I wait here as I survey the land spreading out before me. I begin at a place within time and space from which many roads have been made. Starting as hints like when a wild animal leaves its trail through long green grass, then as those who see the signs follow, it begins to form a path. Then, when the path is traveled upon by many seeking to find their way through this land, it becomes a road. Some roads are wide where many have walked, expanding the original path from its humble beginnings. they receive honors of sorts, being paved and made smooth for easy travel. The twists and turns are rounded out, and signs are placed that advise the proper speed for the safest and most enjoyable experience for the traveler. Bridges are built that span over the valleys and rivers, safe and sturdy bridges that leave little room for fear of this land. Bridges whose guard walls are so high that when the traveler follows the guidelines of the road it is impossible to see much beyond what is straight in front of them. One can almost think that they are not passing over thousand foot drops, that the land is level, and that there are not treacherous rapids below churning the water into whirlpools that could drown, or smash against rocks that could crush. These wide roads lead one passed the five mountains to the land beyond by the straightest and safest route. However, the traveler is left with little experience of the lands they pass through and little idea of the beauty and danger they possess.
There are other ways through this land that were not made with the idea of safety and comfort, ways that are not wide, paved, smooth and straight. These ways follow the hints and weave themselves intimately in the land they navigate bringing the traveler into the depths as well as the heights. Full of hills and valleys, full of drop-offs and cliffs, with sharp stones that scrape, and gnarled roots that trip. These ways bring one to bridges built much different than those of the wide roads. Bridges that creak in the wind, filled with gaping holes between their wooden planks. It gives one the idea that the bridges want you to see how high you are and how far you can fall and what awaits you below. Dangers are not bypassed and trials are not evaded. Yet these ways lead also to beauty unmatched and glory unveiled. Much like a rose with its thorns or rather a fruit tree with its serpent. These ways encounter mysteries revealing visions of splendor leaving the traveler changed, yet still moving but caught up in a moment of eternity. Ultimately, they were formed by a different understanding of travel; a different understanding of safety; a different understanding of faith. It is not the wideness of the road that brings comfort, nor the sturdiness of the bridge. It is not the smooth level ground that builds confidence, nor the lack of twists and turns. It is not the absence of fear that builds faith, nor is it the avoidance of troubles that brings peace. But it is faith in the One who provided the way that gives life, not faith in the road itself, and this is the door.
Visions of Paradise p. 1-2
by Brian Carter