Tears of our Father

Our Father’s Tears

            The Lords wants all to be saved . . . and he waits patiently. Millions of souls are in the balance, millions of souls marching into eternity. Most have no clue where they will spend eternity. Sadly, most don’t even care. 

            One night I had a vision of a multitude of expressionless people walking face forward, turning neither to the left nor to the right. They walked as though they had no power within them to stop or consider their direction. They had stopped being real—they were as dead men walking. This scene haunted me, so I followed to see where they were going. The more I walked with them, the greater the pressure was to continue with them. The crowd behind was growing in number, and the space around us was limited. And so we walked faster, faster.  

              Soon we were almost in a dead run, not the kind of run people do to get where they would like to go but one of trying to escape. As we increased our efforts to escape, the people behind only pushed us faster in the same direction. We were like animals being loaded for slaughter. Trying to escape by running up the loading chute, they find themselves in the trailer, confined and doomed to a certain death with no hope of escape. They realize too late that they need to turn around. And then the pressure of the animals behind them blocks them into their fate. They thought they were escaping through the chute, but too late realized they were moving toward their own destruction and unable to change course.

            So it was with the walking dead. They were not dead physically, but they were dead to emotion, dead to reason. They were just functioning, moving like zombies. 

            As we were pushed and shoved to whatever lay ahead, a fog descended on us. Visibility dropped to only a few feet, and pandemonium mounted. Sudden fear enveloped us. We must be going in the wrong direction! We tried to stop but all the feet running behind us pushed us forward. We couldn’t turn back. We couldn’t even stop our advance.

            Suddenly I found myself looking into a mass of faces—those in front had turned and were trying to run against the flow. They were trying to flee something we were all headed toward. They were no longer emotionless—they were stricken with a terror so great I can’t put it into words. Eyes wide in shock, every emotion now alive, they were trying with an unnatural strength to push back against the flow of people coming their way. But they could not. They were running into the crowd, but their feet only stirred the dust. They planted their feet, but the crowd continued to push them forward. The air was filled with horrible panic and fear. These people were facing a sudden realization of a truth that could not be changed, a truth that was not in their favor, a truth they believed too late. 

           

            And then I reached the horror everyone was trying to escape. The most terrorizing state a human mind can ever grasp or experience. For only a split second, and yet a lifetime, I stood on the edge of a deep precipice, and an unimaginable sight opened before me. The fog was now lifted, the sounds horrific, the depths unforeseeable. The look in the eyes of those I watched as they were pushed over the edge was something I will never forget. The memory is seared into my brain like a bad dream I cannot erase. The sounds were indescribable—screams of terror, yells of rage, sounds that were not human. I felt myself pushed over and experienced the feeling people have when they suddenly realize the depths of the mistake they made. Like when a speeding driver looks in his rearview mirror and sees the lights of a police car closing the gap between them. He has no license, no insurance, and is wanted on a felony. He has a phobia of being locked in a room with no escape. He wishes he could go back and change things—but it’s too late. And so with the people at this precipice. Nowhere to run, no way to turn back. Only an immediate and certain doom.

            But I didn’t fall. I was suspended on the brink. I could not see the depths, but I could hear the screams of the people as they descended out of sight. I could see fire down below, and I could see the smoke rising and smell the acrid fumes. I could sense the great evil that enveloped the place. But I did not fall. I found myself in the safe arms of an angel who held me suspended there in space, watching the scene before me. 

            Then the angel set me on a rock, safe above the mob. From that perch I could see the real picture before me. The reason there was no escape was shocking yet final. These people were doomed long before they reached the edge—their decision or failure to decide had sealed their fate long before. Not choosing is by default to allow the enemy to choose for you. God will not choose for you—He provided the only way of escape, but He wants us to freely choose it. 

            I looked to the horizon. God gave me a supernatural view, and I could see the whole picture from beginning to end. 

            At the beginning of the journey were little children playing happily on the hills. As they grew, they all were motivated by some internal call. They would leave the others and enter their chosen pathway to follow those who were already on it. As they walked, they laughed and talked; they rested by the wayside and enjoyed themselves to the fullest. Then they would come to a Y in the road. One side led upward through a narrow passage. The other led in a slightly downhill direction. It was large and full of people. Each person approaching the Y paused—and made a choice. Most just followed the masses, not even considering the smaller way. However, some of them stopped and looked up at the rock above the small trail. There they saw a handsome young man with a kind face and a warm smile. He stood beckoning with open arms, and I saw scars on the palms of his hands. 

