The narrow path I had been walking along led to a door. When I noticed the door I stopped and looked back along the path I had been following. As I realized the path was straight and narrow excitement welled up inside of me. Certainly the door would lead to the kingdom of heaven! I began to imagine what I would find on the other side of the door once I reached it. I envisioned lush greenery, trees covered with the most perfect fruit, streams of crystal clear cool water, a gentle breeze. I began to walk more quickly, eager to reach the door – eager to open the door to this whole new world. When I reached the door I paused, taking a deep breath before opening it. Then, filled with anticipation, I quickly pushed the door open.
It is hard to describe the next few moments. I was stunned by what I saw. Nothing looked the way I expected it to look. There were no trees – actually there was no greenery at all. And no evidence of water. As I stood in that doorway I looked out over a barren desert that had been parched by the scorching sun and hot wind. Tears sprung to my eyes as I stood there, utterly perplexed. How could this be? Didn’t scripture say that the way that leads to life is straight and narrow? Yet there was no life on the other side of this door! What happened?
Confused and dismayed, I looked back along the path that had led to the door. From this new perspective I realized that the path was not as straight as it had originally seemed. Neither was it particularly narrow. I began to stumble back along the path, seeking to understand how the path I had followed had led to such a desolate place. I had not gone far before I realized that there were numerous forks in the path – forks I had not noticed before. I came to one fork and turned around, looking down the two paths. The paths looked almost identical. They both appeared straight and narrow at first glance. But the one I had chosen was wider and better traveled, and it curved ahead – perhaps at another fork.
I kept traveling back along my path, stopping at each fork. It was clear that these forks marked small decisions – seemingly insignificant decisions – I had made during my life. At one fork I had chosen to spend an evening with one friend instead of another, knowing time with the one friend would be more fun. At another fork I had chosen to eat some food that was not good for me, rationalizing that a little bit would not hurt. At another fork I had skipped a meeting I should have attended because I was tired (and didn’t really want to go anyway). At another fork I had ignored an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach because I was enjoying spending time with a person.
Each fork marked a small decision – one I never imagined would make any difference in the grand scheme of my life. And yet, at so many of these small forks I had chosen the wider path, the easier path, the better traveled path. I had inadvertently chosen the path that led to death.
At that moment I woke up from my dream, sitting straight up in bed. How was this possible? What had I done? How could so many seemingly insignificant decisions have caused so much damage? In that fog between dreaming and wakefulness I cried out in dismay.
Desmond Tutu writes, “The Buddhist practice of mindfulness and the daily examen of Ignatian spirituality point to the same end: when we pay attention, it is possible to halt evil in its tracks. Paying attention also helps us to see how easy it is to become inured to the proliferation of evil. Evil does not sweep in like a tsunami; it bleeds into the fabric of life, washing out the joy and staining the beauty. Choosing wrong is learned through a series of small decisions. Little failures become ingrained through repetition. The small faults, unchecked, open the way for all the vileness of which we are capable.”[1]
While Archbishop Tutu is talking about the sin of apartheid, an evil that bled into the very fabric of life in South Africa, he speaks a truth that is relevant to all of us: Choosing wrong is learned through a series of small decisions. But there is a deeper truth: Through Jesus Christ we can learn to choose the good. Through mindfulness and repetition, goodness can infiltrate the fabric of life, filling it with joy and revealing the depth of its beauty.
As I became fully alert on that dark night, I remembered the awesome God I serve – a God of compassion and forgiveness – a God of second and third and fourth chances. While the path in my dream may have led to the door of hell and death, God was showing me another way. There is a path that leads to the kingdom of love and life. It is a narrow path. It is not as heavily traveled as the other paths. And yet, it is clearly available to all. This path is followed by those who pay attention to the signs – those who listen to the nudgings of the Holy Spirit – those who are mindful of God’s grace at work, even in the midst of the smallest decisions. With God’s help, we can learn to choose the path of life.
In the darkness of that night, as I prayed for forgiveness and mindfulness, I began to sing:
Goodness is stronger than evil;
Love is stronger than hate;
Light is stronger than darkness;
Life is stronger than death.
Victory is ours, Victory is ours,
Through Him who loved us;
Victory is ours, Victory is ours,
Through Him who loved us.[2]
