Child of the ‘70s that I am, Star Wars was a big event in my young life, especially the spectacular climax: how could those big, bright torpedoes go down those little vent holes!?  They were so narrow!  Well, in the film, Luke had to trust his feelings, which was Ben Kenobi’s way of telling him to let the Force guide him.  In other words, to take the narrow way, Luke had to learn to trust a higher power.

In some of the old, classic cartoons—the early black & white cartoons the kids in the 1930s watched at the matinees in the movie theaters—the animators would have fun with perspective.  A cartoon character would start running towards some point in the distance, like a door, and the gag was that, as he got closer, the door, which should have been getting larger and larger, remained just the same small size as when we first saw it.  Then, before the cartoon character could stop, he would crash into the wall around the small, narrow door, and wipe out, with lots of clouds and stars and little birdies tweeting ‘round and ‘round his dazed head.

If the way is small and narrow, I must be careful.  I can’t rush into it.  If, on the other hand, the way were broad, I wouldn’t need to be so careful.  A freelance writer wrote an article about Bethel a few years ago.  During our conversation, she remarked on how narrow the roads in East Columbia were.  Originally, these roads weren’t made for motor vehicles.  Today, in the unlikely event that a vehicle is coming toward you on these roads, you’ve got to slow down and pass carefully.  Narrow means care, careful, vigilant, attentive, mindful.  Wide means just the opposite.

“[W]ide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it” (7:13).  If Jesus says it, it must be true, but is it true?  Is the path to destruction so wide and broad?  Do so many take it?  If we ever talked that way, we’d be called judgmental Cristo-fascists: but with those who will use such labels we are anyway, no matter what we say or do.  I’m not of the opinion that all who fail to attend the church service at least three out of four Sundays each month are headed for the hot place.  I am among those who think that, barring unavoidable complications, coming often to worship and being involved with congregational life are closely tied to the priority of faith in a believer’s daily life, his or her daily walk.  There are many reasons even believers can find not to go to church one Sunday or another; they’re always good reasons, or at least decent reasons—adequate—, and it’s really nobody else’s business anyway, is it?

Jesus is talking both to those who show no great interest in the narrow way and to those who very much want to go that way but feel as if they have a hard time either seeing it, or doing it, or trusting.  It can sometimes seem like you and I must deny ourselves so many things, desirable things, for the sake of what we are promised hereafter.  Hereafter, often, can seem a long time away, though each day it draws nearer.

The wide way, on the other hand, assures us that nothing is really so very serious.  Just live your life; do your thing.  Relax, have fun.  Sounds good so far, eh?  The wide way assures us that the Man Upstairs is a good ol’ boy.  Whatever we’re doing, or not doing, is alright with Him.  Whatever we don’t want to do, or want to do, is alright, too.  God is love and we’re all God’s children, so everyone will be alright, in the end.  It’s all alright, because who is to say, and who are you to judge?  The only thing that isn’t alright, the wide way tells us, is to be narrow and allow ourselves to be bound on a narrow way.  No freedom!  No fun!

Many of those with whom Jesus was in constant controversy were those who, as William Barclay reminds us, “believed they were religious people; but because they had clung to their idea of religion instead of to God’s idea, they had in the end drifted so far from God that they had become godless.  They were in the terrible position of men who were godlessly serving God.”[1]  Living without the benefit of Scripture—time with Scripture, time in Scripture, making time to let Scripture get in you—living without that is to wander helpless.  Apart from the Word, without the Word, the way gets wider and wider.  Godlessly serving God is to regard yourself as a faithful believer while acting as if Scripture doesn’t say what it says and makes no particular claim, or particularly urgent or irksome claim, upon your daily living or choices.  The wide way is always inviting everyone, including the faithful, to let themselves go.

God’s Word says, “Enter through the narrow gate.  For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it” (7:13).  The old saw is that when we get to heaven, we’re going to be surprised at who all else is there, too.  As though some uptight, sourpuss believers will finally receive the long overdue comeuppance for their stupid narrowness, when we all get to heaven.  I wonder, though.  It might just be that there will be fewer than we’d like to think, even far fewer.  What people do matters.  What people believe matters.  Revising God’s Word for the sake of cultural acceptance and respectability in this generation matters.

