The Wide and Narrow Gates
Feb 3rd, 2005 by Hugh
I saw a documentary on something the U.S. Navy calls “BUDS” - Basic Underwater Demolition School. It’s sort of a boot camp for Navy SEALs - weeks on end of pure trial, testing the mettle of those who would aspire to such elite service.
The really interesting thing is that you have these instructors who are basically abusive, taunting, discouraging, and generally riding the backs of all the SEAL candidates. Then, the instant one of them decides he doesn’t have what it takes, the instructors magically turn into these hospitable, polite fellows who could pass for a concierge at the finest hotel. It’s like they want the candidates to drop out.
And that’s the point. Entrance to the SEAL program is reserved for those who would enter by the narrow gate. The door to go back is always wide open, with friendly, reassuring voices calling out, “it’s okay, you’ll be safe here.” The demands of being a SEAL are such that if there is any doubt that a man will give in to the slightest compromise, he is unfit for that kind of service.
Furthermore, the doubt we’re talking about is the doubt in the candidate’s mind. The instructors may have doubts long into the future, but those doubts don’t matter. It’s the doubt in the mind of the person called to something great that must be vanquished.
I wonder about those of us who invite people to repent and follow Christ - are we trying to widen the narrow gate that Jesus told us about? Are we the voices saying “it’s okay, you’ll be safe here,” or are we saying something more intimidating… unpleasant… grave?
As Dietrich Bonhoeffer said, “when Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die.”
Are we so busy telling people that “God loves you and has a wonderful plan for your life” that we neglect to tell them that this “wonderful plan” hinges on “taking up your cross and following [Jesus]?”
If I really love as Christ loved, I will not set up a lost soul for a fall. I will not give him the false assurance that his narcissistic, imagined version of “following Christ” leads through a gate that isn’t so narrow after all. No, if I really love this lost soul, I will do my best to wipe from his mind any illusion about the severity of the call of Christ.
And if I really love Christ before all others and before all else, I will not dilute his kingdom nor degrade his name by enlisting for him followers in name only. But ultimately, who follows him is his call - considering the salvation of a lost soul as somehow to my merit is evidence only of narcissism.
So let’s stop striving for popularity. Let’s stop trying to be well-liked. And let’s stop counting “decisions for Christ,” shall we? If anything, let us count the martyrs - those for whom the narrow gate is behind, not ahead, and for whom all glory goes to Jesus Christ.
I agree wholeheartedly. Now that you’ve drawn the line, how do you do what you propose considering most of us have had years of exposure to the “you need a better couch Jesus”?
One more thing to add - Luke 2:52 -
And Jesus grew in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and men. I’ve often wondered how that fits into the offensiveness of the true Gospel.
Hmmm, what do I propose?
The spiritual disciplines are on my mind - exercises that force us to train under heavy burdens to strengthen the muscles we need for fruitful service to Christ. The disciplines are of no value themselves; there’s nothing meritorious in doing them any more than there’s any achievement inherent to an athlete’s or musician’s years of training: it’s done not for its own sake, but to be able to draw upon the fruits of that exercise when needed. They also have a valuable side effect in that a “dabbling” disciple will likely be exposed on account of his tempered devotion.
A follow-up question: What would it look like if we challenged our fellow followers of Christ with the same kind of approach that the SEAL instructors do? In other words, what if we “come down hard” on those who press on toward the narrow gate, while offering a nice, soft pillow to those who fall away?
I love the comparison. Ultimately, it is love that drives the instructor. If the candidate makes it through the training, there is no doubt–he is a SEAL. Then, when placed into a dangerous situation, he has the best possible chance of fulfilling the mission and keeping his life.
Imagine the instructor that went soft on a guy to let him pass. When tested, that guy (who is not really a SEAL, even though he made the team) will likely get himself and maybe his whole team killed.
Does it then follow that people on our “team” who really shouldn’t be there have messed up our mission, and we find ourselves defending the real mission?
Interesting question Kevin, but it might be stretching the metaphor too far. I wasn’t trying to address ministry team dynamics - just our self-defeating tendency to “dumb down” the gospel.
But I’ll indulge it with a follow-up question. Did Judas mess up the mission of the Twelve? Should he really have been there?
To Kevin’s question, I didn’t mean to push the analogy that far, only to show that harshness of the instructor is initially counterintuitive. It looks mean at first until you realize the deadly seriousness of his job and that merely getting people in is not his job.
Sorry for the delay.
To address Kevin’s question, I would say they have made it more difficult. With the popularity of some kind of Christian message in American culture, everyone seems to think they know what Jesus was all about - which leads me to the old saying, “One of the hardest things to learn is something that you think you already know.”
I want to have a boot camp for what we are learning on Sunday mornings. It’s nice to see the videos but at this point it’s all still cerebrial.