The God-Bridge to (Narrow) Highway 60

In a few weeks on my 60th birthday I’ll march/slither (take your pick) over the culturally accepted bridge into senior citizen-dom, never to return. Good-byes are already being said to cute little lacy, cap-sleeved blouses that show off too much upper-arm flab. Cold-weather sports and power-walking on ice-covered roads will be told adios - a response to radical feet-flying-out-from-under-me falls these past two winters. My cast-iron physiology that used to process thousands of calories of junk food a day with no ill effects has become persnickety in a purist sort of way, and requires nothing but the most authentic garden-of-Eden fare. “A refill on my goblet of fresh carrot juice, daaaah-ling,” my senior cells call to me with lifted pinky fingers, like spoiled brats in a swank French restaurant. “And another lovely baby lettuce salad with cold-pressed olive oil.”

The bridge leading to senior-ville (the God-Bridge) appears to be trustworthy. (By the way, Simon and Garfunkle’s song about the bridge over troubled waters was based on lyrics from the Swan Silvertones in 1958: “I’ll be your bridge over deep water if you trust in me.”). Even so, I’m in white-knuckle-mode on this suspension-style, rope-walk-bridge – hanging on to the thick rope railings - as the winds of change howl and a husband who is 60-going-on-18 makes waves while jumping up and down like a kangaroo on the other end.

Hold on a second…while I squiggle the dial and try to refocus these binoculars…ahhh, there we go. Now maybe I can get a glimmer of the hours/days (years/decades?) yet to come.

I see a road – a narrow road. Would you believe there’s stuff all over it? Do-dads, or junk, or…awesome ministry opportunities? Hmmmm. I can’t tell - not yet. Its sweeping curves dip out of sight, and yet murmur invitations: “Lace up the old hiking boots, girl - take one step at a time in those dusty old things, and stay on the road - no exits or detours, just STAY ON HIGHWAY 60.”

My faith in Christ will be reflected in my conduct on that narrow road. I’ve been taught the narrow road is the “less traveled” road (thank you, Robert Frost and Pastors X, Y, and Z), perhaps the quieter, more theologically monastic road, the one zeroed in that leads toward God - while the wide road is full of people-things-busyness. However, the Greek word for narrow road, “thlibo” (thlee’-bo), implies travelers on this road are compressed as they walk, sort of like in the over-populated streets of some European cities. Actually, thlibo can refer to being crowded/squashed/crushed, either literally or figuratively – which seems a fitting platform from which to serve God’s kingdom purposes while being upheld by Him. This thought meshes well with my emerging perspective of suffering: the quintessence of love, to quote St. Faustina.

If the thlibo perception is accurate, then conversely the wide, comfortable, spacious road - busy, but in worldly ways - is well suited for the beatniks (that word dates me!) who cruise through fun-in-the-sun moments in their woodies rather than living for, and in, eternity. As long as I’m still here…and despite near-misses like cancer and frazzle-headedness laced with occasional emotional black holes and panic attacks, I AM still breathing in and out and hiking around in the aforementioned boots…I will choose the narrow road.

When it comes down to the nitty-gritty, I think every believer’s narrow road, in every stage of life, is customized. And so as I approach 60, I want to open up – breathe holistically, take in everything all around and let it fall back on everything just a little bit changed - and step out in hot pursuit after the Lord on the road He has for ME.

Here’s a short Canadian video I found online that speaks to the pastoral country-girl road-walker in me as I head out for Highway 60.

http://www.tangle.com/view_video.php?viewkey=456eb389e9e16384b8e3

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Note: For a helpful expository on thlibo, check out this page (scroll about a third of the way down and you’ll see a heading entitled “suffer affliction”). http://www.preceptaustin.org/1thessalonians_34-5.htm