The Race Marked Out For Us Part Two

The old man stood outside the car. He hadn’t driven in years. Getting in the car was not going to be easy. His back was killing him and the arthritis in his knees was screaming for attention. Eighty six years hadn’t done any favors to his body. But once he got in he couldn’t remember if he’d brought the keys. When he found the keys he couldn’t remember which key it was. Then he found it, started the car and drove slowly out of the complex.

He was probably driving too slow. Other cars zipped past and some kid in a big pickup tailgated him all the way out of town. Then he passed and blew his horn at him. But after that it was smooth sailing. He just kept both hands on the wheel and let the cruise control take over. It was good to be driving again. Elisabeth would probably lecture him for it, but he could handle that. She wasn’t prone to nagging, and he knew she loved him. After all these years and the kids and the grandkids and the waking up to each other across the bed, yeah, he knew she loved him. Plus she told him. She told him with her eyes and her voice and her body language. She told him in church when she’d reach over and lay her hand on his. She told him when they were at an event and he overheard her talking to her friends and heard his name come up and heard the pride in her voice and she’d look over and see him looking at her and she’d smile and then go on talking.

The city turned to residential and the residential turned to rural and pretty soon all he could see on both sides of the highway was acres and acres of farm land. It was a vast plain of growing things. He rolled down the window and took in the earthy smells. It was great-for a while-then he got cold and had to roll the window back up. Then he had to turn on the heater. He couldn’t remember how to turn on the heater and he almost drove off the road. Then he remembered. The hot air felt good on his face.

After an hour or so, he noticed the top of a mountain peaking over the horizon off to his right, and he knew right away that’s where he was going. The closer he got to the mountain, the larger it appeared. He came to a crossroads, turned right and now the mountain was directly in front of him. The highway became a country road and the country road became a gravel road and the gravel road became a dirt road. For a while he couldn’t see the mountain. Then the road curved and there it was, off in the distance. Forty minutes later it was all he could see. There were big, tall trees on both sides of the road, and this magnificent mountain dead ahead.

The road finally got too narrow for the car, so he had to stop. He turned off the car and got out. The mountain was right there. He thought he could make it. He followed the road until it turned into a trail and then he followed that. It was slow going and every movement was an effort. Then the trail started to ascend. His breathing became labored and he was sweating. His knees were throbbing, but he kept on. Every three or four steps he had to stop and catch his breath. Then every two, and pretty soon each step was a monumental task. He willed one foot to move, and thirty seconds later he willed the other foot. It was all-consuming. He was too tired to look up. All his concentration was on getting that next foot to move.

Then, almost imperceptibly, the trail leveled off. He stopped and leaned against a tree. He caught his breath. He looked up and there was a gate. It was a big arched stone gate with two massive wooden doors. “Well, that’s great,” he thought. “How am I going to open that?” When he felt ready he walked up to the gate. There was a plaque on one of the doors. His eyes were so weak he had to bend in close to read it. It said:

You have come to Mount Zion, to the heavenly Jerusalem, the city of the living God. You have come to thousands upon thousands of angels in joyful assembly, to the church of the firstborn, whose names are written in heaven. You have come to God, the judge of all men, to the spirits of righteous men made perfect, to Jesus the mediator of a new covenant.

They were the most beautiful words he’d ever read. They filled him with wonder, and he wanted to go through, but the gate was impossible. “Well,” he thought, “it can’t hurt to try.” He reached out, and as soon as the tip of his finger brushed the wood, the gate flew open wide. The scene before him was so magnificent that he just started laughing. A holy joy filled every fiber of his being. He surveyed all that was before him and it satisfied every longing of his heart. Almost without thinking he started singing and immediately he realized he was part of the Everysong. Then he saw the great golden road and people walking and singing all along it.

“Well, Joe, what are you waiting for?” and he stepped through the gate.