As I contemplate further what it means to walk through the narrow gate, it really boils down to choice. Will I choose to walk through the open door of love?
“Lord, will only a few be saved?”
It’s a question most of us carry sometimes with fear, sometimes with longing. In a deep sense this is a question of belonging, of love and of freedom.
What I’ve come to believe is the doctrine of hell isn’t a threat, it’s a consequence. It’s a corollary of the two truths that shape our spiritual path more than any others:
God is love. And we are free.
God doesn’t fall in and out of affection. He doesn’t ration grace. His love is like the sun—steady, radiant, offered to all. I’ve felt it in moments of deep prayer, in the quiet mercy of a morning, in the ache of being forgiven when I least deserved it.
But I’ve also felt the sting of turning away. Not because God stopped loving me, but because I couldn’t receive it. Like a flower refusing to face the light, I burned in the shadow of my own resistance.
Salvation, then, isn’t about being chosen or excluded. It’s about saying yes.
Yes to love. Yes to healing. Yes to the fire that purifies, not punishes.
I don’t know how many will be saved. But I know the gates are open. And I know love never forces—it invites.
And today, I want to turn toward the light.
Smitten With Goodness 