“Wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life and only a few find it.” Matthew 7:13-14
Recently, I made the decision to store our offshore boat down on the coast in a covered lift. This was a big decision for me since I usually stand alone in the care provided for such a toy, priding myself on its immaculate condition and the discipline required to maintain it. But, with life exploding all around, my stewardship in using the investment has been at an all-time low and if I planned on keeping it, then I needed to find another avenue for cultivating its use and capturing what it was designed to do.
Just a short time after the boat was in the lift, it became apparent how quickly its condition would be impacted by the move. I have spent at least 1-2 lunch breaks a week polishing rails, wiping down fiberglass and protecting the upholstery from the harsh effects of the surrounding elements. While the therapy has been good for my soul, the daily parable invariably unfolds as God hits the mark again with another parallel that has been perfectly communicated on mankind’s highway.
In this current season, I have found myself extremely certain of my relationship with Christ and confident in the knowledge of His word, believing my position in both to be in immaculate condition and in need of nothing more than a little use here and there. As opportunities to employ and put this faith to work have surfaced, I have found just how much in need both are of polishing and protecting. With the cost of doing business, and life in general, escalating beyond anything normal and fears of the political rhetoric looming on the horizon, the door swings wide to opportunity, both capturing just what that faith was intended to do, challenging how pristine it really is and how desolate the road can be trying to maintain both.
Thinking on what Christ has done for me and how faithfully He continues to do it, has left no room to veer from the tapered path regardless of how many times my eyes are pulled from the thoroughfare. In this shame and guilt, He returns to the cross, in my place, again and again. Dirty and broken, the penalty is paid over and over. Fully aware of my repetitive tendency to add old wine to a new skin, once more, I’m reminded that His blood covered it before I left the womb. Through clouds by day and fire by night, I will follow, no matter how bleak or how lush the pavement ends up. Adhering to His lead and surrendering all is my only play as another faithful whisper this November evening reminds Who it actually is providing that life, how worth it I am and how many times my Daddy would do it all over again.
