top of the palace, saying —

“Come in, come in;
Eternal glory thou shalt win.”

So he went in, and was clothed with such garments as they.

At this episode, Christian simply smiles and asks for no further explanation of the Interpreter; he knows the meaning already.

Unused Weapons

This man of stout countenance captures a Christian’s holy warfare. This is a reprise of Jonathan storming the Philistines with only his armor-bearer, Samson picking up his jawbone against a thousand men, David requesting to fight the blaspheming giant, Paul foretelling that persecution awaits him yet declaring, “none of these things move me” (Acts 20:24 NKJV), and our Lord Jesus, facing an army in the garden of Gethsemane, and, “knowing all that would happen to him, came forward and said to them, ‘Whom do you seek?’” (John 18:4).

“Church Militant, she has been called in ages past; what is her name now?”

In Christian’s smile, we see Bunyan’s — the man who himself wrote this scene from prison for refusing to cease preaching. For many today, Christianity is conceived of solely as a soft affair, a gentle boat ride, a walk through the meadow. We tour ancient strongholds, but do not mount them. Few mistake our discipline, zeal, or witness as having to do with a militant, advancing faith. Few would depict the way to heaven as fighting through a group of soldiers.

Surely, the factors for this are many. Perhaps our swords have turned prematurely into plowshares, our arrows to bonfire sticks, because we have not faced the persecution that sent our forefathers to the front lines. Or perhaps the “muscular Christianity” movement was onto something, and the feminization of our faith has come on the heels (or in the heels) of the Industrial Revolution. Maybe David Wells is right to say we have been blunted by a pluralistic society, leaving behind a democratized faith — polite, not prophetic. Church Militant, she has been called in ages past; what is her name now?

Take Heaven by Force

Yet for all of that, the Christian life is inescapably one of war. He who would set down his name and lay siege to heaven must know he charges upon real enemies who possess real hatred, and take up real weapons. The enemy undertakes to be your undertaker. At baptism, the Christian renounces the devil, and pledges total allegiance to King Jesus. That is, he declares war. You must “cut your way through them all,” giving and receiving many wounds, to enter the real glory. In the words of Thomas Watson,

Heaven is inherited by the violent. Our life is military. Christ is our Captain, the gospel is the banner, the graces are our spiritual artillery, and heaven is only taken in a forcible way. (Heaven Taken by Storm, 3)

Heaven must be fought for. Both men and women must learn the masculine instinct to persevere to heaven. Paul does not simply suggest it; he commands it: “Be watchful, stand firm in the faith, act like men, be strong” (1 Corinthians 16:13). The whole church — full of men, women, and children — must act like men and be strong.

Be strong in the Lord and the strength of his might, Christian. Resist the devil, and he will flee. Smother temptation in its crib. Whet your sword. Awaken the hunt for souls. Prepare your mind for action. Quit playing footsie with the world. Death remains for the flippant. Don’t look so perplexed at tribulation as if something strange were happening — but rebut, renounce, defy, fight back, following the risen Christ who split the sepulcher asunder. Here, unceasing warfare; there, unceasing rest. Here, under siege; there, overjoyed. Here, cutting and hacking; there, a crown and homeland.

Taking Names

The true Christ tells us to take up our crosses, cut off limbs, die daily, that we might rise and reign with him in a new world. Those who would dress in gold and walk atop this palace enter through the doorway of many tribulations (Acts 14:22). “Indeed, all who desire to live a godly life in Christ Jesus will be persecuted” (2 Timothy 3:12). If they hated him, they will hate us. Jesus tells us to count the cost — of going and of not going.

We follow no squeamish soldier. Christ, in the truest sense, said, “Father, set down my name. I will charge the fray of devils, the furnace of wrath, for them.” His name was the only that could be set down for sinners: “You shall call his name Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins” (Matthew 1:21).

Watch him ride forth — alone. Down, down, down into an animal’s stable. Down, down, down into the muck of his ruined world. There, see him take off his helmet, lay down his sword, and charge forth into that great hoard. Oh, with what deadly force did they assail him! How they beat him beyond human semblance, how they mocked him who gave them tongues, how they chopped mercilessly at the stump of Jesse. Down, down, down into the grave.

But see how he cut and hacked his way through. He slashed the throat of death, crushed the serpent’s skull, and returned with the head of that Goliath who mocked his Israel. He won a gold robe for himself and for others — all who would take up their swords, wear his armor, and follow after him.

The world needs this Christ, not the pretend one of low expectations and groveling suggestions.

Men are ready for a Leader who will unhesitatingly claim the last ounce of his followers’ courage and fidelity. . . . This is no time to be offering a reduced, milk-and-water religion. Far too often the world has been presented with a mild and undemanding half-Christianity. The Gospel has been emasculated long enough. Preach Christ today in the total challenge of His high, imperious claim. Some will be scared, and some offended: but some, and they the most worth winning, will kneel in homage at His feet. (James Stewart, Heralds of God, 26–27)

Enter the Fray

Men and women and children, resolve now, God helping you: “Set down my name, sir!” Knowing the outcome of the conflict, and that we will live to partake of the spoils, how valiant should we be? Hear the song in this day of grace:

Come in, come in;
Eternal glory thou shalt win.

Then, live as you would if you could travel back to earth from heaven. Thomas Watson again:

Consider then, seriously, the more violent we are for heaven and the more work we do for God, the greater will be our reward. The hotter our zeal, the brighter our crown. Could we hear the blessed souls departed speaking to us from heaven, sure thus they would say, “Were we to leave heaven a while and to dwell on the earth again, we would do God a thousand times more service than ever we have done. We would pray with more life, act with more zeal; for now we see, the more hath been our labor, the more astonishing is our joy and the more flourishing our crown. (78–79)

Heaven’s palace, any sane man would enter; heaven’s palace surrounded by an army of tribulations, only a madman would attempt — apart from grace. But all who fight and die faithfully behind Christ will outlive the conflict, and be exalted to high towers to shine with immortality in the kingdom of their Father. And such will sing the more joyfully because we knew what sorrow was. Brighter will be the Day, sweeter the rest, higher the joy because we fell and fought and cried. The soldier’s warfare gives way to the soldier’s triumph. Brother and sister, set down your name.