Walking the narrow road is exhausting right now – more-so with every day that brings us closer to Jesus’ return (whenever that may be). To be perfectly honest, I think that anyone who contests that statement should re-evaluate their location on the road – not because we aren’t offered rest in Jesus (Matthew 11:28-30), but because we’re so incredibly inept at recognizing the difference between resting in the furnace of refinement and faithful witness, on one hand, and the relative ease of skirting those with religious flair on the other. More every day, I understand that the razor-edge center of the narrow road – wrought with painful self-sacrifice and a manifest response to Jesus’ command to go anywhere and do anything at his direction (displaying Him as reigning supreme) – is the place to stay. But it is in no way self-glorifying.
I have a picture in my mind of walking down the middle of the road, the Holy Spirit’s fire burning inside of me, causing all kinds of impurities to rise to the surface of my flesh like dross, hardening into blobs on my outer skin for all to see, now ready for the plucking and tossing. The idea of pulling off chunks of sin-ridden slag, cynics looking on, and dropping them on the road with little care for where they land, is faintly reminiscent of the adolescent compulsion to peel sunburnt skin off in thin sheets to reveal young, golden flesh underneath. If only the former were not so painful.
The key is to befriend the fire, to cling for dear life to the knowledge that I, in my humanity, am my own worst enemy. There is no other adversary in the world, to be observed or engaged, that does not pale in comparison to the inner cancer of self-centeredness, self-reliance, self-preservation, self-worship – only, perhaps, the cunning one who might succeed in winning my attention away from the internal battle and burn of regeneration.
Let the Holy Fire burn it all, until my road is littered with ugly blobs of worthless stones, and all that is left of me is the righteous and merciful light of Jesus abiding within me. Let me walk steady on, throwing off everything in me that hinders my way, my witness, until the last crook in the road laid out before me reveals a glimpse of Jesus’ throne and him on it, established in Jerusalem to rule over creation forevermore. Better yet, to catch sight of his robes flying behind him as he runs to meet me. To meet us.
Maranatha. Come, Lord Jesus...
