Back in 2013 I flew off to China to become a
teacher and when I was there we had our opening
day our orientation at the main EF school in
Shanghai I was in there and everything was going
well. We were learning how everything was going
to work It was time for us to go to a different
room. So I started walking toward the door and
BAM All of a sudden the doorway would not let
me through I was stunned There was this doorway
in front of me, and I couldn't seem to get through
it. What is going on? I felt blood on the side
of my eyebrow. I realized I just walked face
first into a giant plate glass window. To this
day, there's a little scar right here where the
hair doesn't quite grow in that eyebrow. It turns
out the cleaning ladies there in Shanghai did
their job so immaculately that the windows were
spotless. Not a smear, not a smudge, not even
a fingerprint. Completely invisible until my
head hit it. That moment sticks with me even
more than the scar because I thought I was walking
through the door only to find out there was no
door at all. What looked like the way forward
was really a wall in my way. And that's a picture
of what Jesus gives us today in our passage.
There is a true door, a way into the kingdom
of God, but not everything that looks like a
door is really a door. Some ways lead nowhere
but pain and injury. But there is one doorway
that opens and Jesus tells us it's narrow. See,
that's the kind of picture Jesus gives us in
today's reading. There is a door to God's kingdom.
It's not wide, it's not obvious, like one may
expect. It's narrow. Just because something looks
like the way in doesn't mean it really is. Jesus
says, make every effort to enter through the
narrow door because many, I tell you, will try
to enter and will not be able to. And he gives
this sobering image, people standing outside,
knocking, pleading, saying, but we ate and drank
with you. You taught in our streets. And the
master of the house says, I don't know you or
where you come from. Away from me, all you evildoers.
He's not talking about people who never knew
him. These are not strangers who had never heard
the gospel. These are people who were around
it all the time. They ate at the table. They
heard His teaching. They were in the crowd. These
were the people who may have been smiling and
laughing at His terrible jokes. And we see this
today, don't we? People who grew up in church.
People who can tell the Bible stories by heart.
People who sang in the choir. Went on the mission
trips. Even taught the Sunday School. They can
talk about what it meant to them once upon a
time. Yet, somehow along the way, they turned
and said, it's not really who I am anymore. Some
walked away quietly. Some chased after other
philosophies or religions, spirituality. Some
decided to believe only what they could see and
measure, and maybe some just never truly came
to faith anyway. When you hear Jesus' words,
I don't know you. It's chilling. Because you
realize that knowing about Him is not the same
as being known by Him. But aren't we all baptized
into Christ and thereby certain of our future?
For some, baptism though becomes a family heirloom.
It's like grandma's silver in the china cabinet.
It's like all the dishes that your great aunt
wanted you to keep because she doesn't want them
in storage anymore. It's something that proves
you're part of the family, a cultural label,
a family tradition, a frame on the wall. Something
that says, this is who we are, but not always
with the living faith behind it. That's not a
new problem, though. The church fathers, they
already saw it back in the day. Tertullian, in
the second century, worried about parents bringing
their infants to baptism as if it were just a
cultural mark. Something that might be claimed
without the child ever growing into the responsibility
of faith. Augustine, on the other hand, defended
the baptism of infants, but he also said, just
because you were washed in water once doesn't
mean you can live faithlessly forever. Baptism
demands a lifelong turning back to Christ. Martin
Luther wrestled with it too. In his large catechism,
he warns about people who reject their baptism.
To reject baptism is to despise God's word, His
covenant, indeed His entire work of salvation.