Traditional, orthodox Christians are always being charged with narrowness.  Who can we win to Christ, that way?!  No, no—we must change with the times.  The narrow gate is Christ, who says: “I am the gate; whoever enters through me will be saved” (Jn 10:9).  Jesus also says, “no one comes to the Father except through Me” (Jn 14:6).  The wide gate is no gate at all because it is not Christ.  The wide gate is all that is not Christ.  Christ is life on God’s terms, according to God’s Word, the Word of Life, the Bread of Life.  “[S]mall is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it” (7:14).  Is it because that gate is so very difficult to find?  Are there no road signs; no guides?  Is there no map?   Beloved, all these are available.  There is no shortage: here we are, here we have this book.  Few only find it because only few seek it.  If more people deeply desired what we have here, they would be here.  A Christian writer, writing about another topic, makes a related observation: “Unbelievers,” he writes, “choose not to believe because they do not want to deal with their sin, nor do they want to submit to Jesus Christ as their Lord and Master.”[2]  Sin?  Ugh, please.  Lord and Master?  I already got one: me.  The wide way—freedom, independence, self-discovery, self-fulfillment.  All the right words; all the wrong way.

The conclusion that might be drawn out there is that, if most aren’t seeking something, it must not be so very valuable.  Worldly thinking at its best—sort of persuasive, in its own sad, terrible way.  Many seek relief, hope, help, change: these are not vile terms, not offensive concepts.  People seek such things high and low, anywhere and everywhere, except here.  That’s not just because of the long, dry, hard, boring sermons or the old-timer music, or because there are no screens or barista-staffed coffee bar, here.  Meanwhile, Christ instructs you and me to continue to call out to those around us outside these doors, saying, “Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you” (Mt 7:7).  Amen and amen!  Yet God and Jesus seem to continue to be the last place too many people would think of turning.

What makes the difference, then?  Why are you and I here?  We’re not superior to those pursuing their fruitless ways.  You and I are not in even most cases more intelligent, more talented, more popular, or richer.  What we know, somehow, is this: we are naked, helpless, and foul, as the old hymn puts it.  Not really flattering, is it?  Truth isn’t meant to be.  Truth is simply the reflection of reality.  We know reality when we know God.  God tells us how things truly are.  We have truth when we listen to God and believe what He is telling us.  Jesus tells us he has not come for the righteous but for sinners: those who are naked, helpless, and foul, who can do nothing for their own salvation, who contribute nothing to it.

God tells us how things truly are.  There is a way.  It is a narrow way, but quite wide enough for those who will take it.  Maybe you’ve seen pictures or films of those rope bridges that peoples in remote parts of the world use to cross uncrossable chasms.  It looks pretty dangerous!  How can that flimsy little narrow walkway hold up?!  It’s just certain that you’ll plummet headlong to your doom!  What if there’s a strong wind?  What if it’s raining?  Going that way is just plain foolishness, insanity!  Yet those people use them all the time and seem to be fine, and very glad that there is a way.  Some using those little, narrow rope bridges even appear to be bearing heavy loads.

I guess for those who are very reluctant yet still not invincibly opposed to trying the rope bridge, they could be tethered, tied both to the one who goes before and the one coming along behind.  It is a narrow way.  Many can go by way of the bridge.  The bridge can support a lot of weight!  They go one by one.  They go together.  They are bound, one to another, and to the one who leads the way.  I suppose that tether may be more for psychological, emotional comfort than anything, but peace of mind counts for a lot in this life, after all.  Certainty of your safety, certainty of your destination, counts for something!

We don’t see the ropes, but today we can see the bridge in a special way, at this table, in this bread, this juice.  Not much, eh?  So small, so . . . narrow.  Think of these today, maybe, as ties that bind us to Christ: his lifeline for us.  When we receive, we do so voluntarily.  No one compels you to take this bread or drink this juice.  We tether ourselves to Christ by accepting what he offers us: his life, his way.  When we tether ourselves to Christ, we also begin to understand, and feel, that we also are tethered to one another.  The tether is no burden but a joy: our comfort and security on the bridge over the chasm.  We go one by one; we go together.  We lead, and are led.  It is a narrow way.  It is the only way.  It is the way to life.  It is available, open, for you and me, here, now.

Now, to the One who by the power at work within us is able to do far more abundantly than all we can ask or imagine, to God be glory in the Church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever.

               [1] William Barclay.  Gospel of John.  Vol. 1.  1955.  Daily Study Bible.  Philadelphia: Westminster P, 1975.  31.

               [2] Brian Biedebach.  “Knot Ready: Dating and Marriage in a Society Driven by Sensuality.”  Right Thinking for a Culture in Chaos: Responding Biblically to Today’s Most Urgent Needs.  John MacArthur and Nathan Busenitz, eds.  Eugene, Oregon: Harvest House, 2023.  181.