“Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.” — Matthew 7:13–14

The world offers escape or applause, but only the narrow road of the Cross leads to life that cannot be stolen. —D.

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We can follow the road of the needle, the spoon, the cold motel room where a body lies still and the spirit sinks, worn thin by the chase for a high that never lasts. That’s one road, the path of false ecstasy, where the soul calls out for silence and finds it in overdose. Or maybe we don’t fall that far. Maybe we take the other road, the one paved with charm, with silver promises, with the hunger for fame. But when the noise dies down and the lights flicker out, the soul still aches. The crowd moves on. And what are you left with but dust in your hands?

These are the roads we’re shown. Chase the thrill, or chase the praise. But both end in the same place—emptiness. There is, though, a third road. An older one. The path of the Cross. It doesn’t gleam. There are no crowds cheering. It’s been worn thin by the feet of the weary—the saints, the broken, the faithful. It winds through pain, loss, and blood. But it leads somewhere real. It leads to the raw place where truth breaks through the world’s polish, where your wounds are not hidden, but healed.

This road offers no ease. But it gives something better: renewal. It leads not around suffering, but through it, straight into the arms of the One who bore it first. It doesn’t numb you. It wakes you. The Cross doesn’t promise escape—it promises Resurrection. And that’s the truth the world can’t fake. That’s the life that holds when all the others fall away.