The Way

"I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except by me." - John 14:6

I thought we had gotten a good start on the day. I had the kids dressed, fed and we were heading out the door for a quick run to the library before homeschool. A knock on the door sent the children and the dog into the usual mayhem of screaming and barking and running to the window to see who was there. Something made me hesitate to open that door. But something also urged me to do so, when so often I don't answer without my husband being home or knowing for sure who it is. I made the decision, and opened it.


I could feel the cold rush of evil on the wings of the warm September morning breeze. An older man, who appeared harmless, stood holding an open Bible. A younger woman next to him smiled and began a rehearsed introduction. I prayed they were stopping by to tell people the Good News. But I knew they weren't. My suspicions were confirmed when I saw the literature she was holding.


I felt the Lord offering me a choice. I looked at my three children, thought of the things that we had to get done, and I knew I had more than enough excuse to close the door. And when it comes to cultists, I don't think God ever asks us to defend our faith without first being armed for the battle. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. But even as I considered it, I looked at them, standing there expectantly, hoping to recruit me into their religion of lies and false teaching. They thought it was truth. They thought they had figured out where the Bible went wrong and had been sucked into the schemes of the evil one. Just as I could never leave for dead someone sinking into quicksand, even if they weren't calling for help but willingly sinking deeper, even hastening their own demise, I couldn't shut the door in their face without at least attempting to turn their eyes to Jesus.


I opened the door. "Help, me, Lord. Show me what to say." I prayed silently as I invited them to step in and went for my Bible. They were friendly people. They smiled at the kids and talked amiably as they asked me questions about what I believed about the Kingdom of Heaven and certain passages of Revelation. He tried to convince me that death was an end with nothing beyond except for a few lucky chosen ones. I said that for me, as one who has been forgiven by the work of Christ by my repentance and belief, "to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord." I asked him what he would tell God if God asked him why he should be allowed into heaven. He said God would not ask him that. It felt much like a sword fight, though for my part I was calm, and he became more and more agitated, shifting his feet and looking around and finally looking over his shoulder at the doorknob. I kept trying to say "You believe you can't be certain whether you will cease to exist or God will save you. I believe and know that Jesus is my Savior, and my eternity is secure in what He did for me. Why would I want to trade what I have for what you don't have?" The woman, who was his daughter, stared at him somewhat dumbfounded as he began to falter.


"People don't usually ask us these questions." she admitted. Her father made a few more passes with his "sword" and put his hand to the door, telling his daughter something about "this not going anywhere." Maybe it was my imagination, but she looked a little uncertain, like they should be able to stand up against my arguments if I was willing to talk to them. I looked her straight in the eye as she was leaving.


"Keep seeking. The Bible promises that seekers will find the truth. I'll be praying for you today."


With a deep sigh, I closed the door. The coldness was gone. But my heart was heavy. Why do people always feel the need to add to God's truth, and thereby make it invalid? Why isn't the Bible enough? Is it such an insurmountable obstacle to put your trust in what He has done instead of trying in vain to make up your own truth and secure an eternity of regret?


God spoke soothingly to me as Hannah, Noah and I later read from Dangerous Journey, which is an adaptation of Pilgrim's Progress. It was the end of Christian's journey, and the celestial city was in sight. Ignorance followed behind them up the hill, confident that he wouldn't need the parchment to enter the city, but that God would let him in without proof that he belonged there.


Then, as the pilgrims neared the Gate, the whole of the Heavenly Host must have known of their arrival. For they were greeted by the King's own Trumpeters, who made all Heaven echo with their sound.


But when Ignorance knocked to be admitted, the men above the Gate looked down on him and said: "Where is your parchment-roll, my friend, to prove that you have come by the right road?"


He fumbled in his coat, but having nothing - as we know - stood silent underneath their gaze, then sorrowfully turned back. That was the last we saw of Ignorance.


The pilgrims, on the other hand, both had their parchments ready, and a voice cried out: "These pilgrims now are come from the City of Destruction for the love they bear to the King of this place!"


So the gates of Heaven opened to them, and they entered in.


("Dangerous Journey" written by Oliver Hunkin, 1985.)