Epilogue

I stand on the edge of the narrow path on a small bulge on a steep slope. From here I can see part of the big road. The road that seems to lead from one end of the world to its end. Nestled in two huge mountain ranges to the right and left.

I look far in the direction from which the road comes. There, far away, I see not one street, but several streets that have united to this big road.

I see how through binoculars, the names: Islam, Judaism, paganism, New paganism, culture Christians, Buddhists, Hindus and many others. They all unite to this big street.

In the long distance I see a second, narrow path that seems to lead into the mountains. This path was laid out well before the beginning of this era. It seems to be the path Abraham was the first to follow a long time ago, and many others after him. But today, there are only a few who venture there.

The narrow path I am on was laid out much later. It also looks different: Down in the valley, at the beginning of the trail, it is still comparatively wide and well developed. People can be seen entering him again and again. Sometimes there are many at once, sometimes there are few. But in the beginning, this path is well filled.

The further you follow this path, the narrower, tighter, stony, steeper and arduous the path becomes. Many reverses after the first few miles. Some only after a few day trips. Some even after a long period of time.

Where I stand, only occasionally people meet me. Those who have followed this rough path continue. They want to know where he ends up leading.

One thing is striking, however: The higher I get, the clearer the air around me becomes. Thinking becomes clearer and easier. The visibility is getting better.

There are fewer and fewer people on the way with me on this way. But the higher I get, the more helpful we become to each other. It almost seems like a conspired community of companions is emerging, helping each other. Those who are unwilling to help seem to be left behind themselves at some point. I suspect that they will go back to the valley on the Wide Road.

The big road, I haven’t described it to the end: From here, where I’m standing at the moment, I can see two formidable archways in the distance. Behind those gates, it appears to be black. But all the people on the street are shoved into these gates in the stream of the masses.

They are almost rolling towards it. Few look up, too. And those who look up don’t seem to want to see the blackness, or they don’t care.

Everywhere on the big road there are buildings and signs pointing to the narrow path that leads into the mountain. Even far away, dense from the archways, there still seem to be such signs. But most ignore them.

There are always tumults on the street. It seems like a lot of people are dying and just disappearing from the streets. But the surging crowd doesn’t bother it.

I sense it’s time for me now to go further and stop looking down to the wide road. I take my little backpack and move on again.

I have been on the narrow path for many, very many years now. But I’ve never been really tired or exhausted. Again, and again there are sources on the side of the road that strengthen me. I have a bottle with me that I can keep filling. I continue around the next curves, up the steep path.

He’s slowly starting to get a little less exhausting. The air is becoming clearer. So clear that it seems to strengthen us from within. The big street has now disappeared completely behind hill ranges.

I can’t see, hear or smell anything from her anymore. For this I see more and more beautiful meadows, wide fields and gentle hills.

It’s fascinating how the landscape changes year after year. Yes: Years. This path is not calculated in miles, this path is calculated in years and decades.

Together with people who have become my friends, I reach a meadow.

The narrow path is slowly changing into a wide landscape. It gradually disappears. Almost as if we, who have come here, no longer need the narrow path for orientation. It’s really nice up here.

Then I see the shepherd. He stands in the meadow and waits for us. We are at home, with the LORD our God and His Son.

Amen