He reminds us, our baptism abides forever, but
it profits only those who keep faith and cling
to Christ. Luther knew well that plenty of baptized
people drift away. Treating baptism like a certificate
in the drawer, a magical insurance policy, but
not like a living promise. And that's exactly
what the writer of Hebrews is warning us about
through the story of Esau. Esau had the inheritance
of the firstborn, the blessing, the promises
of God handed down through Abraham and Isaac,
but he treated it as though it were nothing more
than a bowl of soup. He gave up something eternal
for something temporary. Something sacred for
something that could never satisfy. Something
that He allowed His brother to have and gave
away all the blessings that were intended for
Him. In the same way, how many today have taken
the inheritance in baptism, our faith, our following
of Christ Jesus, and traded it away for comfort,
normalcy, success, self -made identity, or just
the freedom to do life? however we wish. Like
Esau, they may one day look back with regret,
but the warning is clear. Don't despise what
God has given you. Don't sell your birthright
in Christ for the sake of things that do not
last. But isn't that what we see today? Some
people will tell you about the pastor who baptized
them, the building they grew up in, maybe even
the water that they felt. They could even say,
we ate and drank in your presence and we enjoyed
the chili cook -off too. But now, how many have
walked away? They've taken the inheritance, a
cultural model, a piece of identity, but forgotten
the living, saving faith. And that's the danger
Jesus is warning about. He isn't speaking to
people on the outside. He's speaking to those
who were there with Him, who thought they were
in just by being there. and hearing a good message,
but in the end may hear, I don't know you or
where you come from. But what does it mean for
us? The narrow door is not just a call to try
harder, to measure up, to outperform the world
around us. You're not doing good enough, all
you. If that were the case, none of us would
ever make it. It's not as if we can do something
so great and amazing that it undoes all of our
sins and corruption and gets us into heaven.
The truth is, we've all done things that cry
out against us, hurtful things, spiteful words,
broken promises, even sins we've wrapped in religious
packaging and excused in the name of Jesus, though
we know full well he would never have approved
of them. But the door is not closed. The writer
of Hebrews gives us a powerful image, two voices
of blood. The blood of Abel shed in the very
first murder cried out for vengeance. But the
blood of Jesus cries out something very different.
Mercy. Forgiveness. Reconciliation. A new life
that is completely one for us. Augustine noted
that baptism and Christ's blood are gifts that
are freely given, not things we earn. but the
means by which God draws us into his life. Tertullian
and Cyprian similarly emphasize that even infants
baptized in faith yet cannot express it receive
this gift because it's God's work and not ours.
Martin Luther picked it up saying our baptism
abides forever but it profits only those who
keep faith and cling to Christ because he was
trying to point out that it's not about performance.
It's not about striving to make ourselves acceptable.
It's about receiving, living in, and walking
daily in the reality of Christ's mercy, that
He has given us freely, without our own efforts.
And that's why the door is Christ Himself. It's
not asking you to perform your way in, to prove
yourself worthy, or somehow live a Christian
life that's good enough to qualify. He's the
one who's already walked through death. risen
again, so that you may walk in Him. So the question
is, no longer have I done enough, the question
is, am I living in Him? It's not about striving
to earn, but receiving what was won. Not trying
to become something better so God might accept
us, but realizing we're already accepted in Christ.
So we live in that faith instead of walking away
from it. So now, let's ask something a little
more practical. If the door is Christ, if His
blood has already spoken mercy and life over
us, how do we live into that? How do we respond
to the inheritance we have in our baptism? First,
it's not about performance. We're meant to walk
in the gift, not performance. Baptism is not
a checklist, starting gun. It's a gift of new
life. It's a promise God has claimed us, washed
us, buried us in Christ that we might rise with
Him. The work's been done, but what's remaining
is not the earning, but walking in the reality.
Second, we discern the door in our daily choices,
not just once a week when we're expected to for
an hour, but each and every day. The narrow door
reminds us that Christ himself defines the way.
We don't follow vague ideas or cultural Christian
values, we follow Jesus, who He is, all that
He has said and done, asking, who is Christ calling
me to be today? How does His mercy shape my relationships,
my work, my family, my community? In these daily
acts of obedience, we live out the baptismal
promise. Third, we're supposed to turn from what
keeps us outside. Don't keep walking into the
wrong door. It's not a door. Hebrews reminds
us that God disciplines like a loving father,
guiding us away from paths that would harm us
or lead us away from his presence. Sometimes
it means we need to say no. No to the habits.
No to the patterns. No to the relationships that
pull us from Christ. And if we're having trouble
with that, find those who can help you. Sometimes
it means enduring difficult seasons with patience
and hope, but it always means the discipline
of God is a sign that we're invited into life,
not condemned. And finally, the community nurtures
our faith. We don't live faithfully by ourselves.
Doesn't work very well that way. Just as the
early church fathers emphasized, as we were hearing
today, faith is nurtured amongst God's people.
Our inheritance in Christ calls us to live as
a body, together, to encourage and correct and
support one another, so that the narrow door
is not a solitary struggle, but a path that we
walk together in mercy and grace. So living faithfully
after baptism, it's not a matter of proving ourselves.
