The Road Less Traveled
The American poet Robert Frost said in his famous poem, Two roads diverged in a wood and I—I took the one less traveled by and that has made all the difference. Frost was not announcing anything new. Jesus said that there are two ways, two ways each having a doorway or gate, one broad and one narrow. But even Jesus was not introducing a revolutionary idea. He was borrowing from his extensive knowledge of the Hebrew Scriptures. Listen to what we read in Psalm 1: For the Lord watches over the way of the righteous, but the way of the wicked leads to ruin. I wonder if Jesus had this very verse in mind when he opined that the broad way, upon which many folks travel, is a way that leads to ruin.
The OT is rife with images of gates/doors and pathways, and that is worth exploring at another time. I will, however, mention a couple that may pique our interest. When God called Abraham and began to direct his steps, we read at one point in the narrative the words of the Lord: For I have chosen Abraham, so that he will direct his children and his household after him to keep the way of the Lord…
Returning to the very beginning of time, and after the fall of mankind, here is what we read at the conclusion of chapter 3: After he drove the man out, he placed on the east side of the Garden of Eden cherubim and a flaming sword flashing back and forth to guard the way to the tree of life.
If one were to consider the theme of doors, the ultimate example might be the door around which blood was placed so that those who entered would find life and those on the outside would encounter death. We know this to be the Passover.
In a culture in which people want to believe there are many ways, even many ways to God, there has in fact always been only two ways and only one that leads to God. There is a broad gate that leads to a wide pathway upon which many travel, leading to ruin. There is a second way, with a narrow gate leading to a hard journey upon which few are walking. It leads to life.
I read these words of Jesus to a breakfast group that consist of myself and three young men. One of them responded, “Those are frightening words.” Indeed they are. I feel it in my gut. Which path am I on? What does this narrow way to which Jesus alludes consist of? That question has been on the forefront of my mind for the past month or so.
Tim Mackie of the Bible Project argues that these words by Jesus in Matthew 7 are not necessarily a reference to who is in and who is out when it comes to salvation. Rather, given the context, they are words about what it means to be a follower of Jesus, to be his disciple. They are found near the end of the Sermon on the Mount, when Jesus was first introducing what it meant that a new kingdom had come and what it means to be a part of this kingdom. These words to which I am referring serve as a summary because the way involves loving your enemies, being uncommonly generous, wrestling with truth at at an interpersonal level, trusting at a level unfamiliar to most, not judging, to name a few.
Notice then, the four obvious characteristics of each way that are in juxtaposition to one another. There is a broad way and a narrow way. One way is easy and one hard. One has many travelers and the other less traveled, to use Frost’s imagery. Finally, one way leads to ruin and the other to life. What can we learn from these four distinct characteristics of the two ways? What stands out first is that the narrow or hard way will be counterintuitive. If many are going one way, the other way will likely seem wrong. We might wonder, “If it is right, why aren’t others choosing it?” A person might wonder if she missed a turn, especially when difficulty arrives. And everything about this way will be backward and upside down to the way of the world, even to the way we might at first think or want to think. Difficulty characterizes this way, says Jesus, because the way is hard. That word implies suffering and struggle. In the Greek, it is a word that communicates a pressing in, a compressing, a squeezing. We don’t like being confined. Exiting an Ohio State football game requires a person to travel across the Olentangy River on a footbridge. Thousands of people walking across this bridge. I use the word “walking” loosely. It is more like shuffling. Packed shoulder to shoulder, barely able to move more than a few inches. It is mighty uncomfortable. So is the way of Jesus. It is pressing us into a mold in the shape of Christ. Suffering and struggle do their work of making us less like the world and more like Jesus.
Recently, I had the privilege to travel to Northern Ireland. A highlight of the trip was going to a forrest park known as Tollymore. If you recognize the name it might be because it was CS Lewis’s playground. Walking on the paths there make it quite understandable how his imagination could birth something like The Chronicles of Narnia. It was breathtaking. In fact, the picture that introduces this missive is from Tollymore. Being there brought back to mind my own playground, a forrest and falls, swinging vines over a small gorge and various vegetation with a river running through it all, a place ripe for a young boy. It also had a black pipeline running through it, surely a supply line for the Germans that needed destroyed by our well placed firecrackers. Playing army was often our preferred activity, my brothers and I. But we built forts, explored this woods, often on less traveled paths. One day—and I can still envision the site—we stumbled on a grove of evergreen shrubs, low to the ground but intertwined. Thick and so close together counting them was impossible. You could not see over them or through them. The only way to get beyond was to crawl through the entanglement of the thick branches that sprung up from the ground. I had never seen anything like it then or since. Thinking back, I am not even sure an adult could make his way through it. It was both frightening and exhilarating. But after an exhaustive number of minutes squirming and untangling ourselves, covered in pine needles and by dirt, we entered a grassy opening at the center of it all. It was like another world, perhaps a bit like Narnia. What a discovery! The grass was tall and inviting, and we were hidden from the “enemy”, whoever and whatever it was.
Jesus’s words remind me of that place. Few there are that find it. The way is not easy but it opens up to a place that was new and alive. But the way of which Jesus speaks is not to a place. It leads to a Person, THE Person who is the Way, the Truth and the Life. If I return to the original question—“What does this way consists of?”—the answer is found in who Jesus is. The way is defined by Jesus, by how He lived. What drove his choices? What stories did he tell that inform us more about His way? So, here is proposal. Pick a Gospel and start reading. Read it to get to know Jesus better. I am reading John, listening for his heartbeat and his way.
Recently, I heard the following explanation of the Gospels in a way never before explained. Perhaps it will help you choose one. Ready? If you are an organized person, then perhaps Matthew is the Gospel for you, for the teachings of Jesus and His miracles are put together in nice, neat categories.
If you are an activist, Mark might be your choice. Jesus is always on the move, always doing things, interacting with various types of people.
If you have a heart of compassion for the marginalized, then Luke is your Gospel. Jesus is constantly engaging with those on the outside. Perhaps this is fueled by the author most likely being a Gentile and a physician.
Finally, if you are a contemplative, John might appeal to you for Jesus is forever engaging in deep spiritual conversations, Nicodemus being one such example.
Jesus is the Way and following him is not easy. But it leads us away from ruin and toward a purposeful life. Let’s follow Him.
Kent