            On the other side of the Y was a multitude of characters, laughing raucously and showing open disregard for the man with the scars in his hands. They were enticing people to their side by telling of pleasure to be had, fun to be experienced, just around the bend. Besides, one look told the approaching people the broad road looked much easier to travel than the narrow pathway, which was rough and steep even from the beginning.  

            The man with the scars said nothing. But he beckoned the people to come as he pointed to a cross standing over the opening in the rocks. Many who looked at him paused only a moment . . . and then turned to take the wide path. But others entered the narrow way, sensing the sin in their life and feeling a need for forgiveness. Even against the call of the wide way . . .  even though they noted the difficult climb ahead . . . something within them drew them to the man with the scars. He embraced them and pointed the way on up the path. Thus began a difficult but rewarding journey. These travelers soon learned that they never had to face challenges alone. This kind man with the scars in his hands always provided the help they needed.

            Those on the other path found temporary pleasures, but as they continued their journey, life became empty. A slow but steady death began to envelop their emotions. The pleasures of life began to lose their luster. Traveling the wide path gradually dulled their senses. Without realizing what was happening, they were caught in a mob that pushed, shoved them forward.

            I watched the people on the small path as they climbed on. Many times I did not think they could make it, and then from nowhere a hand would reach down and lift them up. Then they would rest a while with others, enjoying their new view before again moving up the pathway. 

            All along the journey were trails connecting the two paths. However, as the pathways went forward, they spread farther and farther apart, making the trails longer between them. At each junction, people had a choice. Would they continue on the same pathway—or would they change to the other one? Men and women stood at these junctures, beckoning to those going by. Some invited people on the broad path to move to the narrow one. Most of them were not dressed in finery, but their faces expressed caring and concern. However, their voices were largely unheard. They told of difficult climbs but amazing views. They warned of impending doom for everyone who chose to continue down the large pathway. 

            The people on the large pathway mostly laughed. Looking ahead, they could see no danger; all seemed well. Occasionally someone would heed the people calling them to the narrow path. They would climb the connecting trail to the narrow path and begin the ascent, some to the finish and some simply to turn back when the going became difficult. Those who turned back rarely tried again. Some were even bitter about putting the effort out only to be further behind their friends when they returned to the large pathway.

           

            Another group made every effort to influence the people on the wide path to stay where they were. They told smooth lies, trying to convince the people if they continued down the large pathway, they would find excellent views and much satisfaction. They told the people if they went on the narrow way, they would miss out on life. They deceived the people into thinking the large and small pathways ended in the same place. Many of these deceivers were those who had walked up the narrow pathway at first but had tired of the seemingly endless difficulty and turned aside into a less challenging way. They had convinced themselves they would be fine. Sadly, they were deceiving others also. They wanted company on their journey and took comfort in the multitudes progressing downward with them. They had decided against the narrow road and did not want anyone else to succeed and prove them wrong.  

            Many of the climbers on the narrow way did become discouraged. Promises of an easier and more enjoyable walk enticed them and some gave in. Even though men and women from the narrow way pleaded with them to be faithful and offered comfort to the discouraged, not everyone chose to stay on the narrow path. 

            It was startling to see the masses walking into destruction, so unaware. Only a few even tried to learn where they were headed. All along the pathway were signs warning the travelers of the consequences of their choices. But these warnings were overshadowed by distractions designed to prevent as many people as possible from reading them. I noticed how the wide path grew even wider. The people seemed to multiply, streaming from the hillsides and even from the narrow way. 

            I saw many places on the narrow way where climbers were in low places, facing hard climbs. Some fell backward from the tough climb ahead. I saw evil beings darting among the rocks, briefly pouncing on the discouraged climbers and lashing them with whips. But then angels of God descended from the peaks and drove the evil ones away. However, with this cycle of abuse, even with an angelic deliverance, these people sank further and further into depression. All they saw before them was the climb. As they lay there on the ground, the incline became an insurmountable mountain before them.

            I saw many places where eloquent deceivers stood in the narrow way as though they were on it. But they had only climbed up that way to deceive. They would return to the wide path when they were satisfied with the loss they had caused. Or when God, fed up with their deceit, would send his angels to run them off and send them howling down to the wide way. These were lawless men and women who had convinced themselves that God’s love covered all their sins regardless of the path they followed. 

            On the narrow path, I also saw people in rags who were full of legality and harsh words. They were struggling to climb these hills with heavy packs on their backs. They were constantly reaching out to other climbers and trying to place heavy packs on their backs also. They were often found struggling to climb the path because of these heavy loads, their negative and demanding words discouraging other would-be climbers. Some decided if they had to carry these heavy weights, they’d never make it . . . soon they were found traipsing downward to the wide path. 

