Perfection? Part 2

Luke 13

“Someone asked him, ‘Lord, will only a few be saved?’ He said to them, ‘Strive to enter through the narrow door, for many, I tell you, will try to enter and will not be able.’” (Luke 13)

The narrow door. What is it? Where can I find it? Why is it narrow? Does God purposely make it hard to enter?

Here is a second version of this saying of Jesus:

“Enter through the narrow gate, for the gate is wide and the road is easy that leads to destruction, and there are many who take it. For the gate is narrow and the road is hard that leads to life, and there are few who find it.” (Matthew 7)

The broad and the narrow path, by Charlotte Reihlen and Paul Beckmann

For the longest time, these words of Jesus chilled me to my bones. I knew, you see, that the suggestion of a narrow door or gate meant that I would be found on the outside, unable to enter. And it would be all my fault, the ultimate failure on my part.

You know me. I’m sure you remember. I was the young man who approached Jesus, asking him what I must do to attain eternal life. Here is what the Gospel writer Mark said about me:

“As he was setting out on a journey, a man ran up and knelt before him and asked him, ‘Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?’ Jesus said to him, ‘Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone. You know the commandments: ‘You shall not murder. You shall not commit adultery. You shall not steal. You shall not bear false witness. You shall not defraud. Honor your father and mother.’ He said to him, ‘Teacher, I have kept all these since my youth.’ Jesus, looking at him, loved him and said, ‘You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.’ When he heard this, he was shocked and went away grieving, for he had many possessions.” (Mark 10)

Yes, that was me, and as you can tell, I was bitterly disappointed. Not so much in Jesus, but really, in myself. I had, you see, not only possessions, but also a full calendar of activities. Many of those activities, were, I thought, very worthwhile, holding leadership positions in my community and even in my synagogue. And I had cultivated a circle of very important friends.

Speaking modestly, I would call myself an over-achiever, and I could recite a long list of accomplishments. So, naturally, I thought I could “earn” eternal life, and I believed that I was well on my way. But as you know, Jesus taught otherwise.

And now, I am older and hopefully, wiser. Not, thankfully, the same man that I was in my youth.

But I have to tell you that it took a crisis in my life to teach me what Jesus meant when he said, “You lack one thing.” I may be a slow learner, because for the longest time, those words of Jesus did not change anything in my life.

It isn’t that I didn’t hear him. And it’s not that I failed to understand what he meant. No, it’s just that I couldn’t change, couldn’t alter my life style, my way of living. If anything, you should know, I worked even harder than ever, seeking to earn my reward, building more wealth, and attaining a higher position in my community. In short, I was, it seemed, nearing the peak of a mountain that lured me ever higher, almost without limit. And the higher I went, the harder I climbed.

But I never reached the peak. Because all the while that I was climbing, I was still searching, still reaching for something unseen that I didn’t have and couldn’t add to my list of accomplishments. Intuitively, I knew that it was something that Jesus offered, filling the same emptiness that took me to him so many years before. In my heart of hearts, I knew that it was the narrow gate, the place where I would give up my life of wealth and achievement. And where I would abandon my belief that I could earn my way into the grace of God.

As I said, it took a crisis to wake me up. And that crisis served to strip away everything: all of the accomplishments, all of the status that I had achieved, and yes, even all of the wealth that I had accumulated.

You see, I got into a business relationship with some people I should not have trusted. I won’t bore you with the details, but suffice it to say that they were dishonest, and they cheated me, resulting in the loss of all my wealth. Worse, it was a public scandal, unfolding in the full light of our entire community. I was guilty by association with these individuals, even though I had done nothing wrong. My position of respect in the community vanished overnight. I was treated almost as a leper, and I lost all of my friends. Yes, those “important friends”? They all abandoned me.

To say that these events brought me low would be a gross understatement. In so many words, I had to start my life all over again, as an outcast.

I quickly realized that there was much to learn, and that this new life would bring difficult lessons. The hardest part was letting go. Letting go of what? Of all that I had worked so hard to protect: my wealth, my achievements, my reputation, and even my friends, those whom I found had related more to my status in our community than they did to me as a person.

My success and achievements had been stripped away by the scandal and financial loss. And now, in my naked state, all that what was left was nothing more than the same hunger that had brought me to Jesus so many years before. It had been there all along, waiting to be re-discovered.

And I learned one thing more. As I was letting go of my former life, I began to realize just how empty it truly was. I had driven myself to succeed, and succeed I did. But it was never enough. There was always something missing, always a vacuum that success could never fill. How ironic that I couldn’t see the futility of my ambitions until I lost everything!

And now? In middle age I am still striving, still searching, still seeking what seems to be just out of my reach. And even though I am not certain what is the object of my striving, I can state with confidence that it’s no longer what it was.

In so many words, after years of searching, I have arrived again at the narrow gate. The first time, when I first approached Jesus, my life was so burdened. Burdened by ambition. Burdened by the baggage of my wealth and accomplishments. Burdened, even, by false friends. Burdened by the notion that I could earn eternal life, that it was all up to me.

And so now, as I return to the narrow gate, I am unburdened, all of it stripped away by the losses in my life.

And believe it or not, I can rejoice in my losses. I can approach the narrow gate with the confidence that I can follow Jesus, just as he invited me to do so long ago.

And there’s one more thing that you should know. And that’s the fact that I am not alone. Before, when I approached Jesus to ask about eternal life, I believed that I must do it alone, that I must earn my way with help from no one.

But now, in God’s great mercy, new friends have come to walk with me. These are friends who, like me, have lost a lot. They are friends like me, who have experienced hitting bottom and finding a hand to help them stand up again. And frankly, these are friends whom I never knew in my old life. Do you know why? I’m sure you can guess. These new friends are people I once thought beneath me. They are people I would never associate with.

But unlike the false friends of my past, these new friends and I have formed a true community, admittedly a community of outcasts. And what I am learning is that these new friends will walk with me through the narrow gate.

I feel so blessed. It’s funny, isn’t it? Losing everything has been the greatest blessing of my life. And now, in this new community of friends, I am ready again to approach the narrow gate.

“You lack one thing.”

Those were the words of Jesus as he spoke to me so long ago. It has taken many years, and the loss of so much, for me to realize what was that “one thing.” It took losing what seemed to be everything, for me to learn that I was missing the most important thing: the love of God.

You see, I have now learned that Jesus actually is the narrow gate. We can enter only through him.