“Strive to enter through the narrow gate, for many, I tell you, will attempt to enter but will not be strong enough.”
– Jesus
I was in downtown Indianapolis the other day for a meeting. We had ended early, and even after visiting with some co-workers, I still had some time to spare. I could go back to my home office, or I could go out to lunch with friends. But then something, some One prodded me – St. Johns has confessions at 11:00.
It was a nice day – warm and humid – but nice. So, I go to exit the office building in the normal place I exit when walking to that side of downtown – the west door. Except this day, there were multiple signs saying “STOP! Door closed. Please exit on Washington St. or Market St.” And so I go to the Market Street exit. As I exit the building, I had a choice.
Do I turn left and head towards St. Johns? Or do I turn right, and head towards the parking garage and head home? I mean, I have a ton of work to do. I don’t have the time. And, it’s too hot to walk the six blocks over to the church.
It’s a big door you walk through to get out of that office building, leading out into the hustle and bustle of the world, into the noise, and the commotion. But then something almost physically directed me to turn left, before I could really think about it, and I started walking to the church.
St. Johns is 145 years old – old for American standards, especially in this part of the country. It’s such a beautiful church. When I was working downtown every day, I would go there often for noon Mass, and many times for confession right before. Often there are long lines for confession, and so frequently, the priest has to turn people away because he has to go say Mass. So I got to the church this day, and surprisingly, the line was not too long.
It had been a while since I had been to confession – and I’ll save you from all the typical excuses. Most of you are Catholic – you surely know them well. I used to go regularly – at least every 4-6 weeks – but it had been quite a few months. I needed it, God knew I needed it, but my pride kept getting in the way.
So I’m in the church. It’s a Gothic style sanctuary with the most beautiful stained glass windows above and beyond the alter, and then a huge, circular window behind you, as you gaze up at the balcony at the rear of the nave where the organ resides. The nave is trimmed in ornate wood designs, with a high curved ceiling, and lined with numerous side chapels. I could go on and on. I love this church. It holds a special place in my heart.
I’m waiting in line for confession. It is never easy, especially when it’s been a while. I actually think about the Gospel reading for today. Strive to enter through the narrow gate. Do you ever notice how small the door to the confessional looks when you’re waiting in line? Many are not strong enough to enter. It looks tiny.
It’s true. You can get there, but all kinds of things creep into your mind. Oh, the line is too long. Maybe I’ll just come back some other day, you think. It takes a lot of strength to walk through that door of the confessional. It’s not fun. It’s not easy. You come to terms with who you are at that time. And sometimes it’s ugly. But you also learn who you’re meant to be.
It’s the door to heaven. It’s that narrow gate.
This is the crux of the readings today. We do not get to Heaven if we do not seek forgiveness. Bottom line. There are a lot of other things that may make our path shorter, but in the end, if we don’t open up that door and ask for God’s forgiveness, then it may be a long eternity for some of us. End of story. Period. We can tell ourselves, “Oh, I’ll do it tomorrow.” Or, “I’ll find time another day.” Or, “God will forgive me in the end…” Well, what if there isn’t another day? What if the confessional is closed and there is no one there? Who are we to assume that God will forgive us if we do not ask?
And here is the nut of it all, the line I have struggled with often, and keep having to remind myself of – “For behold, some are last who will be first, and some are first who will be last.”
What does this mean? There are many meanings you can pull from this verse, but for me, on this day, it means one thing. A question I asked myself – do I put myself before God? Yes – too often.
If you put yourself first, and you always focus on your desires and the material things of the world, you may be first for a while. You may taste success and all that comes with it. You may climb that ladder and have the biggest house on the block.
Gods not saying you shouldn’t have success or nice things. He wants that for us. But where is your heart? Amidst all of the stuff – do you put God first? Do you seek forgiveness, and go out of your way to ask His forgiveness knowing that He is the end all, be all in life?
Or do you put yourself first, and all things of this world that are temporal?
Because if you put Christ first, and take the time in your busy schedule to seek His forgiveness and mercy and His love, that’s what He asks. He wants this, and He wants it often. It’s like with my son. He’s 8 years old. He’s testing my wife and I, and he makes mistakes. But we’re staying consistent. We discipline him, but we also are constantly trying to build discipline in him. It takes time, and it takes patience.
And so it is with us. God takes our mistakes, and sure, He disciplines us in our penance, but He also uses them to build discipline and character within us to make us stronger. By going to regular confession, just as an athlete trains regularly, God builds that discipline in us. When we continue to do this, we put ourselves last and we put God first, and in the end, we will be first into Heaven.
But if we continue to put ourselves first, and the things of this world first, and we put God second, or third, or last? Then we will be last when it comes to eternal life. I personally don’t want to see what the alternative is.
When I finished up my confession and discussion with the priest, I felt such a weight lifted off my shoulders. I missed this feeling, this mercy from God. And as he dismissed me and I thanked him, I got up from the chair in that confessional and I noticed something different.
That door, the one that looked so small from the outside, now loomed larger than life as I exited. As difficult as it was to stoop in and enter, it was so easy to walk out, flooded in grace. This Sacrament further built that discipline, that character deep within me, to help me become a better me.
Walking out that door, almost being pushed out by His grace, you almost instinctively hear todays Psalm, telling you, “Go out to all the world and tell the Good News.”
I walked into the nave, knelt in a pew to say a prayer, and then took another left, looking up and out of the big, huge stained-glass window in the back. And I thought of this even more.
That old church has seen a lot over the years. When you’re outside looking in, the doors look small. They’re made of hard, dense wood, and it takes effort to open them. Such is life. It takes effort, and it takes discipline, and it takes faith to train your soul so that you reach Heaven.
You’ve got to put God first. He must increase, and you must decrease. But when you put Him first, things take on a whole new perspective.
As I walked out of that church, the huge double doors were open with sunlight streaming in.
Those doors, the ones that appear so tiny and hard from the outside, they provide a vast view from within, and they open up to a whole new world – a world of hope. Don’t let them get in your way. Pull them open, and look out to a new view on life!
IS 66:18-21; PS 117; HEB 12:5-7, 11-13; LK 13:22-30