            Many saw the men and women who insisted on carrying the heavy backpacks as true climbers and thought it would be good to bear the heavy packs with them. But often, after struggling with the weight of the packs for a while and listening to the harsh words of the legalistic leaders, they became bitter and turned aside into rebellion, hatred, and unforgiveness. These were also found traipsing downward to the wide way. Bitterness blinded them to the truth. They didn’t understand the wonderful outcome of the narrow path . . . or the help they could have had along the way. They didn’t understand that the kind man with the scars in his hands would lift those burdens. And they were blinded to the fate of those traveling the wide path. Many never realized what was happening until they were caught up into the mass of people on the wide way. Then it was often difficult to return to the narrow path. 

            I was amazed at the difficulty of the narrow way until God opened my eyes. I saw at each point of difficulty was an angel of significant strength waiting patiently for the travelers to ask for help. Only those who looked up and asked for help ever saw them standing there and received their assistance. Pride and arrogance were abundant among the people on the lower levels of this climb. When my eyes reached the higher climbs, I realized there were not many people there. But those who had reached these heights were people who were quick to reach out for help and humble to receive it.

            Then I noticed again a point in the wide path where there was a slight Y in the road. The wide road plunged ahead and I could see the walls rising along the sides, higher and higher, as far as the eye could see. Most did not notice this change. They were so comfortable with their walk and their camaraderie with those around them that they did not pay attention to the slight changes, nor the slow angle downward. 

            The other road in the Y led to the narrow pathway. Another opportunity to choose. Along the path were many men and women pleading with tears for the souls of the travelers on the way to destruction. But the people of the wide way were drunk with the pleasures of their worldly journey. They scoffed at the last hope they had to change. To follow those who warned them of impending doom was to climb a difficult pathway to reach the narrow way, now winding far up into the peaks. 

            Sadly, a few at this point had turned back from the narrow way and were slipping and sliding down the connecting trail to the wide path. At one point was a large drop off that would make it difficult to return to the narrow path, now high above them. 

            I thought about what a sad place this was. I knew that without a miracle of God himself, those who continued on the wide way were now doomed to the pits of hell. They were trapped with no way of escape as the wall rose around them and the crowd gathered behind them. This was the point where the emotions of the people became deadened, at last realizing the hopelessness of the path they had chosen.

            The atmosphere on the narrow way was so different as the travelers approached journey’s end. The people sang, their home above in sight. While difficulties persisted, the reward was closer than ever before, and a great number of angels now accompanied them, encouraging and warding off the attacks of the enemy. 

            Now I began to see evil faces peaking from the crevices along the wide path. Occasionally they would lash out in torments, knowing those people could not escape. As the wide path narrowed and the rocks became higher, the crowd began to compress and the people had to run ahead to avoid being crushed. The evil ones rose from the rocks and lashed on these people, hurrying them the more. When someone tried to escape up the walls, the evil ones brought huge lashes down on them, forcing them to return. 

            Once again the scene reminded me of a herd of animals headed off to slaughter, driven by whips up a narrow chute and unable to escape because of the walls narrowing as they went and the push of the crowd behind them. Men and women tried to escape, only to find their lives swallowed up in the abyss of hell because they had chosen the wrong path. Or they had chosen not at all, and default is hell. The only way to avoid hell is to choose life!

            One sight brought a small drop of peace to the unraveling scene of chaos and brought me some comfort. Far away up on the mountaintop, I saw a mother crying out for her son, I saw a father pleading for his daughter, I saw a son pleading for his mother, I saw a daughter pleading for her father.

            Then I saw a legion of angels sweep from the sky. The evil ones screamed in anger. I saw the life of a child spared as the angels swooped down and caught him up before he fell into the abyss. 

            While all men and women choose their destiny, God honors the prayers of the faithful. Because of his great mercy, sometimes he pulls those beyond the reach of mortal man from the gates of hell and allows them one more opportunity to choose.

            My heart broke as I stood on this rock and watched the madness. My eyes fell on the people who were entering the walled places of the wide path. They were so close to the connecting trail that they could still turn and make a break for it and find life. 

            I prayed, “Father let me warn them.” He granted my wish. I ran to them and yelled words of warning and told them they had one last chance. But their eyes remained emotionless. I ran forward to the area before the walls began to rise along this wide path, where people were entering this last passage—but they still paid no attention to my pleading. Their ears they had already closed.  

            I pleaded, “Oh, Father, do something to open their eyes.” But then I knew. They had passed by so many opportunities. Our Father had loved them, drawn them. Jesus had died for them. And yet they had refused God’s love. They had refused his path. I knew His heart was broken for those who would not listen. As I looked upward in prayer, I felt warm tears fall on my face and arms. I knew they were the tears of our Father.