But do we receive the gift freely given, follow
the narrow way, and live in the reality of Christ's
blood? As we consider that though, we need to
remember something. It's not always easy, and
it doesn't always feel fair. Sometimes we encounter
hardship, suffering, challenges that make us
wonder, God, what did we do wrong? What did I
do wrong? Why do I feel cast out? Do you even
love me? And Hebrews gives us a very clear picture.
The Lord disciplines the one He loves, chastises
every son He receives. Because discipline is
not rejection. Discipline is a part of love.
It's a sign of God's love. It's saying, I care
enough to redirect you. I care enough to keep
you on the path that leads to life. There are
three things that we oftentimes see and wonder
about. Sometimes God may have to have direct
correction with us. He sometimes has to bring
situations into our lives to get our attention.
To show us that we need to turn, to rethink,
to change direction. His direction is like a
loving nudge. It's firm. But it's meant to protect
us and guide us toward the narrow way But then
there are times where it's just natural consequences
God sometimes just lets things play out as our
choices unfold It's not about punishment. It's
a reality check He sometimes just allows reality
help us understand the impact of our actions
And the wisdom of living according to his ways
instead of ours but third It's about refined
trust. Because sometimes hardship is simply to
draw us closer to Him. Even when nothing outward
changes, the seasons teach us to cling to God.
To trust His sovereignty and to recognize that
He is at work even when we cannot see the full
picture. See, what I didn't realize until I was
in China is that I had a lot of trouble going
through doors. While I was there, I was trying
to show a class how to play a game Duck Duck
Goose and so as I saw all these grown -ups sitting
in their seats and I went Duck Duck Goose and
I ran as you're supposed to with the game but
I was trying to get their attention and interact
with them but I ran so hard through the doorway
swung my leg out just a little too far the one
that sticks out a little to the side kicked the
edge of the doorway and broke my big toe. Snap.
You know, pain makes you cry, but so much pain
that you just laugh and you start scaring people?
One of those days. I spent the last three months
of my time in China hobbling around on crutches,
asking myself, what's going on here? What did
I do wrong, God? Am I on the wrong path? Was
my mom completely right to be afraid of me going
to China and managing to get myself hurt? And
there I was, in the midst of the vulnerability,
but realizing that God was still providing for
me. See, sometimes life just happens. And it's
just meant to be a reminder to slow down, to
pay attention, and to trust God's care, even
when life doesn't go as we expect. In all these
cases, the Lord's discipline is not condemnation.
It's mercy. It's guidance. It's the loving hand
of the Father inviting us to walk through the
narrow door. Not around. Not against. Through.
To live faithfully in Christ. To embrace our
inheritance. To embrace our baptism. Remember
that glass door in China? At first, I thought
it was the way forward. Everything looked clear.
Everything looked perfect. Everything appeared
to be right in my eyes. But I ran straight at
it only to discover it wasn't a door at all.
It was a plate glass window and I bled and I
stumbled and I broke my face. Yet the actual
doorway, the real way through, was still wide
open. It may be a narrow door, but it's more
than wide enough for us. Anyone could have gone
through it. And the fact that I ran into the
window didn't mean there was anything wrong with
the path. It meant I needed to slow down to pay
attention and to go the right way. And that's
exactly what Jesus is showing us today. The narrow
door is not about excluding us or making life
harder. It's about safeguarding us. Making a
way to make sure we're not hurting ourselves
down the wrong path. A way to keep us from harming
or making worse. Christ wants us to get through.
He's made the way. He opened the door by shedding
His own blood. It wasn't my blood that could
open a doorway. How often is it that our blood,
our efforts, our struggles do absolutely nothing
to make the way open? We just bleed on everything.
None of our mistakes, our efforts, our struggles
can ever make a way. It's only His. As much as
we may bleed, for the windows that we want to
push open. It's not our way that ever opens the
door. The only way through the path is the one
that He's already prepared. So just as God allows
discipline in our lives, the hardships, the corrections,
the natural consequences, let us remember that
it's not to harm us, but to guide us. To keep
us on the path of life, to the inheritance we've
been given, to the mercy that Christ's blood
speaks as a better word. Because today the door
is open. Christ is waiting. Will you go through?
Thanks be to God.