If there’s one thing I wish I had appreciated more when I was younger, it’s hiking with my dad. I’ll never forget one hike we did with my sister, through the snow, with no mountain top view at the end. Just walking through the woods wearing three layers of clothes. Only the trail markers on the trees kept us on track, and we’d glance up from our feet every once in a while to see the neighboring mountain range next to us through the barren trees. As my dad walked in front of me, we realized that the trail was actually really rocky underneath the snow. So, he would carefully take steps, I would literally step into his tracks in the snow (unless he slipped, then I’d try stepping somewhere else), and my sister did the same behind me. I couldn’t even tell you what trail we did or where we even were, but I think it was one of those mundane-but-holy images I’ll never get out of my head: The simplicity of closely following someone I trusted, the intentionality and care of each step.
I’ve come to think of the Christian life in a similar way — as walking down a narrow path (Matthew 7:13-14). But similar to a double-edged sword (Hebrews 4:12), I picture this path as being right between all these dichotomies, as we often find ourselves living in the tensions of:
Vulnerability and sanctification
Grace and truth
Being image bearers and sinners
Doubt and faith
Wisdom and humility
Godliness and authenticity
Self-assertion and self-abandonment
Newness and remembrance
Independence and dependence
Bearing with and calling higher
Tenderness and boldness
Joy and grief
Throughout all of Fellows, but especially this month, I’ve found myself wrestling with these — the “edges” of the narrow path if you will. There’s a place in life for each of them, and if all this didn’t make your head hurt, I’ve also realized how often we confuse them. Boldness with offense, faith with certainty, calling higher with judgement, doubt with unbelief, humility with self-deprecation, tenderness with taking everything personally, the list goes on (and on and on).
I had been asking the “where’s the line” question for a few weeks, but I realized that might be too simplistic. I don’t think God expects us to walk perfectly across a tightrope our whole lives. To believe that reflects an incredibly fragile view of Him. Also, to sift through this list requires both generalized wisdom and discernment in the moment. It’s so exhaustingly nuanced to even think about, let alone put into practice.
So, how the heck are we supposed to live these out? When’s the time for one over the other? For both? If it wasn’t obvious yet, I don’t have an answer for you. We walk in so much grey. However, although there may be no fine line we can easily point to, there is this path, right smack dab in the middle of all this complexity. Now, the path itself doesn’t matter as much, except maybe to remind us that the presence of mystery doesn’t mean that truth is absent. What really matters is who it was paved by — The Great Paradox that is the life of Jesus:
The lowly infant King. The Beloved Son hated and humiliated. The Prince of Peace with a sword. Our Man of Sorrows crucified for the joy set before Him. The Holy One befriending sinners. The Rescuer forsaken. The Righteous dying for rebels, enemies and deniers.
This is who we follow and take after as we walk this narrow path. The Christmas story reminds us of the mystery we find ourselves immersed in. Don’t get me wrong though, there is urgency and care needed for each step. The path is narrow. But, there’s also so much grace — it’s safe to stumble. Our trust is not in our ability to follow perfectly, but in Who paved the way and His promise to be with us always.
To close, there’s two peculiar things to note about this path. First, as we look to the One leading us, we find ourselves becoming like Him. This isn’t just about reaching a destination. We are molded and transformed as we walk. Second, I’ve realized that the narrow path is simultaneously some sort of bridge. As we follow our Savior, not only do we find ourselves having the capacity to miraculously exhibit seemingly dichotomous virtues, we see God bring together even the most incompatible people. Is this not His heart for our world? Jesus has always had a way of unifying the seemingly irreconcilable. And what a time for us to be doing the same.
Questions and Quotes —
Cane’s or Zaxby’s?
“He predicted that with the rise of technology and communication, people wouldn’t be deprived of information, but rather they would be given so much that they would become passive and egocentric. He feared that ‘truth would be lost in a sea of irrelevance’.” — Alisa Childers on Neil Postman’s, Amusing Ourselves to Death
What do you need to hear right now?
“A chief part of wisdom is learning to not only articulate and defend one’s position, but also understand and manage one’s suspicions.” — Joe Rigney
If you could only get the same Christmas gift every year, for the rest of your life, what would you ask for?
“Humility. That’s the cost of unity. Is it too high a cost? Time will tell.” — Thabiti Anyabwile
— Brooke