Pressed In

A few weeks ago Jim Gardner taught about “the narrow way” in Bible class. He said lots of interesting stuff, but I don’t remember it. I do remember this: The word we translate “narrow” literally means “pressed in.” Once he said that I was completely distracted by the image of it.

I saw packed elevators, crammed subway cars, lines outside concert venues when the doors finally open and everyone is polite-pushing to get through.

I smelled body odor and hair oil and bad breath.

I felt bodies pushing against mine, hands accidently touching, shoulders sweating on my shoulders.

The image just seems so… forcefully intimate.

As if the road to God is like a cattle drive and we’re all “pressed in” on top of one another, forced into proximity and community.

Few things will bring totally different people together like a New York City subway car at rush hour with no AC. We bond because we’ve been jammed into a tiny box, because community has been thrust upon us.

That’s the church, right? That’s the road. It’s not narrow like single-file. It’s not narrow like maybe you see another traveler every five miles or so. It’s narrow as in not-wide, as in we’re gonna have to get pretty close to one another here.

Pressed in. I love it.