The Traveler Turning at the Gate

A Poem Inspired by Luke 9:61 A man once stood where twilight touched the hill,Where olive branches bowed beneath the breeze,And heard the solemn Christ who beckons stillThrough dust-worn roads and darkened centuries.The Master’s voice had stirred the crowded airLike trumpet-song across a sleeping land;Yet one remained divided by his care,A backward longing chained within his hand. “I shall go too,” the hesitant soul cried,“I shall arise and walk the narrow way;But first permit farewell to those besideThe fading embers of my yesterday.”So speaks the heart when heaven calls it near,Yet earth still clings around the mortal bone;For many love the Savior’s voice sincere,But fear the path where self must stand alone. The plowman cannot guide the cutting bladeWhile turning toward the furrows left behind;The harvest fails where wavering shadows fadeAcross the labor of divided mind.The eagle does not rise through storming skiesWhile clutching still the branch it longs to leave;Nor shall the soul obtain the greater prizeWhile clinging to the lesser it would grieve. O solemn Christ, whose eyes discern the deep,Whose call divides the marrow from the soul,You summon not the half-awake from sleep,But claim the heart entire, redeemed and whole.No servant walks the upward road with easeWho keeps one foot within the former land;The kingdom’s wind moves through forsaken trees,Not through the grasp of an unwilling hand. How often men adorn their noble schemesWith language dressed in sacrificial tone,Yet underneath the architecture gleamsA throne preserved and hidden for their own.The tongue declares devotion unto God,The lips confess the beauty of His reign,Yet inwardly the secret paths are trodWhere cherished idols whisper still their claim. One longs to follow, yet delays the hour.Another waits for safer seasons still.Another fears the cost of heaven’s powerThat breaks the sovereignty of private will.And so the crossroads gather countless feetThat never choose the narrow upward way;They linger where eternity and time meet,And lose the dawn by bargaining with day. The ancient prophets walked through fire and shame,The fishermen abandoned nets and sea,The saints of old forsook both wealth and nameTo find the greater everlasting plea.For none may bear the cross with cautious hands,Nor drink the cup while guarding earthly gain;The kingdom rises where surrender stands,And living faith walks fearless into pain. Yet Christ is never cruel within His call,Though sharp the edge that severs soul from soul;He wounds the heart to heal and claim it all,And breaks the chain to make the captive whole.His voice removes the lesser from our sightTo give the everlasting in its place;The blazing noon eclipses candlelight,And mercy strips illusion by its grace. The homes we build upon the dust of earth,The voices cherished through our fleeting years,The fragile monuments of mortal worth,The secret loves preserved through joy and tears—All these must bow before the throne above,For none beside the Lord may reign supreme;The purest loyalty and deepest loveAre shadows of the everlasting beam. Yet this command is not devoid of peace,Nor meant to drain the sweetness from the heart;For strange the mystery wherein increaseIs born the moment lesser things depart.Who leaves the fading field for Christ the KingShall find a wider country yet to come,Where grief itself forgets its ancient stingBeneath the arches of the Father’s home. The farewell sought beside the Galilean roadWas more than simple blessing left behind;It was the trembling underneath the loadOf undivided faith the Lord designed.The backward glance revealed the inward chain,The hidden root beneath the spoken word;And Christ, who reads the deepest thoughts of man,Discerned the silence never fully heard. For some look back because their hearts remainEntangled in the landscape they depart;The feet move onward through the dust and rain,Yet Egypt’s memory governs still the heart.Lot’s wife became a monument of stoneBecause her longing lingered in the flame;The wilderness is crossed by faith alone,Not by the soul divided in its aim. How searching is the gospel of the Lord,How fierce the beauty of His holy claim;No compromise survives His living word,No rival stands unshaken by His name.He does not merely ask for vacant hours,Nor fragments spared from comfort’s crowded feast;He claims the hidden citadel of powers,The inmost throne where self is crowned as priest. And still across the modern world He calls,Through glowing screens and restless avenues,Above the marketplace where ambition sprawls,And through the endless flood of clashing news.The call remains unchanged by passing years:“Forsake the lesser for the kingdom’s light.”Yet countless souls are mastered by their fears,And turn from dawn because they dread the night. Some seek applause more than eternal truth.Some guard their image with religious art.Some waste the vigor of immortal youthProtecting every idol of the heart.Some stand so near the kingdom’s open gateThey feel the fragrance of the world to come,Yet perish through the subtle power of late,Still whispering, “Tomorrow I shall come.” But blessed are the souls who do not turnWhen Christ commands them toward the higher land;Whose hearts within the holy fire burn,And yield themselves completely to His hand.They walk not perfectly, yet they ariseWith steadfast gaze fixed firmly on the Son;And though the storm obscures the darkened skies,They trust the promise of the coming dawn. These are the pilgrims heaven calls its own,Who seek a city not by hands designed;Who trade the fading glory of the knownFor everlasting treasures yet unseen.The plow cuts straight beneath their faithful hand,The furrows open through the yielding field,And harvests rise across the barren landWhere once the heart refused itself to yield. O Christ who calls beyond the bonds of earth,Grant us the courage born of holy grace,To count all lesser things of little worthCompared to gazing on Your glorious face.Let not our hearts retreat through fear or pride,Nor linger where divided longings grow;But draw us wholly to Your wounded side,Where streams of everlasting mercies flow. And when the voices of the past ariseTo pull our wandering thoughts toward former days,Lift up our vision to the greater skiesWhere endless light surrounds Your throne of praise.For those who place their trembling hand to plowMust never turn toward shadows left behind;The kingdom calls with holy urgency now,And seeks the undivided heart and mind. So let the road grow narrow as it will,Let earthly comforts fade like evening flame,The soul that follows Christ shall journey stillToward everlasting glory through His name.For no regret endures within the landWhere saints behold the Lamb upon His throne;And none who trust the guidance of His handShall find at last they walked the road alone.